Curious, Anxious,
Creative:
A Conversation
with Per Kristian
Stoveland
Curious, Anxious,
Creative:
A Conversation
with Per Kristian
Stoveland
Curious, Anxious,
Creative:
A Conversation
with Per Kristian
Stoveland
Written by
Elle Bland
Interview
2023
Introduction
In the days leading up to our call, I did a Google search for Void — the interdisciplinary experiential design studio that Per co-founded in 2015. I was in awe. The installations were striking, epic, and ethereal — monuments of light that I could look at all day.
Next, I went on a search for his NFTs. That’s how I discovered The Harvest, his latest collection. There they were again — monuments of light cutting through the center of my screen. This time, the art was simple, clean lines cascading onto a landscape.
Even in its simplicity, Per’s work was striking. Even in the confines of an image, a print, or an NFT, his art was epic and ethereal. Suddenly, I was nervous to get on our call.
What I didn’t know was, Per would turn out to be remarkably down to earth — regardless of how highly I looked up to him. His skills did not come without struggles, his ambition did not come without anxiety, and his success did not erase his self-doubt.
Per was as impressive, striking, and epic as his installations — and, in the same vein, as simple as those lines on the landscape.
I hope you enjoy our conversation as much as I have.
In the days leading up to our call, I did a Google search for Void — the interdisciplinary experiential design studio that Per co-founded in 2015. I was in awe. The installations were striking, epic, and ethereal — monuments of light that I could look at all day.
Next, I went on a search for his NFTs. That’s how I discovered The Harvest, his latest collection. There they were again — monuments of light cutting through the center of my screen. This time, the art was simple, clean lines cascading onto a landscape.
Even in its simplicity, Per’s work was striking. Even in the confines of an image, a print, or an NFT, his art was epic and ethereal. Suddenly, I was nervous to get on our call.
What I didn’t know was, Per would turn out to be remarkably down to earth — regardless of how highly I looked up to him. His skills did not come without struggles, his ambition did not come without anxiety, and his success did not erase his self-doubt.
Per was as impressive, striking, and epic as his installations — and, in the same vein, as simple as those lines on the landscape.
I hope you enjoy our conversation as much as I have.
In the days leading up to our call, I did a Google search for Void — the interdisciplinary experiential design studio that Per co-founded in 2015. I was in awe. The installations were striking, epic, and ethereal — monuments of light that I could look at all day.
Next, I went on a search for his NFTs. That’s how I discovered The Harvest, his latest collection. There they were again — monuments of light cutting through the center of my screen. This time, the art was simple, clean lines cascading onto a landscape.
Even in its simplicity, Per’s work was striking. Even in the confines of an image, a print, or an NFT, his art was epic and ethereal. Suddenly, I was nervous to get on our call.
What I didn’t know was, Per would turn out to be remarkably down to earth — regardless of how highly I looked up to him. His skills did not come without struggles, his ambition did not come without anxiety, and his success did not erase his self-doubt.
Per was as impressive, striking, and epic as his installations — and, in the same vein, as simple as those lines on the landscape.
I hope you enjoy our conversation as much as I have.
Elle
Thank you for sitting down to talk to me today. If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would they be?
Thank you for sitting down to talk to me today. If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would they be?
Thank you for sitting down to talk to me today. If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would they be?
Per
Curious. Anxious. Creative.
Curious. Anxious. Creative.
Curious. Anxious. Creative.
Elle
Let’s start with “curious”.
Let’s start with “curious”.
Let’s start with “curious”.
Per
I've always had an affinity for asking questions.
Maybe that’s because there was a lot of variety in my childhood — lots of cultures, communities, and curriculums. I moved from Norway to Kenya when I was two years old. My father was an engineer who worked for non-profit organizations, and he had a project to do over there. My parents didn't want me to get a typical expat education — they wanted me to experience the local area, to bond with the local kids — so, they enrolled me in the nearby Montessori school. I’m not sure how aware they were about what kind of school Montessori is, but looking back, it's interesting to see how much of what we did revolved around the lens of creativity.
I have a very logical mind — like my father. The engineer-type of person. But Montessori taught me to combine information and imagination — to use them to create something new.
I've always had an affinity for asking questions.
Maybe that’s because there was a lot of variety in my childhood — lots of cultures, communities, and curriculums. I moved from Norway to Kenya when I was two years old. My father was an engineer who worked for non-profit organizations, and he had a project to do over there. My parents didn't want me to get a typical expat education — they wanted me to experience the local area, to bond with the local kids — so, they enrolled me in the nearby Montessori school. I’m not sure how aware they were about what kind of school Montessori is, but looking back, it's interesting to see how much of what we did revolved around the lens of creativity.
I have a very logical mind — like my father. The engineer-type of person. But Montessori taught me to combine information and imagination — to use them to create something new.
I've always had an affinity for asking questions.
Maybe that’s because there was a lot of variety in my childhood — lots of cultures, communities, and curriculums. I moved from Norway to Kenya when I was two years old. My father was an engineer who worked for non-profit organizations, and he had a project to do over there. My parents didn't want me to get a typical expat education — they wanted me to experience the local area, to bond with the local kids — so, they enrolled me in the nearby Montessori school. I’m not sure how aware they were about what kind of school Montessori is, but looking back, it's interesting to see how much of what we did revolved around the lens of creativity.
I have a very logical mind — like my father. The engineer-type of person. But Montessori taught me to combine information and imagination — to use them to create something new.
“Imagination does not become great until human beings, given the courage and the strength, use it to create.” – Maria Montessori
“Imagination does not become great until human beings, given the
courage and the strength, use it to create.” – Maria Montessori
Per
I stayed there for about five years, making friends with people from around the world. In Norway, the communities are quite homogeneous, so it was a blessing to be surrounded by diversity at such a young age. I was always asking questions about the people and places around me, which burnt a sense of curiosity into my system.
Eventually, my questions expanded beyond people and places. I wanted to know what made the sky blue. I wanted to know why it rains. I wanted to know why the sun goes up and down every day.
That’s when my dad bought me a science book. I was six years old, and I carried it with me everywhere. It felt like magic — like I had the key to the universe. I didn’t just see things, I understood them — like popping the screen off of your computer and looking at the motherboard. Everything is connected in ways you wouldn’t expect. This element leads to that element, this phenomenon leads to that phenomenon — and suddenly, burning a log in your living room can bring you energy from the sun.
I stayed there for about five years, making friends with people from around the world. In Norway, the communities are quite homogeneous, so it was a blessing to be surrounded by diversity at such a young age. I was always asking questions about the people and places around me, which burnt a sense of curiosity into my system.
Eventually, my questions expanded beyond people and places. I wanted to know what made the sky blue. I wanted to know why it rains. I wanted to know why the sun goes up and down every day.
That’s when my dad bought me a science book. I was six years old, and I carried it with me everywhere. It felt like magic — like I had the key to the universe. I didn’t just see things, I understood them — like popping the screen off of your computer and looking at the motherboard. Everything is connected in ways you wouldn’t expect. This element leads to that element, this phenomenon leads to that phenomenon — and suddenly, burning a log in your living room can bring you energy from the sun.
I stayed there for about five years, making friends with people from around the world. In Norway, the communities are quite homogeneous, so it was a blessing to be surrounded by diversity at such a young age. I was always asking questions about the people and places around me, which burnt a sense of curiosity into my system.
Eventually, my questions expanded beyond people and places. I wanted to know what made the sky blue. I wanted to know why it rains. I wanted to know why the sun goes up and down every day.
That’s when my dad bought me a science book. I was six years old, and I carried it with me everywhere. It felt like magic — like I had the key to the universe. I didn’t just see things, I understood them — like popping the screen off of your computer and looking at the motherboard. Everything is connected in ways you wouldn’t expect. This element leads to that element, this phenomenon leads to that phenomenon — and suddenly, burning a log in your living room can bring you energy from the sun.
Elle
Wait. “Burning a log can bring you energy from the sun?”
Wait. “Burning a log can bring you energy from the sun?”
Wait. “Burning a log can bring you energy from the sun?”
Per
It can. It’s so cool.
It can. It’s so cool.
It can. It’s so cool.
Elle
Please explain.
Please explain.
Please explain.
Per
When a tree grows, most people think that the “stuff” — the wood, the bark, the branches — comes from the soil. It seems like the only logical explanation because the tree is growing up from the ground. But that’s not the case. The bulk of the tree comes from the air.
Trees absorb carbon dioxide from the air and use energy from the sun to convert it into glucose. The tree uses that glucose to grow. When we burn wood, the glucose breaks down, releasing energy as heat and light. That’s where flames come from.
In other words — when a tree grows, it captures energy from the sun. And when we start a fire, we’re setting it free.
When a tree grows, most people think that the “stuff” — the wood, the bark, the branches — comes from the soil. It seems like the only logical explanation because the tree is growing up from the ground. But that’s not the case. The bulk of the tree comes from the air.
Trees absorb carbon dioxide from the air and use energy from the sun to convert it into glucose. The tree uses that glucose to grow. When we burn wood, the glucose breaks down, releasing energy as heat and light. That’s where flames come from.
In other words — when a tree grows, it captures energy from the sun. And when we start a fire, we’re setting it free.
When a tree grows, most people think that the “stuff” — the wood, the bark, the branches — comes from the soil. It seems like the only logical explanation because the tree is growing up from the ground. But that’s not the case. The bulk of the tree comes from the air.
Trees absorb carbon dioxide from the air and use energy from the sun to convert it into glucose. The tree uses that glucose to grow. When we burn wood, the glucose breaks down, releasing energy as heat and light. That’s where flames come from.
In other words — when a tree grows, it captures energy from the sun. And when we start a fire, we’re setting it free.
Production Design for A-Ha Afterglow Show.
Elle
That’s amazing.
That’s amazing.
That’s amazing.
Per
That’s what I mean.
Fire is beautiful on its own, but it is ten times more mesmerizing when you understand how it works. It proves how intricate life is — how everything is intertwined. The sun is millions of miles away, but it’s also in our backyard. It’s in the leaves, it’s in the trees — just by burning a log, it can be in our living room.
I have a daughter who is seven years old — around the age I was when my dad gave me that book. The other day, we talked about the sun and I told her it was a star. I said, “It’s just like any star in the sky, it’s just a lot closer to us than the rest of them are. That’s why we can feel how hot it is.” She was mind blown.
I remember running to my dad to ask the same questions. Being able to answer them for her — watching her face light up when she understands it — is one of the best feelings in the world.
That’s what I mean.
Fire is beautiful on its own, but it is ten times more mesmerizing when you understand how it works. It proves how intricate life is — how everything is intertwined. The sun is millions of miles away, but it’s also in our backyard. It’s in the leaves, it’s in the trees — just by burning a log, it can be in our living room.
I have a daughter who is seven years old — around the age I was when my dad gave me that book. The other day, we talked about the sun and I told her it was a star. I said, “It’s just like any star in the sky, it’s just a lot closer to us than the rest of them are. That’s why we can feel how hot it is.” She was mind blown.
I remember running to my dad to ask the same questions. Being able to answer them for her — watching her face light up when she understands it — is one of the best feelings in the world.
That’s what I mean.
Fire is beautiful on its own, but it is ten times more mesmerizing when you understand how it works. It proves how intricate life is — how everything is intertwined. The sun is millions of miles away, but it’s also in our backyard. It’s in the leaves, it’s in the trees — just by burning a log, it can be in our living room.
I have a daughter who is seven years old — around the age I was when my dad gave me that book. The other day, we talked about the sun and I told her it was a star. I said, “It’s just like any star in the sky, it’s just a lot closer to us than the rest of them are. That’s why we can feel how hot it is.” She was mind blown.
I remember running to my dad to ask the same questions. Being able to answer them for her — watching her face light up when she understands it — is one of the best feelings in the world.
Elle
Did you maintain that interest as you got older? Or did it dwindle away?
Did you maintain that interest as you got older? Or did it dwindle away?
Did you maintain that interest as you got older? Or did it dwindle away?
Per
It’s still with me.
I love everything about physics, space, and the cosmos — but I did realize that it requires a lot of math. That’s when I realized I can’t know everything.
It’s still with me.
I love everything about physics, space, and the cosmos — but I did realize that it requires a lot of math. That’s when I realized I can’t know everything.
It’s still with me.
I love everything about physics, space, and the cosmos — but I did realize that it requires a lot of math. That’s when I realized I can’t know everything.
Elle
Math has that effect on people.
Math has that effect on people.
Math has that effect on people.
Per
It does.
There's no end to knowledge — you can always go deeper. But when it came to math and science, I didn’t need to know every detail. I just needed the building blocks. Once I was comfortable with that, the creativity kicked in. The information I had about space combined with my imagination, leading me to my love of science fiction.
I fell in love with all things “epic” — stories of adventures and omniscient beings. That might be why I started to play nerdy tabletop games in my teens. It’s embarrassing to admit, but playing those games with friends is some of my favorite memories. We would gather around and improvise a story — a story that everyone has a “stake” in. For me, it was less about the game, the number keeping, or counting who won — it was a chance to immerse myself in another world.
To this day, it’s a tradition. We meet at a cabin in the mountains a couple of times per year, we turn off our phones, and we play games like before.
It does.
There's no end to knowledge — you can always go deeper. But when it came to math and science, I didn’t need to know every detail. I just needed the building blocks. Once I was comfortable with that, the creativity kicked in. The information I had about space combined with my imagination, leading me to my love of science fiction.
I fell in love with all things “epic” — stories of adventures and omniscient beings. That might be why I started to play nerdy tabletop games in my teens. It’s embarrassing to admit, but playing those games with friends is some of my favorite memories. We would gather around and improvise a story — a story that everyone has a “stake” in. For me, it was less about the game, the number keeping, or counting who won — it was a chance to immerse myself in another world.
To this day, it’s a tradition. We meet at a cabin in the mountains a couple of times per year, we turn off our phones, and we play games like before.
It does.
There's no end to knowledge — you can always go deeper. But when it came to math and science, I didn’t need to know every detail. I just needed the building blocks. Once I was comfortable with that, the creativity kicked in. The information I had about space combined with my imagination, leading me to my love of science fiction.
I fell in love with all things “epic” — stories of adventures and omniscient beings. That might be why I started to play nerdy tabletop games in my teens. It’s embarrassing to admit, but playing those games with friends is some of my favorite memories. We would gather around and improvise a story — a story that everyone has a “stake” in. For me, it was less about the game, the number keeping, or counting who won — it was a chance to immerse myself in another world.
To this day, it’s a tradition. We meet at a cabin in the mountains a couple of times per year, we turn off our phones, and we play games like before.
Elle
The work you do at Void is known for its immersive and interactive installations. Is your love for epic experiences what inspired you to co-found the studio?
The work you do at Void is known for its immersive and interactive installations. Is your love for epic experiences what inspired you to co-found the studio?
The work you do at Void is known for its immersive and interactive installations. Is your love for epic experiences what inspired you to co-found the studio?
Per
Yes. It was a love for epic experiences coupled with an affinity for design.
When I was a teenager playing tabletop games, I was also playing in a black metal band. That’s how I escaped the typical “nerd” stamp — I grew my hair past my shoulders and made music. It’s funny to picture now but I swear it was cooler back then.
When we made our first CD, someone had to design the cover. I decided to take a stab at it, and that was the first time I started to experiment with design. As time went on, I realized, “There’s a pretty good chance that this black metal band won't last forever. Maybe, I should focus on another skill.” So, I started to take design more seriously.
Yes. It was a love for epic experiences coupled with an affinity for design.
When I was a teenager playing tabletop games, I was also playing in a black metal band. That’s how I escaped the typical “nerd” stamp — I grew my hair past my shoulders and made music. It’s funny to picture now but I swear it was cooler back then.
When we made our first CD, someone had to design the cover. I decided to take a stab at it, and that was the first time I started to experiment with design. As time went on, I realized, “There’s a pretty good chance that this black metal band won't last forever. Maybe, I should focus on another skill.” So, I started to take design more seriously.
Yes. It was a love for epic experiences coupled with an affinity for design.
When I was a teenager playing tabletop games, I was also playing in a black metal band. That’s how I escaped the typical “nerd” stamp — I grew my hair past my shoulders and made music. It’s funny to picture now but I swear it was cooler back then.
When we made our first CD, someone had to design the cover. I decided to take a stab at it, and that was the first time I started to experiment with design. As time went on, I realized, “There’s a pretty good chance that this black metal band won't last forever. Maybe, I should focus on another skill.” So, I started to take design more seriously.
Elle
Good call.
Good call.
Per
Agreed.
I went to design school. Then, I started doing work for music bands — because that was the network I had at the time. I made CD covers. I made posters. And, at some point, somebody asked me to make a webpage. I had no idea about programming at all. But I discovered Adobe Flash, and it seemed like an easy way for designers to learn how to program. I fell in love with the ability to make my design move. That’s what cracked open the gates to the coding world.
I kept programming as I worked with design and ad agencies in Oslo, But, after a while, I got tired of the endless cycle of consumption: create something, sell it, and start again. That’s when a few of my friends and I decided we wanted to look forward to going to work. So, we came up with Void.
Agreed.
I went to design school. Then, I started doing work for music bands — because that was the network I had at the time. I made CD covers. I made posters. And, at some point, somebody asked me to make a webpage. I had no idea about programming at all. But I discovered Adobe Flash, and it seemed like an easy way for designers to learn how to program. I fell in love with the ability to make my design move. That’s what cracked open the gates to the coding world.
I kept programming as I worked with design and ad agencies in Oslo, But, after a while, I got tired of the endless cycle of consumption: create something, sell it, and start again. That’s when a few of my friends and I decided we wanted to look forward to going to work. So, we came up with Void.
Agreed.
I went to design school. Then, I started doing work for music bands — because that was the network I had at the time. I made CD covers. I made posters. And, at some point, somebody asked me to make a webpage. I had no idea about programming at all. But I discovered Adobe Flash, and it seemed like an easy way for designers to learn how to program. I fell in love with the ability to make my design move. That’s what cracked open the gates to the coding world.
I kept programming as I worked with design and ad agencies in Oslo, But, after a while, I got tired of the endless cycle of consumption: create something, sell it, and start again. That’s when a few of my friends and I decided we wanted to look forward to going to work. So, we came up with Void.
Per
At Void, we create custom installations incorporating digital features in a physical space — whether architecture, sculptures, audio, or sensors.
At Void, we create custom installations incorporating digital features in a physical space — whether architecture, sculptures, audio, or sensors.
At Void, we create custom installations incorporating digital features in a physical space — whether architecture, sculptures, audio, or sensors.
Stage Design for Norwegian Artist Ary
Minimal Laser Sculpture at Oslo Light Festival
Dynamic Luminaire for Office Building Lounge
Scenography for Promotional Campaign
Transforming Laser Cathedral in The Ekeberg Forest.
Per
At the design agencies, I felt like every project we were doing demanded that we make an app, visit a link, or use a camera to scan a QR code. I was tired of that boundary. It didn't feel natural. I wanted Void to make the interaction invisible — if that makes sense. You don’t need an app, a link, or a code. You just need you. We want man and machine to feel as if they have melted together.
For example, Delta is a river of light that follows people as they walk by.
At the design agencies, I felt like every project we were doing demanded that we make an app, visit a link, or use a camera to scan a QR code. I was tired of that boundary. It didn't feel natural. I wanted Void to make the interaction invisible — if that makes sense. You don’t need an app, a link, or a code. You just need you. We want man and machine to feel as if they have melted together.
For example, Delta is a river of light that follows people as they walk by.
At the design agencies, I felt like every project we were doing demanded that we make an app, visit a link, or use a camera to scan a QR code. I was tired of that boundary. It didn't feel natural. I wanted Void to make the interaction invisible — if that makes sense. You don’t need an app, a link, or a code. You just need you. We want man and machine to feel as if they have melted together.
For example, Delta is a river of light that follows people as they walk by.
River Delta of Lights Embedded in the Tullinløkka City Block.
Per
To do it, we stayed outside at -20° Celsius, mounting 3D sensors around the street. And to be clear, the 3D sensors cannot recognize people. We won't know who it is, but we can see their shape. Then, the river will react to those people at the point that they are in. They’ll walk onto the street, notice a sea of light buzzing around them, and watch it disappear when they move away. We are so used to holding a device to generate a response. But the 3D sensors know where you are. You don't need to do anything. You and technology become one and the same.
To do it, we stayed outside at -20° Celsius, mounting 3D sensors around the street. And to be clear, the 3D sensors cannot recognize people. We won't know who it is, but we can see their shape. Then, the river will react to those people at the point that they are in. They’ll walk onto the street, notice a sea of light buzzing around them, and watch it disappear when they move away. We are so used to holding a device to generate a response. But the 3D sensors know where you are. You don't need to do anything. You and technology become one and the same.
To do it, we stayed outside at -20° Celsius, mounting 3D sensors around the street. And to be clear, the 3D sensors cannot recognize people. We won't know who it is, but we can see their shape. Then, the river will react to those people at the point that they are in. They’ll walk onto the street, notice a sea of light buzzing around them, and watch it disappear when they move away. We are so used to holding a device to generate a response. But the 3D sensors know where you are. You don't need to do anything. You and technology become one and the same.
Per
We had an opening party for Delta last September, so it's quite new. Actually, it’s not even finished. Our goal is to get 25 cameras working at the same time, but for now, we’ve only had four. It's quite a creative feat. I've been working on a solution — it'll just take some time.
We had an opening party for Delta last September, so it's quite new. Actually, it’s not even finished. Our goal is to get 25 cameras working at the same time, but for now, we’ve only had four. It's quite a creative feat. I've been working on a solution — it'll just take some time.
Per
There were points during my time at Void where I thought “I could have a 9:00 to 5:00 job anywhere else — one that doesn’t make me go outside in -20° Celsius. And I could probably get double the pay.” But these things are so rewarding. We have the opportunity to make things seem “extraordinary” — to generate the same sense of wonder and curiosity that I felt as a kid.
It makes me realize how lucky I am.
There were points during my time at Void where I thought “I could have a 9:00 to 5:00 job anywhere else — one that doesn’t make me go outside in -20° Celsius. And I could probably get double the pay.” But these things are so rewarding. We have the opportunity to make things seem “extraordinary” — to generate the same sense of wonder and curiosity that I felt as a kid.
It makes me realize how lucky I am.
There were points during my time at Void where I thought “I could have a 9:00 to 5:00 job anywhere else — one that doesn’t make me go outside in -20° Celsius. And I could probably get double the pay.” But these things are so rewarding. We have the opportunity to make things seem “extraordinary” — to generate the same sense of wonder and curiosity that I felt as a kid.
It makes me realize how lucky I am.
Elle
That’s amazing. But what made you decide to pursue art outside of Void?
That’s amazing. But what made you decide to pursue art outside of Void?
Per
I wanted to go back to the bare bones.
A lot of the stuff we make at Void is unique, but not because it’s built on new technology — it’s just a new way of making technology talk to each other. Like I said before about popping the screen off of your computer and taking a look at the motherboard. “Everything is connected in ways you wouldn’t expect.” That’s exactly what we do at Void. This wire connects to that wire, one device connects to another, and the computer translates their conversation. Information meets imagination.
That takes a lot of creative energy. So, by the time I come home, I just want to draw stuff. In the future, I may integrate a lot more technical aspects into my NFTs. But, at the moment, I'm very happy sticking to the basics. It feels like I’m breathing life into the parts of me that have been stagnant for the last few years. Especially with my latest collection, The Harvest.
My older work has a lot of outside influences. They’re a reflection of what I thought others would like to see — I wasn’t creating them for myself. With The Harvest, there are pieces of me everywhere — elements of the “epic” storytelling and science fiction that I’ve always loved.
I wanted to go back to the bare bones.
A lot of the stuff we make at Void is unique, but not because it’s built on new technology — it’s just a new way of making technology talk to each other. Like I said before about popping the screen off of your computer and taking a look at the motherboard. “Everything is connected in ways you wouldn’t expect.” That’s exactly what we do at Void. This wire connects to that wire, one device connects to another, and the computer translates their conversation. Information meets imagination.
That takes a lot of creative energy. So, by the time I come home, I just want to draw stuff. In the future, I may integrate a lot more technical aspects into my NFTs. But, at the moment, I'm very happy sticking to the basics. It feels like I’m breathing life into the parts of me that have been stagnant for the last few years. Especially with my latest collection, The Harvest.
My older work has a lot of outside influences. They’re a reflection of what I thought others would like to see — I wasn’t creating them for myself. With The Harvest, there are pieces of me everywhere — elements of the “epic” storytelling and science fiction that I’ve always loved.
I wanted to go back to the bare bones.
A lot of the stuff we make at Void is unique, but not because it’s built on new technology — it’s just a new way of making technology talk to each other. Like I said before about popping the screen off of your computer and taking a look at the motherboard. “Everything is connected in ways you wouldn’t expect.” That’s exactly what we do at Void. This wire connects to that wire, one device connects to another, and the computer translates their conversation. Information meets imagination.
That takes a lot of creative energy. So, by the time I come home, I just want to draw stuff. In the future, I may integrate a lot more technical aspects into my NFTs. But, at the moment, I'm very happy sticking to the basics. It feels like I’m breathing life into the parts of me that have been stagnant for the last few years. Especially with my latest collection, The Harvest.
My older work has a lot of outside influences. They’re a reflection of what I thought others would like to see — I wasn’t creating them for myself. With The Harvest, there are pieces of me everywhere — elements of the “epic” storytelling and science fiction that I’ve always loved.
Elle
What is the story of The Harvest?
Per
It’s the story of the “Caretaker” — a large entity that lives in symbiosis with the universe — tending to it like a garden. For millennia, the Caretaker remained dormant, allowing countless worlds to use its resources. Now, the Caretaker is rising.
Famished from eons of slumber, the Caretaker needs to restore its strength. Fortunately, the garden has something to give back — a universe ripe with energy that the caretaker needs.
It’s time to begin The Harvest.
It’s the story of the “Caretaker” — a large entity that lives in symbiosis with the universe — tending to it like a garden. For millennia, the Caretaker remained dormant, allowing countless worlds to use its resources. Now, the Caretaker is rising.
Famished from eons of slumber, the Caretaker needs to restore its strength. Fortunately, the garden has something to give back — a universe ripe with energy that the caretaker needs.
It’s time to begin The Harvest.
It’s the story of the “Caretaker” — a large entity that lives in symbiosis with the universe — tending to it like a garden. For millennia, the Caretaker remained dormant, allowing countless worlds to use its resources. Now, the Caretaker is rising.
Famished from eons of slumber, the Caretaker needs to restore its strength. Fortunately, the garden has something to give back — a universe ripe with energy that the caretaker needs.
It’s time to begin The Harvest.
Per
The Caretaker sends an army to the stars, casts beams of light onto every planet, and extracts what it needs to survive. The Harvest (my collection) depicts the event — a spectacle of monochromatic beams, falling from the constellations, touching the surface of every world.
The Caretaker sends an army to the stars, casts beams of light onto every planet, and extracts what it needs to survive. The Harvest (my collection) depicts the event — a spectacle of monochromatic beams, falling from the constellations, touching the surface of every world.
The Harvest #62. View on ArtBlocks
Per
At least, that’s the basis of the story.
Each collection will build atop the previous story, embellishing and expanding this universe. Maybe there is a civilization that opposes the extraction. Maybe there’s an event that interrupts The Harvest. Maybe another large entity is introduced. These are questions that I ask myself every day. How can I dig deeper into this world?
For now, it’s fun to explore. And — in an embarrassingly narcissistic way — it feels like an exploration of myself.
At least, that’s the basis of the story.
Each collection will build atop the previous story, embellishing and expanding this universe. Maybe there is a civilization that opposes the extraction. Maybe there’s an event that interrupts The Harvest. Maybe another large entity is introduced. These are questions that I ask myself every day. How can I dig deeper into this world?
For now, it’s fun to explore. And — in an embarrassingly narcissistic way — it feels like an exploration of myself.
At least, that’s the basis of the story.
Each collection will build atop the previous story, embellishing and expanding this universe. Maybe there is a civilization that opposes the extraction. Maybe there’s an event that interrupts The Harvest. Maybe another large entity is introduced. These are questions that I ask myself every day. How can I dig deeper into this world?
For now, it’s fun to explore. And — in an embarrassingly narcissistic way — it feels like an exploration of myself.
Elle
In what way?
In what way?
Per
There’s the storytelling element, which feels reminiscent of tabletop games. I get to imagine an entirely new universe and, as I create more pieces, I can assemble an even bigger picture.
There’s inspiration from an artist named Micheal Whelan, who created the covers for a lot of my favorite books and CDs.
There’s the storytelling element, which feels reminiscent of tabletop games. I get to imagine an entirely new universe and, as I create more pieces, I can assemble an even bigger picture.
There’s inspiration from an artist named Micheal Whelan, who created the covers for a lot of my favorite books and CDs.
There’s the storytelling element, which feels reminiscent of tabletop games. I get to imagine an entirely new universe and, as I create more pieces, I can assemble an even bigger picture.
There’s inspiration from an artist named Micheal Whelan, who created the covers for a lot of my favorite books and CDs.
"Coating" by Michael Whelan
The Harvest #69. View on Artblocks
Passage: The Avatar (1988)
The Harvest #158. View on Artblocks
Meatloaf Ascendant
The Harvest #267. View on Artblocks
Victory (1984)
The Harvest #224. View on Artblocks
Per
There are visual influences from Void. One project in particular was an indirect inspiration for The Harvest. It’s called, The Cathedral of Ego.
We mounted seven lasers on a hill overlooking Oslo, somewhere within the Ekeberg Forest. The lasers shot downwards, coded to carve out random geometric shapes. Once it was done drawing, it retreated and started again.
There are visual influences from Void. One project in particular was an indirect inspiration for The Harvest. It’s called, The Cathedral of Ego.
We mounted seven lasers on a hill overlooking Oslo, somewhere within the Ekeberg Forest. The lasers shot downwards, coded to carve out random geometric shapes. Once it was done drawing, it retreated and started again.
Transforming Laser Cathedral in The Ekeberg Forest.
Transforming Laser Cathedral
in The Ekeberg Forest.
Transforming Laser Cathedral in The Ekeberg Forest.
Transforming Laser Cathedral
in The Ekeberg Forest.
Per
And there are references to science fiction sprinkled everywhere. I named the pallets after movies, games, or novels I loved. It's like a bat signal for sci-fi fans — like saying, “Please tell me if you understand these references, because I'd like to connect.”
“Nostromo” ship from Alien (film)
Outputs using “Nostromo” palette from “The Harverst” collection by Per Kristian Stoveland. View on Artblocks
“Auberon: an expanse novela” by James S. A. Corey
“Auberon: an expanse novela”
by James S. A. Corey
Outputs using “Auberon” palette from “The Harverst” collection by Per Kristian Stoveland. View on Artblocks
Trantor planet representation from Asimov’s Foundation.
Outputs using “Trantor” palette from “The Harverst” collection by Per Kristian Stoveland. View on Artblocks
Per
All of this to say, The Harvest is a combination of things that make me, me. My inspirations, my curiosities, my creativity.
Elle
What about “anxiety”? We never got to that word.
What about “anxiety”? We never got to that word.
Per
Ah, right.
I've gone through life thinking, “My opinion isn't interesting, so I'll just listen to others." I'm quite an adaptable person. It's just my personality. But there is one bit of advice I think I would have liked to hear from someone at the beginning of my career:
Anxiety never goes away.
When it comes to friends, family, or other artists — I’m fully aware of how amazing they are. But when it comes to myself, I've never felt like I deserve a seat at the table. No matter how much progress I’ve made or how “successful” I’ve become, I feel like an imposter, sitting next to people I admire, wondering if they can see through my flimsy attempt to belong there.
The good news is — anxiety is a blessing and a curse.
It's a curse to feel like your work is not good enough, but it's a blessing because you will always strive to be better.
I know a lot of people — artists or not — who live with the same self-doubt that I do. I want them to know that they’re not alone — that it’s okay to feel unworthy of success — but that feeling is false.
When The Harvest launched, its success made me nervous. I spent so much time thinking about when it would collapse. In reality, it was my anxiety that led me to The Harvest in the first place. If I wasn’t anxious, I wouldn’t be itching to improve, and I may never have ended up here.
The Harvest is who I am — in more ways than one. It is a product of my anxiety, as much as it is a product of curiosity and creativity. I have to be grateful for all of it.
One of my partners at Void once said “I'm fueled by anxiety” — and that made sense to me. I am well into my creative career, and imposter syndrome still hasn’t gone away. But instead of beating myself up for being anxious, I can use it as inspiration. I can find the good in it. I can be grateful.
It isn’t easy. But it’s a reminder to anyone out there who is chronically worried — about their work, their success, or their “worth” — you’re not alone. If anything, you’re on the right track.
Ah, right.
I've gone through life thinking, “My opinion isn't interesting, so I'll just listen to others." I'm quite an adaptable person. It's just my personality. But there is one bit of advice I think I would have liked to hear from someone at the beginning of my career:
Anxiety never goes away.
When it comes to friends, family, or other artists — I’m fully aware of how amazing they are. But when it comes to myself, I've never felt like I deserve a seat at the table. No matter how much progress I’ve made or how “successful” I’ve become, I feel like an imposter, sitting next to people I admire, wondering if they can see through my flimsy attempt to belong there.
The good news is — anxiety is a blessing and a curse.
It's a curse to feel like your work is not good enough, but it's a blessing because you will always strive to be better.
I know a lot of people — artists or not — who live with the same self-doubt that I do. I want them to know that they’re not alone — that it’s okay to feel unworthy of success — but that feeling is false.
When The Harvest launched, its success made me nervous. I spent so much time thinking about when it would collapse. In reality, it was my anxiety that led me to The Harvest in the first place. If I wasn’t anxious, I wouldn’t be itching to improve, and I may never have ended up here.
The Harvest is who I am — in more ways than one. It is a product of my anxiety, as much as it is a product of curiosity and creativity. I have to be grateful for all of it.
One of my partners at Void once said “I'm fueled by anxiety” — and that made sense to me. I am well into my creative career, and imposter syndrome still hasn’t gone away. But instead of beating myself up for being anxious, I can use it as inspiration. I can find the good in it. I can be grateful.
It isn’t easy. But it’s a reminder to anyone out there who is chronically worried — about their work, their success, or their “worth” — you’re not alone. If anything, you’re on the right track.
Elle
Thank you so much, Per.
Thank you so much, Per.
Per
Thank you.
Thank you.
About
Welcome to Subject Matter, a publication from Layer, where art and purpose intersect.
Art is a reflection of the human experience — a medium through which we explore our thoughts, emotions, and ideas. But in the fast-paced world of social media and NFT marketplaces, it's easy to forget the value of art beyond it’s aesthetic appeal. Subject Matter aims to remind us.
Stay updated
© Layer, Inc
2023
About
Welcome to Subject Matter, a publication from Layer, where art and purpose intersect.
Art is a reflection of the human experience — a medium through which we explore our thoughts, emotions, and ideas. But in the fast-paced world of social media and NFT marketplaces, it's easy to forget the value of art beyond it’s aesthetic appeal. Subject Matter aims to remind us.
Stay updated
© Layer, Inc
2023
About
Welcome to Subject Matter, a publication from Layer, where art and purpose intersect.
Art is a reflection of the human experience — a medium through which we explore our thoughts, emotions, and ideas. But in the fast-paced world of social media and NFT marketplaces, it's easy to forget the value of art beyond it’s aesthetic appeal. Subject Matter aims to remind us.
Stay updated
© Layer, Inc
2023
About
Welcome to Subject Matter, a publication from Layer, where art and purpose intersect.
Art is a reflection of the human experience — a medium through which we explore our thoughts, emotions, and ideas. But in the fast-paced world of social media and NFT marketplaces, it's easy to forget the value of art beyond it’s aesthetic appeal. Subject Matter aims to remind us.
Stay updated
© Layer, Inc
2023