Joakim Ceder

@j-ceder.bsky.social

935 Followers 683 Following

🇬🇧 Swedish artist of many trades. Outside the box. 🇾đŸ‡Ș MĂ„lare, pianist, sprĂ„khjĂ€lp och illustratör till din nĂ€sta bok. ✍ j_ceder @ Instagram, or oj.ceder at gmail dot com.

Original till ovanstÄende dikt, handskrivet blad i grÀset. Den har redan landat, sÄ att sÀga.
This work is tricky to describe. But its main elements are: A savanna under a square sun, a giraffe and a tree in the distance. And in the foreground an elephant who quite doesn't know how to elephant. The trunk is very long but only blowing bubbles, it has red dancing shoes in front and a paintbrush brush for a tail and it is wearing red and yellow butterfly wings, tied onto it with a little strap. There are other bizarre little details in the same vein, but above all, the poor thing has a very, very desperate look. Small wonder. Ink and watercolour on paper, signed Joakim Ceder 2026.
Klagokör i början av Shakespeares verk
Heart shaped canvas on the improvised workbench, with the flowering stem of the Martagon cutting through the middle, dividing the background into a dark and a light field.
Tavla av sagda konstnÀr. Liten tillfrisknande flicka i stor korgstol med kuddar betraktar liten blomma i kruka.
The flower mentioned above. It is also called Turkish Cap due to its semblance with a turban. Detail painted in oil.
Old fashioned park bench, a very ornamented, green painted iron one, in a lush park with pond under a nice shadowing tree. Photo by me.
It is jolly difficult to write Alt texts when your calling is to make images that really mess with the eyes. But let's try. Under pastel skies, on a green field with Tagetes, there is some sort of cello with a bow that is also a paintbrush. The neck of the instrument looks more like piano keys and on the top, as a head, there's the Chesire Cat grinning, as we're all mad here. Digital painting with tweaked photography by me collaged in for structure. Signed Joakim Ceder, 2026, and the title is "Midsummer Madness"
Barren trees with roots of heavy blood are taking to the sky above a field with somewhat dry grass and pink, semi-transparent flowers of false promises. In the middle of it all there's a little creek running, which turns into a poor, tattered person, also in blue. It is seen from behind, but its sorrow about it all is still obvious.
Ett lönntrÀd som tÀnker spricka ut i blom vilket sekund som helst nu. SmÄ blomsterknoppar och smÄ gröna kantiga blad i förgrunden, i bakgrunden en vÀrld som blivit grön.
Systers gulliga gamla orangea katta.
En orange katt latar sig i en strimma sol. (Denna fÀrg ska vara vÀldigt ovanlig för honkatter.) Mörk bakgrund.
Painting in ink and aquarelle of a little boat which is also a crying hen, with a little alder tree with catkins and all standing in for a sail; it also has elements of a red sail in it, as well as a red pennant on top. All of this is reflecting nicely in the water — and reflecting Lord Knows What feelings inside the artist. Signed Joakim Ceder, 2026.
A steel pen replacing pencil sketchmarks with ink, without making anything any less unintelligible: There's a round bird-shaped boat in the water, about to get a sail of sorts inked, or sail by proxy, and we might even now suspect that it'll turn out just as strange.
Det italienska kökets trikolor uttryckt i grön gurka, vit vitlök och röd chili, grovhackade sÄsom kockens arma hjÀrta.
A small wanderer is coming through the canvas-ish dunes, reaching a huge thingamagic vaguely resembling an old telephone, but it has two huge eyes staring down on her (her?) and more strange things thrown in than I can describe. Tempting hands hanging in barbed wire. Suggestive forms. A gap through which a train might be coming on its way towards a sea of blood, and so on. In the background, there's a sort of muddy WWI no-man's-land with poles where fleshy, perhaps heart-like shapes are impaled, but there's a faint rainbow in the sky behind. Digital painting plus collage signed Joakim Ceder, 2026.
Three heavily distorted figures in blue ballpoint on paper, ensnared by each other but trying to avoid body contact by twisting into impossible forms. They only have one eye each, perhaps signifying single-mindedness, but all sport the face mask used during the pandemic -- Signed Joakim Ceder, in the Year of Paranoia, Lockdowns and Insecurity, i.e. 2020.
We'll try to describe this scene from bottom up: There's a fire underneath a strange looking cauldron with rather yucky soup, and from that soup a hand emerges, holding a paintbrush that sprouts green lilac leaves in the non-brush end. Perfectly normal. -- Digital painting by Joakim Ceder, 2026 (signed)
Vinterselfie, pastellhimmel med suddig mÄne kan anas i bakgrunden.
Ett Àgg med kulspetsansikte och uppgiven min i en Àggkopp. Den stirrar pÄ en tesked och vet hur det hela slutar. Jag med.
En mycket orangebegie katta som synnerligen gillar att bli kliad under hakan.
A meaty heart-shaped something on a rusty pole in a rusty, desolate, no-man's-land trench of a landscape. Photoshop drawing and distortions based on my own shots.
Candle with some kind of cogwheel halo: perhaps beauty in work is the only kind that awaits me in 2026, but I'm keeping fingers crossed for something more to the year. Pretty please? — Digital painting by me, some earlier year.
A lady in a sylvan landscape, or let us call it forestscape (it is sepia toned, vintage photo style) badly stuck together with glue. Her skirt has square holes in it, and there must be some serious trouble with the fabric of reality as you don’t see her, but the landscape behind, through them. The rest of her, too, is an ill-glued patchwork. Poor soul. We should’ve fixed everything with duct tape instead.
Bed on a raw wooden porch with a bloody Guillotine blade hanging over the pillow to insure an uninterrupted sleep. There are skulls on sticks on the front post of the bed, odd green eyes on the floor (and a weird, disrupted pattern from the thicket behind discreetly running throughout). A digital painting with dark humour, signed J. Ceder, 2016
Bildbevis pÄ himlafenomenet: De lÀrde pÄstÄ att det enligt sÀgnen bÀr namnet "Sol".
Liten bild med tös som gungar frÄn moln. Men gungan Àr en kedja med hÀnglÄs, sÄ var det med det nöjet.
In the front, two worn feet sticking out from under a hospital sheet. It’s dark, but in the middle my friend stands in a flowing white gown, typical hospital workers’ crocs, and wearing a large Nurses’ Badge (of UmeĂ„ Univ., I think it was). And she has large black wings. She is stretching out her hand: Come with me. Behind her, there is a dark arching tunnel of green leaves – with the occasional Tagetes in it, her favourite flower, and they’re glowing. And in the end of the tunnel there is the Final Light, being a hint of a bright and green mountainous landscape: The Afterworld is symbolised by her beloved SĂĄpmi. I wish that I believed in all of this.
Inspired by M. C. Escher (there's a famous litograph with two hands drawing each other) but in ink and aquarelle on paper, we have two hands, armed with one syringe each, respectively jabbing said things into the opposite hand. The hands dissolve into veins and arteries which ultimately, in art noveau-esque sweeps, fuel said syringes.
Sorgset Àgg (med blyertstÄr i söta blyertsansiktet) begrundar mÄltiden efter att hon blir mÄltid, i fonden en tallrik nudlar med div. sÄser och vitlök. Dyster ljussÀttning.
Sorgset frukostÀgg som grÄter i blyerts (jag har mÄlat dess ansikte i blyerts)
A man is kneeling in front of a female accordionist in City Lights -- a very fragmented city with lots of irregular lights. There is a frigate way behind in the bay. There is an angel statue behind the girl. Nothing is explained any further.
A very wild and unruly surreal oil painting. There's some kind of grandmother watch with multiple dials and a splashy milky crown, blackbirds enjoying a cake with cream and Smarties' topping, grapes turning into doves, white orchids, two Canada geese (I lived by the sea) the colours are mild and happy but the jumble is unsettling. My friend says that I'm doing "DalĂ­ for Children".
Succulent som hÄlls uppe med mÄnga pinnar
The Garbage Labyrinth, editorial. We did have recycling, but most students were lazybugs in locating it. I used to draw in ink + inkwash by hand, scan, and colour digitally. Then you had to wait forever sending it all to the Editor through a slow phone modem that wailed in agony through the night. You couldn't do it by day, any ordinary phone call (through the same copper wires) would disrupt it all.
A much younger artist working on a landscape outdoors, 2002.
A poor fish-headed being is trying to explain his needs to a wooden-headed doctor and a balloon-headed bureaucratish being, to no avail, all they hear is blub, blub, blub. Digital work with a wee bit of the progress shown.
Undertecknad har tÀnt ett ljus som fÄr rÀknas som adventsljus.
En trött rykande kopp, en ljusstake med ljus och liten grön flaska med mysko innehÄll. Liten digital skiss med antropomofiska inslag signerad Joakim Ceder.
Brunt lönnlöv (har sÀkert varit rött och hoppfullt) pÄ marken, i frost.
Solsken av det liksom torra, ödsliga novemberslaget sÀnder lÄnga trÀdskuggor i en park nÀra mig.
A map covering water conflicts, the Ganges, Panama and some African spots seem to be in trouble. And, moee surprising, the Donbas in Ukraine, where the conflict is about Land, to the best of my knowledge.
A weird warped digital allegory on the art of translating. Some kind of being is trapped in some kind of typewriter plus screen thingamajig, trying to make sense of a paper scroll of sorts, while being quite deformed itself.
Gula lönnblad vackert pÄ det höstliga fallrepet framför NÀlstaÀngen.
BlÄklockor bland multnande höstlöv, den sista klara fÀrg som sÀsongen ger.
A volumptous green sea of wild nettles in bloom, from the restless daily walks that fill my camera roll.
Lenin pÄ rysk propagandaaffisch, 1920-nÄnting. I förgrunden jublande ryskor, i bakgrunden heroiskt bolmande fabriksskorstenar, röken svart som Hr. Vladimirs kostym. Han pekar med kraftig arm mot industrin: Damer, dÀrinne finns framtiden.
Some rather ambiguous potted plant, drawn just as cheerful as the poem it's mirroring, which goes like this: And here I stand. Like a plant, Shivering in the cold... Letting my poor stems grow With leaves withering in the darkness And roots shrivelling in a soil without nutrition Waiting for your call. And after hours, days, weeks, you do. At last sun, almost blinding, hot like a sauna! And life to the soil, And rain and rainbows And I bloom! in my happiness to be near you... But I am but a potted plant. I won't grow large, I won't see bees, my time in this Earth is limited. And all too soon you're gone. And here I stand. Like a plant, Shivering in the cold...
Enstaka gula lönnblad kvar pÄ kvist mot en bakgrund av förmultnande brunslafsiga dito, eget och rastlöst parkfoto.
Höstlandskap, mestadels gult lönntrÀd, lika mycket löv pÄ marken.
Katt som sover mycket djupt. Öronen sticker upp ur pĂ€lshavet.
Autumn landscape with bright maple leave on the tree and the ground, but skies are grey. Stockholm, Sweden.
An undescribable, perhaps somewhat unmentionable elongated creature emerging from one out of many manholes in a strange park. Surreal artwork; digital collage (my own photo) and painting. (c) Joakim Ceder 2025
LönntrÀd som sprakar i gult
Very bright autumnal red leaves — might be Ash — before an equally bright blue sky.
"NattsvÀrmare. Poesi, Karin Lampa. Piano, Joakim Ceder. 24 September, Larry's Corner, Grindsg. 35, Show kl. 20.
Mörkgul solnedgÄng över Àng helt indrÀnkt i hÀrligt slibbig, rÄfuktig och kylande dimma
PlommontrÀd med bruten gren, helbild