The exhibition Sometime in the Spring premiered in V1 SALON on a sunny Thursday, April 24, 2025. The exhibition traced fall into spring through a series of paintings based on Bryld’s extensive, often hyper local field research: The fog on the morning run, the graveyard on the afternoon stroll. Now Somewhere in the Fall, opening six months later on October 23, 2025, traces spring into fall through a new group of paintings. A catalogue joining the two exhibitions - and Bryld’s field and studio work - will be published during the exhibition period.
In Mads Bryld’s paintings, the seasons transition. Subtly and reserved, winter turns to spring, and summer stretches lazily into fall - like a cat waking up from a nap. If you don’t spend much time in nature, the change of seasons can feel abrupt - almost violent. You feel unprepared. If you do spend time in nature, cultivated or wild; in your garden, in the cemetery, the forest or the mountains, you feel the constant and infinite cycle, the everlasting transition. You sense the minute change in temperature from one morning to the next, how the April sun has moved slightly higher above the oak gathering strength, to step out of winter and leaf out.
Bryld’s oil paintings embody this wonderful super slow cycle of everything. The mechanics of existence. In flux. The existential poetry of photosynthesis. The current that ripples the surface. Vibrating. The Buddhist cycle of the falling leaf. We will meet again.
The motifs are shimmering, transforming with our gaze. Sky dissolves into water. Trees vibrate. Leaves rustle. Colors shift. Subtle nuances and dramatic contrasts. Harsh autumn morning light burning through fog and twigs. As daylight wanes, leaves are shed, cost benefit, ground on fire, a beautiful funeral in preparation for resurrection. Nature is not pretty for you -it just is. Composition collapses and reemerges from murky waters. Mountains grow. Flowers decay. Nature moves. Foreground turns to background, and we are momentarily lost -or found. Being painting. No longer just the looker, but present within.
Outer landscapes become inner landscapes. Nature holds a firm grip on us as we realize we’re made of the same particles that are dancing in the sunlight. The same matter. Interconnected. If it sounds too good to be true - it’s not. It’s pure observation and painting. Perhaps a slight step ahead of consciousness, in the realm of the intuitive.
Kilde: V1 Salon