THE REALM OF THOMAS DAMBO’S DREAMS! DOCTRINE AND DISCIPLES LED BY ANCIENT TROLLS, GUARDIANS OF LOST FORESTS AND KEEPERS OF MAGIC SECRETS
Project by Niccolò Lapo Latini
THOMAS DAMBO, Gadstrup, 17th March 2025 // In the mystical lands between Copenhagen and Roskilde, Denmark, off on adventure, reunited for the second time with his eighty loyal Troll Hunters, who traveled to him from all corners of the world // Opening the doors of his workshop at his twentytwo-acre estate, he offers a sneak peek to his beloved visitors of his new exhibition, Trolls: A Field Study. Just days after TIME names his Trollmap among the 100 World’s Greatest Places, one of the most thrilling and mysterious contemporary treasure hunts.
As the springs accumulate, suspicions multiply, and discoveries—the rare and precious ones that make the heart tremble—become scarce, dissolving like a fading subtraction. Time filters life like a relentless dividend, dividing without mercy between good and evil, right and wrong. And with each passing year, I understand more, in direct proportion, the timeless Socratic wisdom: “I know that I know nothing.” Encounters like the one with the artist Thomas Dambo make me ponder whether Socrates was not merely referring to the power of recognizing one’s limits through the awareness of ignorance and the humility of forsaking presumption. Perhaps, instead, the great Greek philosopher had indeed unveiled something immense—revolutionary and terrifying at once. A hidden world, kept greedily in the shadows, where one must choose between stepping forward, diving into a revelation that could be the first of an unsettling and shattering chain of truths, or stepping back, acknowledging that some revelations are too profound, too unsettling for the human need for comfort and certainty. Socrates, it seems, may have chosen the latter, leaving us with a cryptic, bittersweet inheritance. Thomas Dambo is tethered to a past that no longer exists, a past he seeks to resurrect through play, imagination, and the legends of ancient cultures and peoples. He is a traditor temporis, a bearer of stories in our era, one who still believes in the magical powers of sacred stones and the wisdom of rituals and beliefs we once held dear—now long forgotten.
Jacob Everear_Detroit Lakes_USA.
What inspired you to start working with recycled materials and building giant trolls?
I’ve always been a storyteller and creator. Growing up in Denmark, I was surrounded by fairy tales and learned early on that nothing should go to waste. That idea stuck with me—why throw something away when it can become something magical? I started by making birdhouses from scrap wood, then moved on to bigger projects. Trolls, deeply rooted in Scandinavian folklore, became the perfect subject. They’re both protectors and tricksters, much like nature itself, and building them from recycled materials highlights the idea that “trash” can be transformed into treasure.
How do you choose the locations for your trolls? Do the places influence the stories you create around them?
I place my trolls in hidden, off-the-beaten-path locations to create a sense of discovery and adventure. People must explore to find them, which strengthens their connection to nature. The landscape shapes the trolls’ stories—if they live by water, maybe they’re fishing; if they’re in the woods, they could be guarding the trees. I want them to feel like they belong, as if they’ve stepped out of an old legend and made a home in that very spot.
Sigurd the Bird and the Red thing_Mørke_Denmark.
Can you tell us about your creative process — from the initial idea to the final installation?
I start by designing the troll’s character, sketching ideas, and crafting its head, hands, and feet in my workshop in Denmark. Once on-site, my team and I collect local scrap wood—old pallets, fallen branches, construction leftovers—and build the troll’s body with help from volunteers. There’s always an element of improvisation, adjusting the design to fit the land and available materials. The process usually takes a few weeks, and when the final pieces come together, it feels like the troll “wakes up” in its new home.
Your art brings people into forests and natural spaces. Do you see yourself as an environmental activist as well as an artist? How do you think public art can contribute to sustainability and environmental awareness?
I see myself as both an artist and an activist. My trolls aren’t just sculptures—they carry a message about overconsumption and sustainability. By turning trash into art, I challenge people to rethink waste. Public art, especially when placed in nature, can spark a deeper connection to the environment. If people have to hike to find a troll, they might leave with a newfound appreciation for the forest, the ocean, or just the beauty of the world around them.
What message do you hope people take away after visiting your installations?
I want people to feel like they’ve stepped into a real-life fairy tale. More than that, I want them to see that what we throw away isn’t worthless—it can be transformed. My hope is that visitors leave not only with great memories but also with a shift in perspective, seeing both trash and nature in a new light.
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What’s next for you—If you could place one of your next trolls anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?
I’m always dreaming up bigger and more immersive projects—giant troll families, recycled forests, or even placing a troll in every U.S. state. If I could put a troll anywhere, I’d choose a location where nature is under threat—like a rainforest or a coastal area affected by climate change—so that the sculpture could serve as a reminder to protect those spaces. I’d also love to place a troll alongside ancient landmarks, as if they were watching over the past and the future at the same time.
Do you use symbols or motifs in your sculptures that have roots in ancient cultures, such as runes, spirals, or natural elements? In many ancient traditions, trolls or giants were both protectors and threats. How do you play with this duality in your work?
While I don’t carve runes into my trolls, their designs reflect old traditions—rough textures, organic shapes, and expressions that feel timeless. Trolls in folklore were both friendly and fearsome, and I love playing with that balance. Some of my trolls look welcoming, while others seem like they could cause a little trouble. They remind us that nature, too, is both gentle and powerful—it gives us life, but if we mistreat it, it can fight back.
Runde Rie_Den Kæmpestore Troldefolkefest_Roskilde_Denmark.
Are there specific cultures, such as Celtic, Norse, or indigenous traditions, that inspire your vision of nature and the spirit world? Do you see your trolls as modern expressions of ancient beliefs — connecting humanity, nature, and mythology?
I draw heavily from Norse mythology, but I also find inspiration in indigenous and Celtic traditions, where giants, spirits, and guardians of the land are common themes. Many cultures tell stories of beings that watch over nature, and my trolls continue that storytelling tradition in a modern way—connecting people to myth, sustainability, and their place in the world.
If you could collaborate with artists or storytellers from ancient cultures, who would you choose and why?
If I could collaborate with ancient storytellers, I’d love to work with Norse skalds, Celtic bards, or indigenous elders—people who saw nature as alive and full of spirits.