JIMMY ISAKSSON
Hi man!
"Hi man, what’s up?" Jimi Hendrix strolled by and disappeared toward the stage. I was in Lund, the year was 1967, and my tumultuous journey through life had truly begun.
The years that followed were good ones. Red wine, a bit of smoking, music, endless conversations, and a lot of love. I grew both emotionally and philosophically, laying the foundation for my future — for better or worse. Then one day, it was suddenly over. A new reality emerged, and it was called the 1990s.
Gone were the old ideals of peace and love. New values reigned, and instead of flower power, it was the stock market and dollars. I felt deeply uncomfortable and longed for change — change around me and within me.
Art, which had always been a companion, came knocking. Why not commit more to it? Try to make my voice heard, and maybe even leave a mark? I made a promise: from now on, I would work with art full-time, without compromise. Go all in. I would make a difference.
I woke with a start, grabbed pen and paper, and wrote it down. A text from my subconscious had manifested itself, filling me with an indescribable sense of clarity. I understood something that would later have a great impact on my artistic work — though I didn’t know it at the time.
The studio takes shape.
In a commuter town outside Lund, I had my studio in a 65 m² apartment. It worked fine for pieces up to 2 meters, but my plans were for an object measuring 480×220 cm. Not even my living room was that big. There was a dining area between the kitchen and living room. I thought: if I tear down the wall and get rid of the dining furniture, I’ll have the space I need.
I made the decision, and after a while, I had a 40 m² studio. Now it was going to happen — I would physically begin my vision. The foundation of my work was a wall and floor measuring 480×220 cm, which I built inside the apartment. On the wall there were paintings, and on the floor sculptures and various other objects. I worked like a man possessed, constantly adding both new and old pieces.
They said I’d gone mad, and maybe they were right — but a dream that’s strong enough can’t be suppressed. It took ten years to complete the work, and another fifteen to get it exhibited.
”A Bigger Bowl, Millennium 2000”
Carcassonne, France, 2017.
I was living in France, north of Perpignan, when I was offered a solo exhibition at Gallerie Chapelle des Dominicaines in Carcassonne.
This central chapel, converted into an art hall, was one of the most beautiful venues I had ever seen — surely 500 m² in size, with ceilings up to 10 meters high in places. After many meetings with Mayor Gérard Larrat, the city’s cultural representative Jean-Louis Bes, and a flurry of official letters, it was settled: I would exhibit.
"A Bigger Bowl, Millennium 2000" would meet its audience for the first time. My dream was about to become reality.
Opening night: September 15, 2017, at 6:30 PM.
It took three trips to Sweden, countless runs around France, and a lot of help from friends before everything was ready. For the first time, A Bigger Bowl, Millennium 2000 was officially in place, with paintings, sculptures, drawings, and prints hanging on the walls.
We finished the final touches the day before the opening, and I was completely exhausted — but pleasantly so. The vernissage was a success, packed with people from everywhere, and even friends from Sweden flew down to attend. Jean-Louis Bes, the cultural representative of Carcassonne, was of course there mingling.
Art, wine, and food — an unbeatable combination.
After a couple of weeks, we summed up the exhibition, and I was more than satisfied:
Over 2,000 visitors in total. Several works sold. Endless discussions about art in general and A Bigger Bowl in particular. I felt privileged that the city of Carcassonne had given me the opportunity for this exhibition. I felt proud.
The first act of my artistic career was complete, and the second act is in full swing. The play continues — and I’m still on stage.
See you.
Jimmy Isaksson
See a selection of Jimmy’s art in the Artshop.