Andreas Gravdal (1981), born and raised in the city of Bergen, Norway, resides and creates within his studio at Strandgaten 207. I paint with a raw edge and a distinct emotional tension. My work balances childlike impulse with existential depth – as if it’s both whispering and shouting at the same time. There’s a sense of chaos and naivety in the expression, but beneath the surface lies intention, rhythm, and human vulnerability.
My style resembles a kind of urban hieroglyphic language – figures, faces, and symbols repeat and mutate, like memories or dreams rising to the surface. The compositions are dense, playful, and unpredictable, with handwritten sentences and titles that act as small poetic doorways.
My work often develops in layers, like a visual diary where colors, text, and figures pile up, get scraped away, painted over, and brought back again. I work intuitively, but with an underlying plan – where chance and control coexist.
Color in my work is not primarily about aesthetic beauty – but about energy, contrast, and presence. I use strong primary colors, black and white, pastels and earth tones side by side, often in unexpected combinations. The colors are raw, direct, and unfiltered – an extension of emotion or instinct.
In many of my pieces, I also work on untreated canvas. The natural cotton color and texture of raw canvas creates a warm, tactile backdrop, while its absorbent surface captures marks and traces that give each painting its own history – as if the canvas itself remembers.
The colors are allowed to live their own life, and I seek tension more than balance. It’s about revealing what vibrates beneath the surface.
Thematically, my work revolves around relationships, memory, cities, community, and the inner landscape of the human being – often approached with a gaze that holds both warmth and unease. There’s a kind of social psychology embedded in the paintings, wrapped in colors and lines that may seem spontaneous at first glance, but turn out to carry weight and meaning.
This is art that’s felt – before it’s understood. And perhaps that’s exactly why it hits home.
I try to use a simple and instinctive visual language to speak about the complexity within us. The childlike expression opens up space for existential questions – without moralizing or offering pre-made answers. When encountering my work, I want people to feel seen – both as individuals and as part of something bigger.
