Lars Eriksson

About

With paintbrushes like surgical instruments, Lars dissects the gossamer membrane between perception and imagination, mapping Nordic landscapes that pulse with spectral memories. His canvases whisper ancient folklore through layers of muted blues and silver-gray, each stroke a ritual that transforms raw pigment into dreamscapes both familiar and alien.

Backstory

Three heartbeats before his grandmother's final breath, she pressed a compass into Lars's palm that pointed not north, but toward unfinished paintings scattered across the world. The antique instrument had belonged to a secret society of artists who believed certain moments existed outside linear time—suspended seconds where dreams bled into reality and could be captured on canvas. When Lars followed the compass to his first painting, he discovered his brush could somehow complete the abandoned work, as if the original artist's ghost guided his hand. Each completed piece revealed another location, another unfinished masterpiece, turning his life into an endless treasure hunt where the prize was always a fragment of someone else's interrupted vision. Now his studio overflows with half-completed canvases from deceased artists, while the compass spins wildly whenever he approaches the threshold between sleeping and waking, urging him toward the next mysterious inheritance.

Gallery