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Jörgen Thornberg
The Joy Scream - Glädjevrålet, 2026
Digital
50 x 70 cm
3 200 kr
The Joy Scream - Glädjevrålet
"The Gallery of Sunsets
There are sunsets for madmen,
where the sky burns like a confession
and the colours refuse to apologise.
They stand with their arms raised toward the light
and laugh at the horizon
as if the world has finally understood them.
There are sunsets for lovers,
soft as breath between two foreheads.
Where the sun does not set,
but leans against their shoulders
and allows itself to be carried away.
There are sunsets for anxious artists,
where colour cuts,
where red is not romance but wound,
where yellow is fever
and purple a memory that will not leave.
They do not see the light disappear —
They see it surrender.
There are sunsets for children,
where the sky is an ice-cream stand
and the clouds taste of vanilla and raspberry.
They believe the sun is playing hide-and-seek
and will return when it grows tired.
There are sunsets for the lonely,
where the horizon is a letter without an address.
Where every shade is someone who never replied.
There are sunsets for the old,
where light no longer dazzles
but gives thanks.
There are sunsets for the faithful,
where the sky opens
like a slow prayer.
There are sunsets for the doubtful,
where everything is beautiful
precisely because nothing is promised.
And then there are sunsets
that belong to no one in particular.
They simply happen.
As if the world itself wished to remind us
that even what dies every day
can be the most beautiful thing that exists.
The sun sets for madmen,
for lovers,
for the afraid,
for the brave,
for those who watch,
and for those who can no longer bear to.
And every time it does,
it is a different story
choosing the same light."
Malmö, January 2026
The Cry of Joy
Walking along the Great Pier toward Ribersborg’s Cold Bath with two friends, I felt how sunsets mirror our universal longing for connection and inner reflection, as the sky shifted from blood-red to orange to molten gold.
I threw my arms into the air and burst into a cry of joy. I stopped, trembling from the emotions surging through me. It was as if the pier itself swayed beneath my endless shout.
The rapture and joy I felt in the foreground mirrored the landscape and the sky, which danced in bands of warm colour — red, yellow, the brown of the pier blending with the blue of the sea — as if my cry were spreading outward in rings through the universe. In that moment, it struck me that what I had experienced was the opposite of Edvard Munch’s experience in Oslo in the 1890s, what he called The Scream — a moment filled with anxiety and illness.
On the National Museum’s version of The Scream, there is a finely written inscription: “Could only have been painted by a madman.” The same could be said of my image. Only a madman can experience a sunset over the Øresund with such intensity. I must live with that.
What I felt inside myself must have been what Turner once felt in Venice. Perhaps he, too, was mad.
Turner’s Venetian sunsets dissolve light, teaching us that the horizon no longer separates sky from water, inviting contemplation of unity beyond form.
In these paintings, the sun is not a disc, but a memory of warmth. It hovers like a final word that refuses to be spoken. The canals do not reflect the sky — they drink it, as if Venice itself were drinking the evening.
Impressionist sunsets are never about endings. They are about suspension. About the moment when the world hesitates between presence and disappearance. When architecture becomes mist, when boats are only suggestions of movement, when the air itself seems to glow from within, as if the day were exhaling, this invites contemplative readers to feel a peaceful pause in life's flow.
Turner painted sunsets the way a dream remembers a place: not with lines, but with temperature, not with form, but with tenderness. His Venice is not a city — it is a light event.
And in that light, everything forgives everything else. Stone forgives water. Sky forgives Earth. Time forgives itself.
My own experience of sunsets reveals that they mirror our universal longing for connection, reflecting how perceptions shape our emotional landscape and reminding us that these moments are shared, not owned. This fosters a sense of unity with contemplative readers.
Why travel to Venice when Lofoten exists? The closer one comes to the polar circles, the more the sun refuses to set, gliding slowly along the edge of the world as if holding onto the light a little longer, symbolising our human desire to cling to moments of beauty and meaning, challenging our notions of endings and beginnings.
Up there, the sunset does not end. It lingers. It tests colours. It hesitates. It breathes. For hours, gold, blood-red, copper, and ash move across the sky without deciding. Sometimes darkness never arrives. Sometimes, night becomes only a thought that changes its mind.
And longest of all are the sunsets where the sun sinks only once a year, slowly, over several days, until it finally disappears for months. Not as an ending, but as a season. Not as a final moment, but as a promise waiting. This can inspire hope and resilience in contemplative readers, reminding them that some endings are prolonged beginnings.
The longest sunsets exist where the Earth leans most deeply into its own dream. Where light refuses to let go. Where the day refuses to admit that it is over.
And perhaps that is why we have always sought those places. Not to watch the sun go down — but to see how long a farewell can last before it becomes a memory.
Jörgen Thornberg
The Joy Scream - Glädjevrålet, 2026
Digital
50 x 70 cm
3 200 kr
The Joy Scream - Glädjevrålet
"The Gallery of Sunsets
There are sunsets for madmen,
where the sky burns like a confession
and the colours refuse to apologise.
They stand with their arms raised toward the light
and laugh at the horizon
as if the world has finally understood them.
There are sunsets for lovers,
soft as breath between two foreheads.
Where the sun does not set,
but leans against their shoulders
and allows itself to be carried away.
There are sunsets for anxious artists,
where colour cuts,
where red is not romance but wound,
where yellow is fever
and purple a memory that will not leave.
They do not see the light disappear —
They see it surrender.
There are sunsets for children,
where the sky is an ice-cream stand
and the clouds taste of vanilla and raspberry.
They believe the sun is playing hide-and-seek
and will return when it grows tired.
There are sunsets for the lonely,
where the horizon is a letter without an address.
Where every shade is someone who never replied.
There are sunsets for the old,
where light no longer dazzles
but gives thanks.
There are sunsets for the faithful,
where the sky opens
like a slow prayer.
There are sunsets for the doubtful,
where everything is beautiful
precisely because nothing is promised.
And then there are sunsets
that belong to no one in particular.
They simply happen.
As if the world itself wished to remind us
that even what dies every day
can be the most beautiful thing that exists.
The sun sets for madmen,
for lovers,
for the afraid,
for the brave,
for those who watch,
and for those who can no longer bear to.
And every time it does,
it is a different story
choosing the same light."
Malmö, January 2026
The Cry of Joy
Walking along the Great Pier toward Ribersborg’s Cold Bath with two friends, I felt how sunsets mirror our universal longing for connection and inner reflection, as the sky shifted from blood-red to orange to molten gold.
I threw my arms into the air and burst into a cry of joy. I stopped, trembling from the emotions surging through me. It was as if the pier itself swayed beneath my endless shout.
The rapture and joy I felt in the foreground mirrored the landscape and the sky, which danced in bands of warm colour — red, yellow, the brown of the pier blending with the blue of the sea — as if my cry were spreading outward in rings through the universe. In that moment, it struck me that what I had experienced was the opposite of Edvard Munch’s experience in Oslo in the 1890s, what he called The Scream — a moment filled with anxiety and illness.
On the National Museum’s version of The Scream, there is a finely written inscription: “Could only have been painted by a madman.” The same could be said of my image. Only a madman can experience a sunset over the Øresund with such intensity. I must live with that.
What I felt inside myself must have been what Turner once felt in Venice. Perhaps he, too, was mad.
Turner’s Venetian sunsets dissolve light, teaching us that the horizon no longer separates sky from water, inviting contemplation of unity beyond form.
In these paintings, the sun is not a disc, but a memory of warmth. It hovers like a final word that refuses to be spoken. The canals do not reflect the sky — they drink it, as if Venice itself were drinking the evening.
Impressionist sunsets are never about endings. They are about suspension. About the moment when the world hesitates between presence and disappearance. When architecture becomes mist, when boats are only suggestions of movement, when the air itself seems to glow from within, as if the day were exhaling, this invites contemplative readers to feel a peaceful pause in life's flow.
Turner painted sunsets the way a dream remembers a place: not with lines, but with temperature, not with form, but with tenderness. His Venice is not a city — it is a light event.
And in that light, everything forgives everything else. Stone forgives water. Sky forgives Earth. Time forgives itself.
My own experience of sunsets reveals that they mirror our universal longing for connection, reflecting how perceptions shape our emotional landscape and reminding us that these moments are shared, not owned. This fosters a sense of unity with contemplative readers.
Why travel to Venice when Lofoten exists? The closer one comes to the polar circles, the more the sun refuses to set, gliding slowly along the edge of the world as if holding onto the light a little longer, symbolising our human desire to cling to moments of beauty and meaning, challenging our notions of endings and beginnings.
Up there, the sunset does not end. It lingers. It tests colours. It hesitates. It breathes. For hours, gold, blood-red, copper, and ash move across the sky without deciding. Sometimes darkness never arrives. Sometimes, night becomes only a thought that changes its mind.
And longest of all are the sunsets where the sun sinks only once a year, slowly, over several days, until it finally disappears for months. Not as an ending, but as a season. Not as a final moment, but as a promise waiting. This can inspire hope and resilience in contemplative readers, reminding them that some endings are prolonged beginnings.
The longest sunsets exist where the Earth leans most deeply into its own dream. Where light refuses to let go. Where the day refuses to admit that it is over.
And perhaps that is why we have always sought those places. Not to watch the sun go down — but to see how long a farewell can last before it becomes a memory.
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