Michael Kvium
Galleri Brandstrup is pleased to present Horizon, a solo exhibition by Michael Kvium, opening Thursday November 19, 2026, at 6pm. Horizon will be the inaugural exhibition at our location at Briskebyveien 72 A, 0259 Oslo.
By Pernille Taagaard Dinesen, curator and writer
Who has not watched the light fade in the distance as darkness slowly takes over? The horizon is where the clouds settle like a heavy blanket over the earth – the point in the landscape where sky and land merge in the ultimate encounter between light and darkness.
When we watch the sun set, we instinctively speak of lost and new horizons. We look inward and reflect on the values, beliefs and dreams that define us. We turn to the physical horizon to make sense of our own mental horizon. The concept carries a distinct dual meaning: it is both a perspective in the landscape and an existential point of reference.
In Michael Kvium's solo exhibition Horizon, the horizon line reflects a trembling inner and outer landscape. Here, we encounter a disturbing scene of collapsed bodies that dissolve and merge with an exhausted natural world. In contrast to the Romantic depictions of the nineteenth century, where the horizon represented the transition between the earthly and the sublime, Kvium's horizon is in flames. The idealised notion of a world beyond has been replaced by the pressing reality of the climate crisis, leaving the earth depleted and humanity apathetic. The world is burning, the tree trunks are dead, and the gazes of Kvium's figures are empty and directionless.
The raised middle finger, the fly and the free fall of a blob of paint. In a ruthless reinterpretation of traditional motifs and compositions from art history, Kvium challenges our view of the world and confronts us with our own role in maintaining the status quo.
Even the classical composition of the church altarpiece, the triptych with a central panel and two side wings, is subjected to Kvium's treatment. Here, he replaces the traditional figure of Christ with brightly coloured cacti, painful to the touch. Could this be a thinly veiled comment on the power and dominance of religion? In the side panels, we encounter a fat angel with devil's wings, a figure wearing a wristwatch that warns us of time passing, and foetus-like growths – a bizarre expression of humanity's relentless capacity to reproduce.
This is Kvium's portrayal of life from A to Z. Without a filter.
There are difficult truths to confront in Kvium's horizon, but the paintings also contain layers of sophisticated humour and irony. Consider the artist's self-portrait, subtly presented as a picture of a picture of a long row of crumpled paint tubes. Reflect on the sheer absurdity of a title such as A Spoonful of Nothing, or take a look at the helpless children, seen from a bird's-eye view, standing and staring blankly in the spotlight – offering little hope for the next generation of global citizens.
Together, these works form Kvium's interpretation of inner and outer horizons. They present landscapes of both the physical world and the human psyche, shaped in equal measure by the global climate crisis, human apathy and existential meaninglessness. Whether through empty gazes, dead tree trunks, skulls or piles of steaming shit, it is impossible to avoid the fundamental question Kvium raises:
Where is your personal horizon?