Spanning the worlds of fine art, set styling, and interior design, Josefin Tolstoy creates pieces that feel like tactile sanctuaries, an "emotional cushion in an otherwise cold world."
Trained in graphic design and art direction in the UK before transitioning to fine art, Josefin bridges the structural discipline of editorial grids with a deeply intuitive, raw approach to material. In her studio, canvas is laid flat on the floor, where custom mixtures of mortar and acrylic are swept across surfaces to evoke the bleached, worn beauty of ancient Italian frescoes.
From her signature sculptural color blocks to delicate, naive line drawings, her portfolio is a study in balance, texture, and the grounding power of real materials.
For this week’s Sunday Series, Josefin speaks with us about breaking the rules of composition, the therapy of tactile objects, and how a childhood habit of drawing faces continues to guide her hand today.
Let’s get into it.
You trained as a graphic designer and art director in the UK before transitioning into fine art and interior styling. How does that structural, editorial background shape the way you approach a blank canvas?
I think my background in design affects my approach, as I am always on the lookout for balance or an unseen grid. I’m always looking for a composition that feels right to me. This, combined with my deep interest in and love for colour, is a constant search for things to feel balanced. But it’s a thin line between balanced and boring. I like finding that colour or shape that disrupts the order and keeps the work interesting.
Your signature abstract pieces rely on your own custom recipe mixing mortar with acrylics. What led you to work with mortar, and how does laying the canvas flat on the floor alter the physical intimacy of painting?
I wanted a raw, mural-like feeling in my work, as I felt that the texture added emotion to the piece. It’s no longer smooth and perfect, but unique and rough. It’s a very physical act, and therefore I would say it connects me with the material and the canvas, as we are all somewhat on the same level. It’s a very intuitive process, letting my hands or brush move the material around.
You’ve said you want your art to be an "emotional cushion in an otherwise cold world." How do you curate a soft, soothing palette that feels restorative rather than merely minimal?
Yes, I said that as I find the world and the people in it a bit disturbing a lot of the times, and don’t want my work to add to that, I rather it would give me and the receiver some peace. I don’t know if I can say that I curate the colors. In a way, I am soothing myself when I find a colour or a contrast that I like. It gives me a rewarding feeling.
Because your work is guided by instinct, how do you know when a heavily textured, sculptural piece has reached its natural conclusion?
I’m not sure. I just do. When it’s finished, it’s finished. I hardly ever change my mind about that. If I put a work aside with the feeling that it is done, I would hardly ever go back and work on it. Although I might sometimes feel that I should have done something differently, I would rather start a new piece than alter the finished one.
In your interior design and set styling work (for brands like Elle Decoration, Markslöjd, or Tarkett), what is your starting point for building a room that feels lived-in, warm, and poetic?
Colours. I love soft colours and materials. Art with texture and furniture with personality. Real materials, like wool, silk, wood and stone. With real materials and human-made design, the warm feeling comes naturally.
Your portfolio flows between abstract colour blocks and delicate figurative forms like Sisters or Lilly Rose. Do these two styles fulfill different emotional needs in your studio practice?
To me, they are just one style. They are all shapes of colour, finding different ways to interact. As I have a restless mind, I’m not so good at repeating myself. Therefore, if I have been working with abstracts for quite some time, it’s nice to shift and do portraits, faces, or even ceramics. I think this process keeps my interest in my work and gives me the ability not to be afraid of new formats.
You grew up in a creative household surrounded by colour and craft before pursuing design. What is one aesthetic memory from your childhood that still subconsciously shows up in your work today?
The faces have always been there. The elephant nose, as my son calls them. I did them as a child and I still do them pretty much the same way. It’s like the hand has a mind of its own.
As both an artist and an interior designer, how do you think a room changes when built around a single, highly tactile piece of art?
If a room were to be built with an artwork in mind, I would say the whole room becomes part of the experience with that piece. Depending on how it was done and what the experience would be, it could actually be a real part of the artwork - so I guess it's where you draw the line of the two of them interacting.
What architectural details, interior shapes, or everyday moments in Sweden are currently finding their way onto your mood boards?
I love old murals. I don’t find them so much in Sweden, though. I was recently in Italy, and the religious historical murals, worn down by time, inspires me so much. There is something about the bleached colours and stony surfaces that feels so human and touches me.
What books, exhibitions, or pieces of music are currently fueling your visual imagination?
I just bought a vintage Picasso book containing posters from his different exhibitions. I find their simplicity and naive pencil strokes very human, and they speak to me. I also love Glyptoteket in Copenhagen. I’ve visited many times and I always get so moved by all the sculptures from different historical periods. All these people that lived before us.
If you could create a bespoke painting or direct a set for any space in the world, real or historic, where would it be?
It would be a wall or ceiling mural in an old building or a cathedral-like setting.
Where do you go when you need a quiet hour to clear your head, drink a coffee, or observe light and space?
My studio. Or the forest.
What is the most cherished, tactile object in your personal home collection, and what story does it carry?
It’s the pieces my mother made that I have kept. I just love her visual eye, and they feel so at home to me because they have always been there. But I also have a fairly large sculpture at home by the French sculptor Olivier Lauga, OL.GA Atelier, that makes me smile every day. It’s like therapy.
Josefin Tolstoy’s practice offers a gentle, grounding counterweight. Whether she is mixing mortar in her studio, styling poetic spaces for Europe’s leading design publications, or finding solace beneath the forest canopy, her approach remains rooted in humanity, imperfection, and deep visual warmth.
By allowing intuition to disrupt order, Josefin reminds us that true luxury in art and design isn't about perfection, it is about creating spaces and objects that soothe the soul, hold our memories, and make us feel entirely at home.
Image credits: Mikael Lundblad, Åsa Lffner, Ulrika Ekblom
