The harbor is far out on the end of a long bridge. In the village, that is not much more than a line of houses, many of them formed mainly by their huge traditional fish smoking chimneys
Looking for a place to sleep
The sand here is beautiful but so incredible fine it seems to get in anywhere... in the stove, the camera, the phone, the watercolors.
The wide beach
The beach is empty and small riddles of sand forms around a few stones in the wind. The beach is famous. "The finest sand in the world" the locals claim.
Trees meeting the sea
For years they have been looking at each other. And for every year the sea moved a bit closer
Following a stream to a watermill
From the beach I couldn't see much, but following the stream up I soon faced an old watermill
Nobody is here
Walked between the small shacks build more or less together, my backpack telling I was not a local. Not one of the fishermen who owned these shacks, but there were nobody listening
Rocks where I thought not
Walking across the beach I come to some red, what look like rocks. There shouldn't be rocks here. "They are not rocks" The lady tells me "more a kind of red clay"
When the colors fade
Painting in the sun is so much different from in the early morning fog, not only what I am looking at but also the way the colors blend, and the way the paper react to them
Walking and sketching
It feels like I have sand in my eyes, from the strong sun. Time to sleep... It is 2012 - it is 2020... Still walking and painting.
Homes along the way
House by the trail. I look at the windows, the garden, someone living in each house along the way, with their hopes, worries and stories I will never know
Looking at nothing
Thirsty, maybe hungry I sit down in the sand. Looking back at my heavy footsteps, not even taking the backpack of. With a bit of effort I can reach my water bottle on the side.
Through the trees
I watched the sea through the pines. Maybe if I just sat down a few minutes I could sketch it up and still hike the 6 hours I'd planned before it got dark
Old defence tower Bornholm
Stopping, I could see the old castell of the town - the only thing of a great defence plan that was ever build
Fallen trees along coast trail
Walking past them can be hard, sometimes I have to go out into the water, making my way around, while they tell their stories
Roenne – Bornholm
Getting out of the warm ferry and into the largest, still small town of the island, I know most places from back 30 years when I walked around the streets painting watercolors here, for the first time
Bornholm Ferry
I heard the voice so many times - telling us aboard the ferry, that soon we will reach our destination... It was time to get up from the floor underneath the tables, pack down the sleeping pad and bag. And put my backpack on again...
A square I know well
There is a bench here, it has a lamp over it, so during the day, and still in the dark Scandinavian evenings, I could continue to paint. I sat watching people walking by and did many street sketches of people from here
The museum of quiet
Could sit here in the afternoons, after the schoolkids had left, and just watch the light, and study the sculptures in the winter days
Cafe in an old church
The stories might be different, but most important is that we still share them
Wind swept square of Justice
Walking past the square on a windy day, getting a cheap cup of coffee and a croissant from the 7-11 on the corner and placing myself so I can paint the place... So many times
Loosing the sky to architecture
When I started out on watercolors I painted the sky, but I lost it studying architecture. Painting the sky was a no-go on the Royal Academy...
The Art shop around the corner
Through the years I've seen a few art material shops come and go, just here used to be two, wonder if they all went online, or just away?
Rosenborg Castle
Cramped far in the bushes I was all concentrated on my painting when I heard a voice... "Frits! Is that you in there?"
Royal Danish Theatre
Facing out to the central square in Copenhagen is the Royal theatre. I look at it differently since I got a chance to sketch the actors and dancers practice in there
Church wall detail
Painting bricks in Copenhagen while the rich in money rush by, and the rich in time watch the sun between the trees