The happy place

Hello hello! I Met my father here in this town we are passing through on this road trip we are having.

He said I stem from a long line of renown artists, four five generations down on my mother’s side. On his own side unfortunately however, him being the exception, on his side of the family my ancestors were mostly militaries and nazis.

I got to visit his lovely flat, and saw a few remarkable treasures: a bed from the fifteenth century with a picture of Charles Dickens hanging beside it. Some old carpets. And artworks.

I’m pleased to see he had framed my very first acrylic painting: ”Knäckebröd i skål”; a small sized Renaissance style painting depicting Scandinavian crisp bread (with rye) in a bowl, which I sent him many years back when I finally heeded my calling from the Arts and picked up that brush and what looks like a cake knife and so forth.

What’s more to say about this encounter? He looked like last time I saw him seven or so years ago. I myself looked like I did back then too, I think, except more troll like with grotesque features.

OK thanks for taking part of this posting.