Stockholm, September, Sessions, Studios, Samuelson
Cover Story, October 2025
Last month, we found ourselves in Stockholm as guests of Index and IASPIS, timed to coincide with September Sessions, a festival that brings together a constellation of the city’s small- and medium-sized art institutions. This third edition featured a programme curated by anorak (Johanna Markert and Lukas Ludwig). Other highlights included Claudia Pagès’ exhibition at Index, the group show “Vera Was Here” at Accelerator, and Alex Baczyński-Jenkins’ most recent hypnotic performance “Malign Junction (Goodbye, Berlin)” at MDT Moderna Dansteatern. Beyond the official programme, we zig-zagged across the city, visiting artists’ studios and institutions such as Tensta Konsthall, Moderna Museet, and Marabouparken Konsthall.
Even so, the festival—and Stockholm’s already formidable art ecosystem—competes with an older, quietly pervasive form of artistic infrastructure: the city’s metro stations. Developed since the 1960s, nearly every one of the network’s 100 stations has been transformed into some kind of public artwork. Residents may take this programme for granted now, but it is a seriously—yet sometimes not-so-earnest—visionary commissioning initiative. These stations are at once ornament and anti-crime measure, interior design and contemporary cave art, addressing everything from feminism and ecology to the history of civilisation, often with a slosh of fun-house postmodernism.
Perhaps the most eccentric of these subterranean galleries is Kungsträdgården, at the southern end of the blue lines, opened in 1977 and realised by Ulrik Samuelson. It is a merciless education in taste, myth, and mischief. Three red guards stand sentinel, based on 1600s originals. The station’s palette of green, red, and white is punctuated by casts of decorative details from the former Makalös Palace, once notorious for its opulence, as well as old gas streetlamps and stone elements salvaged from the redevelopment of central Stockholm in the 1950s and 1960s. A stone tree trunk commemorates the so-called Elm Conflict, protests in 1971 against the threat to ancient trees that led to a reconfigured station entrance.
Stockholm (our first visit for years), September (unexpectedly warm), the Sessions (a laudable initiative), the Studios (thanks to the artists for their time), and Mr. Samuelson (an unexpected bonus) obliged in full measure.
Even so, the festival—and Stockholm’s already formidable art ecosystem—competes with an older, quietly pervasive form of artistic infrastructure: the city’s metro stations. Developed since the 1960s, nearly every one of the network’s 100 stations has been transformed into some kind of public artwork. Residents may take this programme for granted now, but it is a seriously—yet sometimes not-so-earnest—visionary commissioning initiative. These stations are at once ornament and anti-crime measure, interior design and contemporary cave art, addressing everything from feminism and ecology to the history of civilisation, often with a slosh of fun-house postmodernism.
Perhaps the most eccentric of these subterranean galleries is Kungsträdgården, at the southern end of the blue lines, opened in 1977 and realised by Ulrik Samuelson. It is a merciless education in taste, myth, and mischief. Three red guards stand sentinel, based on 1600s originals. The station’s palette of green, red, and white is punctuated by casts of decorative details from the former Makalös Palace, once notorious for its opulence, as well as old gas streetlamps and stone elements salvaged from the redevelopment of central Stockholm in the 1950s and 1960s. A stone tree trunk commemorates the so-called Elm Conflict, protests in 1971 against the threat to ancient trees that led to a reconfigured station entrance.
Stockholm (our first visit for years), September (unexpectedly warm), the Sessions (a laudable initiative), the Studios (thanks to the artists for their time), and Mr. Samuelson (an unexpected bonus) obliged in full measure.
- COVER STORY, OCTOBER 2025
Stockholm, September, Sessions, Studios, Samuelson
Cover Story, October 2025
Cover Story ArchiveLast month, we found ourselves in Stockholm as guests of Index and IASPIS, timed to coincide with September Sessions, a festival that brings together a constellation of the city’s small- and medium-sized art institutions. This third edition featured a programme curated by anorak (Johanna Markert and Lukas Ludwig). Other highlights included Claudia Pagès’ exhibition at Index, the group show “Vera Was Here” at Accelerator, and Alex Baczyński-Jenkins’ most recent hypnotic performance “Malign Junction (Goodbye, Berlin)” at MDT Moderna Dansteatern. Beyond the official programme, we zig-zagged across the city, visiting artists’ studios and institutions such as Tensta Konsthall, Moderna Museet, and Marabouparken Konsthall.
Even so, the festival—and Stockholm’s already formidable art ecosystem—competes with an older, quietly pervasive form of artistic infrastructure: the city’s metro stations. Developed since the 1960s, nearly every one of the network’s 100 stations has been transformed into some kind of public artwork. Residents may take this programme for granted now, but it is a seriously—yet sometimes not-so-earnest—visionary commissioning initiative. These stations are at once ornament and anti-crime measure, interior design and contemporary cave art, addressing everything from feminism and ecology to the history of civilisation, often with a slosh of fun-house postmodernism.
Perhaps the most eccentric of these subterranean galleries is Kungsträdgården, at the southern end of the blue lines, opened in 1977 and realised by Ulrik Samuelson. It is a merciless education in taste, myth, and mischief. Three red guards stand sentinel, based on 1600s originals. The station’s palette of green, red, and white is punctuated by casts of decorative details from the former Makalös Palace, once notorious for its opulence, as well as old gas streetlamps and stone elements salvaged from the redevelopment of central Stockholm in the 1950s and 1960s. A stone tree trunk commemorates the so-called Elm Conflict, protests in 1971 against the threat to ancient trees that led to a reconfigured station entrance.
Stockholm (our first visit for years), September (unexpectedly warm), the Sessions (a laudable initiative), the Studios (thanks to the artists for their time), and Mr. Samuelson (an unexpected bonus) obliged in full measure.