Jon is painting...
Gislason is a calm and friendly man with a glint of humour in his
eye. The red hair says something about his temper, which of course
he has but seldom reveals in the company of others.
It is most apparent in nis paintings, nowever, and
nas been so ever since he graduated from Det Jydske Kunstakademi, 24
years ago, where he'd been taught to paint "without blue or
red". Having abandoned all the accepted rules and laws of
painting, and flouting all sense of tradition in his use of colour,
he went on to produce one amazing painting after the other. He
forced the world, so to speak, into accepting his palette. A
constant stream of paintings, ranging from miniatures to huge works
that fill a wall. Pure colours, and yet always with a variety and
imagination that seems inexhaustible.
He paints in close contact with his his own reality.
Thus the violent gush of joy, sorrow, rage, humour, eroticism and
much else. He's not inclined to interpret his works. In painting
them he has already spoken. Without words-for if he could use them,
he wouldn't need to paint.
Nonetheless, he knows what's going on. Right now,
he's heading toward something new. A change perhaps in his own view
of painting. In all events, clear signals of change. This being to
some degree bound up with the intensely personal experience of his
mother's death. A tumult of grief, emptiness, relief and loss, which
in turn he transforms to a raging expression on canvas.
Beat it! Jon's painting...
An experiment; with "undercoat" paintings in yellow on
large canvasses, as a new way of getting started. Long-lettered
signs a la grecque, inexplicable in themselves yet crucial for the
structure of the painting. Paper things, in red, or red,and yellow,
and simple drawings of sepiacoloured brushstrokes in oil. Motifs
suggest themselves, and often double-headed. It couldn't be simpler,
remaining both close and intimate.
Where's he heading? Is he becoming non-figurative?
"No", he says "That I'll never be". He points to
a shape in a big, and very yellow painting, and sure enough: the
human being is always there.
"I have difficulty expressing my feelings when
I'm with others" he says. "When I'm alone, I've only got
the painting to shout at".
The echo lingers.
Skænderi. 2000. Acryl-Olie. 89x117 cm.