Swedish composer Johan Fotmeijer has built a career exploring the boundaries of sound and storytelling, weaving deeply personal narratives into his ambient compositions. From his early days as the enigmatic Claudia Bonarelli to his work with Thet Liturgiske Owäsendet, Fotmeijer has always approached music as a space for experimentation and reflection.
Fotmeijer’s Sylvan Library #1 feels like flipping through someone else’s photo album, one where the images are blurred yet oddly familiar.The EP blurs the line between memory and sound, constructing a landscape of ambient textures tied to Fotmeijer’s own childhood experiences. The sonic palette combines stark, atmospheric elements with dense pads, offering an experience that feels worn yet tactile. It’s less about achieving perfection and more about documenting a specific emotional and sensory environment.
Rooted in Fotmeijer’s memories of northern Sweden, the EP uses field recordings and modular synths to bring depth to its compositions. The sound design is intentionally aged, a technique Fotmeijer has honed to reflect the stillness and wonder of nights spent in nature—fishing, hiking, and simply listening. The percussion stands out for its refusal to merely sit in the background, instead carving out a rhythmic path that disrupts the otherwise smooth layers.
Listening to Sylvan Library #1, I found myself drawn into its subtleties. The EP doesn’t demand attention, yet it holds you in its orbit, nudging your thoughts toward moments you might have forgotten or never experienced at all. It’s an album for late nights, headphones, and lingering over unspoken questions.
Q&A with Johan Fotmeijer
Could you tell us a bit about your career so far? How did your journey in music begin, and what path led you to create Sylvan Library #1?
I started making music seriously in the early 2000s as the mysterious character Claudia Bonarelli. Back then, it was all about clicks’n’cuts and deep, dubby soundscapes, with stories about her being an activist arrested during the big protests in the Genoa G8 Summit protest July 2001, or part of an occult artist collective from Eastern Europe. Or maybe a female avatar for the notorious anarchist Luther Blissett? (Who?)
I’m also one half of Thet Liturgiske Owäsendet, where we create improvised music across many genres, often with hints of ambient. With TLO, we’ve released music on labels like Opal Tapes, Lobster Sleep, and Forwind.
Music has always been a part of my life. Growing up, I had an older neighbor who introduced me to body synth and industrial music. He would regularly give me mixtapes, which sparked my interest in more alternative sounds. Around the same time, a late-night Swedish radio show called Eldorado, hosted by Kjell Alinge, became a huge influence on me.
Eldorado was a fascinating blend of pop music, field recordings, voice and sound experiments, and philosophical reflections. I vividly remember lying in my room with my Walkman, letting myself drift into the otherworldly realms Alinge painted with sound. Those moments of imaginative escape stayed with me, and they are what I try to recreate with Sylvan Library #1. It’s an attempt to channel that sense of wonder and exploration I felt as a child.
The Project: What was the inspiration behind Sylvan Library #1, and how would you describe its core themes?
Sylvan Library is a personal narrative within my musical journey, and #1 is a reflection on my childhood. I grew up spending a lot of time in nature with my family. My father and I often went fishing and hiking in northern Sweden, a region renowned for its vast forests, winding rivers, dramatic mountains, and unique cultural heritage.
The landscapes of my childhood left a lasting impression on me. Summers in the north are illuminated by the midnight sun, while winters are dark and cold, creating a profound connection to the rhythms of nature. With Sylvan Library #1, I’ve tried to capture the essence of nights spent by a fire on a mountain or beside a rushing river. These were moments free from distractions like phones or technology, where my imagination could roam freely, inspired by the mystery and magic of the natural world.
This project is an ode to quiet reflection, memory, and the unique beauty of giving nature the time and attention it deserves.
The Production: How did you approach creating such an immersive soundscape?
My journey in production has come full circle. I’ve moved from computer-based music to working with modular synths and guitar pedals, and now I’m back to primarily using a computer, a space where I feel very comfortable. My process involves a lot of sampling and re-sampling, constantly reworking sounds to give them a worn, aged quality. I often seek out forgotten clips on YouTube for inspiration, piecing together fragments to create something new.
There’s been a growing trend in ambient music to make things sound old and imperfect. I think this taps into something deeper in us, a nostalgia and a longing for a time when technology wasn’t as polished and we weren’t overwhelmed by the constant flow of information. That imperfection carries an emotional weight that resonates with listeners.
One of the biggest challenges for me has been dealing with tinnitus after years of working with music. Because of this, everything on the album was mixed at very low volumes. Interestingly, I’ve discovered that field recordings help ease the ringing in my ears, allowing my brain to focus on something other than the constant noise. This discovery has been transformative, and I plan to experiment further with how sound can be used to create balance and relief—not just for myself, but as part of the creative process.
What’s your take on the current moment in music, especially in the ambient genre?
Honestly, I don’t keep a close eye on what’s happening within the genre. But to me, ambient feels like the new punk. It’s relatively easy to dive into, you don’t need to follow rigid rules, and the barriers to entry are low. I’m not a big fan of the pressure to rely solely on analog or hardware-based setups, or the constant push to buy the latest gear just to impress. You can go a long way with a cheap laptop and free software if you want to start making music.
That said, music alone isn’t enough to sustain a scene. It’s equally important to have people like you who write about music, online forums where ideas can be shared, and individuals who organize live events. These are the things that build a sense of community, which is vital for any niche or alternative scene.
What I think is most important, and something we could improve on, is working together rather than staying isolated as individuals. The more we support each other and create connections, the stronger the scene becomes. In the end, we all benefit from collaboration and shared passion.
ps: Sylvan Library #1 is being released by Narouua Label
and will be out on DSPS's on Dec 6 24