Anna Camner

Standing out as something fragmental, Anna Camner’s artworks also tell an entire story. Her artistic ability of visualising context goes far beyond the beholder’s eye, creating an compelling coherence between her work and the range of perception. The experience is rather challenging and is reminiscent of a scientific research project, where every detail described, classified and analysed thoroughly. However, there is no clear framework, because it is left to the dynamic imagination of the audience. There is a spiritual freedom that the artist generously shares through her comprehensive brush strokes, inviting one to appreciate the liberation of the mind and celebration of artistry. Ostensibly, this freedom of spirit is conceived by an illusion of scientific precision that flirts with a vicious courage of her strong artistic expression. Anna Camner’s art is about the reconstruction of reality by juxtaposing it with its own illusion in a calm renaissance manner, transforming any further interaction into an intriguing essential dialogue between them. At the same time, the counterfeit becomes authentic and the authenticity of one’s own ontology is at stake. Why art and why the Stockholm University of The Arts? Art was hardly a choice for me, it just naturally turned to be this way. I started painting in high school, where I specialised Natural Science. After graduating, I took a year off to test my art wings and attended a preparatory course in art for one year, before sending an application to the Stockholm University of The Arts. It was never about a strategic and well thought plan, it was rather about having fun. The art school was quite independent during my five years there, I could dispose a lot of freedom. There were barely any compulsory courses, just freedom to find your own artistic voice and shape it. In regards to art techniques, did you have a lot of creative freedom as well? Absolutely. Painting as such was not really encouraged during my time at the university, so I abandoned it. It was only after graduating did I start again. How has art school modified your perception and vision of art? Was it ‘in like a lion and out like a pig’, as they often say at the Royal Institute of Art in Stockholm? I entered art school as an artist but became criticised for my interest, so I put painting aside for the time being. For me it was more like, ‘in like a lion and out cracked as an artist’. There is a particular problem, Sweden has a few art schools with a high volume of artists graduating each year. Meanwhile, very few of those artists can really make living off of creating art. Do you think it is a problem of structure, how artists can be integrated into the social network? Yes, there is a need for a system that can create a balance, making it possible for artists to actually make living from their education. As a painter, it feels a bit easier to find a direct application for my education as such. Meanwhile, there are plenty of artists, who have conducted that long education and cannot find any work directly connected to their specialisation. It is actually quite sad. What did you learn during your time at school that you find is of great value today? I think, over and over again, my five years of freedom and the criticism I received for my interest in painting put wind in my sails, making my original belief in painting even stronger. When I got an atelier and could practically do whatever I wanted, constituted a great practical base before the real vicissitudes that an artist has to face in their professional life. It is up to you to make sense of what you do and there is no other alternative than to really just do it. When did you experience your breakthrough, and what determined it? As an artist, I think spontaneously about the time after I graduated and decided to start painting again. It was an almost euphoric feeling of liberation allowing myself to pick up a brush after a five-year interval. ‘No, I will paint again!’. When it comes to my work, I don’t work with projects where there is clearly a beginning and an end. I wouldn’t point out any concrete breakthrough, it was more of a step-by-step approach that brought me closer to something that feels important and really matters for me. Career-wise, it was my first New York exhibition in its own right; both dramatic and exciting, just in the way only New York can be, where everything happens all of a sudden. It was my second time in the city, where I had previously been on vacation. The reception of my art significantly differed from what I had been used to in Stockholm, where the approach in the media is more from a decorative perspective. New York’s art society glared straight into my artistic message without being hung up on the appearance layer as such.

The exhibition you had at Galerie Forsblom in Stockholm in October 2019, bears the title A Plague I Call a Heartbeat. Could you please explain the idea behind it? For me, it’s about being an artist and a human being. Occasionally, it gets hard, but this is what life is actually about. During you exhibition at Galerie Forsblom, you chose to dye all of the walls in deep red. It was very daring. What is the story? Everyone was very sceptical and not really delighted with the thought. However, now it seems to have worked perfectly, contrasting the colour palette of my paintings, where black and white prevail. It is a pure thought, just like the title you asked about. It creates a kind connection between my paintings, which might seem placid. At the same time, it doesn’t change the message my paintings provide, staying true to myself, what is indeed one of the most important aspects for an artist. The feeling is there. How did you meet Larry Gagosian, who has your work in his prominent art collection? He came to my exhibition in New York and simply bought a painting. I met him in person without even knowing who he really was. Ultimately, it was a quite undramatic experience. Earlier you spoke about the importance of finding your own artistic voice. How were you able to find yours? A significant part of my cultural consumption takes place through music, it bestows amazing art experiences upon me. Essentially, I am more interested in music than art. It gives me something unique in comparison with other artists who might consume art through art. It is about releasing your own peculiarities. When I work with patterns, for example, I try to create them more organically, repeating but with modifications. Presumably, my obsession with these kinds of pattern could be interpreted as a weakness, but it may also be my strong point. Your artworks are often compared with Georgia O’keffe’s. However, in the matter of hidden messages, where you turn away from visible reality by reconstructing it in a very personal quaint way, I would rather put you on the line with Hilma af Klint. What is your interpretation of the hidden layers that your artworks contain? There is a feeling of three-dimensionality in your works. Is it intentional? It is a way of painting. I strive for materiality in my work, where the beholder can experience both the feeling and the material created within a painting. Today, many artist bring digital technology into their artistic field. How do you feel about it? I am quite introverted and would not like to bring any additional layers between me and my art. I want to possess complete control over my art from beginning to end. I can hardly imagine myself using any such technology in future. On the contrary, it would be interesting to test whether a robot would be able to process visual content and express it on its own terms, similar to an artist. I can see some elements of fashion in your art pieces. Am I wrong there? I am actually very interested in style. Recently I saw a documentary about Alexander Mcqueen, who was a true genius. His aesthetics are very appealing to me. It has some touch points with art. Trends are something that differ a lot from my perspective. They make one lose their own uniqueness and become a part of the collective consciousness. Nevertheless, it is exciting. I am a big vintage fan. There is a vintage boutique in Hornstull, a neighbourhood on the south side of Stockholm, that I sometimes pass by daily. I bought a fantastic Chanel skirt there that doesn’t represent the typical Chanel aesthetic, but negotiates something unique.