Swedish painter Yrjö Edelmann possesses a painterly dexterity virtually unrivaled by his contemporary peers. He gives us enigmatic packages to be left sealed with twine or tape. They make us want to peer inside, to literally tear back the veil that separates us from their sealed content. “One Thing Should Be Remembered: This Artwork in Green” is quite nearly redundant; it’s quite plausible that forgetting it is impossible. It’s too jewel-like, too perfect in it’s evocation of the promise of a gift.
Likewise, “Magnetic Fields Energy In Pink” is enough to engender a rabid impatience in viewers. Surely we must clutch and tear and grab at the concealed center. These aren’t paintings. They’re gifts with hallowed centers. One might ardently wish to take and tear these pieces. But, alas, the center must hold and remain unsullied and unseen. These works are analogous to Keats’ “unravish’d bride of quietness.” They’re gorgeousness is aligned with their inaccessibility.
