This photograph was made about eighteen years ago with a Hasselblad medium format camera in Colosseum kino at Majorstuen in Oslo. I was standing directly under the huge, perfectly white cupola, looking straight up into the central opening. The ceiling is almost absurdly clean and symmetrical – like a deliberate echo of the Pantheon in Rome, quietly transplanted into a Norwegian cinema.

At the time I was working a lot with architecture and historical buildings – from the Palast der Republik in Berlin to the Holmenkollen ski jump in Oslo, where I threw a bicycle from the tower in the work Gravity is a mixed blessing.

The title Der Apfelstrudel im Bauch des Architekten is a playful nod to Peter Greenaway’s film The Belly of the Architect, but taken less seriously and with a bit more dessert. Like Gravity is a mixed blessing, the work sits on the edge between reverence and irony. It treats this monumental modern cupola with respect, but it also pokes it gently in the stomach and asks: what happens when we imagine these grand architectural spaces as bodies with cravings, doubts and a slightly ridiculous side?

This edition is worth owning
This is a limited edition for people who want something real — but don’t need to buy a one-off to feel that.

The edition is fixed and controlled. When it’s gone, it closes. That’s the whole point: you get something scarce enough to matter, without the “only one exists” price level.

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Der Apfelstrudel im Bauch des Architekten

Ever since I was a small child, I’ve been fascinated by big images. Whether it’s photography, graphics or painting. Big images do something to the space, they become part of it. I like that. They are present, they can’t be avoided. They always demand our attention.

Nostalgia Economika is a series of paintings and digital prints produced in large formats. The drawing in the background is from banknotes from around the world. Nostalgia because what we call money is in flux, and in many places banknotes are no longer exchanged for coins. Now digital transactions are taking over and banknotes are on their way out. Along with them, a social interaction that lasted for thousands of years. The state and central bank are losing not only a means of representation, but also control over the definition of what money is and will be in the future. A little nostalgia is allowed.

The colors in the image are applied with a brush in several but thin layers and are intended to completely break up the message of the money motif. They simply have nothing to do with each other and that’s how it should be.

This piece is unique (1/1)
This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you.

It comes with the cleanest provenance possible — directly from the studio.

And hey! if you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Ett Hundra Greta Garbo

I forever loved old photographs, black and white, exposed with old-fashioned photographic techniques, unsharp, scratched, imperfect and faded. They have so much to tell from a world long gone or far away. They transport something enigmatic, something you cannot grasp entirely, they are extracted from a context I do not understand.

The artwork Russeprinsesse is taken by a commercial photographer in Oslo in 1903 (as the title suggests :-). It is a studio shot taken under perfect conditions. The photographer worked with a forrest backdrop to place the depicted person in nature.

The original c-print (approx 8 x 15 cm) was provided by Oslo Katedralskolen. After digitalising the original and so printing Henrik Kleppe comes in and does his magic. With airbrush and delicate brush strokes he transforms the original material into a unique piece of art by adding dreamy and cloudy colours to the motif.

This edition is worth owning
This is a limited edition for people who want something real — but don’t need to buy a one-off to feel that.

The edition is fixed and controlled. When it’s gone, it closes. That’s the whole point: you get something scarce enough to matter, without the “only one exists” price level.

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Russeprinsesse 1903 – print edition

Selvportrett som Adolf Hitler. Analog fotografi, digital FineArt print, innrammet u/ glass, 240 x 310 cm

Germans

A collection of my old t-shirts I wore until they (almost) literally fell off my body. I loved them and was proud to carry the message they had to convey to the world. Eventually, they showed signs of wear, holes and stains. The color and design was worn out and faded by the sun. 
They have had a long life, some of them lived for almost 20 years. After they were buried as garments, they were given a new life in art. They were stretched on canvas, primed with acrylics and painted over with thin layers of oil. Now they shine again as if they are new, which they are because this is their second life, as a picture, as a work of art, finally free from function and purpose. 

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

The picture is framed (without glass) in oak floating frames. The frame is included in the sales price

Arm trotz Arbeit - Poor despite work

Unique screenprint issued by The Central Bank of The United Transnational Republics. Legal tender, signed and numbered by Jakob Zoche and Tammo Rist

100 Payola – Fargevariant

Rays is a small series of three photographs made with a deliberately “incomplete” camera: images taken with a camera, but without a lens. By letting light enter directly—sometimes analog, sometimes digital—the work goes back to photography’s earliest drama: exposure, colour, and the physics of seeing.

What you’re looking at isn’t a scene in the usual sense. The shapes arrive through stray light, reflections, partial obstructions, and cropped fragments of the world—incidental, yet never random. It may feel like chance, but every flare and gradient follows its own strict rules.

The images refuse to “tell a story” in the usual way. They don’t point outward toward a narrative—they pull you inward toward perception itself: light becoming colour, colour becoming space, space becoming mood. Whatever you read into them is the point; the meaning isn’t depicted, it’s produced in the moment of looking.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Technical specs:
Analog photograph digitalised FineArt print / Giclée on Hahnemühle PhotoRag Baryta 315 to ensure longevity and colour accuracy

Rays I

3D (anaglyph) print i lysboks, fra Øyafestivalen 2010

View over Paris

Between 4 and 5 a.m. at Oslo Airport, hand luggage slides through the X-ray checkpoint in a kind of sleepless choreography. For a split second, the suitcase stops being a container and becomes a confession: cables and keys, a book, a pair of scissors that shouldn’t be there—small choices and quiet habits rendered as glowing silhouettes.

Made in collaboration with Avinor, the work treats airport security as an unlikely photographic studio: a camera that doesn’t look at surfaces, but straight through them. It lands somewhere between radiography and still life—clinical in its light, yet strangely intimate in what it reveals.

The piece comes from the same period as Metabolism—a time when I was drawn to these “found” X-ray images as contemporary documents of movement, circulation, and what we carry (literally and otherwise). Different sites, same fascination: the everyday turning translucent, and the private becoming readable without ever showing a face.

This edition is worth owning
This is a limited edition for people who want something real — but don’t need to buy a one-off to feel that.

The edition is fixed and controlled. When it’s gone, it closes. That’s the whole point: you get something scarce enough to matter, without the “only one exists” price level.

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Digital FineArt print (archival pigment print) on Hahnemühle PhotoRag 308, mounted on 3mm iBond.

10 ting – checked in

The Palast der Republik was never just a building. From its opening in 1976 to its demolition between 2006 and 2008, it sat beside Berlin’s Museum Island like a provocation in plain sight—part “people’s palace,” part seat of the GDR’s Volkskammer, and a cultural machine that hosted everything from concerts to congresses.

After 1990, the Palast became a screen onto which reunified Germany projected its arguments about memory, legitimacy, and what deserves to remain visible. The discovery of asbestos—followed by the building’s closure in September 1990—helped turn a political dispute into an administrative inevitability, and the demolition decision later became official policy.

I made this work from inside that tension. At the time, I was part of a collective of artists and activists campaigning against demolition—trying to keep the Palast open to the future, not sealed off as a “finished chapter.” For me, it stands as a reminder that architecture can be an ideology you can walk into—and that cities don’t only rebuild stone and steel, they rebuild their own conscience.

This edition is worth owning

This is a limited edition for people who want something real — but don’t need to buy a one-off to feel that.

The edition is fixed and controlled. When it’s gone, it closes. That’s the whole point: you get something scarce enough to matter, without the “only one exists” price level.

If you care about edition numbers (early numbers, or a specific range), message me before buying.

Palast der Republik

A collection of my old t-shirts I wore until they (almost) literally fell off my body. I loved them and was proud to carry the message they had to convey to the world. Eventually, they showed signs of wear, holes and stains. The color and design was worn out and faded by the sun. 
They have had a long life, some of them lived for almost 20 years. After they were buried as garments, they were given a new life in art. They were stretched on canvas, primed with acrylics and painted over with thin layers of oil. Now they shine again as if they are new, which they are because this is their second life, as a picture, as a work of art, finally free from function and purpose. 

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

The picture is framed (without glass) in oak floating frames. The frame is included in the sales price.

Falun Gong

Rays is a small series of three photographs made with a deliberately “incomplete” camera: images taken with a camera, but without a lens. By letting light enter directly—sometimes analog, sometimes digital—the work goes back to photography’s earliest drama: exposure, colour, and the physics of seeing.

What you’re looking at isn’t a scene in the usual sense. The shapes arrive through stray light, reflections, partial obstructions, and cropped fragments of the world—incidental, yet never random. It may feel like chance, but every flare and gradient follows its own strict rules.

The images refuse to “tell a story” in the usual way. They don’t point outward toward a narrative—they pull you inward toward perception itself: light becoming colour, colour becoming space, space becoming mood. Whatever you read into them is the point; the meaning isn’t depicted, it’s produced in the moment of looking.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.


Technical specs:
Analog photograph digitalised FineArt print / Giclée on Hahnemühle PhotoRag Baryta 315 to ensure longevity and colour accuracy

Rays III

Rays II

During the late 1990s, I found myself immersed in one of the most creatively fulfilling periods of my life. Each evening I would retreat to my bedroom studio. It was here, in the quiet and solitude of these hours, that I produced a series of paintings that remain some of my most cherished works.

These pieces were not born from any rigid academic theory or external pressure; rather, they flowed naturally, capturing the raw energy and excitement of those moments. The spontaneity and freedom of that time are forever etched into these works, which hold a deep personal affection for me.

I worked primarily with acrylics on paper, favoring a large format of approximately 70×100 cm that allowed for bold gestures and expansive compositions. The combination of stencil and brush became my signature approach during this period. The stencils, in reference to Max Ernst’s “Decalcomanie”, provided both structure and form, as well as texture and dynamism, creating a dialogue between control and spontaneity. Acrylics, with their quick-drying nature and vibrant colors, matched the immediacy of my creative impulses, allowing me to layer and experiment without hesitation.

These paintings opened many doors for me, both personally and professionally. They are the foundation of my artistic work and to this day, they remain among my favorites.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Pluto and his friend Saturn

Analog fotografi, digital FineArt print spylt i vann og blekk, innrammet bak glass

Chamelëon med sopp

Nostalgia Economika er en serie malerier/ digitaltrykk i store og små formater. Den begynte i 2017 og fortsetter til dagens dato. Motivene kommer fra pengesedler fra hele verden. Bildene leker med verdisystemer; hva oppfattes som verdifull eller verdiløs. Hvem bestemmer verdien av noe, hvilke hierarkier står bak dette og hvorfor er noe som en gang hadde verdi, plutselig er verdiløs. Merkelig og fascinerende, i hvert fall i mine øyene. 
Signiert Digital FineArt print med håndmalte detaljer, montert på 10mm kapa.

Nostalgia Economika #9 - 100 SEK (Greta Garbo)

Signert Digital FineArt print med håndmalte detaljer, innrammet i hvit treramme uten glass (glass kan bestilles ekstra).

Siden jeg tenker er jeg fascinert av store bilder. Om det er fotografi, grafikk eller maleri. Store bilder gjør noe med rommet, de blir en del av det. Jeg liker det. De er til stede, lar seg ikke unngå. De alltid etterspør oppmerksomheten vår.

Nostalgia Economika er en serie malerier og digitaltrykk produsert i store formater. Tegningen i bakgrunnen er fra pengesedler fra hele verden. Nostalgia for det vi kaller penger er i forandring og mange steder byttes ikke sedler lengre mot mynter. Nå er det digitale transaksjoner som tar over og sedlene er på vei ut. Sammen med de, en sosial interaksjon som varte over flere tusen år. Stat og sentralbank mister ikke bare en representasjonsmiddel, men også kontrollen over definisjonen hva penger er og skal være i fremtiden. Litt nostalgi skal være lov.

Fargene i bildet er påført med pensel i flere men tynne lag og skal fullstendig bryte opp budskapet fra pengermotivet. De har rett og slett ingenting med hverandre å gjøre og det er slik det skal være.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.


Nostalgia Economika #5 (10.000 Tanzania Shilling)

I’ve always been drawn to old photographs—their softness, their scratches, the way time edits them into something more than documentation. They feel like messages from a world that’s either gone or never quite existed in the way we imagine it. You sense a context you can’t fully enter, and that distance becomes part of the image’s charge.

Russeprinsesse (1903) begins with the opposite of decay: a carefully staged studio portrait made in Oslo in 1903 by a commercial photographer. The sitter is placed before a painted forest backdrop—nature, meticulously manufactured—an early reminder that photography has always been as much about desire as about truth.

The original vintage print (approx. 8 × 15 cm), provided by Oslo Katedralskole, was digitised and reprinted in black and white at the work’s final dimensions. From there, the image is pushed into a second life through what I call a “reverse analog developing process”: colour is introduced back into the monochrome photograph by hand, as a physical transformation rather than a digital effect. The result sits somewhere between document and apparition—history, gently re-imagined.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Russeprinsesse 1903

Long distances. Digital photograph taken from a plain at cruising altitude down on a water. Approximate distance 15 km. FineArt print, signed by the artist, innrammet i beiset eik, med museums glass.

Cruise ship

Attention! Lovers and admires of old maps, THIS is a treat! “Turgot Map of Paris – print edition” presents a digitally restored version of the iconic Turgot Map of Paris, an exquisite cartographic masterpiece from the 18th century, meticulously crafted between 1735 and 1739 by Louis Bretez. The map offers a panoramic view of Paris, capturing the streets, buildings, and landmarks of Paris with unparalleled detail of the time. The map offers a mesmerizing glimpse into the city’s past. The juxtaposition of rich architectural detail and the absence of life in the streets is as well striking. While the streets remain empty, the Seine River teems with activity, where workers and fishermen going about their daily lives. After a while you get captivated by the intricate network of void lines and shapes. When viewed from a slight distance, they coalesce into a grand, abstract representation of the city about 300 years back in time.

Through the process of digital restoring and reimagining the Turgot Map, I not only preserve its historical significance but also pay homage to the vision and technical skill of its creators.

The original etching consists of 20 separate sheets, each approximately 85x55cm in size. Put together (in four columns and five rows), the entire work is approximately 340x275cm in size.

This edition is worth owning
This is a limited edition for people who want something real — but don’t need to buy a one-off to feel that.

The edition is fixed and controlled. When it’s gone, it closes. That’s the whole point: you get something scarce enough to matter, without the “only one exists” price level.

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Turgot Map of Paris – restored print edition

This photograph is almost a disaster—or maybe that’s exactly its strength. Flaws can make an image more alive; they pull your attention away from mere depiction and toward something stranger, more physical, more felt.

It was made with a 4×5″ large-format camera—film plates, old mechanics, slow decisions—the same setup I used for Stabil himmel. At the time, I had never handled anything larger than a Hasselblad 500, and the learning curve was real. But Hvitsten has a way of demanding patience. When I took the shot, Martas hus was already in the process of being demolished.

After development, I was mesmerised by the grain and the razor-sharp detail. And then there was the surprise: a mirror-like flare caused by stray, deflected light during the exposure. Technically a mistake—visually a gift. It runs through the subject like a quiet haunting and adds exactly the kind of mystery the scene seems to ask for.

The image is printed in black and white on FineArt paper, then taken one step further through a “reverse analog” developing process: colour is introduced after the fact by bathing the print in tinted water, allowing pigment to seep into the fibres like a dye. The result is a one-of-a-kind piece—and one of my personal favourites.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Martas hus på Hvitsten

Røntgenscans av lastebilder fra Svinesund grensen, 70 digitale FineArt prints montert på aluminium, 70 x 39 cm hver
A choice of 90 truck scans – x-ray images of trucks and their cargo made throughout 2011 by the customs office at the Norwegian-Swedish border at Svinesund, the central access point into Norway by land. The scanner, which is a massively enlarged version of those used for airport security checks, is the first of its kind in Europe. Occasionally, one of the images produced in Svinesund is printed by the national newspapers to accompany a spectacular incidence of border violation – smuggled alcohol, cigarettes‚ illegal substances, even human trafficking. In such cases, the truck and its cargo are seized while the image is allowed to travel. Normally though, it is the image that becomes arrested – retained in the ever-growing data base of the customs office – while the truck is permitted to drive on to its destination. But whilst the latter images have been deemed forensically inconspicuous, they nevertheless have the potential to uncover something hidden.

In keeping with the medical tradition of x-ray imaging as a diagnostic tool, the truck-scans, when viewed in larger numbers, approximate a composite image of Norway’s metabolism – the organism’s intake, transportation, and transformation of matter destined to build up and maintain the country’s substance.
Les mer på metabolism.no

Metabolism

During the late 1990s, I found myself immersed in one of the most creatively fulfilling periods of my life. Each evening I would retreat to my bedroom studio. It was here, in the quiet and solitude of these hours, that I produced a series of paintings that remain some of my most cherished works.

These pieces were not born from any rigid academic theory or external pressure; rather, they flowed naturally, capturing the raw energy and excitement of those moments. The spontaneity and freedom of that time are forever etched into these works, which hold a deep personal affection for me.

I worked primarily with acrylics on paper, favoring a large format of approximately 70×100 cm that allowed for bold gestures and expansive compositions. The combination of stencil and brush became my signature approach during this period. The stencils, in reference to Max Ernst’s “Decalcomanie”, provided both structure and form, as well as texture and dynamism, creating a dialogue between control and spontaneity. Acrylics, with their quick-drying nature and vibrant colors, matched the immediacy of my creative impulses, allowing me to layer and experiment without hesitation.

These paintings opened many doors for me, both personally and professionally. They are the foundation of my artistic work and to this day, they remain among my favorites.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! if you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Jupiter and his friend Saturn

Rays is a small series of three photographs made with a deliberately “incomplete” camera: images taken with a camera, but without a lens. By letting light enter directly—sometimes analog, sometimes digital—the work goes back to photography’s earliest drama: exposure, colour, and the physics of seeing.

What you’re looking at isn’t a scene in the usual sense. The shapes arrive through stray light, reflections, partial obstructions, and cropped fragments of the world—incidental, yet never random. It may feel like chance, but every flare and gradient follows its own strict rules.

The images refuse to “tell a story” in the usual way. They don’t point outward toward a narrative—they pull you inward toward perception itself: light becoming colour, colour becoming space, space becoming mood. Whatever you read into them is the point; the meaning isn’t depicted, it’s produced in the moment of looking.

This piece is unique (1/1)
This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you.

It comes with the cleanest provenance possible — directly from the studio.

And hey! if you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

RAYS-XOX

Happening, photograph, video, object. This piece was one of my first works after I packed my bags in Berlin and moved to Oslo. At the time I was very intrigued by historical buildings, landmarks and the representation of national identity. Similar to Palast der Republik, the Holmenkollen jump tower was and is a building of national interest. At the time, there was a heated discussion in Norway about whether renewing or demolishing this iconic construction after approximately 30 years in use to host the world’s biggest ski-jump event–the Kollenhop. There were pros and cons. I went up several times to document the demolishing process and finally decided to apply for permission to hold a “performance” where to throw a bicycle off the rails from the top of the tower and from there 60 meters down to the ground. It was great fun! First after developing the film, I realised that in the top left corner, there was an airplane accidentally depicted pointing upwards, whereas the bike was falling downwards. This juxtaposition gave way to the title: Gravity is a mixed blessing.

Artwork for purchase only consists of photograph + 1 small print copy (30x30cm) of the destroyed bicycle. 

This edition is worth owning
This is a limited edition for people who want something real — but don’t need to buy a one-off to feel that.

The edition is fixed and controlled. When it’s gone, it closes. That’s the whole point: you get something scarce enough to matter, without the “only one exists” price level.

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Gravity is a mixed blessing

The Wifebeater

A collection of my old t-shirts I wore until they (almost) literally fell off my body. I loved them and was proud to carry the message they had to convey to the world. Eventually, they showed signs of wear, holes and stains. The colour and design washed out and faded by the sun. They have had a long life, some of them for almost 20 years.

Now that they are buried as garments, they are given a new life in art. Stretched on canvas, primed with acrylics and painted over with thin layers of paint. Now they shine again as if they are new, which they are because this is their second life, as a picture, as a work of art, finally free from function and purpose.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Le Panther

Pigment print on copy paper. Mounted on a stack of copy paper.

Sigg

Refleksveste

Between 4 and 5 a.m. at Oslo Airport, hand luggage slides through the X-ray checkpoint in a kind of sleepless choreography. For a split second, the suitcase stops being a container and becomes a confession: cables and keys, a book, a pair of scissors that shouldn’t be there—small choices and quiet habits rendered as glowing silhouettes.

Made in collaboration with Avinor, the work treats airport security as an unlikely photographic studio: a camera that doesn’t look at surfaces, but straight through them. It lands somewhere between radiography and still life—clinical in its light, yet strangely intimate in what it reveals.

The piece comes from the same period as Metabolism—a time when I was drawn to these “found” X-ray images as contemporary documents of movement, circulation, and what we carry (literally and otherwise). Different sites, same fascination: the everyday turning translucent, and the private becoming readable without ever showing a face. 

Digital FineArt print (archival pigment print) on Hahnemühle PhotoRag 308, mounted on 3mm iBond.

10 ting (hand luggage)

Nostalgia Economika er en serie malerier/ digitaltrykk i store og små formater. Den begynte i 2017 og fortsetter til dagens dato. Motivene kommer fra pengesedler fra hele verden. Bildene leker med verdisystemer; hva oppfattes som verdifull eller verdiløs. Hvem bestemmer verdien av noe, hvilke hierarkier står bak dette og hvorfor er noe som en gang hadde verdi, plutselig er verdiløs. Merkelig og fascinerende, i hvert fall i mine øyene. 
Signert Digital FineArt print med håndmalte detaljer, montert på 10mm kapa.

Nostalgia Economika #7 - 1 USD (George Washington)

Nostalgia Economika #6 - 10.000 Tanzania Shilling (Elefant)

Long distances. Digital FineArt print, innrammet bak glass

Lufthansa

Photographed in Berlin around 2005, this view of the Fernsehturm began as a quiet act of attention: a Hasselblad, medium format black-and-white film, and that unmistakable needle of modernity rising into the sky. The tower is pure East-Berlin futurism—equal parts promise and surveillance—yet on film it becomes something softer: a memory with sharp edges.

After developing the negative, I scanned and edited it, then printed the image in black and white on FineArt paper. That’s where the process turns: colour enters only after the photograph already exists—almost like a reversal of the usual logic.

The print goes through a “reverse analog” developing stage, an act of sophisticated studio alchemy. FineArt paper is gently bathed in tinted water, letting pigment seep, bloom, and settle into the fibres like a slow dye–a process that required patience. The result isn’t a digital overlay but a physical stain—part photograph, part atmosphere—so each print carries the same Berlin moment, yet becomes its own, subtly unrepeatable version.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Berliner Fernsehturm

Om usynlighet, om å oppløse seg. Analog fotografi, digital FineArt print, innrammet u/ glass, 70 x 85 cm

Chamelëon

Hausmanns kvartalet. Digital FineArt print montert på aluminium, 110 x 110 cm

Lukket selskap

Untitled (Welle)

During the late 1990s, I found myself immersed in one of the most creatively fulfilling periods of my life. Each evening I would retreat to my bedroom studio. It was here, in the quiet and solitude of these hours, that I produced a series of paintings that remain some of my most cherished works.

These pieces were not born from any rigid academic theory or external pressure; rather, they flowed naturally, capturing the raw energy and excitement of those moments. The spontaneity and freedom of that time are forever etched into these works, which hold a deep personal affection for me.

I worked primarily with acrylics on paper, favoring a large format of approximately 70×100 cm that allowed for bold gestures and expansive compositions. The combination of stencil and brush became my signature approach during this period. The stencils, in reference to Max Ernst’s “Decalcomanie”, provided both structure and form, as well as texture and dynamism, creating a dialogue between control and spontaneity. Acrylics, with their quick-drying nature and vibrant colors, matched the immediacy of my creative impulses, allowing me to layer and experiment without hesitation.

These paintings opened many doors for me, both personally and professionally. They are the foundation of my artistic work and to this day, they remain among my favorites.

This piece is unique (1/1)
This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you.

And hey! if you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Germans print edition

Grønn sommerfugl

This photograph is a total disaster! It was this incredible midsummer night in Norway when a friend an I went out to the fjord and took pictures of this immaculate sky–not a cloud to find and of the most divine colour gradient you only discover so far up north. The picture was taken with a 4×5″ camera–old school–which was challenging for itself for a photographer like me who never touched a bigger camera than a Hasselblad 500. I set up the tripod and camera and took the shot, put the film back in its box and developed it the day after. The film turned out to be black and white and not as expected in colour 🙁

I thought nevermind, this is where the art begins. The grain of the negative was perfect, the shot boring as hell. What to do? I asked Sebastian Helling, a Oslo based painter and graffiti artist if he wants to tagg it. Mildly speaking he was pleased. I dropped by his studio, he took some cans and did his magic, plain and simple.

This piece is unique (1/1)

This is a one-off. There isn’t another copy, and there won’t be.

If you’re here for something that holds up over time — visually and conceptually — you’re in the right place. This work comes from a practice built across many years and many contexts: from independent local scenes to major institutions.

Unique works are the ones people regret not buying — not because they’re “better”, but because hesitation has consequences: you can’t come back later and find the same piece waiting for you. 

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Stabil himmel

Born from a weekend at the Lyngør firehouse on Norway’s southern coast—one of those places so starkly beautiful it almost risks becoming a cliché, until you’re actually there.

I had brought my analog Hasselblad, as I always do, to pin a moment to film. We were only a few months into our relationship, walking the island in that early, unreasonable kind of happiness. At some point Nosizwe—my partner and an artist in her own right—built a small, improvised sculpture from branches and a tree stump. Then she took the camera and made an exposure without really knowing the setup.

When the film came back, the image was “wrong” in nearly every technical sense—and somehow exactly right. Not a mistake, more like a portrait of how we move through the world: intuitive, a little chaotic, and intensely present.

Later, I chose to let the photograph carry its own “afterlife.” Before scanning, I dragged the negative gently along the floor so it could pick up dust—tiny, real particles that become visible only when light passes through the film again.

In the final image, that dust reads like a second exposure: not of the island, but of time, handling, and chance. It’s a quiet reminder that this isn’t just an image of a moment—it’s a physical thing that has been touched, marked, and made.

This edition is worth owning
This is a limited edition for people who want something real — but don’t need to buy a one-off to feel that.

The edition is fixed and controlled. When it’s gone, it closes. That’s the whole point: you get something scarce enough to matter, without the “only one exists” price level.

And hey! If you’re unsure about size: send me a wall photo with measurements and I’ll tell you what will actually work.

Tammo Rist

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