HARPER’S BAZAAR JAPAN
February 2025
On 'DUSK': a Dialogue between Sigrid Sandström and Angela Reynolds
This edition introduces Sigrid Sandström's solo exhibition 'DUSK' at Perrotin Tokyo. The conversation explores the Swedish artist's unique perspective on nature, deeply influenced by her childhood experiences. The dialogue delves into how layers of colour evoke the transition of seasons, time and place.
![]()
Sigrid Sandström (right) and Angela Reynolds, director of Perrotin Tokyo.
The solo exhibition DUSK runs until 22 March 2025
Angela: This is the fourth installment of our series. One of the reasons I started this dialogue series is that I was deeply impacted when I first encountered contemporary art. I didn't study art formally and came from a different background. But as I gradually learned more about contemporary art, I had experiences that shook me to my core, and I wanted to learn more.
For me, it's important that this series isn't solely aimed at "educated viewers" or those who "want to learn about contemporary art." Art has the power to appeal to the fundamental parts of human beings. I believe that's its essential power. That's why in this dialogue, I hope we can deliver a natural conversation rather than one that's too academic.
Sigrid: It's so wonderful and exciting to be able to have this conversation in such a relaxed atmosphere.
Reflections on Nature
Angela: Your works suggest a profound connection to nature, with your depiction of subtle shifts in light and color that convey the ever-changing hues of the sky and landscape at different times of day, and the way objects appear softened and veiled in the fading light. The subtle nuances and quiet sense of expansiveness in your paintings evoke a meditative quality, much like the experience of contemplating the vastness of the ocean or an expansive landscape. Do you regularly engage in meditative practices or spend significant time in nature?
![]()
Sigrid Sandström, Ashen Glow, 2024. Acrylic on canvas 100×100 cm.
Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Sigrid: Well, there are two ways to answer that. One is that the act of painting itself is a meditative experience for me. It’s not always a happy experience, but I often find myself in a sort of “zone” for long periods of time. It’s not like I consciously think, “I’m going to focus on this,” but rather, it develops naturally as I work. It’s closer to that feeling. The other is that nature has been important to me since I was a child. For various reasons, I think we humans seek to immerse ourselves in nature and become part of something larger than ourselves. For me, it’s the ultimate way to let go of the ego. I often go for walks or hikes, and as I walk, I feel myself opening up and releasing narcissistic tendencies or internal conflicts. Nature helps me with that process.
![]()
Photo by Erik Sigge
Sigrid working in her studio in Sweden
Angela: I completely agree. I often go surfing and when I’m out in nature, I naturally feel that I don’t need to achieve anything or be anyone in particular. Just being and existing in that moment is enough.
Sigrid: I feel the same way. Even though I’m currently in the highly urban environment of Tokyo, I usually live in a Swedish city. Compared to Tokyo’s 14 million people, my hometown is quite small. In fact, the entire population of Sweden is only around 10 million. When it snows, I can even ski to my studio. Cross-country skiing gives me the sensation of floating in the snow, of merging with nature.
![]()
© Sigrid Sandström
Sigrid’s atelier in Lindesberg, Sweden photographed in December.
On “Dusk”
Angela: You titled the show 'Dusk,' which signifies a truly unique and evocative time of day. As I surf and spend regular time at the ocean, I've come to think of dusk and dawn as moments when nature seems to suspend its breath. Time slows dramatically, and a profound sense of expansiveness pervades the atmosphere.
![]()
Sigrid: Yes, exactly. On the other hand, the word "dusk" can also carry a different metaphor. In this era, I think "dusk" can take on a certain political meaning. It's a sense of time being limited, of something changing.
Angela: Could we say that there's also a kind of memento mori quality in that approach?
Sigrid: Yes, I think so. There's a personal aspect to it, related to my father's passing, but also a broader sense of the world heading in a very tough direction, given the current political climate. That certainly has an influence.
Angela: That’s powerful metaphor…
As a very young child, I have vivid recollections of being enveloped in darkness, lying awake in bed, bathed in the glow of moonlight filtering through the window above me. During these moments in the darkness, I felt my inner world expanding. It became a time for connecting with my "inner universe" and nurturing my imagination. The impact of darkness on people is fascinating. In Sweden, you must experience the differences in light and darkness very deeply through the changing seasons.
Sigrid: The change in light during winter is truly shocking. The sun sets so much earlier, so suddenly. I feel like a completely different person in summer compared to winter.
![]()
Sigrid Sandström, Spectra, 2024. Acrylic on canvas, 100×100cm
Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Sigrid: While the seasons definitely influence my work, I also consciously consider the exhibition space and its environment when creating, even if I don't know the place well. For example, I knew that the exhibition in Tokyo would coincide with a period of "intermediate darkness." So, I create while considering both my current location and the destination of my work.
The "time difference" between color appearing on the canvas
Angela: I'd like to ask about your approach to color. I've observed a fascinating interplay of techniques, such as pooling of color, paint that has seeped through the canvas, expressive brushstrokes, and the effective use of circles or lines. I'm intrigued by the tools and materials you use in your creative process, and your relationship with calculation and spontaneity.
Sigrid: I like to use very thin, liquid water-based paints. This allows me to layer thin, quick-drying coats, creating layers that overlap like a collage, though not in a literal sense. Rather than simply juxtaposing elements, I treat them as overlapping layers.
In that sense, I do have my own methodology, but I've never had a specific image in mind of how a painting will turn out. I think that's why I continue to be interested in this process.
![]()
![]()
Exhibition views of “DUSK”.
Photo: Osamu Sakamoto Courtesy Perrotin.
Sigrid: If there's a color I feel is uniquely and eternally "faithful," it would be blue. While it holds a dark, weighty depth, it also carries a sense of light and airiness. Perhaps it's because it's associated with the night sky and intangible, ephemeral things. That's why I feel it suggests something beyond heavy substance, hinting at deeper spaces and mass.
![]()
Detail of 《Shadows of Time》（2024）Acrylic on canvas 125.4×125.4 cm
Photo: Mengqi Bao Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Angela: I see, blue does seem to always be present in your work. When you travel, for example during your stay in Japan, does the varying light and colours you encounter in different places significantly influence your inspiration as an artist?
Sigrid: What I'm noticing now is that Japanese buildings are often based on gray and beige, with many brown or dark brown details. It's not that there's a narrow range of colors, but rather that I feel a delicate variation within the same tonal range. On the other hand, buildings in Stockholm are generally brighter, often with colors like pink or ochre. Perhaps it's a bright color chosen to contrast with the darkness of winter.
It's true that when you travel or stay in a different place, the local colors and culture undoubtedly have an influence, but it's rare for that influence to appear immediately in my work. Instead, it comes out later. For example, I was in Los Angeles for a while, and I noticed my paintings becoming brighter and brighter. But I only realized this change after I left Los Angeles. So, while the landscapes and light of a place I'm visiting have an impact on me, I often don't know when it will appear in my work. The experiences and sensations I gain from being in a particular culture or place become like "sediment" within me, and eventually, they naturally take shape.
Rethinking the Western Perspective
Angela: You mentioned Junichiro Tanizaki's 'In Praise of Shadows' as an inspiration for this exhibition. Tanizaki celebrated the beauty of subtlety, shadow, and sensuality, deeply rooted in Japanese aesthetics. Tanizaki also laments the erosion of these values during the post-war era, with its relentless pursuit of modernity, practicality, and productivity. This struggle to preserve cultural values amidst the demands of efficiency feels more relevant than ever today.
Sigrid: While I feel like I can't keep up with the rapid pace of technological advancements, I find the discussions surrounding these developments to be quite interesting. From a Western, philosophical, historical perspective, there's this notion of "clarity" that was shaped during the Enlightenment. It makes me wonder why we place such a high value on clarity. Perhaps we should reconsider and value ambiguity and subtlety more.
![]()
Sigrid in her exhibition at Perrotin Tokyo
Angela: I think this is especially interesting and important for Japanese people, and for other cultures that have been strongly influenced by the West. It's as if cultural development suddenly derailed at a certain point.
Sigrid: As if it was interrupted.
Angela: Yes…it's like we were forced to graft branches from a completely different tree, and everyone had to follow suit. We often forget this, but because of the inconsistencies, disharmony, and delay caused by that process, we feel inferior to the West and believe we need to strive even harder toward Western philosophy.
Sigrid: Within the West, there are many "small Wests" still gazing at the "big West." And Western culture is often reduced to a broad generalization called consumer culture. Now everything is consumed by political capitalism.
Angela: Tanizaki also mentions paper in his book. He notes that Western paper reflects light, while Japanese washi paper absorbs it. You already use your canvases in this ‘absorbent’ approach, so I imagine you might be interested in Japanese paper.
Sigrid: Actually, I'm planning to visit a Japanese paper store today! My paintings have many secrets and hidden layers beneath the surface, so I'm very curious about the properties of Japanese paper.
"The Front and Back of a Painting: A Boundary"
Sigrid: A few years ago, I made a bit of a mistake on a painting and thought, "This is not going to work." I turned it to face the wall. But as I glanced at the back of the painting, I became fascinated by the faint image that had seeped through. It had a soft, dusk-like quality, but it was hard to make out exactly what I was seeing.
I then realized that the back of a painting could have its own life. At the time I had the opportunity to exhibit in a large and long exhibition space, and I thought it would be interesting if the audience could walk through the paintings as they walked through the gallery. I designed the exhibition so that the visitors would first encounter all the paintings from the back, then turn around to discover their fronts.
![]()
Sigrid and Angela with 《Borealis (Verso)》（2024）
The work is suspended from the ceiling, and both sides of the painting can be viewed.
Angela: Seeing the back side of a painting seems to create a more intimate relationship between the viewer and the artwork.
Sigrid: I also like to surprise myself. Change can be frustrating, but it can also lead to new beginnings. I find it interesting that paintings with two sides challenge the traditional notion of a "front." There's no distinct surface; the structure becomes thinner. The painting's "skin" is shared between the front and back, inseparable.
It's also intriguing that even if we know there are two sides, we can only see one at a time. To see both, we must rely on our bodies, memories, and experiences. When we try to look at the other side, the image of the first becomes blurry.
Angela: Sometimes, the things we consciously strive for don't always turn out the way we expect. But, on the other hand, there might be a different side to that, and as a result, we grow in unexpected ways. I think that's something we can relate to in life, too.
Sigrid: Absolutely, it applies to people as well. Speaking of which, I've been fascinated by folding screens since the 2000s and have been researching them extensively. I believe that works like folding screens, which present a narrative unfolding over time, can offer artists and viewers alike unique perspectives on the passage of time and the very act of creation. The experience of viewing a work while moving is fundamentally different.
When I began studying folding screens, I realized they were more than mere decorations. They can divide spaces, spark conversations, and offer alternative ways to experience art.
Additionally, I find it fascinating how Chinese and Japanese scrolls differ so significantly from Western art history. Western art often relies on the concept of a vanishing point, creating a seemingly inescapable system. However, I've come to understand that this is not necessarily a 'truth' but rather a constructed reality.
Angela: This is really fascinating and I wish we could keep going. Thank you so much for this wonderful and insightful conversation today.
Sigrid: I'm so glad you looked at my work with such a deep perspective, Angela. It was a pleasure.
シグリッド・サンドストローム（Sigrid Sandström）
Born 1970. Lives in Stockholm, Sweden. Based on deep insights from geography, sociology, and philosophy, she pursues a form of expression that transcends the traditional framework of abstract painting by intertwining sensation and reveries. Her works are included in the collections of the Houston Museum of Art, the Moderna Museet in Stockholm, and the Ulrich Museum, among others. She studied at educational institutions including Cooper Union School of Art in New York, and received a Master of Fine Arts in painting from Yale University. She currently serves as a professor at the University of Arts Helsinki.
On 'DUSK': a Dialogue between Sigrid Sandström and Angela Reynolds
This edition introduces Sigrid Sandström's solo exhibition 'DUSK' at Perrotin Tokyo. The conversation explores the Swedish artist's unique perspective on nature, deeply influenced by her childhood experiences. The dialogue delves into how layers of colour evoke the transition of seasons, time and place.
Sigrid Sandström (right) and Angela Reynolds, director of Perrotin Tokyo.
The solo exhibition DUSK runs until 22 March 2025
Angela: This is the fourth installment of our series. One of the reasons I started this dialogue series is that I was deeply impacted when I first encountered contemporary art. I didn't study art formally and came from a different background. But as I gradually learned more about contemporary art, I had experiences that shook me to my core, and I wanted to learn more.
For me, it's important that this series isn't solely aimed at "educated viewers" or those who "want to learn about contemporary art." Art has the power to appeal to the fundamental parts of human beings. I believe that's its essential power. That's why in this dialogue, I hope we can deliver a natural conversation rather than one that's too academic.
Sigrid: It's so wonderful and exciting to be able to have this conversation in such a relaxed atmosphere.
Reflections on Nature
Angela: Your works suggest a profound connection to nature, with your depiction of subtle shifts in light and color that convey the ever-changing hues of the sky and landscape at different times of day, and the way objects appear softened and veiled in the fading light. The subtle nuances and quiet sense of expansiveness in your paintings evoke a meditative quality, much like the experience of contemplating the vastness of the ocean or an expansive landscape. Do you regularly engage in meditative practices or spend significant time in nature?
Sigrid Sandström, Ashen Glow, 2024. Acrylic on canvas 100×100 cm.
Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Sigrid: Well, there are two ways to answer that. One is that the act of painting itself is a meditative experience for me. It’s not always a happy experience, but I often find myself in a sort of “zone” for long periods of time. It’s not like I consciously think, “I’m going to focus on this,” but rather, it develops naturally as I work. It’s closer to that feeling. The other is that nature has been important to me since I was a child. For various reasons, I think we humans seek to immerse ourselves in nature and become part of something larger than ourselves. For me, it’s the ultimate way to let go of the ego. I often go for walks or hikes, and as I walk, I feel myself opening up and releasing narcissistic tendencies or internal conflicts. Nature helps me with that process.
Photo by Erik Sigge
Sigrid working in her studio in Sweden
Angela: I completely agree. I often go surfing and when I’m out in nature, I naturally feel that I don’t need to achieve anything or be anyone in particular. Just being and existing in that moment is enough.
Sigrid: I feel the same way. Even though I’m currently in the highly urban environment of Tokyo, I usually live in a Swedish city. Compared to Tokyo’s 14 million people, my hometown is quite small. In fact, the entire population of Sweden is only around 10 million. When it snows, I can even ski to my studio. Cross-country skiing gives me the sensation of floating in the snow, of merging with nature.
© Sigrid Sandström
Sigrid’s atelier in Lindesberg, Sweden photographed in December.
On “Dusk”
Angela: You titled the show 'Dusk,' which signifies a truly unique and evocative time of day. As I surf and spend regular time at the ocean, I've come to think of dusk and dawn as moments when nature seems to suspend its breath. Time slows dramatically, and a profound sense of expansiveness pervades the atmosphere.
Sigrid: Yes, exactly. On the other hand, the word "dusk" can also carry a different metaphor. In this era, I think "dusk" can take on a certain political meaning. It's a sense of time being limited, of something changing.
Angela: Could we say that there's also a kind of memento mori quality in that approach?
Sigrid: Yes, I think so. There's a personal aspect to it, related to my father's passing, but also a broader sense of the world heading in a very tough direction, given the current political climate. That certainly has an influence.
Angela: That’s powerful metaphor…
As a very young child, I have vivid recollections of being enveloped in darkness, lying awake in bed, bathed in the glow of moonlight filtering through the window above me. During these moments in the darkness, I felt my inner world expanding. It became a time for connecting with my "inner universe" and nurturing my imagination. The impact of darkness on people is fascinating. In Sweden, you must experience the differences in light and darkness very deeply through the changing seasons.
Sigrid: The change in light during winter is truly shocking. The sun sets so much earlier, so suddenly. I feel like a completely different person in summer compared to winter.
Sigrid Sandström, Spectra, 2024. Acrylic on canvas, 100×100cm
Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Sigrid: While the seasons definitely influence my work, I also consciously consider the exhibition space and its environment when creating, even if I don't know the place well. For example, I knew that the exhibition in Tokyo would coincide with a period of "intermediate darkness." So, I create while considering both my current location and the destination of my work.
The "time difference" between color appearing on the canvas
Angela: I'd like to ask about your approach to color. I've observed a fascinating interplay of techniques, such as pooling of color, paint that has seeped through the canvas, expressive brushstrokes, and the effective use of circles or lines. I'm intrigued by the tools and materials you use in your creative process, and your relationship with calculation and spontaneity.
Sigrid: I like to use very thin, liquid water-based paints. This allows me to layer thin, quick-drying coats, creating layers that overlap like a collage, though not in a literal sense. Rather than simply juxtaposing elements, I treat them as overlapping layers.
In that sense, I do have my own methodology, but I've never had a specific image in mind of how a painting will turn out. I think that's why I continue to be interested in this process.
Exhibition views of “DUSK”.
Photo: Osamu Sakamoto Courtesy Perrotin.
Sigrid: If there's a color I feel is uniquely and eternally "faithful," it would be blue. While it holds a dark, weighty depth, it also carries a sense of light and airiness. Perhaps it's because it's associated with the night sky and intangible, ephemeral things. That's why I feel it suggests something beyond heavy substance, hinting at deeper spaces and mass.
Detail of 《Shadows of Time》（2024）Acrylic on canvas 125.4×125.4 cm Photo: Mengqi Bao Courtesy of the artist and Perrotin.
Angela: I see, blue does seem to always be present in your work. When you travel, for example during your stay in Japan, does the varying light and colours you encounter in different places significantly influence your inspiration as an artist?
Sigrid: What I'm noticing now is that Japanese buildings are often based on gray and beige, with many brown or dark brown details. It's not that there's a narrow range of colors, but rather that I feel a delicate variation within the same tonal range. On the other hand, buildings in Stockholm are generally brighter, often with colors like pink or ochre. Perhaps it's a bright color chosen to contrast with the darkness of winter.
It's true that when you travel or stay in a different place, the local colors and culture undoubtedly have an influence, but it's rare for that influence to appear immediately in my work. Instead, it comes out later. For example, I was in Los Angeles for a while, and I noticed my paintings becoming brighter and brighter. But I only realized this change after I left Los Angeles. So, while the landscapes and light of a place I'm visiting have an impact on me, I often don't know when it will appear in my work. The experiences and sensations I gain from being in a particular culture or place become like "sediment" within me, and eventually, they naturally take shape.
Rethinking the Western Perspective
Angela: You mentioned Junichiro Tanizaki's 'In Praise of Shadows' as an inspiration for this exhibition. Tanizaki celebrated the beauty of subtlety, shadow, and sensuality, deeply rooted in Japanese aesthetics. Tanizaki also laments the erosion of these values during the post-war era, with its relentless pursuit of modernity, practicality, and productivity. This struggle to preserve cultural values amidst the demands of efficiency feels more relevant than ever today.
Sigrid: While I feel like I can't keep up with the rapid pace of technological advancements, I find the discussions surrounding these developments to be quite interesting. From a Western, philosophical, historical perspective, there's this notion of "clarity" that was shaped during the Enlightenment. It makes me wonder why we place such a high value on clarity. Perhaps we should reconsider and value ambiguity and subtlety more.
Sigrid in her exhibition at Perrotin Tokyo
Angela: I think this is especially interesting and important for Japanese people, and for other cultures that have been strongly influenced by the West. It's as if cultural development suddenly derailed at a certain point.
Sigrid: As if it was interrupted.
Angela: Yes…it's like we were forced to graft branches from a completely different tree, and everyone had to follow suit. We often forget this, but because of the inconsistencies, disharmony, and delay caused by that process, we feel inferior to the West and believe we need to strive even harder toward Western philosophy.
Sigrid: Within the West, there are many "small Wests" still gazing at the "big West." And Western culture is often reduced to a broad generalization called consumer culture. Now everything is consumed by political capitalism.
Angela: Tanizaki also mentions paper in his book. He notes that Western paper reflects light, while Japanese washi paper absorbs it. You already use your canvases in this ‘absorbent’ approach, so I imagine you might be interested in Japanese paper.
Sigrid: Actually, I'm planning to visit a Japanese paper store today! My paintings have many secrets and hidden layers beneath the surface, so I'm very curious about the properties of Japanese paper.
"The Front and Back of a Painting: A Boundary"
Sigrid: A few years ago, I made a bit of a mistake on a painting and thought, "This is not going to work." I turned it to face the wall. But as I glanced at the back of the painting, I became fascinated by the faint image that had seeped through. It had a soft, dusk-like quality, but it was hard to make out exactly what I was seeing.
I then realized that the back of a painting could have its own life. At the time I had the opportunity to exhibit in a large and long exhibition space, and I thought it would be interesting if the audience could walk through the paintings as they walked through the gallery. I designed the exhibition so that the visitors would first encounter all the paintings from the back, then turn around to discover their fronts.
Sigrid and Angela with 《Borealis (Verso)》（2024）
The work is suspended from the ceiling, and both sides of the painting can be viewed.
Angela: Seeing the back side of a painting seems to create a more intimate relationship between the viewer and the artwork.
Sigrid: I also like to surprise myself. Change can be frustrating, but it can also lead to new beginnings. I find it interesting that paintings with two sides challenge the traditional notion of a "front." There's no distinct surface; the structure becomes thinner. The painting's "skin" is shared between the front and back, inseparable.
It's also intriguing that even if we know there are two sides, we can only see one at a time. To see both, we must rely on our bodies, memories, and experiences. When we try to look at the other side, the image of the first becomes blurry.
Angela: Sometimes, the things we consciously strive for don't always turn out the way we expect. But, on the other hand, there might be a different side to that, and as a result, we grow in unexpected ways. I think that's something we can relate to in life, too.
Sigrid: Absolutely, it applies to people as well. Speaking of which, I've been fascinated by folding screens since the 2000s and have been researching them extensively. I believe that works like folding screens, which present a narrative unfolding over time, can offer artists and viewers alike unique perspectives on the passage of time and the very act of creation. The experience of viewing a work while moving is fundamentally different.
When I began studying folding screens, I realized they were more than mere decorations. They can divide spaces, spark conversations, and offer alternative ways to experience art.
Additionally, I find it fascinating how Chinese and Japanese scrolls differ so significantly from Western art history. Western art often relies on the concept of a vanishing point, creating a seemingly inescapable system. However, I've come to understand that this is not necessarily a 'truth' but rather a constructed reality.
Angela: This is really fascinating and I wish we could keep going. Thank you so much for this wonderful and insightful conversation today.
Sigrid: I'm so glad you looked at my work with such a deep perspective, Angela. It was a pleasure.
シグリッド・サンドストローム（Sigrid Sandström）
Born 1970. Lives in Stockholm, Sweden. Based on deep insights from geography, sociology, and philosophy, she pursues a form of expression that transcends the traditional framework of abstract painting by intertwining sensation and reveries. Her works are included in the collections of the Houston Museum of Art, the Moderna Museet in Stockholm, and the Ulrich Museum, among others. She studied at educational institutions including Cooper Union School of Art in New York, and received a Master of Fine Arts in painting from Yale University. She currently serves as a professor at the University of Arts Helsinki.