Vinter, 1998-2007

Lars Tunbjörk’s long swedish winter has nothing to do with the immaculate winters featured on postcards and in fairy tales. Just like this laughing snowman, the snow is muddy and filthy. Despair even seems to win over those who, at a party, are looking for a derivative to boredom. Lars Tunbjörk’s flash makes no concession ; it scrutinizes the ordinary and underlines the grotesque of these situations.

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Home, 1991-2002

Home is a dive inside the Swedish housing developments. On this occasion, Lars Tunbjörk goes back to his native town of Boras, where he strips his house bare. The images are both ordinary and unreal. The men and women are omnipresent in this artificial universe made to their measure. However, no human outline is visible. The white light is intense and the colors very bright. So much so that they transform these photographs into kitsch and loud posters. Exteriors alternate with interiors, but it makes no difference: the private space is as anesthetized and standardized as the public space. Both are centered by the geometry of the architecture and the furniture, which sometimes contrast with the shapelesness of a strip of land covered with thick plants or the chaos of a heap of dry undergrowth.

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Los Angeles Office, 2004

Los Angeles Office is quite a brief series containing 13 images made in the United States in old workplaces reused as movie sets. In contradiction with the saturated images and elaborate points of view of the Office series, Lars Tunbjörk takes some distance and emphasizes the emptiness of these places preserved as they were. He plays with the ambiguous absence of all human activity to create a feeling combining strangeness and anguish.

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Office, 2001

Office offers an offbeat and ironic vision of the universe of the working place. None of these photographs could be found in the illustrated annual reports issued by the great companies. Under Lars Tunbjörk’s gaze, this formatted world becomes a theater for skits where the absurd borders on anguish. Individuals appear completely overwhelmed by electronics. Here, fax machines, as if left to their own fate, pour out meters of paper. There, a face emerges with difficulty from an ocean of computer screens. The uneasiness is amplified by the point of view taken, sometimes very close to the ground, sometimes very close-up or disturbed by smeared elements that appear in the framework. Under these conditions, only the miniature golf course seems like the only way out…

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