Lighten up, 2025. poetry on burnt paper, bulletin board, pin, 14 ×  19 cm

Untitled, 2024. charcoal, acrylic, plaster, glue, light weight concrete, 30 × 38 cm

Lilla dagboken, 2025. plaster

(un-, re-) written, 2025. plaster, 26 × 38 cm

Frida, 2023. painted desk, objects, acrylic, dried flowers, books, glass, band, paper, collage, text, poetry, 80 × 130 cm

Cognitive dissonance in domestic violence. Frida showcases common misconceptions in abusive situations and speaks about the importance and seriousness of the issue. The work is a fictional story based on real life stories that intends to shed a light on the large number of women who ends up silenced or in the grave. 

Han är den som gör mig glad, 2022, poem used in Frida, 2023

Vänta inte på mig / don’t sit up waiting, 2025. oil on canvas, curtain

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Life occurrences that places us in an absurd position where time cease to exist or matter and where the lines and limitations of existence are blurred and questioned. All that there is left of us are mere physical objects which seems to have become just stuff. Stuff we are attached to so badly, left behind for earth to handle.

What do we become? Stuff? Stoft? Can they still see us behind the veil? Are they still connected to the stuff? 

A young woman passed away where I now live, that is what my neighbors told me after a night out, as I’m placing my bike in the garage. The storage room had been locked for some months and I didn’t have the courage to open it until i did. 

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I opened the storage room and I was met with an old chair, fabrics and a lifetime of things, photographs, a lamp and a nightgown. Did no relative want her belongings? What happened to you? I wanted to honor her existence. She left a horseshoe nailed right above the front door. Horseshoes are for good luck, almost like I placed it there myself.

The things we leave behind. An emptiness, a stool filled with memories of a lifetime. Leaving to the next place, does objects become only things or do we leave something behind? A life not finished? I could not help but to think if it was me. The storage room became mine like I was a ghost staring back at my life. What would I leave behind? Her stool mine. I never finished that painting.

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Working with objects I can’t help but to think of the feeling of becoming one after your bodily autonomy and choice was taken away from you. To become a lamp. An empty, reckless road of becoming human again. Endless written letters. Words never spoken, hidden behind the golden frame I became. Existing as a shell of myself, only waiting to be bought. 

Det som blev kvar / lost-and-found / goods, 2025. text, canvas, oil on wood, installation view

goods and lighten up, 2025. installation view

a letter to you, 2025. text on five folded papers, pins

Livets slut tittar ut / Life is ending and we are watching, 2024. egg oil tempera, lace, wood, 30 × 40 cm