Granted, electronic music has been crossing boundaries for decades. What’s different now is just how blurry that boundary has become. For a new generation of online listeners, there’s probably little to no distinction between “underground” and “mainstream”. And while that accessibility has opened doors for artists and audiences alike, it leaves us wondering: what happens to a culture when the world catches up with it? To explore the question, we spoke to five exceptional DJs, producers and artists shaping the next generation of dance music. 

EmblaEliza

Multidisciplinary creative, DJ, and producer EmblaEliza has always known she wanted to express herself through music. Growing up singing and playing several instruments, vocal cord problems eventually led her to her brother’s vinyl setup — it was love at first sight. Her diverse, creative background and curiosity across artistic disciplines continue to uniquely shape the way she approaches her sets. Today she is one of Stockholm’s most distinctive voices in electronic music, taking her sound from local dance floors to venues and audiences internationally. 

“I think it’s a really good thing that electronic music is reaching more and more people, and that people are becoming more open-minded about it. That said, I believe there will always be an underground scene. When electronic music becomes more mainstream, it creates even more space for new sounds and subgenres to emerge. There will always be artists pushing boundaries and exploring something different from what’s popular at the moment.”

“It also raises some interesting questions: Does a track become less good just because it reaches a wider audience? And why is “mainstream” sometimes used as a negative term? In certain circles, underground music can carry more credibility or cultural value, but I don’t think popularity automatically removes the quality from a piece of music. From art in general.”

Whether or not a track is considered underground or mainstream really doesn’t interest Embla though. She’s far more curious about how she’s able to emotionally connect with a song, how it makes her feel. And the potential that feeling holds to take an audience someplace new, somewhere they weren’t expecting to go.

“For me, great music is great music, regardless of where it sits on the underground to mainstream spectrum. One of the most essential parts of being a DJ is introducing people to tracks, sounds, or artists they may never have discovered on their own. If I can inspire, make them feel something unexpected or just create a lasting memory through music, then I’ve done something meaningful. That’s one of the most rewarding parts of DJing for me.”

As the industry continues to evolve, Embla is remaining focused on protecting her own taste and identity – arguably one of creativity’s most valuable and vulnerable assets – while also exploring new sounds, ideas and influences. 

“I think people connect with an artist because of their unique perspective, so staying true to who I am creatively is something I never want to compromise. I will never play or make music that I don’t genuinely connect with, but I’m always open to experimenting and seeing where that creative journey takes me. At the moment, I would describe myself as a halfway open golden chest, haha. I feel like there’s still so much of myself that I want to share and I know I’ll be revealing more of it very soon.” 

Adrian Lux

Swedish artist, DJ and producer Adrian Lux has lived through the cultural transition firsthand. Having emerged from Stockholm’s club scene nearly two decades ago, he has consistently developed his sound through his artistry, moving between house, melodic electronic music and deeper underground sounds.

“Back then it wasn’t so genre-based. There were definitely some different vibes to different parties, but I always seemed to hear that the best songs were playing everywhere — like Booka Shade, The Knife, Pryda, Justice, Mylo, Axwell, Özgür Can — mixed with lots of other underground stuff. Those were the golden years for me. Very eclectic times, and I always felt a responsibility to try and convey that in my artistry.”

In 2010, Lux broke through with Teenage Crime, a signature track that occupies a particular space between underground dance music and emotionally driven pop. The track went on to chart internationally and received support from some of the biggest names in electronic music, including Swedish House Mafia, Avicii, Tiësto, David Guetta and Eric Prydz.

“I also think that back then it was more important for artists to have a broad repertoire. That made artists more diverse and progressive in their thinking, which I loved. With the influence of social media, there’s more pressure to be more conceptual, “which to me could stagnate artistic development, especially if you’re just getting started.”

So, how has he navigated an industry that increasingly demands a recognisable identity while continuing to evolve creatively? For Lux, the answer comes down to hard work, time and, above all, staying true to yourself. 

“If you follow your heart, vision and intuition, you will always be relevant — or at least altogether happier as a person. Maybe you will have times where no one cares about your music, and then there will be times when your sound is appreciated again. Sometimes it’s hard to see where on that path you are, but it’s better that way.”

Although the club scene looks very different from when he started, his passion for music remains firmly intact. For Lux, some of the greatest excitement still comes from approaching a project with a blank slate. “I think Hitchcock put it very well: ‘a clear horizon’. It kinda sounds boring, but it’s the sense of the possibilities when you’re thinking freely and don’t have any deadlines stressing you or expectations or stuff like that. This makes you better at creating the spark of a new vibe.”

Hedda Stenberg

Some of the best decisions in life often start with a leap of faith. For Swedish producer and DJ Hedda Stenberg, that leap was moving to Amsterdam. Since then she’s impacted everything from intimate rooms to prominent festival stages, including Loveland, Way Out West, UNVRS, Audio Obscura, Amnesia och Brunch Elektronik. Her sets, effortless grooves between melodic and indie dance, are intentionally paced yet never predictable. As the industry continues to transform, she relies less on genre and more on intuition. 

“Instinct is even more important these days. With AI and algorithms curating so much of what we hear, I think there will be a pushback where people start craving real human taste and selection even more, in playlists, in productions and in sets. 

I pick tracks for how they make me feel, not for what genre they are. Mixing different sounds in a way that still ties together is what makes a well-curated selection, and that’s what keeps a set unique and exciting.”

Creative expression has always played a big role in Hedda’s life. Having grown up taking music and theatre classes, she was first introduced to DJing in her 20s and decided to take a course. From there she hit the bars and clubs of Stockholm, learning by doing. “There’s no better way of learning than playing for a real crowd. Making mistakes at actual gigs helped me better understand what DJing is about, and the scene overall.”

If Stockholm is her foundation and Amsterdam where she found her sound, Berlin is where she’s finding her freedom to grow to new heights. The new sources of inspiration are allowing her to explore more of her own music production. 

“I’m still pretty new to it, and I love that. Being in the studio and learning from talented people around me has been so inspiring, and it’s already changed the way I listen to music. It’s where I can make my sound and my storytelling even clearer and more personal – the more music I make, the clearer my vision gets of the world I want to invite people into.”

Connection and curation are key themes in Hedda’s artistry. And the ideas for a new project can come from anywhere. 

“I picture where the track would live in a set. Is it an opener that slowly pulls people in, something for sunrise when the last dancers are still there, or a proper peak-time moment in a dark club? Some of my favourite ideas can come from somewhere completely unexpected, like sounds from nature, a genre that has nothing to do with house music, or collaborating with other producers.

For me, it’s all about connection: between the crowd, the people working at the club or festival, the DJ, the space and all the little details around it. When a lot of love and thought has gone into something, you can really feel it on the dancefloor.”

Despite the way the digital landscape has reshaped the electronic dance scene, Hedda would always choose a smaller dancefloor filled with people genuinely committed to the music over a big venue where the focus is on capturing the perfect video.

“I think some of the most magical moments happen when people from completely different worlds find themselves in the same room. That’s what I want my space and community to be about: creating a place where those unexpected connections can happen – a place where people can be fully present, curious and free, and leave feeling a little more inspired than when they arrived.”

Ario Molapour

There’s not a singular defining moment that drew multi-creative DJ-artist Ario Molapour to music, but a series of experiences. From a warm family living room dance floor to eclectic international stages, he has developed an instinctive ability to read and connect with a room; a way of tuning into space and energy that only countless hours of experience can afford you. Today, his artistry, coupled with his sense of taste and style, brings him a unique perspective on where the electronic dance scene is headed.

“Looking back, it feels like I had been moving towards what I’m doing now for a long, long time. Music was always around me growing up. Like your typical 90s kid, I started making cassette mixtapes from the radio at a really young age. I was obsessed with it. When I moved to Stockholm and was introduced to DJing by my now close friend, Ramin, it felt like a natural extension of what I’d been doing for years. At the time, Stockholm also had this incredible energy around electronic music. Avicii was rising, Swedish House Mafia were doing their thing, and house and EDM were everywhere.”

Like many cultural movements that enter the mainstream, something can quickly lose the very qualities that made it compelling in the first place. For Ario, there is something unattractive about that development. At the same time, he firmly believes that two seemingly contradictory truths can coexist.

“The presence of screens has really changed the experience of club culture. Five hours can suddenly be reduced to two minutes, and you can get a glimpse of an experience that would normally take an entire night. But there’s still something really powerful about people coming together to share something. I think it’s amazing that more have the opportunity to discover new sounds and lose themselves in those moments. There will always be raves and underground scenes — you just have to know where to look.”

A consistent theme throughout Ario’s career is the fluidity between DJ culture, fashion, and design. A process that’s allowed him to trust and develop his own taste and sense of style. 

“When you work across a creative spectrum, you become sensitive to what resonates culturally. Designing a space isn’t all that different from playing music—it’s about creating a world and curating an experience. The moment the music starts, it becomes the biggest piece of interior design in the room. What makes a dance floor special is seeing people truly move with the music, connect with the sound and, even for a moment, forget everything else.”

Anna-My

Stockholm-based DJ and producer Anna-My first made waves in Gothenburg’s underground club scene at 17. From organizing and playing late-night sets in Stockholm to spending formative years in London and New York, she has spent more than a decade immersed in club culture. As an early member of the Boiler Room team, she has had a front-row seat to the evolution of electronic music over the past couple of years.

“I don’t think underground and mainstream are necessarily opposites anymore. You can have an artist playing a tiny club one weekend and reaching millions of people online the next. For me, the distinction is less about how many people know the music and more about the intention behind it — whether the music is being made because there’s something you genuinely want to express, rather than simply because it’s commercially expected.”

Although social media has opened up new ways for artists to reach audiences, Anna-My also recognizes a risk in how quickly music can be reduced to a moment.

“There are so many incredible artists who can now reach an audience without necessarily having to go through the traditional industry route. A track made in a bedroom can suddenly travel around the world, and I think that’s amazing. At the same time, a song can become popular because of a 15-second moment rather than the full track or the context it came from. I think there’s a risk of losing some of the deeper connection to scenes and communities.” 

For Anna-My, that community remains vital.

“DJs, producers, promoters, photographers, dancers, club owners — everyone is contributing to the same ecosystem. I think it’s important that electronic music doesn’t become only about numbers, content and visibility. There needs to remain space for weird ideas, small clubs, new artists and music that doesn’t immediately make sense to everyone.”

Her own career has always moved between those worlds. Her infectious yet timeless sound has taken her to stages including Åre Sessions, PLX Tjärö Festival and Way Out West, as well as HÖR Berlin. In recent years, she has also begun translating her experience behind the decks into her own productions. Her debut EP, In Motion, Always, arrived in 2025, followed in 2026 by Ready, Kick It on Genesis Records. 

“Obviously, I want people to connect with my music — that’s the whole point of sharing it. But I don’t want accessibility to come at the expense of personality. The more music I release, the more I realize that the things I’m most proud of are usually the things where I followed my instinct rather than trying to predict how people would react.”

As the industry continues to evolve, Anna-My believes there will always be space for new scenes to develop beneath the surface.

“Every time something becomes popular, another scene usually starts developing somewhere outside of the spotlight. There will always be people who want to experiment, create their own spaces and make music that doesn’t fit what’s currently popular. So I don’t think the underground is going away. If anything, I think the bigger electronic music becomes, the more interesting the next underground will be.”

Team Credits:
Words by Hannah Magnusson
Photography by John Scarisbrick

Fashion Credits:
1&2) Top by KRIBA. Skirt by ANIELE STROZ.
4) Top by J.SIMONE. Pants by KHÉLA THE LABEL INTERNATIONAL.
5&7) All clothing, stylist’s own. 
6&8) Jacket by ANIELE STROZ. Pants and cap, artist’s own.
9) Top, artist’s own.
10&11) Top by KRIBA. Necklace by 886 LAB. Skirt by KRIBA.
12-15) All clothes, artist’s own.
16) All clothes, artist’s own.
17) Top by J.SIMONE.

Team Credits:

Photography & Creative Direction by Jessica Chea
Styling by Darianna Rodriguez
Makeup by Helen Hu
Hair by Drea Aporto
Photo Assistant: Katherine Lim

Talent: Alyssa Redondo and Serenity Joy at Ford Models
Talent: Portia Naia and Nina Staros at Photogenics LA

Wardrobe by Division Showroom and SUGEHI, including Tory Burch, Anthropologie, Maison Margiela, Vans, Zara, Motel Rocks, Ralph Lauren, and Tommy Hilfiger.

Photography by Simona Paulina

Photography by Lanna Olsson & Aleksandra Srndovic

Event credits:
Live performance by COBRAH
Dance Performance by Verg Jörgensen
DJ set:
DJ Latex
p A t c houlY
NINA MICHELLE 
Venue: SPICE99
Special thanks to Asahi Super Dry

Imagine you are dancing in the forest. A towering sound system woven between moss and pine, basslines reverberating through the trees. Techno pulses through the undergrowth, moving bodies into an organic flow. Time loosens its grip. Edges blur. At raves, space and self have a way of dissolving, inviting us to transcend the moment.
Somewhere in the crowd, you might find Stockholm-based DJ Jessie Granqvist. Not separate from the scene, but inside it, absorbing the details: light cutting through branches, the emotional temperature, the subtle shifts in energy. These fragments become part of the journey she shapes behind the decks, guiding people from one feeling to another, from one memory or imagined place to the next.

“As obvious as it may sound, we need spaces where we can truly be ourselves. Where we can enter our different flows, hang out, and experience what life feels like when it’s driven by joy and love and community, not rules and systems. It’s in free spaces that free thoughts are born, and where life’s most meaningful encounters take place,” she says.
For Jessie, those free spaces have been formative. DJing for over fifteen years around the world and curating club nights in southern Stockholm, she grew up in the underground rave scene that would later define her career. As a teenager, she remembers being glued to the stereo at house parties, bringing her own CD case to take charge of the soundtrack.

“When I turned 18, becoming a club kid was just natural. The first time someone lent me a pair of CDJs and a mixer, I was completely hooked. I experienced my first rave and totally immersed myself in the beautiful world of underground parties.”

Forest raves, in particular, hold a special place in her heart. They are never just about the music. “It’s more of a mission,” she says, laughing, describing the ritual of it all: finding the location, dressing for the weather, packing bananas for sustenance. “I’ve had many magic moments in the forest by just trying to find somewhere to pee. It’s about people taking care of each other and their surroundings in a respectful way that makes it beautiful, and who doesn’t love the aesthetics of a beautiful sound system next to the trees?”
There is something about the wild that calms the human nervous system. For Jessie, nature is not an escape from nightlife but rather its counterpart. “When I think of parties or spaces where I feel most secure playing at, it always comes back to the Swedish forest. Nature overall brings me balance, and when I need to reset my brain, I usually take walks in nature. It helps both mentally and creatively.”

That balance, between intensity and grounding, pulse and pause, has shaped her sound. It is also a balance that chef Filip Jansson has eloquently translated into a white pizza titled Skogen, the Swedish word for forest, for an exclusive Asahi Session evening featuring Jessie.

Each bite is like a step closer to nature; the crisp crust is a perfect base for Swedish spruce bark cheese, drizzled with spruce needle oil, delicately shaved wild forest mushrooms layered with agretti, a fresh, grassy Italian herb, on top. The finishing touch, a dusting of dried black trumpet mushroom powder, creates just the right amount of woody umami. Like her sets, it is less about spectacle than sensation, less about excess than intention. The forest lingers in flavor, in rhythm, in repetition.

It’s this ability to translate place into feeling that defines Jessie’s artistry. Moving seamlessly between sources of inspiration, she extends beyond the confines of genre. “I try my best to affect the scene positively and for it to thrive. For me, transcendence in my artistry comes through storytelling. A great set isn’t just a sequence of tracks. It’s a story shaped by my history, emotions, memories, and the atmosphere of the moment.”
And perhaps that is where the forest rave becomes more than a party. A reminder that when sound, nature, and community converge, we can step beyond the rigid systems of everyday life, if only for a few hours, into something freer and more alive.

Talent: Jessie Granqvist

Team Credits:

Photography by Jakob Möller
Styling by Josef Forselius
Hair and Make-up by Petra Stenhammar
Hair colorist: Sara Dahlgren
Styling Assistants: Vanja Filipovic and Ishi Okenmor
Special Thanks to Studio Turbo, Neo & Mia Wallenius

Fashion Credits:

1 & 10) Dress by J.Simone. Socks: stylist’s own. Shoes by Rombaut. Earrings by All Blues.
2) Knitted hat by Imaskopi. Knitted crop top by V4K. Leather top by KRIBA. Track suit pants by Adidas. Slippers by Crocs. Rings by Laôma Atelier and Arto. Necklace by Arto. Bracelet by All Blues.
3) Top by Tommy Hilfiger. Skirt by Ono Ateliers. Knee socks by Swedish Stockings. Boots by Rombaut. Rings by All Blues.
4) Top and skirt by Ono Ateliers. Knee socks by Swedish Stockings. Mules by Humana. Bracelet by All Blues. Rings by Arto.
5) Jacket and jeans by K16ch1. Sandals by Humana. Rings by Laôma Atelier and Arto. Necklace by Arto.
6) Pink and black knitted tops by V4K. Denim skirt by KRIBA. Rings by Laôma Atelier and Arto. Earrings by All Blues. Hat by Ono Ateliers.
7) Dress by Keta Gutmane. Sunglasses by Chimi. Earrings by All Blues. Sling Back Sandals by Rombaut.
8) Tracksuit jacket and skirt by Aniele Stroz. Boots by Rombaut. Belt by Inan. Rings by Arto. Earrings by All Blues.
9) Dress by KRIBA. Gloves by Trashy Clothing. Socks: stylist’s own. Earrings by All Blues.
11) Dress by Keta Gutmane. Bag by Naff. Earrings by All Blues. Rings by Arto.

In moments of uncertainty, we don’t necessarily search for answers; we look for spaces that allow us to gather, soften and remember who we are beneath the noise. With Yume, vocalist and songwriter Yukimi’s latest EP, she explores the quiet power of dreaming, not as escape, but as expansion. In Stockholm, her music met the table in a sensory dialogue, turning a performance into something shared, layered and deeply human.
After rising to prominence as the vocalist and percussionist of the Grammy-nominated band Little Dragon, she is stepping into a new chapter with Yume, Yukimi’s latest EP. The process though, has remained collaborative. Produced by Erik Bodin, who also worked on her debut solo album, the track ‘Get It Over’ was written with Saya Grey, while ‘All Over Me’ was co-written with artist and guitarist Mia Garcia.

“Every release of new music is a kind of chapter of my life. I go through different things, and so does the music. My songs will hopefully be relatable. I feel like a new person compared to the girl who wrote the early Little Dragon songs. I love and respect her, but I’m very happy to be a wiser version,” Yukimi says and adds:
“I sing about hopes, fantasies, wishes I have for the little biosphere around me, but also for the planet. I hope people can tap into the vulnerable sides of themselves, but also escape to a place with the help of the sounds. Yume has given me a chance to express my dreamy self. The music explores different sides of daydreaming, personal dreams and hopes for myself and the world. I think our world needs us to dream big so we can make it a beautiful place. So much madness is going on that it can easily become paralyzing.”
In times of turbulence, we don’t seek the rational. We look for shared meaning, a sense of belonging and stability. To transcend chaos, we’ve found ourselves gravitating toward experiences that bring us closer to the present and to each other. Throughout history, food and music have been two of humanity’s most powerful social technologies. They allow us to gather, to mark time and ritual, to transmit culture without words, to dissolve hierarchy and invite communion, to transcend the everyday. Neither requires elite access to be meaningful.

In collaboration with Asahi Super Dry 0,0%, Yukimi’s Asahi Sessions performance was no exception to history. Guests gathered not only for the music but for a dream-inspired menu, an ode to Yume, which translates to “dream” in Japanese, turning the evening into a sensory dialogue between sound and taste.
In many ways, the Yume-inspired menu created by chef Ricardo Molteni mirrored life’s chapters. Its textures and flavours moved from the soft innocence of childhood, captured in a bite-sized potato cake with burned leek mayo and juniperberry powder, to the savoury depth of growing older and wiser, expressed through truffle butter served on focaccia with fresh oyster mushrooms, toasted hazelnuts and fine dark chocolate flakes. For Ricardo, it was about balance: blending Japanese flavours while respecting the produce and committing to sustainable practices. Thus, nearly all ingredients were sourced in Sweden.

The hero of the menu, a pork katsu marinated in Asahi beer and miso, breaded and deep-fried, served on toasted sourdough with wild garlic emulsion, charred cabbage and tangy pickles, was, like Yukimi’s sound, soulful, airy and layered all at once.
“I love pairing music with food, and can recall a lot of moments in my life with the two present. I think it gives you more to sense and paint your experience with, sometimes giving a stronger feeling and memory,” Yukimi reflects.
Culinary experiences, like music, allow us to seize the moment while transporting us elsewhere. A form of transcendence not through escape, but through deepening the present, turning the ordinary act of eating or listening into something communal and emotional. Between bites of miso-marinated katsu and the first notes drifting from the microphone, that alchemy felt almost tangible.

For Yukimi, going beyond the conventional limits of art is not about spectacle but sensitivity, about understanding how we function as humans and gently stretching those boundaries. “It’s about using art as a tool for the bigger mass to, for example, feel love or feel pain that has been buried, calming the nervous system so that you can open your mind and think beyond.”
Perhaps that is where transcendence truly lives, not in abandoning the world, but in softening it. In allowing ourselves to gather, to taste, to listen, and to feel just enough to imagine something better. In turbulent times, that quiet expansion may be the most radical act of all.

Talent: Yukimi Nagano

Team Credits:

Photography by John Scarisbrick
Styling by Mili Malinovic
Hair by Francisca Saavedra
Make-up by Sóley Astudóttir
Words by Hannah Magnusson
DOP/short film by Atelier-riot

Fashion Credits:

1 & 9) White shirt by A.W.A.K.E MODE. Black shirt by Maison Margiela. Pants by Samantha Esfandiari. Skirt-shirt by Celine.
2 & 3) Dress by Stinarand. Stockings by Calzedonia. Shoes by Balenciaga.
4) Headpiece by Paco Rabanne. Asymmetrical top by Wilhja. Skirt by Comme Des Garçons. Baotou flats: stylist’s own.
5) Dress by Emma Carling.
6) Leather jacket by Anni Salonen. Skirt by Anna Danielsson. Leotard by Alaïa. Shoes by Sophie Tiné.
7) Dress by Jacob Ploski.
8) Striped blazer by KRIBA. Sheer bralette by Dries Van Noten. Gloves by Tuuli-Tytti Koivula. Skirt by Sacai.
10) Puffer kimono coat by Yakusha.

The moment it dawned on me that the Bosnian-born Selma Selman was heading towards the top stratospheric tiers of the global art scene takes it back to 2023 and the world’s leading art fair – Art Basel. By then she had already architectured an impressive trajectory mirroring institutional clout, including participation in defining contexts like documenta fifteen and Manifesta 14. However, a full-blown art “star” is only born, or blossoms, when an artist sees the envious cross-over and overlap between the institutional realm and the art market. Showing the six-part sculptural painting installation “Mercedes Benz”, based on dismantled parts of said car, certainly had people talking. Trusted confidantes in unison were dispensing in my DMs that this was the standout moment of the fair. Next thing you knew it was announced that none less than Moderna Museet had acquired it for its permanent collection. It was frankly as surprising as it was a refreshing display of action on the part of the museum.
This spring and summer unfold a strong local presence for Selman in the upcoming high-profile group exhibition “House of Nisaba” at Moderna Museet and later at the annual summer exhibition Avesta Art. When we ask her, for the purpose of this interview, what this issue’s theme means to her, she answers without fuss: “I have lived the theme of transcendence all my life. It is very tiring.”
Dismantling and destruction of domestic appliances were present already in earlier works. These gestures were layered. The washing machine, for example, was “associated with the enslaving of housewives for more than a century,” yet breaking it apart also produced “a moment of catharsis when I could ease the inner tensions that both destroy and construct me.”

Machines fascinate and frighten her in equal measure. “I am fascinated by technology and machines – I am also scared of them.” The scale of certain objects can trigger panic. “Sometimes when I see a big object I get panic attacks like planes and big ships or big machines for underground deconstruction, but I also love all these objects.”
Adopting a recycling approach has long been a staple. “My family has depended on converting metal waste into a resource to support the well-being of my family. I am utilizing this very same labor by showcasing working bodies earning a living through the realm of contemporary art.” What for some might be read as symbolic gesture is for Selman a continuation of lived labor. For more than six years she has developed performances that integrate “the physical skills that I and my family used to deconstruct machines to recycle their scrap metal.”
Her childhood prepared her for the world and organically led to artistic expression. “I was born in the cruellest month of the year, February, the winter of 1991,” she tells me. “From what my mother told me, it snowed so much, maybe that’s why my soul has always been a bit cold.” The village she grew up in, she describes as “a place to be, to teach you all secrets about life and prepare you how to have nothing and have everything.”

She was, by her own account, “wild.” Charcoal was the thing that would calm her. “I used to draw all the time on the streets with it. I loved to be outside to fight with boys and to eat at neighbours’ houses.” She was loved, she says, “even though I caused a lot of trouble.” But she was also alone. With older siblings who had grown up and moved on, “no one wanted to play with me anymore.” She invented imaginary friends. “I remember that I had a small ship with which I spoke all the time, and my family thought that I had problems with the vision.”
“I loved and hated my childhood,” she reflects. “Now if you ask me, I would never go back to that time.”
Family remains inseparable from her work. The collaboration, she explains, was never a grand artistic strategy but a practical arrangement born of necessity. “They wanted to help me with my work so my life could be easier, and I wanted to help them financially, so we made a deal.” Over time, everything has shifted. “We all changed because we had to – nothing should stay the same.” With greater visibility has come greater caution. “We now have more work and less time, but we think more carefully with whom to work and with whom not to.”
Of her family’s rapport with her work, she concludes: “My family is the only who wants all the best for me so I am very happy to have their support.” They may not always understand the art world. “Sometimes they do not understand what I do but that does not mean they do not believe in what I do.”

The core of her process, she says, centres around synthesizing the improvised material practices that sustain her family with the practices and concepts of art. When she was first trained in traditional portrait painting, she redirected that training toward the materials of survival. “I applied my painting skills to paint on pieces of scrap metal that my family continues to collect to survive.”
“Art for me was always a tool for communication – it served for my own freedom and change,” she says. Whether it changes others, she leaves open: “I hope it has influenced someone else as well.” Yet she is clear-eyed about the structures she operates within. “It is hard to bring real changes within art because the art world is a big cartel. If you do not know how to play a game, you have already lost.” Her advice to younger female artists is delivered without softness: “Being a good girl in the art world is the worst decision for female artists, so be bad.”

Moving between different social and cultural realities has sharpened her perception rather than altered her ethos. “I stay the same, but I get different points of view.” Having had to understand others from an early age, she says, “now I can see through the people and never judge them but use a critical approach to communicate the ideas I have in the hope that I can deliver the right information.”
Her ambition is not to obscure but to render visible processes we use to perceive how we relate to ecology, society and technology. Through “simple performances,” she places audiences in positions where they may feel “different kinds of emotions and thoughts simultaneously.” In that simultaneity, she suggests, art becomes “a useful tool for rethinking society and its processes.”

Selman recognizes how with increased recognition have come increased expectations. “There were always expectations from artists who are part of marginalized communities to help their communities all the time,” she notes. Success intensifies this burden. “When you gain fame, visibility, and success, people somehow expect you to give what you have to those who do not have.” She adds, pointedly, “To be honest, I had been doing that even before my success.”
Her questions are direct if rhetorical. “Why are artists who are also successful, yet come from white-privileged societies, not asked the same? Why does no one ask them to help people, to give back to the world? And why are wealthy people, in general, not asked to help communities in need?”
The pressure can come from many directions: “Maybe these expectations come from my own community, who believe I can fix all their lives. Or even from my family, who expected me to buy a villa, have a husband, have children, while I had to work three times harder just to make their lives easier.”
“People forget that I am a human being, and that I am sensitive as well, regardless of how strong I appear.”

Self-preservation, then, becomes part of the equation. “In life, it is very important to believe in and love yourself first because if you don’t, who will?” she says. “You must take care of your state of mind, because art has never been perfect.” The idea that every work must be flawless, she dismisses as outdated. “If all my works were perfect, and if I had all the answers, why would I make art at all?”
Exposure is something she has learned to navigate perceptively. “Well, it took time to understand how visibility works and how you can use it for good.” Fame, she insists, was never the goal. “I was never interested in fame because of fame – I use it as a tool.” There is calculation involved. “There is a strategy in all of this because some things have to stay private, and I could never talk about them but some things which look like they are not for public I put them out there because people love to see your soul naked thinking that maybe you are vulnerable.”

The loss of her father recently altered her sense of ground. “When I lost my father in 2024, I felt like I lost part of me because he was the only person who could love me only for me and not expect much in return.” She speaks of birthdays differently now. “Only for him it was a very special day. He celebrated my birth more than me.” She shares videos of him, speaks about him often. “All my works are honest, and they come from deep down from my soul and stomach – sometimes it is painful to make art because it hurts a lot.”
When I ask where her work is heading, she answers candidly. “I am working on a few new projects – and to be honest I am ready to be done with many of them so I can move on with something that I even do not know what.” She imagines a studio devoted to experimentation. “I want to make a studio where I can just experiment and see where that is going to take me.”

The broader world also presses in when she speaks. “I have less questions now because I am in so much pain because of the war in Gaza, Ukraine, the killing, blood, hate, and death.” In such a climate, the role of art feels uncertain. “Then you ask yourself if art changes something. It cannot stop the killing but at least there is this power with art like the possibility for a change – maybe we call it hope.”
Even amid the weight of global trauma and personal pain, Selman continues to make art that directly engages with the systems around her. She transforms scrap metal, machines and performances into experiences that show how people live, work and survive, and invites others to see that reality clearly.

Team Credits:

Words by Ashik Zaman

Art Credits:

1) Selma Selman, 600 Years of Migrant Mothers, oil paint on milk tanker, Courtesy of the artist and Kunsthuis SYB (NL), Photography by Vanesa Miteva.
2) Selma Selman, Platinum, platinum axe, 2021, Courtesy of the artist and National Gallery BIH, Photography by Damir Šagolj.
3, 4 & 9) Selma Selman, Vale, 2025, oil paint on Mercedes hood, Courtesy of private collection, Photography by Marjorie Brunet Plaza.
5, 6, & 10) Selma Selman, Vale, 2025, Courtesy of the artist and acb Galéria, Budapest, and ChertLüdde, Berlin, Photography by Marjorie Brunet Plaza.
7) Selma Selman, Motherboards, performance, 2023–ongoing, Courtesy of the artist and Krass Festival, Photography by Marko Ilić.
8) Selma Selman, Painting on Metal, acrylic paint on scrap metal, 2023, Courtesy of the artist and Gropius Bau, Photography by Eike Walkenhorst.
11) Selma Selman, Motherboards (A Golden Nail), 2025, gold plated nail, Courtesy of the artist, Photography by Peter Cox.
12) Selma Selman, Courtesy of the artist, Photography by Fabian Landewee.
13) Selma Selman, Ophelia’s Awakening, oil paint on Lotus Esprit ‘78, 2024, Courtesy of the artist and acb Gallery, Photography by Dávid Tóth.

Flora was born in Dieppe in north-eastern France and grew up in the Ardennes region. She was surrounded by music early on, particularly the records her parents listened to while partying in the 1990s. She realized the importance of music during the first concert she played with her first synth-punk band in 2009 at a small bar in her hometown.

“My music is quite maximalist, with synthesizers omnipresent. Some say I’m very 80s,” she explains. “I felt that the intimacy of my melodies was shared by others, that my contained energy was finally finding a place to express itself without seeming crazy—or maybe I was, but it didn’t matter.”
Her music is deliberately ambiguous. Danceable melancholia sits alongside harsh lyrics or banal statements delivered in a dramatic tone, constantly playing with contrasts and dualities. Singing functions as a musical instrument in its own right, giving her work a unique texture and character.
Flora has described her universe as “Medieval Matrix,” a phrase that immediately sparks curiosity. “I love science fiction as much as fantasy, as much as imaginary and outdated things, as well as a strong faith in and fear of the future,” she says.

The latest album, Val Synth, was released in 2025 and blends electropop, indie pop, and alternative influences. Flora wanted to make an album that felt spontaneous, almost like freezing her demos and preserving their raw energy. “I often kept the vocals from the demos. I also wanted to offer purely instrumental tracks, because I’m not just a singer. It’s also a much more colourful and joyful album than the previous ones.”
Val Synth explores themes of identity, freedom, relationships, and inner life through a mix of introspective, playful, and sometimes surreal lyrics. Rather than telling linear stories, many of the songs focus on mood and emotion. “My songs are often an expression of what I can’t convey in my personal life. In my opinion, melody has its own emotion, sometimes much more eloquent than words. Like messages in a bottle, often for oneself,” she reflects.

This is Flora’s third album. Her debut, À ta merci, released in 2017, was a dramatic and theatrical blend of synthpop and rock. It was followed by Avec les yeux in 2022, which retained the electronic and synth-driven core while sounding more polished and melodic. Val Synth feels like a natural evolution, taking synth, pop, and dance to a new level.
“I think I don’t want to be pigeonholed into French pop as it’s traditionally understood. I want to go further in self-expression, explore new ways of writing, and collaborate with different musicians on each album, because others are talented,” she says.

It is easy to see Flora’s love for film and literature reflected in her work, as well as her ambition to blend the two forms together. She frequently references film composers such as Vangelis, John Carpenter, Elmer Bernstein, and Thomas Newman, alongside French authors like Cécile Coulon and Blandine Rinkel. In recent years, she has also added drag art to her creative palette, which she finds particularly inspiring.
“I don’t know if I like fashion; I don’t know anything about it. I do know that I love dressing up. Clothing is an opportunity to explore oneself, to embody a character, but also to connect with others, as a sign of rebellion or belonging,” she explains. Music and fashion cannot exist without each other, she adds. Even choosing not to engage is still a choice. Both music and fashion reflect the times we live in.

Transcendence remains central to her work. “For me, transcending oneself today is primarily about monitoring one’s own convoluted biases, our information bubbles, or even what we believe to be part of our identity. My music is constantly changing, ambiguous; it allows itself to be that way. We should all allow ourselves to do that, and even have a duty to do so,” Flora says.Her music reflects a constant in-between state, rooted in past decades yet untethered from any specific era. She speaks less about defining an aesthetic and more about maintaining movement, resisting fixation, questioning inherited narratives, and remaining attentive to the political undercurrents shaping everyday life. For her, music is not an escape from reality but a way of momentarily loosening its grip.

“And when it comes to the music,” she says, “I hope my audience can take a step back from their own melancholy. Dance to it.”

Talent: Flora Fischbach

Team Credits:

Photograhy by Nikolaz Le Coq
Styling by Jaouad Mehdid
Makeup by Alexandra Meric
Hair by Erika Kimura
Words by Mattias Kristiansson
Set Design by Marie Thiboumery
Fashion Assistant: Emma Moulay
Lighting Assistant: Gaspard Herledan

Fashion Credits:

1) Shirt and trousers by Mehdid. Necklace by Alt Paris.
2) Coat by Mehdid.
4 & 11) Jacket by Mehdid. Blouse by Sehnsucht. Trousers by Thierry Mugler. Shoes by Maison Margiela. Rings by Alt Paris.
5 & 7) Body and trousers by Chantal Thomass.
6) Dress by Maison Alaïa.
8) Jumpsuit by Claude Montana. Shoes by Dr Martens.
9 & 10) Blouse by Transe. Trousers and belt by Mehdid. Shoes by Maison Margiela. Bracelets and rings by Alt Paris.

Since Cobrah’s entrance onto the music scene in 2018, she has made her own distinct mark on the industry by transcending expectations. Cobrah quickly curated her persona and sound, characterized by hooky, tongue-in-cheek lyrics and beats tailored for the dancefloor. She also became synonymous with her gothic, latex-heavy aesthetic, inspired by the underground fetish community. Working as a teacher by day, Cobrah began doing her first gigs at private fetish parties by night. Fast forward to today, and she is now a Swedish Grammy awarded artist and is getting ready to do her first show at Coachella. But first, Cobrah is ticking off another big career goal – releasing her debut album.

Although Cobrah has her primary audience in the United States, and that’s where she plays most of her shows, she still lives in Stockholm, Sweden, where she plans to stay for the foreseeable future.
“I really like to travel; I think that’s one of the biggest perks of the job, but I love living here. I’ve tried to move away from this place many times, but I come back every time. The more I work abroad, the more I miss Sweden and long for it”.
From the start, Cobrah has been working with her trusted collaborators Isac Hördegård and Hannes Roovers, and the duo also helped her debut album, Torn, come to life. The collection follows her latest EP, Succubus, which arrived in 2023 and earned Cobrah her first Grammis award for Electronic/Dance of the Year.
“It felt really good. I don’t really work in Sweden a lot, so I didn’t expect to win. But I don’t think it affects my music writing too much. It’s always an honor to win an award, but you shouldn’t let it affect you as an artist, I think. You’ll be a worse artist if you change or adjust to people’s opinions”.
Succubus saw the artist embody different folklore demons. This time, Cobrah is ready to turn the spotlight towards herself. Having transcended the limits of her brand, the most radical thing left was to turn inward.
“I was longing for a different type of connection with people who listen to my music, and wanted the writing to reflect who I am on a personal level. The conversation around what I do and my expression has been very politicized, and I’ve never really spoken about myself. I wanted to change the conversation, and I think I did that with this album.”
The project has been a long time coming – first, the pandemic got in the way, and then, as she went from being an independent artist to signing with a label, they encouraged her to focus on another EP instead. But in hindsight, Cobrah feels the timing ended up being just right.
“I’m happy I get to make my debut now because you can never do it again, and I’ve had so many more opportunities now to do what I want for the album that I wouldn’t have had five years ago. I would have rushed it more if not for these circumstances, but I don’t think it would have been a better album”.
Torn took two years to make, and another one to put all the visuals together, the longest Cobrah has ever spent on a project. The first song she wrote was the titular track, and she knew immediately that it would also be the name of the album – a subconscious pull towards transcending into a new self.
“The album is about the duality and the growing pains of being really vulnerable and also being very brave in exploring new things. It would have been easy not to challenge myself and to be really comfortable in what I built and stay in that lane, but I’m always enticed by what else I could do. I think this entire album is about transcending. It’s about evolving and opening up”.

The album started to take shape in Paris in 2023, where she stayed in a villa with her producers – a time that inspired Cobrah to take her creativity in new directions.
“It was a turning point in my artistry. We were writing these songs with housey beats and repetitive lyrics, the core of my sound, and I just felt really unchallenged. I felt like I couldn’t make an entire album writing only this type of music. It was just not exciting anymore, and in Paris we really started to experiment”.
The feeling of stagnation came after she felt her sound had been too established. In an interview with NME from earlier this year, she explained the need for a shift: “I’m over myself, I’m ready to move on. If the world has caught up to what I’m doing, then I’m clearly not doing the thing I’m intended to anymore.”
“People would come up to me and say, ‘This sounds like a Cobrah song,’ and it wasn’t even my song. I don’t want to do a song that sounds like a Cobrah song. When I came up with the sound, it felt really challenging; it’s a very specific thing, and it takes a lot of time, energy, and creativity to find that. But then once those pieces are in their place, I don’t want to make the same song over again”.
The longer format gave Cobrah the chance to explore a wider variety of songs, and the album even includes a few ballads. It’s a wider range that’s new to Cobrah, a sentiment that also echoes the album title.
“It feels torn because it has this duality: on the one hand, there are songs that dig very deep, and on the other hand, there are fun, party-oriented tracks. So it varies quite a lot. The making of the album was a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, where the more I experimented, the more I got lost in my own experiments. It was a very torn process, both emotionally and sonically as well”.

The visual aspects of Cobrah are equally a big part of her artistry. Besides curating her own looks, her music has been featured in campaigns for Jean Paul Gaultier, Mugler, Lancôme, and Viktor & Rolf. For her shoot with The Forumist, she continues to explore her uniquely characteristic world.
“I’m really into the extremes of fashion and the body. I’m always in the tightest corset or I have hooks through my face. I just like to really push myself into doing these crazy things, it excites me very much”.
To reflect the more personal songs on her new album, Cobrah elevated her aesthetic to center herself, a vision based in nude colors that feels restrained compared to her past eras.
“First, I thought I was being boring because I wasn’t exercising all the skills in the toolbox, but it was also the point to be very present and to not transform all the time fully, but to stay as one person”.
The multidisciplinary identity of Cobrah reached a new peak in 2024, when fans of hers were equally delighted and surprised to hear her music featured in Yorgos Lanthimos’ 2024 film Kinds of Kindness – a move that introduced her to a new audience of listeners.
“It was such a cool thing. I’ve seen it many times, and I think the song fits really well into the movie. I think it gives the song some new life; it’s nice when music can live on in other spaces, like in fashion or a cool movie, rather than just on an EP or a streaming platform. Seeing it brings me to life as an artist”.

Talent: Cobrah

Team Credits:

Photography by Marcus Ohlsson at Lalaland Artists
Styling by Ana-Marija Knezevic at Liganord Creative Services
Hair by Erika Svedjevik at Lund Lund
Make-up by Igna Alonso at Lund Lund
Set Design by Aron Heinemann
Production and Special Thanks to Samuel Åberg
Digi-tech by Lucas Lantz
Retouching by Coda Studios
Photography Assistants: Hermine Werner and Majken Jacobsson Sjöberg
Styling Assistant: Lotta Michels
Set Design Assistant: Ivan

Fashion Credits:

1) Catsuit by Charlie Le Mindu Skins SS26. Shoes by ABRA.
4 & 11) Corset by Viola Lahger. Bra and thong by SKIMS.
6) Dress by Dilara Findikoglu. Bra by Aubade. Waist shaper by SKIMS. Shoes by PLEASERS.
7) Dress by Morph Studio. Shoes by PLEASERS.
10) Body by Tribal Hotel. Underwear by SKIMS. Shoes by Balenciaga. Tights by Capezio.

Wilma Lidén may be young, but she already has an extensive background as an actress, with roles in roles in Solsidan, Karusell, Hassel, Zebrarummet and more. Deeply passionate about the creative process, Wilma admits that the downtime between projects can be the most challenging part of her career. A struggle that ultimately inspired her to embark on a long-awaited journey into music.


“For me, the hardest times have always been the periods between projects. The post-production depression. From one day to the next, being torn away from intense schedules, hard work, and digging into my own psyche to nothing. Absolutely nothing. Getting out of bed, drinking coffee, and reading a book? Who wants that? It’s been tricky for me to find routines and activities that work when I’m not working. I need an outlet for my creativity to function.”

At the beginning of 2023, Wilma found herself in a six-month break from filming. It was during this downtime that she began writing her own music, spending hours in sessions with different producers, exploring where it might lead.


“I knew I needed to do something creative to endure. I entered music with fairly low expectations. I’ve always dabbled in music but never taken it that seriously. I think I’ve been afraid that it’s unattractive to do two different things at once. But very quickly, I realized that writing music makes me feel good. I love to sing and what I created with my producers felt very me.”

Not having the luxury of hiding behind a character or a director was a big shift for Wilma. Standing on stage as herself meant opening up in a new, vulnerable way.

“Since my lyrics are so vulnerable and honest, there’s an aspect of inviting the whole world into my innermost self. I’ve always valued integrity and the line between personal and private. This feels like a big, important step. To throw myself out there like this.”

Wilma is now working toward the release of her debut EP. The sound has been crafted together with producers Chad Neale and Peter von Arbin, blending influences from the 80s and 90s with melancholic pop melodies. Drawing inspiration from artists like Raye, Kate Bush, Wet Leg, Sinéad O’Connor, Stevie Nicks, and Caroline Polacheck, she’s shaping a sound that’s unmistakably her own.


“I love a proper guitar solo and that organic, slightly dirty feel. Indie pop is probably what the professionals would call it. I want people to feel the full palette of emotions when they listen. I try to write relatable lyrics, even if some lines come from deeply personal experiences. As long as they feel something, my heart is full.”

My debut EP WHAT’S CUTE ABOUT HELL? explores the raw, unfiltered, and honest observations of the female experience, glorifying the darkness, the beauty, and the bruises. It’s about fearless honesty and the will to feel it all out loud. This is where obsession meets vulnerability in a world full of emotional danger.
Fashion has always been an integral part of Wilma’s expression, and it’s especially present in her artistic projects. She describes her style as “candy punk”. A mix of cute and bold.


“I love everything to do with visual expression, and it felt important to clearly invite everyone into my new world. Sometimes I wonder if I might be a nightmare to work with. I’m such a perfectionist, and I want the images in my head to become reality. But I’m so proud of everything I’ve created with my friends Paul Edwards and Sam Segerblom. It feels like a natural extension of my songs and my artistic identity.”

Even when she’s not on set or in the studio, Wilma rarely sits still. She laughs, admitting she’s “not particularly good at grounding herself and recharging. “Reading, spending time with friends and family, or crafting helps her unwind, but her mind never fully switches off. It’s always quietly in work mode. That constant drive fuels her ambitions.”

“I hope to play live a lot, release music that I like and am proud of, touch people, and grow as a person. I try to take things as they come, but I probably have pretty big dreams deep down. I imagine myself standing at the Royal Albert Hall with a symphony orchestra.”

Wilma Vidal’s debut EP “WHAT’S CUTE ABOUT HELL?” is set to release on January 9th 2026.

Talent: Wilma Vidal Lidén

Team Credits:

Photography by Lamia Karić / Rockson
Styling by Louise Dyhrfort
Words by Mattias Krtistiansson
Makeup and hair by Wanda Persson
Photography assistant: Amelie Karlsbro
Styling assistant: Klara Ekelund

Fashion Credits:

1) Earrings by LOWOOL. Jacket and skirt by Aniele Stroz. Stockings: stylist’s own. Shoes: talent’s own.
2) Earrings and necklace by Marland Backus. Top by Aniele Stroz.
3 & 4) Earrings by 886Lab. Shirt and stockings by J.Simone. Belts by INAN.
5) Belt vest and belt by INAN. Ring by 886Lab.
6) Shoes: talent’s own.
7) Necklace by ESKY SAFRASH. Belt by INAN.
8) Dress by MPAZ Studio. Earrings and bracelet by ESKY SAFRASH.

Her breakout moment came in 2018, when she co-wrote and featured on The Chainsmokers’ hit single “Hope”, followed by “Beautiful” with Australian producer What So Not, setting her unique voice on a global path. Since then, Winona has released a string of heartfelt songs and an acclaimed debut album, Island of the Sun (2022), earning praise for her blend of melancholic pop and lyrical depth.

This summer, a new Winona is stepping into the spotlight. After a breakup, a hair transformation, and a renewed appetite for travel and adventure, she’s entering what she calls a new era creatively and personally. “I’m finally allowing myself to be light, to have fun, to just live,” she says.

Her latest EP Salt, showcases this shift that is still emotionally grounded but braver, bolder, and danceable.

Parallel to this, she’s launched a new alter ego, Oaks, diving into electronic and club-driven sounds. “It’s the other side of me,” she says. “A little darker, but also liberating.”

Winona will perform live at Aperitivo Peroni at Bar Buco in collaboration with Peroni on Wednesday, July 16, in Visby, Gotland, marking a fresh moment in her evolving story. “This summer is about freedom, movement, and doing things on my terms.” 

It’s not easy to get a moment with Winona in a time when everyone wants a piece of her. We manage to catch her while in Toronto between gigs and studio sessions. A lifestyle that would throw many off balance but for Winona, it’s the opposite. After 10 years as an artist, she’s in a place in life where she knows who she is and what she wants, both personally and in her musical artistry.

“I’m not as afraid of what people think anymore. I’ve gone through so much on a personal level that it’s forced me to grow. It’s shaped me. I’ve grown thicker skin, and that shows in my music too.”

The past few years have brought heartbreaking challenges for Winona, and that emotional journey has been reflected in her music. On her latest EP Salt, Winona opens up in a way that is both brave, personal, and raw.

“I used this album to process everything I’ve been feeling and thinking. That’s why it’s more personal than I’ve ever dared to be before.”

In the song “My Body” she sings honestly about the anxiety around body image and the struggle with self-perception in a society that demands perfection. In “I Broke Me First” she explores mental health and a self-destructive side many can relate to.

“I’ve struggled with panic attacks since I was young. My mom got sick when I was 14 and passed away two years ago, that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to survive. The sound also reflects my personal journey. It’s become a broader spectrum, not just about heartbreak but going much deeper than that.”

When we meet Winona at the photoshoot for The Forumist, we notice a different energy. It’s lighter, freer. She’s left much of the heaviness behind and wants to face the future with curiosity and newfound energy. There’s also an edge in her grounded strength—the confidence to know what she wants, to focus, and follow her own creative rhythm. This sense of liberation has also led to a new album coming this fall.

“The album is about being a woman. Sexuality. Playfulness. I came out of a long relationship, and this is about throwing myself out there again, daring to fall in love. It’s also about the importance of my friends. They were there for me when I needed it the most. They’re the ones who keep me going.”

Like everything Winona creates, it’s deeply personal and unfiltered. We get to follow her spiritual journey with all its ups and downs. The music is an eclectic blend of ballads, electronic beats, and a more organic, natural sound.
The new Winona allows herself to have fun again. Making music is more than just a creative outlet or passion, it’s literally the blood in her veins.

“Creating music is what has kept me alive. Without it, I would’ve gone under. It’s how I process everything.”

But it’s not just music that gives a healing foundation, interest in photography and fashion also offers Winona space to express herself and reflect. This constant hunger for new influences, playfulness, and her insatiable drive to evolve make Winona an exciting artist musically. A whirlwind blending indie pop with dance music like electro and house. The latter is something she explores through her alter ego, Oaks.

“Oaks is dedicated to dance music. It’s a broad spectrum of DJs I’ve worked with, from Martin Garrix to Tiësto. It’s a variety of electronic styles and the only thing that ties it together is my songwriting, my lyrics, and my voice.” Oaks mixes dubstep with mainstream house and progressive house. She also plans to learn how to DJ soon and add yet another creative form of expression, with more original material released under Oaks.

“There’s something in dance music, the frequency and tempo that’s very healing. It lets you release so much energy. It’s also less pretentious. More forgiving.”

It’s been three years since Winona released her critically acclaimed debut album Islands of the Sun, an electro-pop and synth-pop record with an almost cinematic sound. Back then, it was with a major label. Now she’s on her own. Then, label execs interfered in the creative process. Now, she stands alone with a clear vision and the freedom to realize it.
“This album is much more me. The sound has evolved constantly, and this marks a fresh start for me and my music.”

The future is undeniably exciting for Winona both personally and artistically. Her dreams stretch from developing new projects to inspiring collaborations with DJs, artists, and musicians. She doesn’t just want to travel the world and see new places, she also wants to take a spiritual and mental journey to grow as a person.

“I want to throw myself into the unknown and challenge myself. I want to heal, feel good, and enjoy the moment. I want to be more present. And I want to allow myself to be in love.”

Talent: Winona Oak

Team Credits:

Photography by Marcus Askelöf
Styling by Mili Malinovic
Words by Mattias Kristiansson
Hair & Makeup by Moona Narancic
Retouch by Jim Widgren

Fashion Credits:

1) Dress by ALIDA BARD. Stockings by WOLFORD. Shoes by PRADA.
2) Bodysuit by MANIÉRE de VOIR.
3) Silver chain belt by INAN.
4) Top and pants by NORMA KAMALI. Shoes by PRADA.
5) Cutout mini dress by COPERNI.
6 & 12) Silk blouse by HEIDER ACKERMANN. Uterus bottoms by MARAN. Stockings by SWEDISH STOCKINGS.
7) Pleated dress by DAVII.
10) Dress by OVAL SQUARE. Shoes by DRIES VAN NOTEN.
11) Detachable sleeves by ALIDA BARD. Biná tank top by STUDIO PRETA. Stockings by WOLFORD. Shoes: stylist’s archive.
13) Holographic asymmetric gown by RICK OWENS.
14) Shoes by PRADA.
15) White layered tank dress by CHRISTIANA HADJIPAPA. Stockings by SWEDISH STOCKINGS. Shoes: stylist’s archive.
16) Draped mini dress by KHAITE.
17) Transparent nail ring nails (used as ear cuffs) by WHYNOEN. Draped silver top by DION LEE. Stockings by SWEDISH STOCKINGS.