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Jörgen Thornberg
Frida Kahlo and the Sea, 2025
Digital
70 x 100 cm
Frida Kahlo and the Sea - A Poetic Narrative of Transformation
Stay with me on this journey of Frida and the Sea. There's a delightful surprise waiting for you in the next lines.
https://www.konst.se/jorgen-thornberg
Frida Kahlo and the Call of the Sea
Once bound to the earth, Frida Kahlo’s life and art were rooted in the soil of Mexico. Her colours were drawn from dust and clay, and the permanence of roots and stone shaped her world. Water, to her, was merely a necessity—a tool to quench thirst, nurture plants, or mix pigments. But her perspective shifted on Hydra, where the winds whispered secrets and the sea danced with infinite rhythm.
On this island, surrounded by the ever-changing waters of the Hydra Strait, Frida encountered something beyond the realm of the earth: the restless sea, untamed and infinite. Poseidon greeted her with thunderous waves, and Aphrodite, born of foam, guided her into its embrace. Here, Frida discovered the chaos and beauty of water, its ability to transform and heal, to create and destroy.
As the waves whispered their stories, Frida began to see herself in their movement—ever-changing, never still. She found in the sea a mirror for her own tumultuous life, filled with pain and beauty in equal measure. In the presence of gods and tides, it was on Hydra that Frida’s soul unshackled itself from the earth, becoming as fluid and free as the water she had once feared.
Read on to explore all about the two Fridas' transformation through their connection with the sea.
“Frida and the Sea
Once she was bound to the earth,
Her colours drawn from dust and clay,
Her world a tapestry of roots and stone,
Where water served but passed away.
Then came Hydra, the island of winds,
Where Poseidon roared, and Aphrodite sang.
The sea called out with a voice untamed,
Its waves are like whispers; its salt is a pang.
“Come, painter of sorrow,” the sea god said,
“Know my chaos, my endless tides.
You paint your pain in hues of land,
But here, the water abides.”
She watched as his horses, white as foam,
Galloped ashore with a thunderous cry,
Each wave a story, each crest a stroke,
A fleeting truth beneath the sky.
And Aphrodite, born of the waves,
Took her hand with a smile divine.
“This sea,” she said, “is not just water—
It’s life, it’s birth, it’s yours and mine.”
Frida stepped into the restless brine,
The salt stung her scars but cleansed her soul.
The waves caressed her like a lover’s touch,
And for the first time, she felt whole.
At her window, she gazed for hours,
At the strait, its shifting hues and light,
Peloponnesos veiled in mist afar,
And waves that danced through day and night.
She painted the sea, but it slipped away,
Like grief, like joy, like a fleeting dream.
She painted the foam, the horses, the sky,
Aphrodite’s laughter, the water’s gleam.
No longer bound to the earth alone,
She found her soul in the ocean’s song.
From Diego’s shadow, she stepped into light,
And the waves carried her strength along.
Frida, who once was tied to the land,
Learned from the sea how to rise, to be free.
For no wave repeats, no tide is the same,
And neither, now, was she.
Malmö, January 2025
Frida Kahlo Meets the Sea - A Mythic Transformation
"You have to dance as if no one is looking at you, love as if you have never been hurt, sing as if no one is listening to you, and live as if you are in heaven," said Frida as she gazed out the window at the Hydra Strait, unusually empty of boats. She no longer felt seasick watching the waves, which seemed endless and never ceased to roll.
Frida Kahlo, born of earth and colour, was a landbound spirit. Her world was forged in the dry soil of Mexico, her visions painted in ochres and reds, the hues of deserts and sun-drenched walls. Water, to her, had always been utilitarian, a necessity to quench thirst, nourish Casa Azul's plants, or mix pigments. It was something to be used, not something to immerse oneself in. But then she came to Hydra, where the land and sea conspire to weave magic, and her world shifted.
Poseidon greeted her first, his presence as immense as Diego’s murals but wilder, freer. He emerged from the sea on white horses, their manes frothing like waves as they galloped ashore near Kamini. “Come, painter of pain,” he said, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder. “You have conquered the earth but know nothing of my realm.”
Initially, Frida resisted. The sea was foreign to her, unpredictable and untamed. She felt its salt sting her skin and tasted its brine on her lips, wondering how anyone could find solace in something so vast and restless. But Poseidon laughed, a sound like waves breaking against rocks, and he swept his arm toward the horizon. “Look,” he said, “and tell me this water is the same from one moment to the next. It is as ever-changing as your heart, as endless as your grief, as vast as your love. It is chaos, and it is beauty. It is you.”
And then arose Aphrodite, radiant and ageless from the foam, her laughter like the tinkle of distant bells. She took Frida’s hand and told her a story. “I was born here, outside Kamini,” she said, “fully grown from the sea. This water is not just an element; it is life, birth, and rebirth. It is where you will find yourself again.” She told Frida how she, too, had suffered and had felt the sting of rejection and the ache of longing. “But the sea,” Aphrodite whispered, “heals what the earth cannot.”
Frida began to see the water differently. She watched the waves roll in, each unique and fleeting masterpiece. They reminded her of her art, where every brush stroke captured something irreproducible. She saw how the water reflected the light in endless variations, never repeating itself, as if it, too, was painting its reality.
At Poseidon’s urging, she let her feet touch the surf. At Aphrodite’s insistence, she waded in. And there, in the sea's embrace, she felt her body lighten, her pain ease, her soul expand. For hours, she would stand at the window of her room, gazing out at the strait with its ever-shifting palette. The Peloponnesos lay in the distance, veiled in haze, and the water between them shimmered like molten glass, reflecting the sky’s moods. She felt alive in a way she hadn’t since before the accident, as though the sea had whispered secrets she had long forgotten.
She painted the waves but knew she could never fully capture them. She painted Aphrodite, her hair entwined with seaweed, her eyes deep as the ocean. She painted Poseidon’s horses, their hooves dissolving into foam. And she painted herself, standing at that window, transformed.
The sea, she realised, was not unlike her own life: tumultuous, unpredictable, filled with pain and beauty in equal measure. And like the waves, she would never be the same from one moment to the next. It was a lesson only Hydra, only the sea, could teach her.
Thus, the land crab Frida Kahlo became something new: a creature of the sea, drawn to its restless rhythm, its infinite variations, and its promise of renewal. And from that moment on, she painted not just with the earth’s pigments but with the fluidity and freedom of water, her spirit as untethered as the waves.
Jörgen Thornberg
Frida Kahlo and the Sea, 2025
Digital
70 x 100 cm
Frida Kahlo and the Sea - A Poetic Narrative of Transformation
Stay with me on this journey of Frida and the Sea. There's a delightful surprise waiting for you in the next lines.
https://www.konst.se/jorgen-thornberg
Frida Kahlo and the Call of the Sea
Once bound to the earth, Frida Kahlo’s life and art were rooted in the soil of Mexico. Her colours were drawn from dust and clay, and the permanence of roots and stone shaped her world. Water, to her, was merely a necessity—a tool to quench thirst, nurture plants, or mix pigments. But her perspective shifted on Hydra, where the winds whispered secrets and the sea danced with infinite rhythm.
On this island, surrounded by the ever-changing waters of the Hydra Strait, Frida encountered something beyond the realm of the earth: the restless sea, untamed and infinite. Poseidon greeted her with thunderous waves, and Aphrodite, born of foam, guided her into its embrace. Here, Frida discovered the chaos and beauty of water, its ability to transform and heal, to create and destroy.
As the waves whispered their stories, Frida began to see herself in their movement—ever-changing, never still. She found in the sea a mirror for her own tumultuous life, filled with pain and beauty in equal measure. In the presence of gods and tides, it was on Hydra that Frida’s soul unshackled itself from the earth, becoming as fluid and free as the water she had once feared.
Read on to explore all about the two Fridas' transformation through their connection with the sea.
“Frida and the Sea
Once she was bound to the earth,
Her colours drawn from dust and clay,
Her world a tapestry of roots and stone,
Where water served but passed away.
Then came Hydra, the island of winds,
Where Poseidon roared, and Aphrodite sang.
The sea called out with a voice untamed,
Its waves are like whispers; its salt is a pang.
“Come, painter of sorrow,” the sea god said,
“Know my chaos, my endless tides.
You paint your pain in hues of land,
But here, the water abides.”
She watched as his horses, white as foam,
Galloped ashore with a thunderous cry,
Each wave a story, each crest a stroke,
A fleeting truth beneath the sky.
And Aphrodite, born of the waves,
Took her hand with a smile divine.
“This sea,” she said, “is not just water—
It’s life, it’s birth, it’s yours and mine.”
Frida stepped into the restless brine,
The salt stung her scars but cleansed her soul.
The waves caressed her like a lover’s touch,
And for the first time, she felt whole.
At her window, she gazed for hours,
At the strait, its shifting hues and light,
Peloponnesos veiled in mist afar,
And waves that danced through day and night.
She painted the sea, but it slipped away,
Like grief, like joy, like a fleeting dream.
She painted the foam, the horses, the sky,
Aphrodite’s laughter, the water’s gleam.
No longer bound to the earth alone,
She found her soul in the ocean’s song.
From Diego’s shadow, she stepped into light,
And the waves carried her strength along.
Frida, who once was tied to the land,
Learned from the sea how to rise, to be free.
For no wave repeats, no tide is the same,
And neither, now, was she.
Malmö, January 2025
Frida Kahlo Meets the Sea - A Mythic Transformation
"You have to dance as if no one is looking at you, love as if you have never been hurt, sing as if no one is listening to you, and live as if you are in heaven," said Frida as she gazed out the window at the Hydra Strait, unusually empty of boats. She no longer felt seasick watching the waves, which seemed endless and never ceased to roll.
Frida Kahlo, born of earth and colour, was a landbound spirit. Her world was forged in the dry soil of Mexico, her visions painted in ochres and reds, the hues of deserts and sun-drenched walls. Water, to her, had always been utilitarian, a necessity to quench thirst, nourish Casa Azul's plants, or mix pigments. It was something to be used, not something to immerse oneself in. But then she came to Hydra, where the land and sea conspire to weave magic, and her world shifted.
Poseidon greeted her first, his presence as immense as Diego’s murals but wilder, freer. He emerged from the sea on white horses, their manes frothing like waves as they galloped ashore near Kamini. “Come, painter of pain,” he said, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder. “You have conquered the earth but know nothing of my realm.”
Initially, Frida resisted. The sea was foreign to her, unpredictable and untamed. She felt its salt sting her skin and tasted its brine on her lips, wondering how anyone could find solace in something so vast and restless. But Poseidon laughed, a sound like waves breaking against rocks, and he swept his arm toward the horizon. “Look,” he said, “and tell me this water is the same from one moment to the next. It is as ever-changing as your heart, as endless as your grief, as vast as your love. It is chaos, and it is beauty. It is you.”
And then arose Aphrodite, radiant and ageless from the foam, her laughter like the tinkle of distant bells. She took Frida’s hand and told her a story. “I was born here, outside Kamini,” she said, “fully grown from the sea. This water is not just an element; it is life, birth, and rebirth. It is where you will find yourself again.” She told Frida how she, too, had suffered and had felt the sting of rejection and the ache of longing. “But the sea,” Aphrodite whispered, “heals what the earth cannot.”
Frida began to see the water differently. She watched the waves roll in, each unique and fleeting masterpiece. They reminded her of her art, where every brush stroke captured something irreproducible. She saw how the water reflected the light in endless variations, never repeating itself, as if it, too, was painting its reality.
At Poseidon’s urging, she let her feet touch the surf. At Aphrodite’s insistence, she waded in. And there, in the sea's embrace, she felt her body lighten, her pain ease, her soul expand. For hours, she would stand at the window of her room, gazing out at the strait with its ever-shifting palette. The Peloponnesos lay in the distance, veiled in haze, and the water between them shimmered like molten glass, reflecting the sky’s moods. She felt alive in a way she hadn’t since before the accident, as though the sea had whispered secrets she had long forgotten.
She painted the waves but knew she could never fully capture them. She painted Aphrodite, her hair entwined with seaweed, her eyes deep as the ocean. She painted Poseidon’s horses, their hooves dissolving into foam. And she painted herself, standing at that window, transformed.
The sea, she realised, was not unlike her own life: tumultuous, unpredictable, filled with pain and beauty in equal measure. And like the waves, she would never be the same from one moment to the next. It was a lesson only Hydra, only the sea, could teach her.
Thus, the land crab Frida Kahlo became something new: a creature of the sea, drawn to its restless rhythm, its infinite variations, and its promise of renewal. And from that moment on, she painted not just with the earth’s pigments but with the fluidity and freedom of water, her spirit as untethered as the waves.
Jörgen Thornberg
Malmö
Lite om bilder och mig. Translation in English at the end.
Jag är en nyfiken person som ser allt i bilder, även det jag fäster i ord, gärna tillsammans för bakom alla mina bilder finns en berättelse. Till vissa bilder hör en kortare eller längre novell som följer med bilden.
Bilder berättar historier. Jag omges av naturlig skönhet, intressanta människor och historia var jag än går. Jag använder min kamera för att dokumentera världen och blanda det jag ser med vad jag känner för att fånga den dolda magin.
Mina bilder berättar mina historier. Genom mina bilder, tryck och berättelser. Jag bjuder in dig att ta del av dessa berättelser, in i ditt liv och hem och dela min mycket personliga syn på vår värld. Mer än vad ögat ser. Jag tänker i bilder, drömmer och skriver och pratar om dem; följaktligen måste jag också skapa bilder. De blir vad jag ser, inte nödvändigtvis begränsade till verkligheten. Det finns en bild runt varje hörn. Jag hoppas att du kommer att se vad jag såg och gilla det.
Jag är också en skrivande person och till många bilder hör en kortare eller längre essay. Den följer med tavlan, tryckt på fint papper och med en personlig hälsning från mig.
Flertalet bilder startar sin resa i min kamera. Enkelt förklarat beskriver jag bilden jag ser i mitt inre, upplevd eller fantiserad. Bilden uppstår inom mig redan innan jag fått okularet till ögat. På bråkdelen av ett ögonblick ser jag vad jag vill ha och vad som kan göras med bilden. Här skall jag stoppa in en giraff, stålmannen, Titanic eller vad det är min fantasi finner ut. Ännu märkligare är att jag kommer ihåg minnesbilden långt efteråt när det blir tid att skapa verket. Om jag lyckas eller inte, är upp till betraktaren, oftast präglat av en stråk av svart humor – meningen är att man skall bli underhållen. Mina bilder blir ofta en snackis där de hänger.
Jag föredrar bilder som förmedlar ett budskap i flera lager. Vid första anblicken fylld av feel-good, en vacker utsikt, fint väder, solen skiner, blommor på ängen eller vattnet som ligger förrädiskt spegelblankt. I en sådan bild kan jag gömma min egentliga berättelse, mitt förakt för förtryckare och våldsverkare, rasister och fördomsfulla människor - ett gärna återkommande motiv mer eller mindre dolt i det vackra motivet. Jag försöker förena dem i ett gemensamt narrativ.
Bild och formgivning har löpt som en röd tråd genom livet. Fotokonst känns som en värdig final som jag gärna delar med mig.
Min genre är vid som framgår av mina bilder, temat en blandning av pop- och gatukonst i kollage som kan bestå av hundratals lager. Vissa bilder kan ta veckor, andra någon dag innan det är dags att överlämna resultatet till printverkstaden. Fine Art Prints är digitala fotocollage. I dessa kollage sker rivandet, klippandet, pusslandet, målandet, ritandet och sprayningen digitalt. Det jag monterar in kan vara hundratals år gamla bilder som jag omsorgsfullt frilägger så att de ser ut att vara en del av tavlan men också bilder skapade av mig själv efter min egen fantasi. Därefter besöks printstudion och för vissa bilder numrera en limiterad upplaga (oftast 7 exemplar) och signera för hand. Vissa bilder kan köpas i olika format. Det är bara att fråga efter vilka. Gillar man en bild som är 70x100 men inte har plats på väggen, går den kanske att få i 50x70 cm istället. Frågan är fri.
Metoden Giclée eller Fine Art Print som det också kallas är det moderna sättet för framställning av grafisk konst. Villkoret för denna typ av utskrifter är att en högkvalitativ storformatskrivare används med åldersbeständigt färgpigment och konstnärspapper eller i förekommande fall på duk. Pappret som används möter de krav på livslängd som ställs av museer och gallerier. Normalt säljer jag mina bilder oinramade så att den nya ägaren själv kan bestämma hur de skall se ut, med eller utan passepartout färg på ram, med eller utan glas etc..
Under många år ställde jag bara ut på nätet, i valda grupper och på min egen Facebooksida - https://www.facebook.com/jorgen.thornberg.9
Jag finns också på en egen hemsida som tyvärr inte alltid är uppdaterad – https://www.jth.life/ Där kan du också läsa en del av de berättelser som följer med bilden.
UTSTÄLLNINGAR
Luftkastellet, oktober 2022
Konst i Lund, november 2022
Luftkastellet, mars 2023
Engleson Galleri Caroli, april 2023
Hydra, Greece June 2023
Engleson Galleri Caroli, oktober 2023
Toppen, Höllviken december 2023
Luftkastellet, mars 2024
Torups Galleri, mars 2024
Venice, May 2024
Luftkastellet, oktober 2024
Konst i Advent, December 2024
Galleri Engleson, Caroli December 2024
Jäger & Jansson Galleri, april 2025
A bit about pictures and me.
I'm a curious person who sees everything in pictures, even what I express in words, often combining them, for behind all my pictures lies a story. These narratives, some as short as a single image and others as long as a novel, are the heart and soul of my work.
Pictures tell stories. Wherever I go, I'm surrounded by natural beauty, exciting people, and history. I use my camera to document the world and blend what I see with what I feel to capture the hidden magic.
My images tell my stories. Through my pictures, prints, and narratives, I invite you to partake in these stories in your life and home and share my deeply personal perspective of our world. More than meets the eye. I think in pictures, dream, write, and talk about them; consequently, I must create images too. They become what I see, not necessarily confined to reality. There's a picture around every corner. I hope you'll see what I saw and enjoy it.
I'm also a writer, and many images come with a shorter or longer essay. It accompanies the painting, printed on fine paper with my personal greeting.
Many pictures start their journey on my camera. Simply put, I describe the image I see in my mind, experienced or imagined. The image arises within me even before I bring the eyepiece to my eye. In a fraction of a moment, I see what I want and what can be done with the picture. Here, I'll insert a giraffe, Superman, the Titanic, or whatever my imagination conjures up. Even stranger is that I remember the mental image long after it's time to create the work. Whether I succeed is up to the observer, often imbued with a streak of black humour – the aim is to entertain. My pictures usually become a talking point wherever they hang.
I prefer pictures that convey a message in multiple layers. At first glance, they're filled with feel-good vibes, a beautiful view, lovely weather, the sun shining, flowers in the meadow, or the water lying deceptively calm. But beneath this surface beauty, I often conceal a deeper story, a narrative that challenges societal norms or explores the human condition. I invite you to delve into these hidden narratives and discover the layers of meaning within my work.
Picture and design have been a thread running through my life. Photographic art feels like a fitting finale, and I'm happy to share it.
My genre is varied, as seen in my pictures; the theme is a blend of pop and street art in collages that can consist of hundreds of layers. Some images can take weeks, others just a day before it's time to hand over the result to the print workshop. Fine Art Prints are digital photo collages. In these collages, tearing, cutting, puzzling, painting, drawing, and spraying happen digitally. What I insert can be images hundreds of years old that I carefully extract so they appear to be part of the painting, but also images created by myself, now also generated from my imagination. Next, visit the print studio and, for certain images, number a limited edition (usually 7 copies) and sign them by hand. Some images may be available in other formats. Just ask which ones. If you like an image that's 70x100 but doesn't have space on the wall, you might be able to get it in 50x70 cm instead. The question is open.
The Giclée method, or Fine Art Print as it's also called, is the modern way of producing graphic art. This method ensures the highest quality and longevity of the artwork, using a high-quality large-format printer with archival pigment inks and artist paper or, in some cases, canvas. The paper used meets the longevity requirements set by museums and galleries. I sell my pictures unframed, allowing the new owner to personalise their artwork, confident in the lasting value and quality of the piece.
For many years, I only exhibited online, in selected groups, and on my Facebook page - https://www.facebook.com/jorgen.thornberg.9. I also have my website, which unfortunately is not constantly updated - https://www.jth.life/. You can also read some of the stories accompanying the pictures there.
EXHIBITIONS
Luftkastellet, October 2022
Art in Lund, November 2022
Luftkastellet, March 2023
Engleson Gallery Caroli, April 2023
Hydra, Greece June 2023
Engleson Gallery Caroli, October 2023
Toppen, Höllviken December 2023
Luftkastellet, March 2024
Torup Gallery, March 2024
Venice, May 2024
UTSTÄLLNINGAR
Luftkastellet, oktober 2022
Konst i Lund, november 2022
Luftkastellet, mars 2023
Engleson Galleri Caroli, april 2023
Hydra, Greece June 2023
Engleson Galleri Caroli, oktober 2023
Toppen, Höllviken december 2023
Luftkastellet, mars 2024
Torups Galleri, mars 2024
Venice, May 2024
Luftkastellet, October 2024
Konst i Advent, December 2024
Galleri Engleson, Caroli December 2024
Jäger & Jansson Galleri, April 2025
Utbildning
Autodidakt
Medlem i konstnärsförening
Öppna Sinnen
Med i konstrunda
Konstrundan i Skåne
Utställningar
Luftkastellet, October 2022
Art in Lund, November 2022
Luftkastellet, March 2023
Engleson Gallery Caroli, April 2023
Hydra, Greece June 2023
Engleson Gallery Caroli, October 2023
Toppen, Höllviken December 2023
Luftkastellet, March 2024
Torup Gallery, March 2024
Venice, May 2024