Tað var sermerkta ljósið í Føroyum, ið hugtók Jóannis Kristiansen eina mest. Kava­myndir hansara vóru so bjartar, at tú nærum blindaðist, men milda seinna­partsljósinum, ið sveipar seg um teigar og tún, hevði hann eisini ans fyri og málaði tað so inniliga, sum kanska eingin annar.

Myndirnar hjá Jóannisi eru stundum átøkar teimum hjá fronsku impressionistunum. Hugtikin var hann av hesum mætu meistarum, men aldri var talan um eftirgerð, hann hevði sjálvur upplivað tað, hann málaði.

Ofta bera myndir hansara brá av at vera skjótt gjørdar. Tað sær so lætt út hjá honum. Sum gjørt í eini handavending. Soleiðis var tað bara ikki. Stríðið var ofta almikið, áðrenn hann slepti einari mynd. Hann hevði hana frammi og setti hana frá sær ótaldar ferðir. Hann ímyndaði sær evnið uppaftur og uppaftur. Tá hann so at endanum var náddur á mál, sá tað mangan út, sum var myndin málað eftir stuttari løtu. Júst hetta ger myndir Jóannisar so livandi og sannar.

Ingálvur av Reyni 

The unique Faroese light was Jóannis Kristiansen’s great fascination. Dazzlingly bright, his snow paintings almost blinded you, but he also understood the mild afternoon light that enveloped the village, which he painted more intimately than perhaps anyone else.

Kristiansen’s works bear at times a strong resemblance to those of the French Impressionists. These towering masters fascinated him, but he did not copy them; what he painted, he had also experienced.

Often his works seem to be painted in a hurry—smooth sailing, something easily accomplished. But this was not the case. Often it was a herculean struggle before he let a picture go. He would set it up and put it away times innumerable. He turned the motif over in his head repeatedly. But when he finally reached his goal, it often seemed as if the work had been completed in one brief session. It is precisely this that makes Kristiansen’s work so vivacious and authentic.

Ingálvur av Reyni