There is a poem Leif Holmstrand new lyrikbok that even after many readings by refusing to give any peace. The two rows of cards and reads as:
No shadows, only light
allowed in normal houses.
the undersigned has spent some time in recent years to walk in residential areas and from sea plots and then found out that the concept of transparency gained significant entry among the Swedish people, in isolated locations. In the past – but it was just, yeah well into the 1980s – a majority tended to try to protect the accommodation from view. Trees and shrubs ensured that privacy was consecrated.
Now it looks radically different. Much of what is past, or just donated shadow has been despoiled. It is open, transparent, often sterile. The transparency rules. Who had accommodation turned into a public scene. There are no secrets! Here, we show our success and wealth, no frills! Here we have nothing to hide and sleep with a clear conscience. The ongoing gardening boom, where it just enough wild but in fact very thoughtful and disciplined, can be seen as a mild protest against transparency.
Leif Holm Strand’s “Last Day” would probably rather in in the shadows. Rotating in and out of the closet and normality. If someone would sing Holmstrand poems, it’s Freddie Wadling. Typically buried Wadling last summer.
But Holmstrand is himself a jack of all trades in the arts and the years in Malmö remember (a) to him from a countless appearances where words, music and textile happily blended. He was, and probably still is, a prominent performance artist. Perhaps no significant poets, however, but usually interesting.
The body means a lot to Holmestrand. The body’s pleasures, the violence against the body. What force makes right into the eye. What you see then is never free from. But at the same time as someone else smile can mean for vision, the vision can begin to sparkle and to experience pleasure. And while, of course, go out.
Schizophrenia and sadomasochism is well after all less strange than adult men and women in Sweden actually drink milk with meals. If there are any Leif Holmstrand in this book succeed, it is well to show the perverted of normality, and vice versa.
The poet should probably still sharpen the tools and sharpness expression. There is potential for greater work than the present.