Art

Tillsammans – Group Exhibition at JUS text Natalia Muntean “This exhibition is about celebrating all those years we’ve known each other and collaborated in various forms.” Ann-Sofie Back’s words set the tone for Tillsammans, a group exhibition at JUS that functions as a gathering of “different kinds of eras.” Bringing together Ann-Sofie Back, Diana Orving, Horisaki, Lotta Jansson, Lovisa Burfitt, Martin Bergström, and Yasar Aydin, the exhibition features seven practitioners whose work moves fluidly between fashion, art, jewellery, and objects. Hidden away on a back street in central Stockholm, JUS has for more than thirty years functioned as both destination and platform—a space where fashion, jewellery, objects, scent, and art coexist. Rather than presenting fashion as a fixed system, JUS has long embraced a layered, intuitive approach. For many of the artists, the space is inseparable from their own histories. Material sensitivity and process run throughout the exhibition. Yasar Aydin presents one-of-a-kind silver jewellery, “a twist on something recognisable as me,” while Martin Bergström shows woven works rooted in calmness, nature, and long-standing material exploration.  For Aydin, JUS has been foundational. “Without JUS, I wouldn’t be where I am,” he says, describing how his practice shifted from art jewellery toward a more material-driven, handcrafted approach through years of showing and selling his work at the store. “JUS has been number one for me to develop and be successful in that sense.” Showing work alongside other makers is, for him, about exchange: “To interact with each other, to talk about materials and techniques.” photography Henrik Halvarsson For Ann-Sofie Back, the exhibition became a marker of a relationship that began in the late 1990s when Ulrika Nilsson bought her graduate collection. “This exhibition is about celebrating all those years we’ve known each other and collaborated in various forms,” she explains. Her contribution to Tillsammans, a sculptural Christmas installation made from repurposed wigs, reflects her shift from fashion to interior objects. Currently focusing on objects rather than garments, Back describes her new work as “super decadent” and “vain.” She describes the process as spontaneous and playful, shaped by what materials could be found rather than by a fixed plan: “Now that I don’t have to work with the body, it’s freer. I can objectify the object instead.” For Martin Bergström, the exhibition is a celebration of a relationship with JUS that has “grown together for years,” beginning in the 1990s. He likens the exhibition to a “shared garden” where “everyone grows in their own way, yet we share the same soil.” Working freely across fashion, art, and interiors, Bergström presents Reflections of My Shoes, a series of jacquard weaves born from a specific moment of connection. “I was on the phone with Ulrika Nilsson, sitting on a jetty at Pålsundet in Stockholm. When I looked down, the water reflected my shoes. I translated that reflection into jacquard weaves.” Bergström views JUS as a “collective lab” and a home that “holds the fragile patterns within us.” His history with the space is marked by moments of deep inspiration, from the time he showed his “poisonous plants” to discovering the writer Vivi Täckholm at the store, who became one of his greatest sources of inspiration. To him, the space remains a “calm and kind place” that addresses the “quite quiet” atmosphere of an institution that has remained “solid for so long.” For less established voices, the exhibition carries a sense of trust. Lotta Jansson speaks of being encouraged rather than judged: “Ulrika just said: ‘Don’t worry, people are kind.’” That atmosphere, supportive, confident, and unselfish, was repeatedly described as central to the JUS experience.  Jansson highlights the unique confidence Ulrika projects: “She’s become very confident in her way of thinking and choosing… that’s also how she shares her confidence with you.” Regarding the theme of the exhibition, Jansson suggests that the “togetherness” might be more about the curator’s perspective than the artists’ own connections: “I think we all individually represent togetherness for her, more than us together.” For Horisaki, whose crushed and reshaped hats form one of the exhibition’s most tactile installations, Tillsammans marks a return to an aesthetic first shown at JUS more than a decade ago. “We’ve always done crushed hats,” they explain. “It’s about making hats that are not fragile. You can sit on them, pack them, reshape them, and they’ll still look great.” The hats are described as carrying “the memories of life, time and randomness” in their structure, objects shaped by use rather than preservation. That philosophy extends beyond the objects themselves. “We don’t believe in competition or sharp elbows,” Horisaki says. “Everything is better when you collaborate and work together.” In this sense, the title Tillsammans is not symbolic but practical, describing a way of working grounded in openness and shared experience. “The installation reflects what we have sought since our very first hats: the beauty of patina, of hats that are crumpled, worn, and cherished… We aim to highlight the hats’ functionality, how they can be worn and reshaped in countless ways, always changing yet remaining true to their character. This last part also applies to how we perceive JUS.” Beyond retail, JUS has long positioned itself as a space for education and exchange, hosting exhibitions, talks, workshops, and art history courses throughout the year. Tillsammans embodies this role not through a single curatorial statement, but through presence: works shown side by side, conversations unfolding quietly, and histories intersecting.  More than a group exhibition, Tillsammans became a reflection on continuity – on what it means to build something over time, and how creative practices, like places, can remain open, generous, and alive by growing together.

Amine Habke: The Garden of Intimacy, Repairing Masculinity text Natalia Muntean In the delicate, deliberate stitches of Amine Habki’s textile works, a new language of masculinity is being woven. For his first solo exhibition in the Nordic region, I Will Sew Up All the Petals of Your Garden, the French-Moroccan artist transforms the Andréhn-Schiptjenko Gallery in Stockholm into a meditative interior where softness is strength and vulnerability becomes a form of resilience. Drawing on the visual heritage of Islamic ornamentation, European Romanticism, and the diasporic experience, Habki’s practice, spanning embroidery, painting, and sculpture, cultivates a space where the body and the botanical merge. “I don’t have any memories where I wasn’t an artist,” he reflects, “I felt obligated to be an artist and to live by my art.”  Natalia Muntean: Can you elaborate a little bit about the meaning behind the title of the exhibition?Amine Habke: The title, I think, represents the energy and the entire mission of the show. The idea of a garden, for me, represents the area of intimacy, an inner world. But at the same time, the garden is famous in the iconography of romantic paintings. For this show, I was really inspired by The Garden of Earthly Delights by Bosch. The idea of the show is also to talk about the idea of rehabilitation. I am trying to repair an image of what masculinity is. NM: Why is it important for you to challenge these ideas about masculinity through art?AH: This is not about changing something for the world; it’s just for me. It’s a quest for me to take care of this image, of this body. I like the idea of doing a new vision, a new iconography, just for my own healing, just to feel kinder, more connected to what I want to look like. This is a little poetic way to talk about this, and it really helps me, and I think this also helps other people. NM: What are you looking for in this connection to your work?AH: I’m looking for more liberty to represent masculinity, to represent romance, to represent love, vulnerability and fragility. NM: Your practice spans embroidery, painting, and sculpture. How did you begin?AH: I started with a lot of drawing, but I wasn’t really fulfilled because I was trying to find a volume and to have more relief. So, embroidery was a way to give more shapes and three-dimensionality to my drawings. Embroidery also comes as a visual heritage. My family has a lot of tapestries. I feel connected to these objects. The houses of my grandma and my aunties were places of something soft, domestic, warm, and resilient. I was trying to incorporate this aesthetic onto bodies that are generally represented outside, in heavy material, in big forms. The media often destroys the non-white body, centralising some communities and cultures while excluding others. For me, this is a way to make an opposition to Orientalism. Orientalism destroyed our culture and our heritage. When you’re born in the third generation of Moroccan diaspora, you have certain expectations, but then you discover the reality is more complex. I think exploring these objects and the story of civilisations helps. NM: The slow process of embroidery – does it influence the narrative of your work?AH: In my studio, I have a lot of drawings on the wall, and I also write a lot of poems. Sometimes poems give me images, and some images give me poems, so it’s a mutual dialogue. I start by selecting one of the drawings, and I go to the shop for textiles and fabrics. The element of chance comes in because sometimes I can be obsessed with one fabric, and I think, “Okay, it could match with this drawing, with these colours”. Then I create the image. But there’s a lot of improvisation and freestyle. I have the idea and the concept, but I never strictly know what colours I will use, or if I will add extra things. NM: You incorporate found objects into your textile works. What is their role?AH: I think they can symbolise an idea. For example, one piece in the Stockholm show features a lace fabric with flowers already on it. I add painting and embroidery to put a spotlight on, and to make a combination with what I want to symbolise. Found objects are also a way to make more funny combinations. I think this is more the fun and spontaneous aspect of my practice. NM: You get inspired by the ornaments in Islamic art, transforming arabesques into living patterns. How does your French-Moroccan heritage inform your visual style?AH: I’m really inspired by the ornamentation, like the grotesque. I discovered that this is not a well-known or celebrated form because, for many people, grotesque is just like minor art; it’s not a major form. I like this idea of putting a spotlight on a minor form. For me, ornamentation is the beginning of surrealism. You have a lot of different motifs and patterns, and sometimes it can look like something real. The grotesque embodies that by mixing humans with animals, with flowers. You also see this phenomenon in some Islamic cultures, for example, the zellige tiles, where the symmetry and repetition make human or body shapes appear. This is the ornamental aspect that inspired me. I’m also really inspired by my French background, like the Surrealism of Magritte. I like Romantic artists like Friedrich. At the same time, I also like Persian miniatures. It’s a mix of the Mediterranean area. ‘Still Dirty’ ‘Body Guard’ NM: The flower is a recurring symbol. Beyond beauty, what does the flower represent for you?AH: Flowers have different meanings. I tried to show that it can also be a trap. I did some pieces with men holding flowers; it can be a really soft object, but also really dangerous at the same time. Flowers are present in mythology, like Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and also in the poetry of Mahmoud Darwish. I like the idea of the flower as a

Virtual Serenity – Engineering Empathy with Sean Hogg text Dante Grossfeld The Waldorf Project / FUTURO – X (Thailand, 2019) In 2012, during one of his Waldorf Project performance art pieces in London (where all their performances except for the 2018 Stockholm performance, 2019 Thailand performance, and 2019 Lufthansa performance have taken place), founder Sean Rogg did something remarkable: he successfully manufactured empathy in a group of 40 people. By using sight, sound and touch to subject the participants of his experiment to anxiety and, as he puts it, “trauma,” followed by a state of euphoria, he managed to create a strong emotional bond between them. Many began to weep, others held hands. This went on for almost exactly eight minutes, before the mood abruptly changed and things “went back to normal.” The next time he performed the experiment, the same thing happened again, and it went on for eight minutes. As well as the next after that. The participants all developed a close emotional bond stemming from shared trauma and euphoria, but it never lasted more than eight minutes. Since then, Rogg’s goal has been to develop a method of engineering empathy on a larger scale, with more people and for a longer period of time. His next experiment to this end, Virtual Serenity, will be held at Sergel Hub in Stockholm on the 26th and 27th of April, and will incorporate VR technology, a tool which Rogg believes will open up many new possibilities. The Waldorf Project / FUTURO – X (Thailand, 2019) The Waldorf Project / Virtual Serenity Test (Berlin, 2024)     Upon entering the Sergel Hub venue, located in the heart of Stockholm, right around the corner from Sergels Torg, I am greeted by a massive industrial interior, reminiscent of a renovated warehouse. Usually this space is reserved for conferences, but with this project, as Rogg explains, Sergel Hub will make its debut into the world of art. On a bar counter along one side of the room lies a collection of 300 VR headsets. Rogg explains that these will all be linked together through a series of complex systems in order to create a network of connection throughout the room, where participants will be seated in groups of four. In previous experiments, Rogg has employed immersive theater, contemporary dance, and molecular gastronomy in order to design an experience, but this time VR is his tool of choice. “If you boil it right down, it’s about human connection. The technology is just a tool to connect. So it’s not about having a VR experience, it’s about connection,” he says. The use of VR technology with biometric sensors will allow the experience to be personalized for each person, adapting in order to elicit the desired emotional response. Each person will go on a unique journey, but, if everything goes according to plan, it will be one that draws them all closer to their group mates and to every other person in the room The Waldorf Project / FUTURO – X (Thailand, 2019) all images courtesy of Waldorf Project

Earth Drill, 2025, Crater Fantasia travertine, copper, steel, 242 x 32.5 x 32.5 cm (column), 3 x 60 x 60 cm (base) Left Lamina II, 2025, watercolour collage on cotton paper, 59.4 x 42 cm unframed, 66 x 48.6 cm framed Right Model after Noguchi’s Shrine of Aphrodite N.3, 2025, travertine, marble, granite, quartzite, anyolite, bronze, 46 x 60 x 2 cm Natalia Muntean: Mineral Rising redefines monumentality as something modular and impermanent. What drew you to this idea of monumentality as fragile or changeable? Elena Damiani: What drew me to this idea was the understanding that geological forms, often perceived as fixed, are in fact always in transformation. Stone carries the memory of pressure, rupture, and reassembly; it embodies change over vast timescales. Nature itself organises through fragments and modular assemblies: layers, clusters, and self-contained units that combine, break apart, and recombine, generating continuity through constant change. In my work, I strive to convey this vitality by creating forms that remain open to reconfiguration. In Mineral Rising, the idea of monumentality lies not in permanence but in resilience, in the ability of matter to reorganise, to hold memory within its fragments, and to remain in motion. NM: In Strata Belt, the travertine modules suggest both geological folding and human construction. How do you balance the industrial and architectural references with the natural processes that inspire you? ED: Strata Belt operates at the intersection of geology and architecture. Its modular structure recalls natural processes, folding, stratification, and tectonic shifts, while also referencing principles of design and assembly. The work doesn’t oppose these registers but proposes their simultaneity: structure as both sediment and architecture, fragment and whole. The piece also draws on Alvar Aalto’s room divider, reimagined in stone, a material rarely used for flexible structures. I often work with references that span architecture, Earth sciences, design, and land art. Rather than standing as counterpoints, these references generate a field of associations that inform both form and concept. In Strata Belt, they converge in a sculpture composed of repeated units that can be reconfigured into different shapes, reflecting both geological transformation and structural design. NM: Your work often moves between scales, from intimate collages to monumental public art. How do you decide the scale a project demands? ED: Scale emerges from context and intention. It really depends on the character of the project, whether it is conceived for an institution, a gallery, or a public space; the work must respond to its surroundings. Sometimes this means creating partitions or large sculptural forms; other times it calls for smaller pieces that invite close reading of the materials. I have always been interested in scale models because they shift our perspective, allowing us to observe space as a representation from the outside. With stone, scale also connects to time: massive forms shaped through slow processes coexist with sudden ruptures caused by singular events. Ultimately, scale emerges from both the ideas and the materials, and is shaped by the kind of spatial and temporal experience the work seeks to activate. NM: Do you consider your work a form of storytelling about the earth’s memory, or more as a material investigation?ED: I don’t see my work as telling a story in a linear sense.  It’s more about activating the memory embedded in materials, fragments of deep time that resist tidy narratives. Geological matter records traces of past events and processes that can suggest a narrative, but one that is fragmented, open, and continually unfolding, almost deeper than language. Manuel DeLanda’s notion of history as a nonlinear assemblage of flows and ruptures resonates with my approach, as does Tim Ingold’s view of materials as always in flux. Stone, for me, carries both memory and movement. My work proposes reflection on the Earth’s memory through material investigation, using fragments, layers, and reconfiguration to evoke this unstable, non-linear temporality. Model after Noguchi’s Shrine of Aphrodite N.2, 2025, travertine, marble, granite, bronze, 46 x 54 x 2 cm Strata Belt, 2025, Crater Fantasia travertine, stainless steel, 180 x 252 x 6.7 cm (extended) / 180 x 200 x 56 cm (curved) NM: When working with geological forms, do you ever feel you are collaborating with forces that extend beyond human history? ED: I wouldn’t call it a collaboration, but I do feel that in working with these materials, I am engaging with forces that far exceed human history. Deep time is inscribed in the stone, and I hope the works place viewers in an encounter with that abyss of time, something vast, fragmented, and still unfolding, which the material itself makes evident. NM: Your pieces embody both fragility and weight. Is holding these contradictions central to your practice? ED: Yes, that tension is central. Weight and fragility are not opposites but coexisting qualities in geological matter. Stone can hold immense density yet reveal fractures and porosity. This reminds me of erratic stones. These glacial boulders, carried by ice and left in improbable positions, are sometimes perched on the edge of a cliff or a smaller rock, as if about to collapse, yet somehow held in balance. That image reflects a balance I seek in my work, where stability and fragility remain inseparable aspects of the same form. NM: Your background in architecture often surfaces in the modular and spatial aspects of your work. Do you still think like an architect when you approach sculpture? ED: I studied architecture but never practised as an architect. What it gave me was an introduction to methodologies of research and project development, how to work with a team and develop a project while responding to changing conditions and contexts. Those tools have stayed with me and continue to shape the way I approach sculpture, especially in relation to space, materials, and context. They become especially relevant when working on projects closer to architecture, such as public commissions that engage directly with urban environments and landscape, or in installations that relate to an already existing architectural language.   NM: In past interviews, you’ve

Aftermath of Paris Art Week 2025 – Echoes of Nature, Music, Human Interaction and Glass text Eva Drakenberg & Matilda Tjäder From «Exposition Générale». La Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain, 2 place du Palais-Royal, Paris. © Jean Nouvel / ADAGP, Paris, 2025. Photo © Martin Argyroglo. Open until 23 August 2026. Last month, the city of love gathered artists, enthusiasts, and collectors from all over the world, where Stockholm Art Week joined the rhythm of Paris Art Week. Looking back at the spectacular works experienced across galleries, foundations, and, of course, the ever-iconic Art Basel at the Grand Palais, we feel a sense of hope for the future. The exhibitions encouraged us to reflect on our relationship with nature and our behaviour in modern society, while allowing us to hold hands with the past when reality feels a bit too scary. Heading to Paris any time soon? Lucky you – many of the shows are still up and running. INTERDISCIPLINARY DIALOGUES Through a rich variety of expressions, we observed a recurring desire to explore the intersection of science and culture in our understanding of the natural world. By merging realms we often study in isolation, we are invited to embrace an interconnected, three-dimensional worldview. The reopening of the Cartier Foundation served as a symbol of this thematic shift, with its three-floor space fostering dialogue between architecture, nature, the act of making, and fiction. What happens when we begin to view matter through the dual lenses of emotion and logic? Likewise, at Art Basel inside the Grand Palais, many young artists echoed these conversations through a rich variety of perspectives. The Stockholm/Paris-based gallery Andrehn-Schiptjenko showcased Swedish artist Sally von Rosen, who elevates the spiritual dimension of material by emphasising the bronze sculpture’s own agency and emotion. Meanwhile, a visit to the Perrotin Gallery in the Marais showed The Sun Splitting Stones by the phenomenal India-based artist Bharti Kher, whose paintings and sculptures explore similar dialogues. We highly recommend visiting it. On the left: Sally von Rosen. « Motherform ». Installation view Andréhn-Schiptjenko Art Basel Paris 2025. Courtesy of the Artists and Andréhn-Schiptjenko © Joe Clark. Exclusive for Stockholm Art Week. From Bharti Kher.  « The sun splitting stones ». Photo: Tanguy Beurdeley. ©Bharti Kher / ADAGP, Paris, 2025. Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin. Open until December 20th. SOUNDS OF MUSIC The city of Paris is known for effortlessly merging art forms, which we saw in the interplay between visual art and music. We were delighted to see the Philharmonie de Paris and Centre Pompidou join forces to produce the astounding Kandinsky exhibition La musique des couleurs. Visitors are invited to explore Kandinsky’s impressive collection of over 200 works, highlighting the spirituality of colour while listening to his musical references, from Wagner to Schoenberg. Incorporating piano notes was also recently explored more abstractly at the Marais gallery Chantal Crousel, with Mexican artist Gabriel Orozco’s solo exhibition Partituras. In other words, for a music lover, the art scene in Paris may feel especially exciting right now.     From Philharmonie de Paris. « Kandinsky ». La musique des couleurs. » Own photo. Open until February 2nd 2026. From Gabriel Orozco.  « Partituras ». Courtoisie de l’artiste et de la Galerie Chantal Crousel, Paris. | Courtesy of the artist and Galerie Chantal Crousel, Paris. Photo: Jiayun Deng — Galerie Chantal Crousel . From Elmgreen & Dragset. Massimodecarlo Gallery. Exclusive for Art Week 2025. Photo © Thomas Lannes courtesy MASSIMODECARLO. Exclusive for Stockholm Art Week. INTERACTIVE ART Interactive art stood out as a truly wholesome observation during the week, with several exhibitions revealing something intimate about our own everyday behaviour. Overall, we felt a renewed appreciation for the arts’ ability to create spaces for self-reflection and to question our individual roles within the collective society. A favourite of ours was the hyperrealistic sleeping sculpture showcased in the Massimodecarlo gallery window, created by the dynamic Scandinavian duo Elmgreen & Dragset. When we first passed the Marais gallery, we gasped, thinking it was an overworked or perhaps even a little over-partied gallerist. Trying to wake her up, we finally found ourselves laughing with other confused Parisians. It made us reflect on civil courage, the complexities of today’s gallery scene, and the delicate balance of everyday work life. Similarly, the iconic École des Beaux-Arts de Paris presented an interactive experience with its Objects Trouvés installation by Harry Nuriev. Visitors were invited to bring a personal object from home and exchange it for something new within the grandiose Chapelle des Petits-Augustins. The installation prompted reflection on how deeply personal materialism can be, even when it often feels homogeneous. After all, we are each drawn to different objects shaped by our own memories and personalities.  From Harry Nuriev, « Objets Trouvés », Les Beaux-Arts Paris. Own photo. Exclusive for Stockholm Art Week.   BLURRY MEMORIES Speaking of memories, we saw exhibitions that explored the complex theme through both abstraction and objects. At Foundation Louis Vuitton, we were blown away by the Gerhald Richter exhibition showcasing an exceptional retrospective of 275 works stretching from 1962 to 2024. Known for his blurring technique on photo-inspired oil canvases, we are reminded of the uncertainty of our collective memory. While at the Swedish Institute, Tarik Kiswanson explores memory through the language of objects. Instead of resolving historical contradictions, he exposes them and their lasting impact. From Fondation Louis Vuitton. Gerhard Richter. Own photo. Open until March 2nd 2026. From Institut Suédois. Tarik Kiswanson.  « The Relief ». (Steinway Victory Vertical, 1944), 2025. Courtesy of the artist and Sfeir-Semler Gallery. Photo: Edward Greiner. Open until January 11th 2026. GLASSMANIA  Strong. Fragile. Poetic. Glass as a medium of expression is becoming increasingly popular to exhibit, introducing a deeply personal dimension to an artist’s creative expression. Unlike working with other materials, glass is literally on fire, requiring high control and trust among collaborators. During Art Basel, in a setting like the Grand Palais, gleaming glassworks were instantly eye-catching beneath the iconic roof. Outside Grand Palais,

Estelle Graf on Art, Vulnerability and the Human Condition text Natalia Muntean In her exhibition “Dressed Up and Desperate” (Finklädd och Förtvivlad) at WAY Gallery in Stockholm, Swedish artist Estelle Graf delves into the complexities of the human condition through anthropomorphic figures. For the self-taught artist, these themes are not new obsessions but lifelong inquiries. “Everything I’ve painted… these are things I’ve been thinking about my whole life: what it means to be human, exist in this world, and hierarchies,” she explains. The exhibition brings into focus the fragile balance Graf depicts: the tension between the suit-clad personas we perform and the vulnerabilities we hide from others. “People usually try to hold up a picture of themselves being controlled,” she says, “and then underneath that, for everyone, there’s something unresolved or raw.” Through scenes with animal-headed figures, Graf uses humour and unease to strip away our social costumes, asking a question that fuels her entire practice: “We all seem to be struggling with the same things… and then when we go out in life, we’re still so conforming. We’re so tense, and we’re so scared. Why is that?” Natalia Muntean: “Dressed Up and Desperate” is an interesting title. What emotions or ideas did you want to capture through it?Estelle Graf: The title points to a tension I think many of us carry: the desire to present ourselves as composed, cultured, even elevated, while underneath there is something quite raw and unresolved. ”Dressed Up and Desperate” refers to that duality. We perform being human. We dress up, but the deeper emotional landscape is rarely neat. There is longing, confusion, insecurity, and hunger. The works move between the theatrical and the vulnerable, almost like characters caught mid-scene, mid-collapse. I wanted to hold both the absurdity and the sincerity of that state. NM: Was the title something you decided in the beginning, or did it come to you when you started working?EG: The theme it explains has been there. I’ve known what I’m trying to talk about all the time. But I think it always comes to me through the process – what could best describe what I’m thinking about right now, what I’m trying to communicate. So somewhere in the middle of the process, I think, “Okay, so this is it.” photography Felicia Larsson NM: How do you title your works?EG: When I’m finished, definitely. Sometimes I have a title in the beginning, and then it changes. I have an idea, “Okay, this is the story,” and I work with that as something to hold on to. Then, in the process, it changes and shifts and ends up as something else. I think the truth in the work often shows when I’m done. It’s similar to the way I work with myself as a human being. You have an idea of who you are, and then through the process of living your life, you realise stuff about yourself. You thought you were one way, and then three years later, you look back and realise something stood for something else. I think it’s the same when I create art. I start with one wish, one vision, one title, and then throughout the process, I realise, “Okay, this is probably more about this than that.” NM: Tell me a bit about your process – what does a day look like in your studio? Do you go in with a plan, or do you just let your intuition lead you?EG: To be creative and start my process, I need to be alone in a quiet space for quite some time. When I start the actual practical process, I can sit and just paint for eight hours straight. But before I do that, I have to sit in complete quiet. I can’t listen to anything, and I usually just stare at the wall, waiting for inspiration to kick in. NM: So you just need to be with yourself. And you don’t create from a place of chaos?EG: My work is about chaos in one way. It’s chaos to just be alive. And in order to be able to tell the story about chaos, I need to be in harmony. NM: I know you’ve written a book before as well, and have explored some of its themes through your art. How does storytelling differ between these two media? Obviously, painting and writing are quite different, but how does your approach shift depending on the medium?EG: When changing media, it’s also a way of getting a new outlook. If I have an idea and I’m writing about it, it will give me one conclusion. If I try to translate that into a painting, even directly, it will maybe give me a different conclusion. That’s something I think is really interesting. The medium can help you find new conclusions or discover things about a subject you thought you had turned upside down. You change medium and you’re like, “Oh, this is what it’s about.” NM: You are a self-taught painter – tell me about this journey.EG: Yes, I am self-taught. I’ve been painting all my life, but I was so scared of making that my work identity. NM: Why?EG: I think maybe because it’s vulnerable. If something really means something to you… I have a feeling, when I talk to friends and read about people’s lives, that a lot of people are doing their plan B because their plan A is vulnerable. It means something to you. So if you’re going to take it too seriously, that’s a risk. It’s the same with relationships. The more it means to you, the harder it is to get too close. That was the case for me. I wasn’t even trying to walk close to it until I actually studied form and learning design. It started with a book. I felt like, “Oh, so this story that I’m telling, or the thoughts that I’m having… people seem interested in this narrative.” That’s a nice feeling – to feel that people relate