

My work, called  the friendly meteor, is a collection consisting of several individual pieces,  each inspired by the natural surroundings of Hemsedal. They tell the story of my journey into the Norwegian culture, where at times I have felt like a stranger dropping in from another world. 
The pieces involve cement and oil-based color. I transform the normality of a painting into something abstract by leaving out the background, whereby the forms become more tensionable. 






the friendly meteor 

My work, called  the friendly meteor, is a collection consisting of several individual pieces,  each inspired by the natural surroundings of Hemsedal. They tell the story of my journey into the Norwegian culture, where at times I have felt like a stranger dropping in from another world. 
The pieces involve cement and oil-based color. I transform the normality of a painting into something abstract by leaving out the background, whereby the forms become more tensionable. 


Being a passionate sculptor, I always carry a sketchbook in my pocket, in which I outline small objects. I gave them the abstract but euphonic name Rugla Swepum. I used thirty-five of the scribblings from this collection, scaled them up on aluminum boards and then painted them out with thick, bright-colored varnish.
The first thing viewers often notice in the work of Rugla Swepum are the bright colors. But if you look more closely, the details of the artwork begin to emerge. Lines, constructions, shapes and figures. Beautiful and stylish, chaotic, abstract and yet somehow still familiar. Flowing lines, radical forms, brutal cuts, breaks and fragments all come together to ultimately stir up a question within the viewer: What is this? What am I actually seeing here? Is it a face? A spaceship? A dancer? Or is this a mountain—maybe the Alps?
I created the paintings of Rugla Swepum in the everyday movements of life. The inspiration behind them weren’t just gathered out of thin air, they were dug up from the depths of the soil of life. Over the past few years, I’ve scribbled in my sketchbook, gone through creative processes and worked hard. Yet along the way, I also made new friends and solved problems. I jumped into a river with a backflip, I endured crises, and I fell in love. I felt the depths of despair and I found courage again. I doubted. I trusted. I arrived. I broke up and started over again. Life can be a chaotic series of experiences. One moment you can follow happiness that runs like a golden thread through the carpet of life, and the next moment something pulls the carpet out from underneath you and leaves
you in pain. How is it these extremes can fit together?
I believe we find beauty in life the more we are able to see and enjoy the whole picture—extremes and everything between. My hope is that viewers will see the various works in Rugla Swepum as an opportunity to examine their own lives. In the paintings, elements intertwine, occasionally squeezing themselves in and cutting structures apart. Layer lines up with layer. Color sets itself apart from color. A new form arises, a new contrast, a shape made of fragments. Together they all add up. Together it is not round, not whole, not simple. It is more than that—it is complete. In life, some things simply cannot be intertwined. They remain paradoxical, broken, unconnected, next to each other ... and yet when viewed altogether, they are still whole.


Rugla Swepum 

Being a passionate sculptor, I always carry a sketchbook in my pocket, in which I outline small objects. I gave them the abstract but euphonic name Rugla Swepum. I used thirty-five of the scribblings from this collection, scaled them up on aluminum boards and then painted them out with thick, bright-colored varnish.
The first thing viewers often notice in the work of Rugla Swepum are the bright colors. But if you look more closely, the details of the artwork begin to emerge. Lines, constructions, shapes and figures. Beautiful and stylish, chaotic, abstract and yet somehow still familiar. Flowing lines, radical forms, brutal cuts, breaks and fragments all come together to ultimately stir up a question within the viewer: What is this? What am I actually seeing here? Is it a face? A spaceship? A dancer? Or is this a mountain—maybe the Alps?
I created the paintings of Rugla Swepum in the everyday movements of life. The inspiration behind them weren’t just gathered out of thin air, they were dug up from the depths of the soil of life. Over the past few years, I’ve scribbled in my sketchbook, gone through creative processes and worked hard. Yet along the way, I also made new friends and solved problems. I jumped into a river with a backflip, I endured crises, and I fell in love. I felt the depths of despair and I found courage again. I doubted. I trusted. I arrived. I broke up and started over again.
Life can be a chaotic series of experiences. One moment you can follow happiness that runs like a golden thread through the carpet of life, and the next moment something pulls the carpet out from underneath you and leaves you in pain. How is it these extremes can fit together?
I believe we find beauty in life the more we are able to see and enjoy the whole picture—extremes and everything between. My hope is that viewers will see the various works in Rugla Swepum as an opportunity to examine their own lives. In the paintings, elements intertwine, occasionally squeezing themselves in and cutting structures apart. Layer lines up with layer. Color sets itself apart from color. A new form arises, a new contrast, a shape made of fragments. Together they all add up. Together it is not round, not whole, not simple. It is more than that—it is complete. In life, some things simply cannot be intertwined. They remain paradoxical, broken, unconnected, next to each other ... and yet when viewed altogether, they are still whole.

My work, called  the friendly meteor, is a collection consisting of several individual pieces,  each inspired by the natural surroundings of Hemsedal. They tell the story of my journey into the Norwegian culture, where at times I have felt like a stranger dropping in from another world. 
The pieces involve cement and oil-based color. I transform the normality of a painting into something abstract by leaving out the background, whereby the forms become more tensionable. 

Being a passionate sculptor, I always carry a sketchbook in my pocket, in which I outline small objects. I gave them the abstract but euphonic name Rugla Swepum. I used thirty-five of the scribblings from this collection, scaled them up on aluminum boards and then painted them out with thick, bright-colored varnish.
The first thing viewers often notice in the work of Rugla Swepum are the bright colors. But if you look more closely, the details of the artwork begin to emerge. Lines, constructions, shapes and figures. Beautiful and stylish, chaotic, abstract and yet somehow still familiar. Flowing lines, radical forms, brutal cuts, breaks and fragments all come together to ultimately stir up a question within the viewer: What is this? What am I actually seeing here? Is it a face? A spaceship? A dancer? Or is this a mountain—maybe the Alps?
I created the paintings of Rugla Swepum in the everyday movements of life. The inspiration behind them weren’t just gathered out of thin air, they were dug up from the depths of the soil of life. Over the past few years, I’ve scribbled in my sketchbook, gone through creative processes and worked hard. Yet along the way, I also made new friends and solved problems. I jumped into a river with a backflip, I endured crises, and I fell in love. I felt the depths of despair and I found courage again. I doubted. I trusted. I arrived. I broke up and started over again.
Life can be a chaotic series of experiences. One moment you can followchappiness that runs like a golden thread through the carpet of life, and the next moment something pulls the carpet out from underneath you and leaves you in pain. How is it these extremes can fit together?
I believe we find beauty in life the more we are able to see and enjoy the whole picture—extremes and everything between. My hope is that viewers will see the various works in Rugla Swepum as an opportunity to examine their own lives. In the paintings, elements intertwine, occasionally squeezing themselves in and cutting structures apart. Layer lines up with layer. Color sets itself apart from color. A new form arises, a new contrast, a shape made of fragments. Together they all add up. Together it is not round, not whole, not simple. It is more than that—it is complete. In life, some things simply cannot be intertwined. They remain paradoxical, broken, unconnected, next to each other ... and yet when viewed altogether, they are still whole.


Rugla Swepum

Being a passionate sculptor, I always carry a sketchbook in my pocket, in which I outline small objects. I gave them the abstract but euphonic name Rugla Swepum. I used thirty-five of the scribblings from this collection, scaled them up on aluminum boards and then painted them out with thick, bright-colored varnish.
The first thing viewers often notice in the work of Rugla Swepum are the bright colors. But if you look more closely, the details of the artwork begin to emerge. Lines, constructions, shapes and figures. Beautiful and stylish, chaotic, abstract and yet somehow still familiar. Flowing lines, radical forms, brutal cuts, breaks and fragments all come together to ultimately stir up a question within the viewer: What is this? What am I actually seeing here? Is it a face? A spaceship? A dancer? Or is this a mountain—maybe the Alps?
I created the paintings of Rugla Swepum in the everyday movements of life. The inspiration behind them weren’t just gathered out of thin air, they were dug up from the depths of the soil of life. Over the past few years, I’ve scribbled in my sketchbook, gone through creative processes and worked hard. Yet along the way, I also made new friends and solved problems. I jumped into a river with a backflip, I endured crises, and I fell in love. I felt the depths of despair and I found courage again. I doubted. I trusted. I arrived. I broke up and started over again.
Life can be a chaotic series of experiences. One moment you can follow
happiness that runs like a golden thread through the carpet of life, and the next moment something pulls the carpet out from underneath you and leaves you in pain. How is it these extremes can fit together?
I believe we find beauty in life the more we are able to see and enjoy the whole picture—extremes and everything between. My hope is that viewers will see the various works in Rugla Swepum as an opportunity to examine their own lives. In the paintings, elements intertwine, occasionally squeezing themselves in and cutting structures apart. Layer lines up with layer. Color sets itself apart from color. A new form arises, a new contrast, a shape made of fragments. Together they all add up. Together it is not round, not whole, not simple. It is more than that—it is complete. In life, some things simply cannot be intertwined. They remain paradoxical, broken, unconnected, next to each other ... and yet when viewed altogether, they are still whole.


Being a passionate sculptor, I always carry a sketchbook in my pocket, in which I outline small objects. I gave them the abstract but euphonic name Rugla Swepum. I used thirty-five of the scribblings from this collection, scaled them up on aluminum boards and then painted them out with thick, bright-colored varnish.
The first thing viewers often notice in the work of Rugla Swepum are the bright colors. But if you look more closely, the details of the artwork begin to emerge. Lines, constructions, shapes and figures. Beautiful and stylish, chaotic, abstract and yet somehow still familiar. Flowing lines, radical forms, brutal cuts, breaks and fragments all come together to ultimately stir up a question within the viewer: What is this? What am I actually seeing here? Is it a face? A spaceship? A dancer? Or is this a mountain—maybe the Alps?
I created the paintings of Rugla Swepum in the everyday movements of life. The inspiration behind them weren’t just gathered out of thin air, they were dug up from the depths of the soil of life. Over the past few years, I’ve scribbled in my sketchbook, gone through creative processes and worked hard. Yet along the way, I also made new friends and solved problems. I jumped into a river with a backflip, I endured crises, and I fell in love. I felt the depths of despair and I found courage again. I doubted. I trusted. I arrived. I broke up and started over again. Life can be a chaotic series of experiences. One moment you can follow happiness that runs like a golden thread through the carpet of life, and the next moment something pulls the carpet out from underneath you and leaves you in pain. How is it these extremes can fit together?
I believe we find beauty in life the more we are able to see and enjoy the whole picture—extremes and everything between. My hope is that viewers will see the various works in Rugla Swepum as an opportunity to examine their own lives. In the paintings, elements intertwine, occasionally squeezing themselves in and cutting structures apart. Layer lines up with layer. Color sets itself apart from color. A new form arises, a new contrast, a shape made of fragments. Together they all add up. Together it is not round, not whole, not simple. It is more than that—it is complete. In life, some things simply cannot be intertwined. They remain paradoxical, broken, unconnected, next to each other ... and yet when viewed altogether, they are still whole.


Being a passionate sculptor, I always carry a sketchbook in my pocket, in which I outline small objects. I gave them the abstract but euphonic name Rugla Swepum. I used thirty-five of the scribblings from this collection, scaled them up on aluminum boards and then painted them out with thick, bright-colored varnish.
The first thing viewers often notice in the work of Rugla Swepum are the bright colors. But if you look more closely, the details of the artwork begin to emerge. Lines, constructions, shapes and figures. Beautiful and stylish, chaotic, abstract and yet somehow still familiar. Flowing lines, radical forms, brutal cuts, breaks and fragments all come together to ultimately stir up a question within the viewer: What is this? What am I actually seeing here? Is it a face? A spaceship? A dancer? Or is this a mountain—maybe the Alps?
I created the paintings of Rugla Swepum in the everyday movements of life. The inspiration behind them weren’t just gathered out of thin air, they were dug up from the depths of the soil of life. Over the past few years, I’ve scribbled in my sketchbook, gone through creative processes and worked hard. Yet along the way, I also made new friends and solved problems. I jumped into a river with a backflip, I endured crises, and I fell in love. I felt the depths of despair and I found courage again. I doubted. I trusted. I arrived. I broke up and started over again.
Life can be a chaotic series of experiences. One moment you can follow happiness that runs like a golden thread through the carpet of life, and the next moment something pulls the carpet out from underneath you and leaves
you in pain. How is it these extremes can fit together?
I believe we find beauty in life the more we are able to see and enjoy the whole picture—extremes and everything between. My hope is that viewers will see the various works in Rugla Swepum as an opportunity to examine their own lives. In the paintings, elements intertwine, occasionally squeezing themselves in and cutting structures apart. Layer lines up with layer. Color sets itself apart from color. A new form arises, a new contrast, a shape made of fragments. Together they all add up. Together it is not round, not whole, not simple. It is more than that—it is complete. In life, some things simply cannot be intertwined. They remain paradoxical, broken, unconnected, next to each other ... and yet when viewed altogether, they are still whole.


Benjamin Siegenthaler

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