Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Magnus Gjoen
2023
Edition 89 of 100
20 × 20 cm
Archival pigment inks on cotton rag
Signed, dated and numbered by the artist
From The Allun Lewis Collection
Long live the King.
Three words traditionally associated with ceremony, continuity and the transfer of power.
But, as is so often the case with Magnus, the image accompanying them isn't quite what you'd expect.
At the centre of Vive Le Roi is something immediately contradictory.
It looks delicate.
Decorative.
Almost precious.
A soft pink vessel covered in elaborate classical ornamentation, complete with garlands, ram's heads and royal insignia.
And yet its silhouette is unmistakable.
It's a grenade.
That contradiction is exactly what drew me to it.
Magnus has an extraordinary ability to take an object associated with violence and make it beautiful.
Here, something designed to destroy has been transformed into something that wouldn't look entirely out of place among the porcelain and decorative objects of a stately home.
The softness of the pink makes the contradiction even greater.
Your eyes tell you one thing.
Your mind tells you another.
And somewhere between the two is the artwork.
The title translates simply as:
Long Live the King.
Created in 2023, the work inevitably carries associations with monarchy, succession and the symbolism surrounding a new reign.
But I don't think you have to interpret it purely as a statement about royalty.
For me, there's a broader idea within it.
Power has always surrounded itself with beautiful things.
Palaces. Portraits. Gold. Ceremony. Uniforms. Insignia.
But behind that beauty, throughout history, power has also frequently depended upon conflict.
Magnus manages to bring those two worlds together in a single object.
The decoration represents one side of power.
The grenade represents the other.
My example is number 89 from the standard edition of 100.
It's signed, dated and numbered by Magnus and, at only 20 × 20 cm, it's one of the smaller works within my collection.
But that's something I particularly like about it.
It doesn't need to dominate a wall.
The image itself does the work.
You notice the beautiful pink object first.
Then you realise what you're actually looking at.
And suddenly this relatively small artwork becomes considerably louder.
Looking across the Magnus works I've collected, a pattern becomes increasingly obvious.
I'm drawn to contradictions.
Beauty and mortality.
Love and vulnerability.
History and popular culture.
Fragility and violence.
And Vive Le Roi encapsulates that perfectly.
It takes two ideas that shouldn't comfortably coexist — decoration and destruction — and makes them almost impossible to separate.
Perhaps that's why I enjoy Magnus's work so much.
He rarely tells you exactly what to think.
He simply puts two opposing ideas in front of you and allows you to decide what they mean.
And sometimes the smallest pieces ask some of the biggest questions.
Beautiful enough to display.
Powerful enough to destroy.
Vive Le Roi.
Long live the King.
From The Allun Lewis Collection
Magnus Gjoen
2023
Edition 89 of 100
20 × 20 cm
Archival pigment inks on cotton rag
Signed, dated and numbered by the artist
From The Allun Lewis Collection
Long live the King.
Three words traditionally associated with ceremony, continuity and the transfer of power.
But, as is so often the case with Magnus, the image accompanying them isn't quite what you'd expect.
At the centre of Vive Le Roi is something immediately contradictory.
It looks delicate.
Decorative.
Almost precious.
A soft pink vessel covered in elaborate classical ornamentation, complete with garlands, ram's heads and royal insignia.
And yet its silhouette is unmistakable.
It's a grenade.
That contradiction is exactly what drew me to it.
Magnus has an extraordinary ability to take an object associated with violence and make it beautiful.
Here, something designed to destroy has been transformed into something that wouldn't look entirely out of place among the porcelain and decorative objects of a stately home.
The softness of the pink makes the contradiction even greater.
Your eyes tell you one thing.
Your mind tells you another.
And somewhere between the two is the artwork.
The title translates simply as:
Long Live the King.
Created in 2023, the work inevitably carries associations with monarchy, succession and the symbolism surrounding a new reign.
But I don't think you have to interpret it purely as a statement about royalty.
For me, there's a broader idea within it.
Power has always surrounded itself with beautiful things.
Palaces. Portraits. Gold. Ceremony. Uniforms. Insignia.
But behind that beauty, throughout history, power has also frequently depended upon conflict.
Magnus manages to bring those two worlds together in a single object.
The decoration represents one side of power.
The grenade represents the other.
My example is number 89 from the standard edition of 100.
It's signed, dated and numbered by Magnus and, at only 20 × 20 cm, it's one of the smaller works within my collection.
But that's something I particularly like about it.
It doesn't need to dominate a wall.
The image itself does the work.
You notice the beautiful pink object first.
Then you realise what you're actually looking at.
And suddenly this relatively small artwork becomes considerably louder.
Looking across the Magnus works I've collected, a pattern becomes increasingly obvious.
I'm drawn to contradictions.
Beauty and mortality.
Love and vulnerability.
History and popular culture.
Fragility and violence.
And Vive Le Roi encapsulates that perfectly.
It takes two ideas that shouldn't comfortably coexist — decoration and destruction — and makes them almost impossible to separate.
Perhaps that's why I enjoy Magnus's work so much.
He rarely tells you exactly what to think.
He simply puts two opposing ideas in front of you and allows you to decide what they mean.
And sometimes the smallest pieces ask some of the biggest questions.
Beautiful enough to display.
Powerful enough to destroy.
Vive Le Roi.
Long live the King.
From The Allun Lewis Collection