Victor Nyberg (b. 1988, Linköping) is a Swedish artist currently living and working in London. He completed his BA in Art and Design at Escola Massana in Barcelona and then maintained a studio practice in Stockholm before starting his MA in Sculpture at the Royal College of Art in 2020. His work has been exhibited in Sweden, Spain, Germany and the United Kingdom. For a complete CV click here.
Victor Nyberg
She places her glass right by the edge of the table.
Her eyes echoing a childlike enchantment with the shattering of the transparent solid pending to unfold.
Every time she does this I’m reminded of the fruit bowl in that Caravaggio painting which looks like it’s just about to fall off the table.
As if she’d read my mind I see her fingers gently slide the glass towards the edge until more than a third of it stands without ground.
The mischievous spectral quality of her smile is as complete as the reflection of the French restaurant soon to burst into a thousand fragments each with their own view of the world.
The precarious placement of the glass draws attention to the finely woven texture of her eyes. A waiter passing swiftly past our table causes it to tremble yet the subtle movement of her pupils remain below the limit of conscious perception.
Her will is torn between the desire to hear the ringing sound of glass crashing against the tiled floor and holding on to this moment.
Vibrations rip through aluminium and fibreglass. We are waiting for something to give. Rubber detaches from asphalt before we cut through the white curtain.
We leave our shadow behind. Everything is clear without ground. Chasing a sunset at a thousand kilometres per hour feels more exciting when we are told we are not supposed to.
‘Nobody of any real culture ever talks about the beauty of a sunset’ I’m informed, while cruising above the moon, in a golden sea of purple and navy gray blue.
Sitting behind me is a beautiful blonde with a Birkin bag and a cheap wristwatch. I like a nice view with my back turned towards it. She likes large parties, ‘they’re so intimate.’
Finely woven clouds lay a fictitious foundation. Their softness lacks rupture. Look for what’s looking. It’s possible to find that there isn’t anything to find. I found something red.
Flirting with the emergency exit handle. Rapid cabin depressurisation as a wet dream of communal self realisation. Don’t forget to take your mask off before you put your mask on.
There is a shift. The object no longer seems to be over there, outside of me. The harmonic suspense of faculties interrupted by the seatbelt signal and violent shaking.
Maybe my dream will come true. Maybe it will be just me and you.
A hole in the sky. A whole world under its spell. Pulling scarlet thread through its opening during a casual stroll. Godspeed.
We were never meant to be here but now we can never leave.
Medium:
Carbon fibre, aluminium, lead, Dyneema ropeSize:
96 x 102 x 180 cm
A fragment of the sun broke forth between the mountains. For a moment the division between foreground and background fell apart into a marvellous condensation of experience as if there was no past or future any more.
A subtle variance in fragrance broke the spell when a woman in a beige coat brushed past his seat. Her sudden presence awakened the interior space as quickly as she disappeared again and left him scanning his surroundings. There was nothing of much interest to be found so instead he found himself, scanning his surroundings, until his gaze once again settled wide out through the window.
The scattered elements in the shifting scenery allowed the space between his thoughts to merge into a single continuum. Space and the things in the space never appeared separate until the occasional sculpture flew past the window. If he had coverage he would pick up his phone and pin it on the map as a point he knew he would never return to.
Occasionally he wrote things down but mainly for the purpose of forgetting. The further he travelled the more conscious he became of setting aside any concrete idea which risked clouding his mind with intention.
He could only think when he travelled so he stayed constantly on the move. Witnessing the ungraspable advance of the landscape gave him the satisfying feeling of devouring the future in its purest form.
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Reflection captured from a panoramic photograph taken by the lake 'Trekanten' in Stockholm cast onto a virtual sea and then materialised using a process of UV printing and pressure forming aluminium.
Medium:
UV print, aluminiumSize:
Tritych: 120 x 148 cm
Work exhibited at SET Woolwich as part of the 'We Won't Stop Showing' exhibition during the spring of 2022
Medium:
Carbon fibre, prop, rope, stainless steelSize:
96 x 96 x 220 cm (variable height)
Work exhibited at Standpoint Gallery as part of the 'Lapped Seems and Silver Linings' exhibition during the spring of 2022
Medium:
Carbon fibre, stainless steel, crane