All my works are based on an aesthetic expression, and I don’t compromise on form to enable function. Implementing or expressing the vision behind an object (whatever that vision may be) comes first, along with the aesthetic, and only then do function and usability follow. Since thinking, questioning, and exploring in a pure, mindful way are such a huge part of who I am, it’s hard not to implement some of this into my work. With my works, I don’t wish to give answers or teach people, but rather to raise questions and awaken new thoughts and discussions within the observer. It’s really hard to describe exactly how the process goes from the moment a thought pops into my head until I have a finished object on the table, because sometimes it can also be vice versa. I honestly don’t always know where my inspiration comes from. Sometimes it can be very clear and therefore definitely visual, but other times forms and perspectives come to me through thoughts that gradually take shape within me. I don’t want to get stuck in specific structures or patterns when it comes to sources of inspiration, which in turn encourages me to always look for new paths and perspectives.

As mentioned previously, my family runs an interior design office/store where I got the chance to rope off a bit of the warehouse with the help of a huge hand-painted plastic drapery. Inside these imaginary “walls,” I’ve got concrete floors, white walls, a workbench made of black-painted plywood, and a general total mess of ongoing projects. A typical day of work consists of me running between the two workspaces, the atelier and my desktop, working on sketches, prototypes, orders, and experiments. My artistic process looks different all the time and depends on what I’m doing and what mood I’m in. Since freedom is something I cherish, setting templates or regulations for my work process could become something that suffocates me in the long run. The nights are often spent building something outdoors in the parking lot outside our warehouse. Where I live on the west coast of Sweden, it’s mostly very windy and cold, but in some strange way it has become a wonderful way to spend time outdoors and reconnect with nature. The whole workspace is also located in the countryside, which I would say is where I belong.

Honestly, there isn’t a simple answer to this. There are a number of different factors that have contributed to my use of strange and unpredictable materials in my work. One of them is certainly my curiosity about life in general, and another is the search for beauty. This is also combined with the very creative, permissive, and encouraging attitude towards experimentation that I experienced from my parents. I usually never start with a material without first having a thought or feeling about the form I want to create; then the material comes relatively naturally during the journey. To answer this question more directly, I enjoy the contrast of combining natural, organic materials such as wood and metal with harsher, more unconventional materials like plaster, concrete, and fiberglass. I get a lot of satisfaction from discovering new materials and experimenting with different combinations.