“Oslo’s contemporary art” is something that simply ceases to exist. From witnessing the art within the Astrup Fearnley Museet, I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s solely hare-brained to categorize the art in such ways. Perhaps it had been easier to group masterpieces of which had been bizarre to the eye in a single group; although each and every piece had been produced with a pastiche of particular passions, each had been fashioned with idiosyncratic intentions. This is my opinion, due to the fact that I find hardship in distinguishing similitude between denim doused canvases, shopping cart creations, and paper-carved coups.
Based on my self-reflection, I distinguish a certain depth in “Oslo’s art”, the miniature brain-muddles it’d take a person to disentangle a sole piece, and the mystery that envelopes it, for unless you were to pry open the mind of the certain creator; you’d never truly fathom the depth that had originated from the marvelous masterpieces I had witnessed today.
Check out a simple version of my art based on my previous experiences in Oslo, Norway:
Let me know your thoughts.
Turknoy Travels 100! 