Jonas Vidar

Sometimes, most times maybe, absolute beauty sneaks up on me, bashes me over the head with a lead lined brickbat and makes me wonder where it's been all my life. One day, while Jen and I were in Reykjavik, we ended up on a rather dissapointing gallery crawl.

Disappointing mostly because the majority of galleries are closed Sundays. In the US the galleries and museums are closed Mondays.

Heh. Guess what, chica — you're not  in Boston anymore!

We did happen on one gallery opening and, boyhowdy, it was some prime grade  awful shit, lemme just tell you right now. The entire show was comprised of bland 36"x36" color pics of a pressroom and the artist's studio with circles and squares randomly, it seemed, drawn over top.

The big take for Jen and I? Wondering if that press was a Hamada, if the folder was an MBO and if the cutter was a Polar. Yep, print industry geeks go on vaca and see 'art' centered on press machinery. Joy. 

We were all set to give up on the art crawl and head to the bar when I saw a sign for another gallery. The sign had an arrow that pointed down an alleyway. We followed. 

JonasVidar's astounding work is what we found. My mind was blown. Still is. I'm nearly wordless and you know that's a rare occurrence! The colors, the texture, the dreams and stories they inspire -- mindbendingly gorgeous.

His work speaks for itself. Go look. Seriously. Click on the linky and check him out now!