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Jörgen Thornberg
The Weight of Light, 2025
Digital
70 x 50 cm
3 200 kr
The weight of Light
Some evenings arrive with a serene hush, as if they’ve been treading softly all day. The sun descends leisurely, the air mellows, and the sea mirrors a sky that appears to be holding its breath in tranquil anticipation. It's a scene that captivates, inviting you to pause, to breathe, and to be present in the moment.
On such an evening in Skanör, two figures strolled out onto the pier — not to rush, not to chase time, but to savour it, to let it linger in their hearts for a moment.
They stretched out their hands, and in the glow of the setting sun, it seemed as if they were cradling the light itself — as if day had chosen to nestle in their palms, a part of their shared moment.
And that’s when Lisa asked a question. A simple question. The kind of question that could open the whole sky. George loved to explain, and she loved to listen. Perfect combination.
”The Weight of Thought
Do thoughts have weight,
tiny sparks pressed into the air,
like footprints on the fabric of the world?
Does love leave a shadow
when it moves through us,
a quiet pull,
like the moon tugging at the tide?
Every word we spoke,
every laugh that rose between us —
Did they fall away,
or are they drifting still,
a soft constellation of memory,
waiting?
Einstein said energy cannot be destroyed.
So perhaps love
— the brightest energy we have —
never fades,
only travels.
From hand to hand,
from breath to breath,
from one life into another,
until it rests
on a distant star
and waits for us there.”
Malmö, Juli 2025
The Weight of Light and Love
The sun was sinking, slipping into that moment between day and night when the air feels like it’s holding its breath. The sky was a canvas of vibrant hues, painting the world in a breathtaking spectacle. Lisa and George stood before the pier in Skanör, their arms outstretched, fingers touching to form a basket. From where they stood, it looked as if the sun had settled in their hands — as if the two of them had cupped it between their palms like a delicate, glowing fruit.
“George,” Lisa said, squinting into the orange haze, “does light weigh anything?” she asked, her head tilted in that characteristic way of hers, always ready to delve into the mysteries of the universe, her tone carrying a playful curiosity. Their shared curiosity about the universe added a profound sense of wonder to the tranquil scene.
She tilted her head as she asked it. Lisa always asked questions this way — lightly, curiously, like tossing a pebble into still water to see how far the ripples would go.
George smiled, a warm and comforting expression, because he loved this not just for the question, but for the asking. He loved that Lisa enjoyed when he explained things. And Lisa, for her part, loved his explanations, even if she only remembered half of them. She could forget the name of the first dog on the moon or whether gamma rays had anything to do with the Hulk, but she never forgot who sat next to her at a dinner party ten years ago.
“Light,” George began, shifting his stance just slightly so the sun seemed to balance perfectly between them, “is tricky.”
Lisa laughed softly. “Everything with you is tricky.”
“No, really,” he said, the teacher’s tone creeping in, though she didn’t mind. “Light doesn’t have mass. Not like we do. You can’t put it on a scale. But it has energy. And energy,” he tapped her finger lightly with his, “is sort of like mass in disguise. It's not that light has a physical weight like a brick, but it has a property that behaves as if it has mass. It's like Superman in glasses-you know, when he's Clark Kent, he looks like a regular guy, but underneath, he's a superhero. In the same way, light may not look heavy, but it has the power to move things, just like Superman."
“Mass in disguise,” Lisa repeated, amused. “Like Superman in glasses.”
George grinned. “Exactly. Einstein figured that out. E=mc² — the little equation that means energy and mass are two sides of the same coin. So light, in its way, ‘weighs’. Not like a brick, but enough to push objects. You know, like solar sails on spacecraft — they move just because sunlight hits them.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows. “Einstein knew that?”
“He knew a lot,” George said, glancing briefly at the horizon as if Einstein himself might stroll down the pier. “He figured out some things so quickly that it still frightens scientists. And some of it…” He shrugged, “Some of it we still don’t fully understand.”
Lisa was silent for a moment, her hands still cupping the sun. “I like that,” she said finally. “That even Einstein left mysteries behind. Makes me feel better about forgetting where I left my keys.”
George chuckled. “Einstein forgot things, too, you know. Like where he put his papers. Or his socks.”
“Good,” she said with mock solemnity. “I’m Einstein, his female cousin.”
They both laughed then, their shared mirth echoing in the quiet of the evening, and for a while, they stood there, holding the sun, their laughter a warm melody in the tranquil scene.
George nodded. “It matters. It bends around stars, it drives sails, it even makes shadows move. It’s weightless and heavy all at once.”
He hesitated, then added, “And really — it’s not completely weightless, not in the way people think. Light has no rest mass, sure, but it still carries energy, and energy has an equivalent weight. Not the kind that shows up on your bathroom scales, but enough that gravity notices.”
Lisa tilted her head. “Gravity… notices?”
“Yes,” George said, pleased by her curiosity. “That’s why light bends when it passes a star or a black hole. Einstein called it the curvature of space-time — gravity doesn’t just pull on apples, it pulls on light itself, bending it like a reed in the wind. We see galaxies distorted because of that bending. We call it ‘gravitational lensing.’”
Lisa blinked at the word. “Gravitational lensing,” she repeated, as if tasting it. “Sounds like something you’d buy for my camera."
George smiled. “It’s what makes the universe visible in ways we couldn’t imagine. Without it, we’d miss whole galaxies hiding behind other galaxies.”
Lisa watched the sun balanced between their hands, her brow slightly furrowed. "So light… has weight, but not the kind you can weigh?”
George nodded again. “Exactly. It’s weight without the footprint — but still enough for the universe to feel it.”
Lisa smiled and tilted her head so the last sliver of sunlight framed her face. “Like love,” she said, her voice carrying the profound weight of her feelings, a weight that transcends the physical and resonates in the soul.
George opened his mouth — ready to explain love the way he explained everything else — then thought better of it. Some things didn’t need explaining.
They just stood there, the two of them, holding the sun between their hands until it slipped away, leaving only the warmth.
A new quiet descended, the sun now just a golden smear sinking into the sea, painting the sky with its final hues of warmth and beauty.
Lisa turned her face towards him, her voice softer now.
“How about love, George — our love? Does it weigh anything, apart from how good it feels inside?”
George looked at her with real intent, the way he always did when the question mattered more than the answer. “I’ve thought a lot about that,” he said slowly. “About thoughts themselves — whether they have weight, the way light does. You see, thinking uses energy. And if energy can’t be destroyed, like Einstein said, then every thought must stay somewhere. It must leave something behind.”
He paused, his eyes still fixed on hers, the last streak of sunlight catching in his hair. “I’ve read that this might explain what happens when we die: that our thoughts — our souls — travel on somehow. That’s why time-travellers can return, because the soul doesn’t belong to one place. It belongs to eternity. Many of us believe we move from Earth to a star out there in the universe, into eternity, not to some heaven or hell. Those are just human inventions.”
He reached for her hand, gently closing it in his.
“We leave the body here, with all the aches that plagued us. But the soul—everything that made us who we are—it goes on. We’ll see each other up there again. And I promise...” his voice faltered just a little, “...I promise I’ll love you just as much in eternity.”
Lisa moved closer, and the hug she gave him lasted so long that the sun finally disappeared completely, leaving only the afterglow.
Jörgen Thornberg
The Weight of Light, 2025
Digital
70 x 50 cm
3 200 kr
The weight of Light
Some evenings arrive with a serene hush, as if they’ve been treading softly all day. The sun descends leisurely, the air mellows, and the sea mirrors a sky that appears to be holding its breath in tranquil anticipation. It's a scene that captivates, inviting you to pause, to breathe, and to be present in the moment.
On such an evening in Skanör, two figures strolled out onto the pier — not to rush, not to chase time, but to savour it, to let it linger in their hearts for a moment.
They stretched out their hands, and in the glow of the setting sun, it seemed as if they were cradling the light itself — as if day had chosen to nestle in their palms, a part of their shared moment.
And that’s when Lisa asked a question. A simple question. The kind of question that could open the whole sky. George loved to explain, and she loved to listen. Perfect combination.
”The Weight of Thought
Do thoughts have weight,
tiny sparks pressed into the air,
like footprints on the fabric of the world?
Does love leave a shadow
when it moves through us,
a quiet pull,
like the moon tugging at the tide?
Every word we spoke,
every laugh that rose between us —
Did they fall away,
or are they drifting still,
a soft constellation of memory,
waiting?
Einstein said energy cannot be destroyed.
So perhaps love
— the brightest energy we have —
never fades,
only travels.
From hand to hand,
from breath to breath,
from one life into another,
until it rests
on a distant star
and waits for us there.”
Malmö, Juli 2025
The Weight of Light and Love
The sun was sinking, slipping into that moment between day and night when the air feels like it’s holding its breath. The sky was a canvas of vibrant hues, painting the world in a breathtaking spectacle. Lisa and George stood before the pier in Skanör, their arms outstretched, fingers touching to form a basket. From where they stood, it looked as if the sun had settled in their hands — as if the two of them had cupped it between their palms like a delicate, glowing fruit.
“George,” Lisa said, squinting into the orange haze, “does light weigh anything?” she asked, her head tilted in that characteristic way of hers, always ready to delve into the mysteries of the universe, her tone carrying a playful curiosity. Their shared curiosity about the universe added a profound sense of wonder to the tranquil scene.
She tilted her head as she asked it. Lisa always asked questions this way — lightly, curiously, like tossing a pebble into still water to see how far the ripples would go.
George smiled, a warm and comforting expression, because he loved this not just for the question, but for the asking. He loved that Lisa enjoyed when he explained things. And Lisa, for her part, loved his explanations, even if she only remembered half of them. She could forget the name of the first dog on the moon or whether gamma rays had anything to do with the Hulk, but she never forgot who sat next to her at a dinner party ten years ago.
“Light,” George began, shifting his stance just slightly so the sun seemed to balance perfectly between them, “is tricky.”
Lisa laughed softly. “Everything with you is tricky.”
“No, really,” he said, the teacher’s tone creeping in, though she didn’t mind. “Light doesn’t have mass. Not like we do. You can’t put it on a scale. But it has energy. And energy,” he tapped her finger lightly with his, “is sort of like mass in disguise. It's not that light has a physical weight like a brick, but it has a property that behaves as if it has mass. It's like Superman in glasses-you know, when he's Clark Kent, he looks like a regular guy, but underneath, he's a superhero. In the same way, light may not look heavy, but it has the power to move things, just like Superman."
“Mass in disguise,” Lisa repeated, amused. “Like Superman in glasses.”
George grinned. “Exactly. Einstein figured that out. E=mc² — the little equation that means energy and mass are two sides of the same coin. So light, in its way, ‘weighs’. Not like a brick, but enough to push objects. You know, like solar sails on spacecraft — they move just because sunlight hits them.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows. “Einstein knew that?”
“He knew a lot,” George said, glancing briefly at the horizon as if Einstein himself might stroll down the pier. “He figured out some things so quickly that it still frightens scientists. And some of it…” He shrugged, “Some of it we still don’t fully understand.”
Lisa was silent for a moment, her hands still cupping the sun. “I like that,” she said finally. “That even Einstein left mysteries behind. Makes me feel better about forgetting where I left my keys.”
George chuckled. “Einstein forgot things, too, you know. Like where he put his papers. Or his socks.”
“Good,” she said with mock solemnity. “I’m Einstein, his female cousin.”
They both laughed then, their shared mirth echoing in the quiet of the evening, and for a while, they stood there, holding the sun, their laughter a warm melody in the tranquil scene.
George nodded. “It matters. It bends around stars, it drives sails, it even makes shadows move. It’s weightless and heavy all at once.”
He hesitated, then added, “And really — it’s not completely weightless, not in the way people think. Light has no rest mass, sure, but it still carries energy, and energy has an equivalent weight. Not the kind that shows up on your bathroom scales, but enough that gravity notices.”
Lisa tilted her head. “Gravity… notices?”
“Yes,” George said, pleased by her curiosity. “That’s why light bends when it passes a star or a black hole. Einstein called it the curvature of space-time — gravity doesn’t just pull on apples, it pulls on light itself, bending it like a reed in the wind. We see galaxies distorted because of that bending. We call it ‘gravitational lensing.’”
Lisa blinked at the word. “Gravitational lensing,” she repeated, as if tasting it. “Sounds like something you’d buy for my camera."
George smiled. “It’s what makes the universe visible in ways we couldn’t imagine. Without it, we’d miss whole galaxies hiding behind other galaxies.”
Lisa watched the sun balanced between their hands, her brow slightly furrowed. "So light… has weight, but not the kind you can weigh?”
George nodded again. “Exactly. It’s weight without the footprint — but still enough for the universe to feel it.”
Lisa smiled and tilted her head so the last sliver of sunlight framed her face. “Like love,” she said, her voice carrying the profound weight of her feelings, a weight that transcends the physical and resonates in the soul.
George opened his mouth — ready to explain love the way he explained everything else — then thought better of it. Some things didn’t need explaining.
They just stood there, the two of them, holding the sun between their hands until it slipped away, leaving only the warmth.
A new quiet descended, the sun now just a golden smear sinking into the sea, painting the sky with its final hues of warmth and beauty.
Lisa turned her face towards him, her voice softer now.
“How about love, George — our love? Does it weigh anything, apart from how good it feels inside?”
George looked at her with real intent, the way he always did when the question mattered more than the answer. “I’ve thought a lot about that,” he said slowly. “About thoughts themselves — whether they have weight, the way light does. You see, thinking uses energy. And if energy can’t be destroyed, like Einstein said, then every thought must stay somewhere. It must leave something behind.”
He paused, his eyes still fixed on hers, the last streak of sunlight catching in his hair. “I’ve read that this might explain what happens when we die: that our thoughts — our souls — travel on somehow. That’s why time-travellers can return, because the soul doesn’t belong to one place. It belongs to eternity. Many of us believe we move from Earth to a star out there in the universe, into eternity, not to some heaven or hell. Those are just human inventions.”
He reached for her hand, gently closing it in his.
“We leave the body here, with all the aches that plagued us. But the soul—everything that made us who we are—it goes on. We’ll see each other up there again. And I promise...” his voice faltered just a little, “...I promise I’ll love you just as much in eternity.”
Lisa moved closer, and the hug she gave him lasted so long that the sun finally disappeared completely, leaving only the afterglow.
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