The Grey Man

The Grey Man

A figure sits square to the viewer, close enough to be met rather than observed. On the surface he reads grey; at his centre the grey opens into black. The ground around him is red — hot, insistent, pressing inward — and he holds himself against it without alarm, the way a person holds himself against weather he has known for years.

Something is gathered in his arms. Over his shoulder a second head appears, and he draws it toward that black centre as though he could take it inside himself and keep it there, safe.

I believe that head is his longing. The grey man — the one who passes unnoticed, who has no power and no audience — wants what anyone wants: to belong among others, to live in real company, perhaps to be deeply known by one particular person. He does not announce this. He hides it, the way ordinary people hide the largest thing they carry. Something is gathered in his arms. A dark form rests against his chest, enclosed by both hands, and two small red marks glow inside it like a face looking out from within him. Grey is neutral, neither warm nor cold, and it lets a person disappear; what he keeps behind it is not neutral at all.

He belongs to my continuing series on the human being, and I have great affection for him.

Monotype. The plate releases its image only once, so each of the four impressions stands alone — not an edition, but four separate pulls, none identical to another.

Medium: monotype on Fabriano paper · Image size: [70 × 50 cm] · Sheet size: 70 × 50 cm · Signed and dated · One of four individual impressions · Studio in Boxholm, Sweden, 2024· Price: $400