Ilona-Estelle Westman Sonko

December 2, 2025

A year ago, Swedish artist Ilona-Estelle Westman Sonko reached out to us, sharing a painting of herself and her daughter, both dressed in paloma wool. The detail and sensitivity in her work captivated us, which led us to commission a large-scale piece for our headquarters in Barcelona.

Last week, a large wooden box from Sweden arrived at our office in Barcelona, containing the painting that Ilona had made for our new studio. We gathered around to open it, and we were moved to see her work in person. The care in every detail, the way she captures colour, texture, and atmosphere with her brush, draws you in completely. 

Stepping into Ilona’s universe feels familiar and intimate. She paints what surrounds her: her family, her friends, her neighbours. There’s something alive in her scenes, a sense of movement, of action, even though they capture a single, specific moment. 

We recently spoke with Ilona about her practice, her creative process, and the routines that shape her work. 

How would you describe your practice? 

My practice is consistent, and I get inspiration from my everyday life: the people and situations around me. I observe, gather ideas, take pictures, and capture moments before me. I sketch down ideas, write, and then go to my studio to paint them. I’m in the studio every day, even during the weekend sometimes. I usually work on multiple pieces simultaneously, so if I’m not starting a new one, there are always others I can work on. I grew up in an old historical building full of life in the centre of Stockholm, and that’s where I have my studio today. The same neighbours from when I grew up still live there, which is a blessing.

Tell us about your background and how you started painting. 

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember. As a child, I sat in my room, closing out the outside world and entering my inner world. I was always drawing, whether happy, sad, anxious, or mad. It allowed me to join another space of mind. I used to draw using different types of pencils and other techniques. However, it was thirteen years ago, when I met my husband, who encouraged me to take an art course, that I was introduced to oil painting. At that very moment, I remember thinking, I’m going to spend a lot of my time in life doing this. I loved the colours, the textures, and the time it takes the paint to dry, allowing it to come to life. I began my daily artistic practice when our first child was one year old, which was eight years ago. Now we have three children, and I’ve been bringing them to the studio every time. I recall that when our second child was born, I stopped attending the studio. Once I got back, my friends and I realised how unhappy I am when I don’t paint. My practice is an essential part of my life.

Pictures taken by Märta Thisner

You’ve developed a very distinctive style, especially in the way you remove the background from your compositions. What drew you to explore this approach, and what does that space –or absence of it– mean to you? 

Before my first-ever solo exhibition, I didn’t allow anyone in the studio; not many people knew I was a painter. The day before the opening, a friend saw the paintings and, in surprise, said, ”But they are not done yet!” There was a lot of white space around the objects. All the paintings were done; that’s how I had been painting them. In the moment I take a picture, nothing else exists but the ones who are in it. Not the time, nor the space, only the people and what they’re doing.

Your subjects are often seen from behind, as if they’re unaware of being portrayed. In a sense, it feels as though you are a quiet witness to both sacred and mundane moments—instants that need to be preserved in time. Where does that perspective come from, and what does it allow you to express? 

It allows me and the paintings to express the moment without disturbing it. I think it’s interesting how much a body can express without showing a face. Also, if the people I’m taking a picture of were to see me take it, they would consequently be aware, and some of the magic would disappear. I always feel challenged to see if I can recreate the same feeling I had when taking the picture in the painting.

How do you choose the images you want to paint? 

I take all my pictures with my phone, and I’m always taking pictures. Sometimes I rush to the studio because I've captured such a beautiful moment, and sometimes I let the pictures grow on me. Looking back, I can usually tell what I was feeling or thinking when I painted it.


Your paintings often depict the people closest to you: your family, relatives, friends, and community. Are you interested in preserving memories or transforming them into something new through painting? 

At first, it was all about preserving memories. As a child, my parents dragged me around to different museums, and I was always mesmerised by the old portraits in oil. They mean a moment in time, a life, a person, and I could watch them for hours. In a way, even though we live in a time when we have photography, social media, and even AI, this is my way of capturing specific moments.

Secondly, when I started showing my pieces, I noticed that the people looking at my paintings felt and saw different things than I thought they would. I thought they would just see my child, parents, husband, and friends, but they saw themselves, their lives, their children, and their partners, and that was mind-blowing to me.

The collaboration you did with paloma wool was different from your usual work, since you painted from an image that wasn’t your own. How did it feel to work from someone else’s moment rather than one you captured yourself? 

At first, I was a bit nervous. I got very excited when I learned Carlota Guerrero was taking the pictures. I believe the nerves were more about me doubting my ability to recreate something I haven’t been a part of from the start. And I was thrilled when I received the pictures - they were even better than I had imagined: the beautiful women, the atmosphere, the clothes, the colours, the different textures, and the lighting. I felt so happy and honoured to paint from that picture.

Looking ahead, how do you see your work evolving? Are there new directions, themes, or materials you’re interested in exploring? 

My current obsession is painting a series of movements, people moving around on the canvas, sometimes even leaving the canvas. I also want to include objects like furniture, a scooter, and cellphones, all of which are significant parts of our lives right now. This has also made me start exploring how to arrange pictures to see where that can take me. But I think people will always be in the centre.

On display at our Barcelona store during December.