Part II — Liminal Layers of Light with Jenny Lundgren

IN CONVERSATION

Typically, for our exhibitions at Otomys, we invite our artists to respond to a set of thoughtful questions that offer insight into their practice and the themes of the exhibition.

 

However, for Liminal Layers of Light, the collaborative bond between Frances van Hasselt, Jenny Lundgren and Caroline Collom was so deeply rooted that we invited them to pose questions to one another instead.

 

This gesture, of artists in dialogue, captures the essence of the exhibition: one of mutual exchange, trust, and layered perspectives. Their questions, like the works themselves, are tender, considered, and reflective of a process shaped by distance and intention.

 

This blog marks Part II of their dialogue series with Jenny Lundgren in focus. 

 

August 4, 2025

  • Q. CAROLINE COLLOM: In our chats you said this beautiful expression; “I do as I always do, I just paint, as much as I can, and when the time comes I will see what can work and not.” Do you feel you approached the works for this exhibition differently with regard to your composition, application and colour choices? There is a beautiful sense of light within in your work already, did you find yourself more aware of this subject for this exhibition?

  • A. JENNY LUNDGREN: I was deeply inspired by the realisation of how differently the three of us experience light—day and night, winter and summer. That awareness naturally flowed into the creative process as I worked, and I found myself contemplating light in my paintings more than ever. Yet, I’ve learned through experience that my work often loses its vitality if I cling too tightly to a single idea. So while I begin each painting with a guiding thought, I strive to remain open—allowing intuition to shape the journey as much as intention. 
     
    One thing that set this group exhibition apart from others was that it truly felt like we were a group. Even though we knew nothing about each other beforehand, and despite the great geographical distances between us, we managed to find a meaningful connection — a sense that we were creating something together. Each of us worked in our own way, as we usually do, but with a shared sense of purpose — that together, it would become something greater. That was something really special. 
  • Q. FRANCES VAN HASSELT: I so admire how you work according to where you are at, not where you want to go;  Your openness and trust in the process has been incredibly humbling and liberating to learn from. Since you work in this way I’d love to know if you find yourself setting a broad concept before you start painting, or does the concept follow once selecting pieces that have started forming their own narrative?

     

    We all share a fascination with light, colour and the abstraction of landscapes and everyday spaces. Coming from such a different landscape and practice, I would love for you to share a little more about your process and how working in an environment with such intense seasonality impacts your work. Particularly your works for this show - They are so rich in colour and depth of light I was wondering if this is closely linked to the season you find yourself painting in?

  • A. JENNY LUNDGREN: I would say the answer to your first question is both yes and no. I usually begin with a basic idea of composition and color—a loose framework from which to start—but as the painting unfolds, it often takes on a life of its own. Unexpected shifts can occur, leading me toward new thoughts and directions, both in form and palette. I try to remain open, receptive to what’s happening on the canvas, without gripping too tightly to preconceived ideas about how it *should* evolve. 
     
    There are moments when I experiment and try things out. At other times, the next step feels perfectly clear — as if the painting itself is showing the way forward. In that sense, a concept can emerge in the middle of the process — something that might carry over into the next work, where it can shift again and possibly open up new paths to explore. 
     
    The seasons here in the north of Sweden—with their dramatic contrasts in light and temperature— leave a deep imprint on daily life, and inevitably, on my painting as well. In the heart of winter, when daylight is fleeting and the world feels steeped in a kind of perpetual dusk, I find it harder to paint. I’m forced to rely on artificial light even during the day, which I find deeply uninspiring. 
     
    It’s not that I usually wait for inspiration when I paint — no, I go to the studio and get to work. Inspiration tends to arise through the act itself, in the process of creating. I do the same in winter, but it’s harder then, and it takes more from me to find that flow. 
     
    The three of us began our “conversation” ahead of the exhibition in March. By then, I had already been thinking about the show for a while and had started a few pieces. March is that time when the light truly begins to return — the days grow longer, and the snow begins to melt. So, I laid the foundation for these paintings during the darker season, when I have to work a little harder to find the light — both in painting and in life. Then I was able to complete everything with the added energy that the returning light and spring brought — and, of course, the extra inspiration our chat group gave me.