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Jörgen Thornberg
Summer is Red, Yellow and Blue, 2025
Digital
70 x 50 cm
3 200 kr
Summer is Red, Yellow and Blue
That’s what the poster proclaims, featuring a woman in a dress whose pattern reflects the landscape behind her, and hair that sets the sky alight. Astrid hails from Malmö, and yes, it’s her making her way through the rain along Södergatan. With her umbrella held close, dressed in a dress and red shoes, she hurries home somewhere near Gustav Adolfs Square. Like everyone else, she longs for the weather depicted in the advertisement – for those days when the wind is warm, and the air feels like it’s full of promises.
“When We’ve Longed Enough
When we’ve longed enough, when our sighs grow bold,
And the windows ache with the weight of cold,
Then Summer stirs in her secret bed,
Shakes off dreams of frost and thread.
She yawns in fields where snow once lay,
Let tulips whisper, “Come and stay,”
She warms the earth with fingertips,
And paints the dawn with honeyed drips.
She strolls through trees in soft bare feet,
Wakes every bud with kisses sweet.
She hangs the sky in linen blue,
And scatters clouds with a golden hue.
She plucks a laugh from children’s games,
And feeds the fire of evening flames.
She threads wild strawberries on grass,
And let the slowest moments pass.
She spins long days that never end,
Invites the moon to softly bend.
She hums where the sun on water gleams,
And tiptoes through our drowsy dreams.
But seasons change, as seasons must,
And even joy can turn to dust.
One evening, when the breeze is shy,
She folds her hands and waves goodbye.
She gathers light in quiet heaps,
And carries it to where she sleeps.
“Next time you long,” she says with grace,
“I’ll bloom again to warm this place.”
Malmö June 2025
The Scania Summer is Red, Yellow and Blue,
declares the poster, with the woman in a dress that mirrors the landscape behind her, and with hair that sets the sky ablaze. Astrid is from Malmö, and in fact, she’s the one hurrying through the rain along Södergatan. Clutching her umbrella, dressed in a red dress and shoes, she makes her way home, somewhere near Gustav Adolfs Square. Like everyone else, she eagerly anticipates the weather promised by the poster, for that day when the wind is warm and the scents carry promises.
The photo on the billboard was taken on a clear summer day last year, in a rapeseed field just in front of Kronetorps Mill in Burlöv. The poppies growing at the edge of the field are a bonus—together with Astrid’s hair, the pattern of her dress, and the bright crops, they create a breathtakingly beautiful scene of the Scanian summer: a vibrant palette of red, yellow, and blue.
The blue sky is more than a backdrop. It’s the canvas for the red and yellow, just as the Swedish flag is the canvas for the Scanian one. Or the other way round. It depends on whom you ask.
Astrid— that woman on the rainy street— is more than just a passerby. She is Summer’s ambassador, a role she takes seriously. She knows exactly what she’s waiting for. She remembers what Summer whispered to her the last time they parted, sometime around the autumn equinox.
“Don’t take me for granted,” Summer began in a voice like a mild summer breeze.
“That’s what I remind myself of every time I hear someone hum Idas sommarvisa – the song Astrid Lindgren wrote for me, Summer – and which no child in this country doesn’t know by heart. Still, people forget that I don’t just arrive, like a flick of a wand. That I don’t awaken just because the calendar says June.
I don’t follow forecasts, nor tidy dates, nor signals from the weather bureau.
Summer doesn't just arrive, it's called for. It's longed for. It's welcome. Someone has to want it, feel a genuine longing, and open their doors and windows. When that longing is felt, Summer begins to move, like a dancer responding to the music of anticipation.
Then I whisper to the snow that its time is up. And it listens. Slowly, reluctantly, it melts and slips away, back to the mountaintop glaciers, back into Summer’s forgetfulness, a place where time and memory blend into a dream. I brush away the last white with my fingertips and invite the colours back – the ones that curled up in winter’s den, hidden under grey and silence.
But first, I must tidy up. Let the spring rains rinse away sorrow, grime and gravel from the streets and pavements. Then I dress the trees in fresh green garments – delicate leaves that rustle secrets to one another. Here and there, I scatter bird nests, safe little homes where new life begins.
In the evening, I bring out my brushes. First, I paint the sky cornflower blue, like a blooming cornflower. Then I let the heavens shimmer in gold, and at last, I drape the rooftops in a veil of rose-hued dusk, like a blanket over a city falling asleep. I’m the one who makes evenings long and lovely. And I do it so that you might pause a moment – and breathe.
I sift warmth between the birch trunks. Let the light play among drifting dandelion seeds. I slip into the cracks between people and walls, waking what has slept. And the flowers–oh, they know. The moment I arrive, they lift their heads. Open. As if they’d been waiting for my voice.
It’s me who turns the pastures green again. Who makes the leaves rustle and the wind smell of hay? I fill the brooks with water so they spring to life, tumbling, leaping, singing over stones. I summon the swallows – they swoop above the rooftops in swift arcs. I stir up the mosquitoes for them. Nature is my orchestra, and I conduct it with the lightest touch.
I make wild strawberries, too. Small red gifts, just right to thread onto a blade of grass. They’re for the children, because they still remember how I taste. I create places for them to run – stumps to balance on, cones to toss, grassy knolls to hide behind. I give them laughter in their lungs and a restless joy in their feet.
And when the children tumble across the meadows, barefoot and sun-warmed, I know I’ve succeeded. I am there in their giggles, their scraped knees, their flushed cheeks, and dirt-smudged hands. I am Summer – not just in the air or on the thermometer, but in everything that lives.
And here in Malmö... oh, my beloved Malmö, my summer city.
Summer in Malmö is a vibrant time, pulsating with joy and liveliness. The sun, a constant companion, lingers long and low over the harbour, casting a golden hue on the canals, reflecting off the colourful façades, and rippling across the masts of the boats. The outdoor cafés, like beacons of conviviality, are filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the delightful aroma of new potatoes, salt, strawberries, and beer.
I give the city a feeling of togetherness, a sense that you belong to one another, that you are all part of this vibrant, sun-kissed tapestry. I want you to be outside as much as possible, to bask in the light, to share moments of joy and laughter, and to create memories that you can cherish again when November arrives.
Astrid – the one walking there with her red umbrella, a symbol of her love for my mild temperatures and her desire to stay dry during the occasional showers I offer. Of course, the lawns must drink, the rhubarb must not droop. But mostly, she wants me to be sunny, warm, and kind.
I know – I wake you early and keep you up late. It’s my way of saying: live. Live now.
Around Dockan’s harbour basin, I let the light glisten on the water, reflecting in the glass façades. Västra Hamnen hums with life – boat rides, swimming, strolling, and laughter. And when someone tires of the new, I guide them to the parks, markets, and hidden clearings. There, they unfold their blankets, unpack their picnic baskets, pop the corks, and let out long breaths.
My leaves are lush. My flowerbeds burn with colour. In the old Kockums dry dock, boats rock lazily. The gulls cry, and the smell of grilled food drifts down from a balcony as twilight settles.
I am here.
I am your Summer, your companion in this vibrant city of Malmö. I am the one who wakes you early and keeps you up late, urging you to live in the moment.
But remember, I am your Summer, your vibrant companion in Malmö, only for as long as you see me, and ask me to stay. Your actions, your appreciation, and your love for this season are what keep me here, making every summer in Malmö a unique and cherished experience.
Jörgen Thornberg
Summer is Red, Yellow and Blue, 2025
Digital
70 x 50 cm
3 200 kr
Summer is Red, Yellow and Blue
That’s what the poster proclaims, featuring a woman in a dress whose pattern reflects the landscape behind her, and hair that sets the sky alight. Astrid hails from Malmö, and yes, it’s her making her way through the rain along Södergatan. With her umbrella held close, dressed in a dress and red shoes, she hurries home somewhere near Gustav Adolfs Square. Like everyone else, she longs for the weather depicted in the advertisement – for those days when the wind is warm, and the air feels like it’s full of promises.
“When We’ve Longed Enough
When we’ve longed enough, when our sighs grow bold,
And the windows ache with the weight of cold,
Then Summer stirs in her secret bed,
Shakes off dreams of frost and thread.
She yawns in fields where snow once lay,
Let tulips whisper, “Come and stay,”
She warms the earth with fingertips,
And paints the dawn with honeyed drips.
She strolls through trees in soft bare feet,
Wakes every bud with kisses sweet.
She hangs the sky in linen blue,
And scatters clouds with a golden hue.
She plucks a laugh from children’s games,
And feeds the fire of evening flames.
She threads wild strawberries on grass,
And let the slowest moments pass.
She spins long days that never end,
Invites the moon to softly bend.
She hums where the sun on water gleams,
And tiptoes through our drowsy dreams.
But seasons change, as seasons must,
And even joy can turn to dust.
One evening, when the breeze is shy,
She folds her hands and waves goodbye.
She gathers light in quiet heaps,
And carries it to where she sleeps.
“Next time you long,” she says with grace,
“I’ll bloom again to warm this place.”
Malmö June 2025
The Scania Summer is Red, Yellow and Blue,
declares the poster, with the woman in a dress that mirrors the landscape behind her, and with hair that sets the sky ablaze. Astrid is from Malmö, and in fact, she’s the one hurrying through the rain along Södergatan. Clutching her umbrella, dressed in a red dress and shoes, she makes her way home, somewhere near Gustav Adolfs Square. Like everyone else, she eagerly anticipates the weather promised by the poster, for that day when the wind is warm and the scents carry promises.
The photo on the billboard was taken on a clear summer day last year, in a rapeseed field just in front of Kronetorps Mill in Burlöv. The poppies growing at the edge of the field are a bonus—together with Astrid’s hair, the pattern of her dress, and the bright crops, they create a breathtakingly beautiful scene of the Scanian summer: a vibrant palette of red, yellow, and blue.
The blue sky is more than a backdrop. It’s the canvas for the red and yellow, just as the Swedish flag is the canvas for the Scanian one. Or the other way round. It depends on whom you ask.
Astrid— that woman on the rainy street— is more than just a passerby. She is Summer’s ambassador, a role she takes seriously. She knows exactly what she’s waiting for. She remembers what Summer whispered to her the last time they parted, sometime around the autumn equinox.
“Don’t take me for granted,” Summer began in a voice like a mild summer breeze.
“That’s what I remind myself of every time I hear someone hum Idas sommarvisa – the song Astrid Lindgren wrote for me, Summer – and which no child in this country doesn’t know by heart. Still, people forget that I don’t just arrive, like a flick of a wand. That I don’t awaken just because the calendar says June.
I don’t follow forecasts, nor tidy dates, nor signals from the weather bureau.
Summer doesn't just arrive, it's called for. It's longed for. It's welcome. Someone has to want it, feel a genuine longing, and open their doors and windows. When that longing is felt, Summer begins to move, like a dancer responding to the music of anticipation.
Then I whisper to the snow that its time is up. And it listens. Slowly, reluctantly, it melts and slips away, back to the mountaintop glaciers, back into Summer’s forgetfulness, a place where time and memory blend into a dream. I brush away the last white with my fingertips and invite the colours back – the ones that curled up in winter’s den, hidden under grey and silence.
But first, I must tidy up. Let the spring rains rinse away sorrow, grime and gravel from the streets and pavements. Then I dress the trees in fresh green garments – delicate leaves that rustle secrets to one another. Here and there, I scatter bird nests, safe little homes where new life begins.
In the evening, I bring out my brushes. First, I paint the sky cornflower blue, like a blooming cornflower. Then I let the heavens shimmer in gold, and at last, I drape the rooftops in a veil of rose-hued dusk, like a blanket over a city falling asleep. I’m the one who makes evenings long and lovely. And I do it so that you might pause a moment – and breathe.
I sift warmth between the birch trunks. Let the light play among drifting dandelion seeds. I slip into the cracks between people and walls, waking what has slept. And the flowers–oh, they know. The moment I arrive, they lift their heads. Open. As if they’d been waiting for my voice.
It’s me who turns the pastures green again. Who makes the leaves rustle and the wind smell of hay? I fill the brooks with water so they spring to life, tumbling, leaping, singing over stones. I summon the swallows – they swoop above the rooftops in swift arcs. I stir up the mosquitoes for them. Nature is my orchestra, and I conduct it with the lightest touch.
I make wild strawberries, too. Small red gifts, just right to thread onto a blade of grass. They’re for the children, because they still remember how I taste. I create places for them to run – stumps to balance on, cones to toss, grassy knolls to hide behind. I give them laughter in their lungs and a restless joy in their feet.
And when the children tumble across the meadows, barefoot and sun-warmed, I know I’ve succeeded. I am there in their giggles, their scraped knees, their flushed cheeks, and dirt-smudged hands. I am Summer – not just in the air or on the thermometer, but in everything that lives.
And here in Malmö... oh, my beloved Malmö, my summer city.
Summer in Malmö is a vibrant time, pulsating with joy and liveliness. The sun, a constant companion, lingers long and low over the harbour, casting a golden hue on the canals, reflecting off the colourful façades, and rippling across the masts of the boats. The outdoor cafés, like beacons of conviviality, are filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the delightful aroma of new potatoes, salt, strawberries, and beer.
I give the city a feeling of togetherness, a sense that you belong to one another, that you are all part of this vibrant, sun-kissed tapestry. I want you to be outside as much as possible, to bask in the light, to share moments of joy and laughter, and to create memories that you can cherish again when November arrives.
Astrid – the one walking there with her red umbrella, a symbol of her love for my mild temperatures and her desire to stay dry during the occasional showers I offer. Of course, the lawns must drink, the rhubarb must not droop. But mostly, she wants me to be sunny, warm, and kind.
I know – I wake you early and keep you up late. It’s my way of saying: live. Live now.
Around Dockan’s harbour basin, I let the light glisten on the water, reflecting in the glass façades. Västra Hamnen hums with life – boat rides, swimming, strolling, and laughter. And when someone tires of the new, I guide them to the parks, markets, and hidden clearings. There, they unfold their blankets, unpack their picnic baskets, pop the corks, and let out long breaths.
My leaves are lush. My flowerbeds burn with colour. In the old Kockums dry dock, boats rock lazily. The gulls cry, and the smell of grilled food drifts down from a balcony as twilight settles.
I am here.
I am your Summer, your companion in this vibrant city of Malmö. I am the one who wakes you early and keeps you up late, urging you to live in the moment.
But remember, I am your Summer, your vibrant companion in Malmö, only for as long as you see me, and ask me to stay. Your actions, your appreciation, and your love for this season are what keep me here, making every summer in Malmö a unique and cherished experience.
3 200 kr
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