Art and photography exhibition staged at magnificent Thielska Galleriet art museum in Royal Djurgården park in Stockholm. Large and monumental scale prints of classic Stockholm New images 1993–2013 were presented juxtaposing the museum’s tremendous collection of turn of the twentieth century paintings by artist such as Edvard Munch, Vilhelm Hammershøi, Anders Zorn, Bruno Liljefors, Eugene Jansson, Ernst Josephson, Nils Kreuger, Gustaf Fjaestad, and others.

Contributing photographers: Mikael Jansson, Julia Hetta, Frederik Lieberath, John Akehurst, Sølve Sundsbø, Pelle Bergström, Denise Grünstein, Ewa-Marie Rundquist, Magnus Mårding, Gösta Reiland and Elisabeth Toll. The event also marked the launch of our 496-page Stockholm New book, which doubled as the catalogue for the show. The show was controversial and influential, receiving both splendid reviews and agonizing critisism from the traditional art establishment who found it blasphemic to cross the museum’s famous masterpieces with contemporary fashion photography, long before juxtaposing eras and presenting Parisian displays became first trendy, then normal, now cliché.

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The most large-scale and spectacular of the huge culture and lifestyle extravaganzas that we staged around the world with our magazine Stockholm New in the late 90:s and early 2000:s—a concept of our own invention. For three days and nights, we presented a number of events to various specially invited New York target groups—long fashion, design and art world professionals, press and “influencers,” before the term was coined.

There was a design seminar, a gourmet lunch served by our partners Sturehof from Stockholm and Aquavit in New York, a fashion show, a variety of client events, music and DJ sessions, and several cocktail parties, all concluded with a monstrous party for at least a thousand specially invited guests, with live performances by our local Stockholm soul queen Titiyo, Stephen Simmons and koop. Unfortunately, we didn’t think of documenting our events with photography and film properly in those pre social media days. Only a few images survive as seen below!

Unlike other similar events that we presented in Milan, Tokyo, and other cities, Stockholm New York was produced exclusively by us at Stockholm New. Our creative partners included Asplund, Sturehof, Aquavit New York, Diesel Music, Patriksson Communication PR, modeling agencies Mikas and Stockholmsgruppen, CLM Agents, director Jonas Åkerlund, architect Thomas Sandell, fashion brands Anna Holtblad, Pia Wallén, Whyred, Ellegal/illegal and J Lindeberg, among others.

My assistant during the work on Stockholm New York was Jens Grede, just 20 years old at the time. He certainly had his baptism by fire here, pointing with his whole hand to New York’s fashion world and all those people, young but tough as he was. Christina and I are far from surprised that, after spending his first two years with us—via our friend Tyler Brüle in London—he went on to pursue an incredibly successful career as a global fashion entrepreneur, now a long-time resident of Los Angeles. We were in New York together for an extended period for preparations. My god, it was tough—perhaps our toughest endeavor ever, and one of the most successful. Back then, I was in New York a lot, but that’s where I got my fill of the city, which since hasn’t appealed to me the way it used to. As seen in the pic above, I was still wearing a tie on formal occasions at that time, before I wisely decided to skip that accessory entirely. My ten-year period with a buzz cut was hardly a stylistic highlight…

The event was in itself an art, fashion and design exhibition, with a wide range of artworks and objects exposed, along with with products and displays by our many sponsoring partners. It was our very own concept of a “live-in” exhibition, featuring a restaurant, several bars, display podiums and lounges on two levels of the building. Guests were welcome to hang out, eat, drink, network and party. Some refused to leave. The lines between exhibition pieces, partner products and give-aways, of which there were many, was somewhat blurred as we like it. The event was highly charged and intense, sometimes almost riotous—again, preferred. Stockholm New York attracted great publucity, including a full page in The New York Times, not just in New York but also in global fashion and design media. It’s fair to claim that it made a very big impression for Stockholm and Sweden.

Unlike other similar events that we staged in Milan, Tokyo and other cities, Stockholm New was the sole producer of Stockholm New York. Our creative partners included Asplund, Sturehof, Aquavit New York, Diesel Music, Patriksson Communication PR, Mikas and Stockholmsgruppen model agencies, CLM agents, director Jonas Åkerlund, architect Thomas Sandell, fashion brands Anna Holtblad, Pia Wallén, Whyred, Ellegal/illegal, J Lindeberg, and others.

Our production partners/sponsoring brands and companies, who all displayed their products and services during the event, included Sweden’s Foreign Ministry, the Swedish New York Consulate General, Swedish Institute, VisitSweden, City of Stockholm, Volvo, IKEA, H&M, Absolut Vodka, SAS, Hasselblad, Marimekko, Electrolux, Orrefors Kosta Boda, Rörstrand, Stockholms Auktionsverk, Eton Shirts, Kraft Freia Marabou, and many others (including several .com startups, all defunct in the subsequent first IT crash).

Stockholm New York was also the launch of our Stockholm New No.9 —the New York issue, one of our strongest, most celebrated issues. The much publicized and influential cover feature was mine and Mikael Jansson’s “Ingmar Bergman homage” Marital Scenes, our take on Bergmans Scenes From a Marriage.

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Published in a total of just twelve issues 1993-2002, our global, English language fashion and culture magazine had major impact. The magazine was highly celebrated, publicized and influential internationally, winning numerous prestigious awards and accolades.

With Stockholm New in the 1990s we, together with our creative partners, introduced a new concept of “live-in” creative events., staging numerous large scale exhibitions and extravaganzas in Sweden and globally — in Milan, Tokyo, New York, Paris, London and Mumbai.

In addition to Stockholm New magazine, we have published a selective number of books with our publishing house Stockholm New Publishing through the years, on commission and on our own initiative. More titles will follow. In 2013, we launched our 496-page Stockholm New coffeetable book, featuring old as well as new content. The book also served as a catalog for our exhibition Stockholm New — national romaticism from double turn-of-the centuries: fashion photography meets classic masterpiece painting at Thielska Galleriet museum in Stockholm.

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The first experimental version of the huge international culture and lifestyle mega-events that we staged in various cities with our magazine and event operation Stockholm New in the late 1990:s and early 2000:s—with a next generation comeback in 2019 with Swedish Style Mumbai! In Milan, we, together with our friends and partners, more or less by chance invented a brand new concept that is still alive and well some 28 years later, with great potential for future nation branding for Sweden. In international media, our event has even been called “an early blueprint for the modern concept store.”

Some time in winter 1998, we at Stockholm New were approached by some friends in the interior design business—representatives from the small upstart Swedish design brands Asplund, cbi, David Design and Box Design, who together formed the export collaboration organisation Swecode. For a number of years, the Swecode brands, which represented the renaissance in the Swedish design and furniture industry still in its infancy, had exhibited with considerable success, if on a small scale, at the Salone del Mobile fair in Milan, the world’s leading interior design event, then and still today.

Now they wanted to come up with something new—something more than their usual booth in the fair premises outside Milan. I myself was not involved in the initial discussions. I think it was my wife and partner Christina Britton who first came up with the simple idea of asking some more friends in other disciplines to join in. Said and done! As usual, things proceeded rapidly. We asked our friends at Brasserie Sturehof restaurant (then with ambitions of international expansion), record label Diesel Music and fashion label Ellegal/illegal, who all came along. In addition, we asked our dear friend Tyler Brulé and his colleagues at Wallpaper magazine in London, founded in 1996 and much hyped globally at the time, who also joined.

Together, we rented Giorgio Armani’s old showroom at Via Borgonuovo in the heart of Milan’s fashion district, a space of perhaps some 500 square meters. Swecode cancelled their booth reservation at the fair. Instead we built a showroom here in the center of downtown Milan. We designed it as a “live-in exhibition,” where invited guests were welcomed to hang out, socialize and network. Of course our premises featured a restaurant and a bar where Sturehof served food, wine and, above all, endless amounts of vodka from Absolut, our number one advertiser and sponsor/partner with Stockholm New from day one. You could label the event as a “live,” “threedimensional” version of of our magazine Stockholm, combining the same elements as our editorial content—fashion, art, design, music and gastronomy, with nature as an ever-present “frame.” Some sponsors also joined in—in addition to Absolut also SAS and the Swedish Tourist Council, among a few others.

Our week in Milan started out calmly, with moderate numbers of visitors. For each day, the crowds grew larger as the word spread about the great hangout spot. By the end of the week, our showroom was jammed packed from opening to closing. On Saturday, the day for our closing party, where Titiyo and koop performed live, our party had been written up in Italy’s leading daily La Republica as one of the most attractive events in the entire deign week.

When we returned after dinner to the venue for the closing party we couldn’t believe our eyes. The entire street was blocked with eager party-goers, hundreds and hundreds waiting to get in, many with falsified invitations. The riotous party was referred to even 20 years later as “The Vodka Party.” Our event received tremendous attention and great publicity, becoming much influential. Already the year after, many leading brands had copied our concept with “live-in exhibitions” in the city center.

Living in Sweden was also the launch event for Stockholm New No.6, with our much hyped and publicized double cover of young Swedish model Anna-Karin K. This concept was soon copied worldwide, as double and multiple covers became a cliché for fashion magazines.

In 2021, for the 60-year anniversary of Salone del Mobile, a feature was planned about our event and “The Vodka Party” in an anniversary book for the event, as well as a commerative cocktail reception. Unfortunately, it was all scrapped along with the entire Salone del Mobile because of Covid. For us ourselves, Living in Sweden served as a first, improvised pilot version of the events we later executed with various variations in Tokyo, New York, London, Paris and Mumbai. More may well follow…

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This landmark exhibition staged at the spacious Färgfabriken art gallery in Stockholm in 2000 was a spin-off from our premiere version of our Swedish Style in Tokyo event the year before, 1999.

It was in Tokyo during this event that the idea arose in discussions between ourselves with Stockholm New, Färgfabriken director and curator Jan Åman and the young art and fashion photographer André Wolff. We agreed to stage an exhibition in Färgfabriken with a new generation of edgy, avantgarde, anti-commercial photographers in the borderlands of art and fashion, those who had their scenes and the edgy, artsy fashion magazines of the era, such as Purple, Self Service, The Face, I-D, Dazed&Confused, Visionaire and others, in addition to Stockholm New. André Wolff, himself very much a part of the culture, would be chiefly responsible for the selection as co-curator.

Said and done. We ended up with a truly magnificent, very powerful show, quite shocking for the era, when fashion photography in itself, at least of this breed, was still a new, alien expression in the eyes of most, not least in the art world. Many of the contributing photographers/artists, a majority of whom traveled to Stockholm for the riotous opening, went on to become big names. The contributing artists were: Ola Bergengren, Anuschka Blommers & Niels Schumm, Cedric Buchet, Anders Edström, Lee Jenkins, Jean-Pierre Khazem, Michel Mallard, Guido Mocafico, Phil Poynter, Jeff Reidel, Stefan Ruiz, Maurice Scheltens, Norbert Shoerner, Sølve Sundsbø, Paul Wetherell and André Wolff himself.

We produced an ambitious catalog for the exhibition, designed by Henrik Nygren, which received several prestigious awards. The exhibition was much publicized and hyped, in Sweden and in the global fashion world, generating major features in magazines such as VOGUE Italia.

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The 496-page heavy coffee table book which we launched in 2013, for the 20-year anniversary of the start of our magazive Stockholm New, which we published in 12 issues 1993-2002. The book doubled as a catalog for our great exhibition Stockholm New — national romaticism form double turn-of-the centuries: fashion photography meets classic masterpiece painting at the Thielska Galleriet museum in Stockholm.

Contributing photographers: Mikael Jansson, Julia Hetta, Frederik Lieberath, John Akehurst, Sølve Sundsbø, Pelle Bergström, Denise Grünstein, Dawid, Ewa-Marie Rundquist, Magnus Mårding, Gösta Reiland, Elisabeth Toll, Björn Keller, Stig T Karlsson, and others. Artists: Gunnel Wåhlstrand, Mamma Andersson, Carsten Höller, Annika von Hausswolff, Ylva Ogland, Ann Böttcher, Jonas Dahlberg, Andreas Eriksson, Johan Thurfjell, and others.

Relaterade artiklar:

I was born and raised in the Östermalm district in central Stockholm and spent my summers in Dalarö in the Stockholm archipelago. I have lived in these places my entire life, except for several periods during my childhood and adolescence when my family lived first in London and then in Los Angeles. I attended school in both places. There, I developed an early, natural understanding of the English language and Angloamerican culture, which is one reason I was later able to learn to work professionally with English as a second language.

After high school, I worked for a while, played basketball, and studied literature history at Stockholm University, before I managed, through a strange loophole, to be accepted to the Stockholm School of Journalism. I did my internship at Dagens Nyheter and began writing for the newspaper while still in school. I achieved immediate success with a series of high-profile investigative reportages but just as quickly became a controversial figure.

I was never fully at ease with daily newspaper journalism. That’s why, in the late 1980s, I took the opportunity to switch to magazines—first at Jan Stenbeck’s then-newly launched Z Magazine, then at CliC, something of a “Swedish Vogue” at the time, and finally at the equally newly founded Café, CliC’s “baby brother,” Sweden’s first men’s fasion magazine. There, I had the chance to develop my early evoked interests in the visual arts alongside my writing. At Café and Rosenudde Publishing, I met my future wife, Christina Sollenberg Britton, a graphic designer and Café’s first editor-in-chief, who has been my colleague and business partner ever since. We left the publishing house together when it changed ownership, founding our design and branding agency, BrittonBritton, in 1992, as well as the international English-language fashion, culture, and lifestyle magazine Stockholm New (published in 12 issues from 1993 to 2002).

In addition to my roles as creative director at BrittonBritton and editor-in-chief of Stockholm New, I have continued to write “on the side,” though only sporadically for newspapers and magazines. Over the years, I have contributed to a large number of Swedish and international books and other publications, most of them in the fields of art, fashion, photography, design, and gastronomy. In the early 2000s, I finally had the opportunity to develop my writing, including the books Sekelskifte i Stockholm (Norstedts 2004/Albert Bonniers Förlag 2016), PA&Co—mer än en kokbok (Stockholm New Publishing 2008), and Min mamma är död (Albert Bonniers Förlag 2010).

In 2013, we published our book Stockholm New (Stockholm New Publishing), which was launched in conjunction with our exhibition Stockholm New—National Romanticism from Two Turn-of-the-Century Periods: Fashion Photography Meets Painting at the Thielska Gallery in Stockholm. Since then, I have focused primarily on my writing—a promise I made to myself back when Christina and I began working in fashion and the visual arts in the late 1980s: to concentrate on literature after turning fifty. We still operate our agency, BrittonBritton, and our publishing house Stockholm New Publishing. These days, we work on carefully selected projects as senior consultants for Swedish and international clients, without our own studio.

In 2022, after nine years of work, I published my major biography, Pontus Hultén—den moderna konstens anförare (Albert Bonniers Förlag). The book received rave reviews and garnered significant attention, earning a nomination for the 2022 August Prize, the Swedish Academy’s Axel Hirsch Prize for Best Biography/Life Story 2022–23, and the Royal Library’s Swedish Book Art Award for Best Visual Design in 2023. The book is based on extensive research, including more than two hundred interviews conducted in eleven countries. In 2025, I published the English edition of the book under the title Pontus Hultén—Commander of Modern Art (Verlag der Büchhandlung Walther und Franz König, Cologne/CCS Bard, New York). The book has generated significant attention in the global art world.

I am currently working on several books, including a voluminous literary autobiographical “gonzo-picaresque” novel that I began writing back in 2008. For more than thirty years, I have been actively involved in public discourse, particularly in the fields of architecture, urban planning, and urban development.

On this website, I will be regularly publishing new texts, images, videos, a podcast, and more. Welcome!

After visiting our pioneering event Living in Sweden in Milan in 1998, our dear friend Ewa Kumlin, then the Swedish Ambassador’s Spouse in Tokyo, later a key player in Swedish imaging and design, in several positions, came up with the idea of staging a multi-creative event of the same concept in the Japanese megalopolis. There, our quite spectacular Swedish Embassy in the Roppongi district would serve as a hub for a sprawling extravaganza spread out through the vast urban landscape, over a two-week period. The ambition was to raise awareness of Sweden and contemporary Swedish creativity in Japan, boosting contacts between the creative communities in the two nations—and exploring the intriguing kinships and contrasts in our respective visual and cultural heritages. It was nation branding, as it much later came to be labeled.

Said and done. As usual back then, things proceeded quickly. With Stockholm New, we agreed to co-host and produce the event. Ewa Kumlin also appointed curators Jan Åman and Thomas Nordanstad in the production of a venture more oriented on art and fashion than that in Milan the year before which had focused on product design and interiors, naturally, as it was staged during the Salone del Mobile design fair. I take credit for coining the name, or brand, Swedish Style, as I found Living in Sweden weak. I had used it before in Stockholm New and liked its more than somewhat “dubious” annotations, of course, which I just as apparently didn’t reveal to anyone…in any case, it proved a most effective name/brand/concept over the years, with great potential also for future nation branding.

What memories from those weeks in Tokyo so long ago, our first visit in that wildly wondrous mega town, the world’s largest city, which for some years before and after the Millenium become something of a second hometown for me. What a crew we were of some perhaps twenty plus heads traveling to Tokyo for the event, all more or less friends from Stockholm’s small creative community in art, fashion, music and design. In addition to me, Christina, Jan Åman and Thomas Nordanstad, it was m’ol’ homeboy Olle Ljungström (R.I.P!), the legend pop star, young soul singer Dilba, artists Carl Michael von Hausswolff and Maria Misesenberger, photographers/artists André Wolff and Martina Hoogland Iwanow, fashion designers Filippa Knutsson (Filippa k), Marina Kereklidou, Lovisa Burfitt, Roland Hjort and Elisabeth Yaganisawa, and others, as well as Lena Patriksson and Annika Kopp of Stockholm’s first, still dominant fashion PR agency Patriksson Communication, which was founded with this event as its first commission.

For two weeks, we all engaged, like a true extended family, in a crazy marathon of events, social gathering and nonstop 24-hor partying, needless to say. It all seems a magic, distant dream. So many bonds and friendships were spawned that would span decades. As the event was most improvised and quite humble in scale, its impact, in Japanese, Swedish and global media, and all across Tokyo, surprised and moved us. It’s no exaggeration to claim that a new lasting creative, cultural as well as commercial alliance between Sweden and japan, Stockholm and Tokyo, was born right there and then. A truly pioneering venture it was, no doubt whatsoever about that.

The reason why Swedish Style in Tokyo has had even more enduring positive impact than any of our other vintage Stockholm New events is that it was repeated, again and again, over decades, in Tokyo and also repeatedly in Stockholm, with Tokyo Style in Stockholm, all under Ewa Kumlin’s tireless leadership. The creative alliance formed as a result is magnificent. At the time when Swedish Style premiered in 1999, IKEA and H&M had both previously launched in the Japanese market but both failed and pulled back. In the early 2000s, they both returned with tremendous success, along with numerous other brands, creatives and entrepreneurs in the hype for everything Swedish ignited by the events. It’s fair to state that Swedish Style in Tokyo was the key vehicle in the process of Stockholm and Tokyo becoming a true creative and commercial axis. For this achievent, Ewa Kumlin deserves every accolade.

Already in 2001, when we returned to Tokyo for the second version of Swedish Style, the concept had grown huge. This time, we were some 250 or so participants and hangarounds travelling from Stockholm and elsewhere in Sweden, royally helmed by HRH Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden, then 24 years old, who with the event became something of a global ambassador for Sweden’s emerging creative industries. With the added royal glory, the event attracted massive publicity and hype in Japan, Sweden and in the global creative community.

In 2001, Stockholm New was not a co-producer, but wepresented no less than three exhibitions at the sprawling two-week event. You can read the complete program here—impressive, to say the least!

Our greatest contribution to this grand event, however, were the features we published in Stockholm New, and exhibited in Tokyo. Already in 2000, we explained the name/concept/brand Swedish Style in our notorious fashion feature with that same title, Swedish Style, photographed by Mikael Jansson starring our Swedish super model of the era, Mini Andén, and Brazilian dito Anna Claudia Michels in Stockholm New No.10, in 2000.

Swedish Style is, of course, also an expression in the biker world, referring to stripped-down choppers of the “Captain America” kind from cult movie Easy Rider from 1969, a replica of which we were able to obtain for the shoot in Montauk Long Island. This minimalistic bike design was actually developed by Swedish custom bike builders in the 1950s, hence the expression. I explained this historic background in a short text accompanying the feature. Unfortunately, the point was lost in the commotion and controversy that story stirred at the time. People still don’t understand the background or the “values” with which the concept Swedish Style is charged, which I guess is just as well. A great name/brand/concept it is in any case …

Then for the Swedish Style in Tokyo II event in 2001, we published Stockholm New No.11 — the Tokyo issue, one of our strongest issues, my own personal favorite, which also served as something of a catalog for the event, attracting hot attention and hype in Tokyo and throughout the fashion world.

The issue’s dominant fashion feature was Mario Testino’s epic, explosive, hotly controversial 46-page spread Mario’s magic midsummer, opened by an image of Testino’s sperm and DNA by Swedish photographer legend Lennart Nilsson.

An interior design feature in this issue was That’s some fine young feminine form!, featuring new objects by four young Swedish female interiors and product designers, which also became a much publicized exhibition in the Swedish Style in Tokyo II event in 2001.

Another heavy feature in this issue was Mikael Jansson’s great fashion drama Rest at this well, of which we showed a number of monumental prints in an exhibition with the same title in the Omni gallery in Tokyo’s Ayoma district during Swedish Style in Tokyo II, 2001.

Crown Princess Victoria of Sweden visited the opening of our Mikael Jansson exhibition in Tokyo, aired in Swedish State Television’s feature from the event. My very nice encounter with the young princess at this opening—where she was fascinated with our fashion images photographed near her home in Drottningholm Royal Castle Park—led to my subsequent idea of photographing the Crown Princess for the cover feature of our final Stockholm New issue. Stockholm New No.12—the Royal issue, published the year after, 2002—a request she happily accepted, resulting in our famous series of images and my own interview. So much of the late history of our dear magazine and event operation Stockholm New actually comes back to Tokyo.

In 2003, I returned to Tokyo for my outrageous feature Tokyo tempo, first published on commission by my friend Mark Isitt for architecture and design magazine Forum that same year. This wild gonzo tale on my adventures and experiences in this wonderous megalopolis around the Millennium, when Tokyo was a second hometown—by far my own favorite of the fashion metropolises we toured in those years, along with Paris, Milan, London and New York — is available as a separate e-book and included in my digital anthology En svensk gonzo. In Swedish only, unfortunately!

Purchase my gonzo chronicle Tokyo tempo as e-book here! And/or En svensk gonzo here! (Swedish only, sorry…)

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BrittonBritton is a creative branding, design and communication agency specializing in the fields of art, fashion, design, culture and lifestyle. Founded in Stockhholm in 1991 by Christina and Claes Britton, BrittonBritton commands vast experience in executing large-scale, complex commissions endeavors globally, for Swedish and international clients and on our own initiative. We work with all available tools, in all media — books, events, exhibitions, graphic design, webb design, film, advertising, PR, social media and more — in collaboration with a global network of creatives and production partners.

Through BrittonBritton, Christina and Claes Britton accept commissions as senior consultants to Swedish and international clients upon request.

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In 2007, we with BrittonBritton won a competition for the honorable commission of designing, image editing and and producing the heavy coffee table book for Moderna Museet’s (The Modern Museum’s) 50-year anniversary book in 2008, called simply The History Book, or Historieboken in Swedish, in two separate language editions.

We had no influence over the text content. That was decided and under production before we received the commission, under leadership od project manager Anna Tellgren, curator/intendant, and director Lars Nittve — basically a series of long academic articles by a number art historians on various aspects of the museum’s half-century history.

For me, the most memorable and rewarding part of our work with this book was spending several weeks of work on a total inventory of the museum’s photographic archive. Having grown up in the museum, where my aunt and her friend managed the children’s cinema, it was a magic time capsule, bringing back precious childhood memories.

I found a lot of images that had never before been published or even seen from the museum’s heroic history. I think it’s fair to say that it turned out to be a quite potent, exciting set of imagery that in itself told a thrilling visual history.

Certainly, our work on the Moderna Museet anniversary book was another step in my “education” in the museum, its history and its collection, which I started already in my youngest childhood, continued throughout my youth, on into my mature career with my interviews with Pontus Hultén in 1996 and research for Moderna Museet article in Stockholm New and various other writings, eventually ending up with my 12-year endaevor of researching and writing my biography on Pontus Hultén, Pontus Hultén—den moderna konstens anförare (2022) and its English language edition Pontus Hultén—Commander of Modern Art (2025).

Another highlight of this project for me personally was our photography of Robert Rauschenberg’s masterpiece Monogram (1955-1959), this cornerstone and “logo work” for Moderna Museet. The sad eyes of “The Goat” were a powerful childhood memory of mine—something mystic that told me a lot of what awaited in adult life. I was very happy that Lars Nittve and the project management bought my idea to conduct an extreme detail photographic study with our friend and longtime collaborator Frederik Lieberath, the master still-life photographer, of those eyes, to be divided into front and back cover of the book slipcase—the bright and the dark side of art, as I saw it. Realizing this idea with the fragile, priceless masterpiece, which we were reluctantly allowed to remove from its armored glass cage, was complicated. The image is actually made up of eight pictures of extremely high resolution, which took us two days to execute in a makeshift studion that we built in the museum’s storage.

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We were excited to assist our dear friend and longtime collaborator Andreas Brändström, the great curator/dealer, in the presentation of this bold show juxtaposing a collection vintage prints by notorious Japanese master photographer Nobuyoshi Araki with the museum’s rarely shown, partly semi-pornographic collection of Swedish national artist Anders Zorn’s nude etchings. The show aroused uproar among the museum’s conservative regular audience, and in the press. It was very well attended and has proven much inspirational among a younger audience of creatives.

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For a number of years, we at BrittonBritton worked with Saga Furs as a client, the Denmark-based collaboration brand for Nordic fur farmers, with global fashion and luxury brands as its clients.

Of course, it was a most delicate subject. As a stone-cold fashion aficionado since childhood, however, with a special zeal for haute couture, at least at that time, I of course couldn’t resist it. Also, I couldn’t see any major difference between wearing fur and eating meat or sporting leather shoes and belts, which I had continued to do in spite of my long-held disgust for how we humans treat animals. I’ve always been very far from morally perfect!

Research for the book was enjoyable, taking me around to the fur ateliers and major retailers in Paris, Milan and London for interviews, as well as spending time in Saga Fur’s magic residence and atelier in Vedbæk on the Själland “Gold Coast.”

The book contains a number of my texts on the history, fashion qualities, high-tech abilities and moral aspects of this most ancient of fabrics. The book can sometimes be found on Amazon and other platforms, fetching quite high prices.

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My entry for the catalog for Centre Pompidou:s blockbuster exhibition Niki de Saint Phalle, Jean Tinguely, Pontus Hultén, presented in the Grand Palais in Paris June 2025-January 2026. The catalog (and the text) is available to order in French and English editions.

Bloum Cardenas was groomed from childhood by her grandmother Niki de Saint Phalle to manage the artist’s creative afterlife. In her testament, de Saint Phalle named Cardenas trustee not only of her own artistic rights, but also of those of Jean Tinguely, whose estate Niki had inherited when her husband and partner passed away in 1991.

The lone child of Niki’s daughter Laura Duke Condominas and French photographer Laurent Condominas, Bloum Cardenas was born in 1971, just months after Niki and Jean had finally married—and separated. “By that time, they both had many other lovers—their private life together was practically over”, says Bloum. “They married to protect each other’s art.”

Niki and Jean lived in the Commanderie, a templars’ quarters from the twelvth century in the village of Dannemois in the Fontainebleau forest. In 1969, Tinguely started his life’s work Le Cyclop, the giant monster head sculpture, which involved many of his fellow noveaux realistes and other artist friends, near the adjacent village of Milly-la-Foret.

Other lovers regardless, de Saint Phalle and Tinguely remained, in many ways, a couple, a team, united in art, love and camaraderie. To Bloum, they were both her magic grandparents, the royal couple of a wild, exuberant court that gathered in the Commanderie; a surrealistic take of a Medieval fairy tale. Pontus Hultén was a regular in this clan. “I’ve always known Pontus”, Bloum says. “I don’t ever remember him not being around, a cornerstone in the culture, like the great uncle of the family. I’m blessed to have grown up with these people. They are part of my freedom to be secure with who I am and with my own creativity, which unfortunately is pretty lame compared to theirs.”

Sacred monsters, a term that Niki, Jean and Pontus used for one another, alludes to Sacre Bosco (sacred groove), the mannerist sculpture garden from the 1500s in Bomarzo in Italy’s Lazio region, north of Rome, also known as Parco di Mostri, the park of monsters, not far from Niki’s Giardino dei Tarocchi in southwest Tuscany. The garden, with monster sculptures carved in rocks and a distorted tower, influenced the surrealists after Salvador Dalí “rediscovered” the garden in 1938. It’s one of the sites that inspired Niki for Giardino dei Tarocchi, part of her pantheon of outsider art references along with postmaster Ferdinand Cheval’s Palais Ideal in Hauterives in central France, Simon Rhodia’s Watts Towers in south central Los Angeles, and, above all, Antoni Gaudi’s Park Güell in Barcelona.

To Bloum, this expression, sacred monsters—also used by Jean Cocteau, who lived in Milly-la-Foret—perfectly captures the trio Niki, Jean and Pontus. “They were monsters all three of them, a bit crazy but sacred in their commitment. Art was their religion—and they were fanatics!”

Bloum’s standing in this flamboyant court with all its artistic royalties, monsters, magicians and jesters, was that of a free child, running around half naked playing in Le Cyclop and the forest surrounding the sculpture. “I always felt completely safe. Everyone knew that if anything happened to me, my father would kill them. This was clear. To Niki and Jean, I was the grandchild they never had together. To Pontus, children of artists were heirs who interfered with art. As a grandchild, there was no such complication.”

I believe Bloum when she reveals that her young friends told her “yeah, I’m sure”, when she asked if they’d like to come along and play in her grandfolks’ giant monster in the forest. The scenes she has narrated through the years, from Le Cyclop and elsewhere, makes me think of Bruegel paintings. Here the spirit of the sixties survived into the eighties. Something fantastical was always going on. Everything was possible. Anything could happen at any time.

My favorite story is one with Bernard Luginbühl, Tinguely’s old friend and main collaborator with Le Cyclop, a heavier, more brutal version of Tinguely, in his machine sculptures and in his physical appearance. Bloum confides that though he was actually kind and sweet, she was a bit afraid of Luginbühl as a child, understandably with this enormous figure, with long sloping mustaches, clad in ancle-long black leather coats, speaking “even worse swizzedutch than Tinguely,” frequently barbecuing for feasts in the forest meadow in front of Le Cyclop. “I didn’t know what a Nazi was, but I figured it could be someone like him,” Bloum says. One night on a terrace in Le Cyclop, with torches burning and fireworks erupting, she eyed a horrifying sight—Luginbühl in his standard getup, complete with a leather uniform cap, barbecuing a doll (!) the size of her four-year old self (this was on the film set for Niki de Saint Phalle’s surrealistic fairy tale Un rève plus long que la nuit, launched in 1976). “I thought that if he could do that to a doll, then what could he do to me ..?” Bloum says.

She portrays Niki, Jean, Pontus and most of their friends as rebels and anarchists who lived for art, and didn’t care about much else. “They were all vandals, bandits, thieves—punks before there was a word for it. They were totally honest. They gave you real. They believed that there were frontiers to be crossed and conventions to be shattered. They took what they needed to achieve what they wanted. They believed in ethics, but not in morale.”

Her grandmother Niki de Saint Phalle, Bloum depicts as a near supernatural dark hero queen of the avantgarde, surrounded by a following of gay admirers, all of whom became Bloum’s family. “She used her beauty as a gun. In her young age, she must have been terrifying, extremely violent. When Nine-Eleven happened, she told me that she could have been one of those terrorists if it wasn’t for art.”

Bloum explains that her relationship with her grandmother was, not surprisingly, affected by Niki’s history with her own children. “She was fantastic with me because of her feelings of guilt. She struggled with her instincts to spoil me because of this. Niki really was a witch in the sense of the Middle Ages — a woman of tremendous strength, even if she was frail. My mother is a delicate, magic being, all to herself, outside of this world.”

Pursuing the trail of ancient saga, Bloum describes the couple Niki and Jean as an incarnation of “The Beauty and the Beast” in Jean Cocteau’s classic film from 1946. “When Jean was sleeping, snoring, he was The Beast, totally. Then you could sense the potential of violence.”

In our moralistic times, some may flinch when Bloum pictures her adopted grandfather Tinguely not just as a The Beast but also as the subject of her romantic love. “I was madly in love with him as a three-year old child”, Bloum says. “I was jealous of Niki, trying to convince Jean that I could love him more than she.” To impress Tinguely, Bloum later dressed sexy for his openings. She especially remembers the magnificent release party for his retrospective at the Palazzo Grassi in Venice, under Pontus Hultén’s directorship, for which Bloum donned a daring appearance which made Tinguely proud. She stresses that this role play was a perfectly innocent game. “It was completely platonic and very beautiful. Jean was so sweet, so generous and protective with me. I don’t believe his own children ever knew that side of him.”

As a grandmother, Niki de Saint Phalle’s concerns for Bloum were far from those expected from a cliché old granny. Another favorite tale is that of when Niki summoned Bloum and her husband Bouba Cárdenas, who Niki loved, for some elder counselling. “When you are unfaithful to each other, lie about it,” Niki stated. “Jean and I were always honest, which only caused trouble.” “I thought, well thank you for giving my husband this advice,” Bloum says, smiling.

With Pontus Hultén, Bloum describes her relationship as easy. “As a small child, I felt closer to that side, to Jean and Pontus, than to Niki. To Pontus, after being a child, I became a worker, a part of the team. As a communist, that was important to him.”

For almost half a century, the lives and careers of Pontus, Jean and Niki were intertwined in a web of love, creativity, friendship and mutual dependance, ever since Hultén and Tinguely first met in Paris in 1954, after Pontus had visited Jean’s show of small Calder-inspired wire sculptures at the bookstore of Galerie Arnaud, and left a note, until Niki’s death in 2002.

Hultén and Tinguely partnered in an anarchistic approach to life and art, with nihilist inclinations, never accepting, much less respecting the restrictions forced on the individual by society, tradition, capitalism or bureaucracy. From their first encounter, they engaged in endless dialogue, and in a suite of creative collaborations that jumpstarted with the Le Movement show in Galerie Denise René in Paris in 1955, a first breakthrough for them both. Their thirty-seven years of nonstop creative exchange was crowned with the great Venice retrospective at the Palazzo Grassi in 1987, which traveled to Centre Pompidou and other venues, and capped with Tinguely’s final show in Moscow in 1990, from the opening of which there are bizarre anecdotes.

It was Tinguely who terminated Hultén’s own artistic career. Throughout his youth, Pontus’ dream was to be an artist, while he also studied art history and arranged exhibitions from a young age. Though he was active as an artist into the sixties, even after becoming museum director, he obviously abandoned his personal ambitions after meeting Tinguely. According to Seppi Imhof, the master welder, Tinguely’s assistant for twenty-five years, who spent more time with Tinguely and Hultén together than anyone else alive today, the two had a bond. “Pontus realized that Jean was better, so they made a deal that Jean should make the art and Pontus write about it,” Imhof says. “Both were equally dependent on the other.”*

Niki de Saint Phalle met Pontus Hultén at the Impasse Ronsin, where she moved in with Tinguely in 1960, in the studio where he had previously lived with his first wife Eva Aeppli. Niki first collaborated with Pontus in the Art in Motion show at Moderna Museet in Stockholm in 1961, where she staged two of her Tier performances. Henceforth, the trio, de Saint Phalle-Tinguely-Hultén, formed a joint force in art world.

For Niki de Saint Phalle, hon* in 1966 was a global breakthrough. She and Tinguely became known as “The Bonnie & Clyde of art.” Niki’s outsize Nana, a figure she had launched at exhibitions the year before, in 1965, stole the show at Moderna Museet, overshadowing her colleagues Tinguely and Swede Per Olof Ultvedt, becoming Niki’s global trademark.

Though hon was motherly rather than sexual in her nature, the sensational, enduring success of the exhibition doubtlessly can be linked to “Swedish Sin,” a powerful myth launched around the same time. The show boosted Pontus Hultén’s radical international reputation. Likely, it was the main source of his sobriquet “The Swedish pornographer,” coined in French press on his subsequent return to Paris.

Surely, Pontus and his colleagues expected hostility not least from feminist activists in the emerging sixty-eight movement. To his astonishment, the anticipated moralistic outcry never quite disgorged. Pontus was known for wanting the press to report from the museum every day, positive or negative, a feat accomplished with many spectacular initiatives throughout Moderna Museet’s “heroic years” (usually considered from 1961 through 1968). The morning after the hon opening, Hultén eagerly browsed the morning papers, to find—nothing. The museum had encountered a known media phenomenon. When faced with something new and unexpected, journalists and others sometimes don’t know what to think, write or say, and therefore remain silent. According to Hultén, it wasn’t until the international press shortly after featured articles that Swedish media started reporting daily, fueling the exhibition’s overwhelming public success.

hon gave birth to a family of brainchildren. The eldest was Le Paradis fantastique, the sculpture group which since 1971 adorns the entrance to Moderna Museet in Stockholm.

With hon, Niki’s Nanas and Jean’s machines in combination became a hallmark. The year after, 1967, Tinguely and de Saint Phalle were commissioned to create a monumental sculpture group for the roof of the French pavilion of the world expo in Montreal. Here the dots with Hultén again aligned. Commissioner for the French pavilion was Robert Bordaz, the founding president of the Centre Pompidou, who would, six years later, recruit Pontus to the new Musée national d’art moderne.

When the Montreal expo concluded, there was no interest from French institutions for the sculpture group, far too radical for the conservative French museum establishment at the time. Le Paradis was moved temporarily first to the sculpture garden of the Knox Albright Museum in Buffalo, then to Central Park in New York, where it became a popular attraction, spread out for around a year on a lawn near 110^th Street, south of the Harlem border.

With the future of Le Paradis in flux, Hultén seized the chance to grab the group for Stockholm. de Saint Phalle and Tinguely enthusiastically agreed, donating the work to the museum “so that the children can come home to their intellectual habitat”. The group was secured for Stockholm in a complex operation, requiring a controversial grant from the Swedish government, sponsoring from a shipping company and a donation from Dominique and Jean de Menil, the French-American patrons to whom Hultén had been introduced by de Saint Phalle and Tinguely, crucial supporters of the careers of all three of them.

It must be impossible for younger generations to imagine the wrath that Paradis evoked when installed, after a year in the workshop, on the quay of Skeppsholmen island, across the bay from Stockholm’s Royal Castle. In our time, when collecting contemporary art is a favorite pastime among more sophisticated billionaires, one must remember that around 1970, modern art was still despised by the conservative establishment. Moderna Museet was loathed by the right as a nest of obscenity and revolutionary propaganda. Niki’s frivolous Nanas insulted the masculine pride of the Royal Navy, which for centuries had quartered on Skeppsholmen, forced out from the island by these dreaded bolsheviks. Most alarming: this so-called art was exposed in the face of the King when the poor old chap stepped out on his balcony in the morning!

Le Paradis is a milestone that in its turn spawned multiple Niki and Jean collaborations around the world, including at the Giardino dei Tarrocchi, Le Cyclop, and Fontaine Stravinsky. What shame that the conservatives were ultimately successful, after fifteen years of relentless struggle, when the sculpture group was moved to its present, less visable location as late as 1986, when political strife was practically over.

Bloum Cardenas confirms that the creative origin of hon, the “primal mother” of all this artistic offspring, is a delicate matter. “It was sensitive that it was Pontus’s idea. Also, it’s one of just two Nanas* that Niki ever made that’s lying down on her back. Clearly, this was the guys’ idea. Niki’s Nanas are never passive.”

Bloum emphasizes that hon had even further ramifications in that she kicked off Niki as an architect (and, less noted, also spurred Tinguely to think bigger, with Le Cyclop). After hon, Niki and Jean both worked in the larger scale for the rest of their lives. “This wasn’t Pontus’s idea,” Bloum says. “Niki was thinking in terms of architecture even before—the body as architecture, with the Nana-maison.*”

In addition to friendship, love, and devotion to art as their highest order, there were business aspects to the mutual interests of Niki, Jean and Pontus, including rivalry and conflicts. Seppi Imhof remembers the Tinguely and Hultén encounters: “There was a lot of shouting when they met, these two machos. Pontus always wanted something when he came to see Jean. It was the same with Jean. He also always wanted something when he saw Pontus.”

The fact that Pontus Hultén was a principal proponent for Jean Tinguely and Niki de Saint Phalle is common knowledge, promoting both artists throughout his career. In her portrait of Pontus,* Niki writes about how he frequently came through with decisive ideas and connections for her and Jean. Less known, perhaps, is that support worked both ways. Niki and Jean were critical for Pontus’ career, not just with their shows, but also through their contacts.

The reasons why Pontus Hultén was recruited to Centre Pompidou are complex. What’s undisputed is that Niki and Jean’s lobbying was indispensable—long before the Centre Pompidou project was initiated. Some of Hultén’s most important sponsors and allies, notably Dominique and Jean de Menil, were friends of Jean and Niki. Many of the collaborators Pontus recruited for his team at the new museum were endorsed by the very same “Bonnie & Clyde of art”. One was Daniel Abadie, at the time a gifted, fearless young curator and dealer. To me, Abadie stressed the couple’s importance as ambassadors for Hultén in Paris. “Jean and Niki were called the nutcracker,” Abadie said. “One came from one side, one from the other. You were crushed in between if you didn’t do as they wanted.”*

Later in his career, too, Hultén’s fortunes intermingled with those of de Saint Phalle and Tinguely. His ties with another power couple in the art world, Giovanni “Gianni” Agnelli, the FIAT executive and global jet set playboy, and his wife Donna Marella Agnelli, born Princess Caracciolo, can be tracked back to the fifties, when Niki and Marella Caracciolo befriended each other as models in New York.* The Hoffman-Sacher-Oeri family in Switzerland, owners of pharmaceutical giant Hoffman La Roche, was another patron to whom Hultén was introduced by Tinguely. There were many others. Niki’s and Jean’s connections should not be underestimated.

Pontus Hultén’s eight plus years at the Centre Pompidou are full of fond childhood memories for Bloum Cardenas. “I played in the museum and at his desk in the vast open office landscape,” she says. “I was the only kid who was allowed to run around there all by myself. I specifically remember having fun with Pontus’s trash.” Any child should envy her memories from Le Crocodrome de Zig et Puce, the giant dragon nested in the submerged Forum Arena in the entrance to the Centre at the opening. The Crocodrome was another monster baby of hon—a mammoth sculpture with a variety of other artworks and attractions “swallowed” in its intestines. “Oh my God, that was so crazy, what a privilege—and of course they hid in there to scare me a little bit more than everyone else!”

His aura of power influenced Pontus’s persona and the way people interacted with him, Bloum recalls. Yet, even at the height of his reign, riding the wave of success that followed the museum’s opening in 1977, he never betrayed the mischief anarchist spirit he nurtured with Tinguely. A huge exhaust pipe of the kind that line Place Beaubourg above the piazza, opposite the museum—a Centre Pompidou trademark—embellishes Le Cyclop, snatched on a dark night by team Tinguely with the good will of the museum’s director.

Bloum enlightens me to an interesting observation — the marxist class structure of this trio: the aristocrat, Niki, the haute bourgouise, Pontus, and the libertarian proletarian, Jean. “Pontus was the intellectual. We all benefitted from his smartness and knowledge,” she says.

This social order may explain some differences in views in various matters, specifically with people and money. “Pontus believed in people, that they had all these possibilities. Niki was afraid people. She didn’t trust them. Jean’s idea was that people deserved better. They all had this Christian thing about giving back to people through art. With money, they all had individual relations. Most important, they shared the faith that art belongs to all and should end up in public spaces and museums.”

After Jean Tinguely’s death in 1991, arranging his estate was an enormous task for Niki de Saint Phalle, to whom the artist had left everything. Tinguely was a manic collector who possessed copious amounts of things, in addition to his colossal artistic production. Niki’s health was fluctuating at this time. She needed all the help she could get from Pontus in sorting out Tinguely’s estate and various homes, storages etcetera. Tinguely’s old friend Eberard Kornfeld, the Swiss dealer and collector, also assisted in this dire endeavor.

In his lifetime, Tinguely planned a museum of his own in La Verrerie, a factory he had bought, near his hometown Fribourg, with halls big enough to house his largest machine sculptures. The site was remote, hard to access and complicated in other ways. Here, Tinguely intended to exhibit, in addition to his own art, work by his friends such as de Saint Phalle, Lunginbühl, Eva Aeppli, Daniel Spoerri, Yves Klein and some other noveaux realistes. He expected Hultén to execute these plans as director. “Pontus didn’t like that”, Seppi Imhof said. “He didn’t want to be told what to do.”

Realizing the idea for a Tinguely museum was a formidable quest. Fortunately, there was a natural patron in Paul Sacher, the music conductor who was at the time the patriarch of the Hoffman-Sacher-Oeri family, owners of Hoffman La Roche. His late wife Maja Sacher was a major collector of Tinguely’s work. The artist had for years discussed plans with Sacher for a museum on the family compound outside Basel. According to Niki, the magnate immediately accepted to finance the museum when she asked him at Tinguely’s storied funeral in Fribourg. She herself donated fifty sculptures and a collection of drawings and prints for the purpose.

An agreement was soon reached that the museum should be built not in Sacher’s estate, but on a property by the Rhine in central Basel, provided by the municipality. Time was tight as it was decided that the museum should be inaugurated for Roche’s centennial anniversary in 1996, allowing just two years for construction. That Pontus Hultén should be the founding director was a given. As architect, Hultén advocated his friend Renzo Piano, to no avail. The Swiss postmodernist Mario Botta, who had been involved in the museum plans with Sacher from the beginning, was commissioned. Disappointed, Hultén cared only about the galleries and installment of the art, leaving the rest of the architecture and the program to others. After little more than a year, his final international museum commission was complete, appropriately for the artist who had been his professional and spiritual brother from the outset.

For Pontus Hultén, a pseudo-religious faith in art as an instrument to improve society was fundamental. He urged art to escape the studio, interrupting, disturbing, intervening with society, collaborating with other artic expressions, architects, engineers, politicians, philosophers etcetera in creating a better, more beautiful and pleasant world. Fantasie au pouvoir!, Fantasy for power!, was his credo—a slogan said to have been scribbled on the walls in the streets of Paris during the sixty-eight rebellion. Niki de Saint Phalle and Jean Tinguely honored these ideals.

In our present day, such visions seem alien. Pontus Hultén was a utopian of rank. He saw artists as semi-gods with might to transform society. He believed in the revolutionary potential in art. Already in the late sixties, he realized that the time had passed for this grand vision—a lasting disappointment for him. When the House of Culture project in Stockholm—which inspired Centre Pompidou—collapsed, he saw it as evidence that “time was losing its breath”. In my interview with him, he said: “Today, when the utopias are dead, it seems crazy. We were a bit naïve, but not at all as naïve as it may appear today, Had we gotten started a few years earlier, we might have pulled it off.”*

In the eighties, a shift occurred. It’s well known that this was the decade when money subdued art. It’s more rarely discussed that it was also the time when trends and intellectual snobbery proliferated. Germano Celant, the late influential Italian curator and art historian, phrased it well: “Until the eighties, art was tied to culture and society. Now it’s linked to business and power. Pontus was the first curator. Today everyone is a curator.”*

In our cool, commercially streamlined contemporary reality, Jean Tinguely, Niki de Saint Phalle, and the view on art that they represented with Pontus Hultén, fell somewhat out of vogue for a few decades. It’s gratifying to see new mounting interest in them and their ideals. Dare we see this a sign of a comeback for a more active, political, inclusive role for art? “It’s inevitable,” Bloum says. “These guys are so contemporary. It’s great to see that they are more easily understood by younger generations than by their own. Their spirit is so much needed today.”

*Seppi Imhof interview Basel, 9 December, 2014.

*At the time, but not now, hon was consequently spelled with a minor-case h.

*The other is Le couple

*Nana-maison, 1965-1966.

*Niki de Saint Phalle, ”Ein Portrait von Pontus”. Das gedtruckte museum on Pontus Hultén, Kunst- und Austellungshalle der Bundesrepublik Deutschland/Cantz, Bonn, 1996.

*Daniel Abadie, interview Paris, 22 October, 2015.

*Marella Caracciolo was portrayed as one of the “Swans”, Manhattan’s most glamorous women, by Truman Capote in “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” from 1958.

*Pontus Hultén, interview Stockholm, 16 December, 1996.

*Germano Celant, interview Milano, 18 April, 2016.

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Another great collaboration with our longtime creative partner Andreas Brändström, the great curator, then director of Kristinehamns konstmuseum, in the production and packaging of a contemporary art exhibition celebrating the 375-year anniversary of the town Kristinehamn i southwest Sweden, named after or legend 17th century hero queen.

The show featured works from some 23 contemporary artists, most contributing uniquely created works, along with a selection of historic 17th century objects on loan from various institutions and collectors. The show, which received great reviews, in addition featured experiences of sound, music, scents and flavors, celebrating the mythic queer, mystic heritage of the legend hero queen.

Paricipating artists/contributors: Mamma Andersson, Ann-Sofie Back & Robert Rydberg, Ernst Billgren, Charlotte Birnbaum, Helen Broms Sandberg, Malinda Damgaard, Karl Dunér, Leif Elggren, Lisa Jeannin & Rolf Shuurmans, Knut Knutson, Klara Kristalova, Jonas Liveröd, Tova Mozard, Ylva Ogland, Dan Perrin, Andrea Reschia, Lars Sjöberg, Rolf Stålberg, Per B Sundberg, Sven-Olof Wallenstein, Cecilia Ömalm.