In conversation with Danny Larsen
“Through my paintings, I make an effort to choose to see the world in a beautiful light.”
- Danny Larsen
© Copyright 2025 Danny Larsen
Danny Larsen is a Norwegian artist who has transitioned from a successful career in professional snowboarding to establishing himself as a distinctive painter. His detailed neo-pointillist landscapes reflect a deep connection to nature and a personal journey of transformation. Ahead of his debut London solo exhibition, Twilight of a Day, at Gallery 8, St James’s, we spoke with Larsen about his creative approach, his sense of place, and how painting has opened a new chapter in his life.
Your journey from professional snowboarder to artist is remarkable. What was the turning point when you knew painting had become more than a personal refuge — that it was your new path?
Art and snowboarding have always been two passions for me, and I guess two different outlets for the same creative needs. Professional snowboarding is just like skateboarding; there are few rules, and it’s your own personal interpretation of your environment that dictates how you perform — pretty much just like in art.
I reached a point in my career where I was offered lots of signature products, and I designed them all myself. I realised that my need to create was increasing with each project I finished. As soon as I stumbled upon the opportunity to have my work featured in an art show, it felt like the lights got turned on, like the fog lifted, and the soup got a pinch of salt that made it work. It was a group show with fellow artists from the snowboard scene, like Schoph, PJ DeVilliers, and Jamie Lynn in Oslo. At that show, I knew this was my new life and I had said goodbye to the previous one.
Your exhibition Twilight of a Day, opening at Gallery 8 on Duke Street in London, has a striking title. What does “twilight” represent for you, and how does it reflect the emotional or philosophical core of the works on show?
Twilight is the moment of transition, the «part between». To extend the metaphor a bit further, we divide 24 hours into night and day, but often the most beautiful times of day are the two moments of transition from one to the other. It’s a beginning and it’s an end, both occurring at the same time. It’s a memento mori, and it’s glass half full or glass half empty. Through my paintings, I make an effort to choose to see the world in a beautiful light. I aim to see the beauty that lingers in the shadows and the last rays of sun as the night goes dark.
Danny Larsen, Under These Trees
Many of your paintings in this exhibition explore springtime landscapes across Norway, China, and Uganda. What drew you to these locations, and how do their natural environments speak to your internal world?
Initially, I had a basic philosophy that the world is beautiful; you don’t need to go somewhere to be amazed — you just have to look and be willing to see. So I made a rule for myself that I would only paint moments that happened within walking distance from my house. I live by the edge of the forest — it’s my backyard I have painted. After a while, I noticed more and more people saying it must truly be a beautiful place to live after seeing my paintings and learning about my rule. It is without a doubt a beautiful place, but so is everywhere. One of the reasons why we can’t see the beauty around us is because we’re accustomed to our surroundings: it’s so easy to focus on what’s wrong rather than what is right.
As a response to this, I decided to travel to Uganda, where my brother worked with a research team at Makerere University of Kampala and Nile Special University. My aim was to use my own way of seeing to make pictures from somewhere radically different from what I am used to. The funny thing was that as long as I was out in nature, I felt as at home there as I do in the forest here. The same goes for when I walked the mountains in China. I decided to visit and draw from China due to its natural beauty and my adoration for the way Chinese artists have painted their landscapes. I wanted to see how I would interpret what I admired from afar. In my opinion, I came up with something interesting. It’s clear to me that these are pictures of my way of seeing the world. Location isn’t the important part; the places I paint work like different styles of spice in a stew — the «meat and potatoes» is my experience affected by my mindset.
You speak openly about your experience with depression and how painting helps you find light. How do these moments of hope influence the emotions you aim to convey in your work?
First of all, painting, drawing, and printmaking make me happy. The act of creating is truly enjoyable to me, and getting to do it every day makes me really happy. But I guess another important part is that I choose a very slow way of painting; I make my pictures one tiny dot at a time. I try to keep the feeling of awe I experienced when I encountered the moment that I later ended up painting — one dot at a time, meditating on all the seemingly insignificant parts that made it up. It enhances that appreciation, and I extend the feeling of gratitude for having experienced it in the first place.
Danny Larsen, Fallen Leaves.
In what ways do you feel your work connects with—or challenges—the legacy of Norwegian artists who focus on nature and emotion?
That’s something I have never thought of. I don’t think of myself in relation to anyone, to be honest. I admire the Norwegian painters for the way they interpreted their surroundings in the same way I admire Chinese and Ugandan artists for their take on theirs. Obviously, it’s fun to see how great artists experienced our surroundings, but I feel just as connected to other artists worldwide putting their feelings and emotions on canvas. Location is irrelevant — we’re all human, we’re all the same.
You create from a studio with a direct view of where Edvard Munch once painted. How does that physical and historical connection influence your sense of place or artistic identity?
It’s a fun trivia fact, but most of all, I like to think about the trees between our buildings both casting shadows over me and over one of my favourite painters, out here in the middle of nowhere. It makes little difference for me really. I’m more excited that the kids in the kindergarten occupying that building now have picked up that my dog is called Wynju and love to throw pinecones for her to catch.
As Twilight of a Day opens in London, what do you hope visitors will take away from experiencing your landscapes amid such a bustling city?
Tough one! Perhaps I hope they get a sense of peace and calm, and an urge to see their own world with new eyes. I haven’t really thought that far; I focus on making the paintings I get the feeling should be made, and that’s about where the process stops for me.
Danny Larsen, Waves
The [Quick] #FLODown:
Best life advice?
No shortcuts.
Last song you listened to?
Misery is the River of the World — Tom Waits
Last book you read?
Fuck… Da Vinci Code. I needed something easily digestible for a long trail run. Let’s pretend it was The Idiot by Dostoevsky instead. Truth can be a bit too boring sometimes.
Can’t live without…?
The ability to say I deserve a nice drink.
What should the art world be more of and less of?
More honesty and less rules.
Twilight of a Day by Danny Larsen opens at Gallery 8, Duke Street, St James’s, London SW1Y, from 11–17 June 2025.
Website: dannylarsen.no
Instagram: @dannylarsen
