On the wall, you encounter a red cylinder several meters wide. You can start on the left side and follow its movement with your eyes until you reach the doorway on the right. This mural by Thomas Trum, like much of his work, appears simple. You can trace the lines of paint on the wall, understand what he has done, just by looking.

Metro maps are among the most widely used types of maps. Their graphic language allows users to quickly see the available routes: which line to take, in which direction, where to get on or off, and after how many stops—completely reliably. Sometimes, because of this basic functionality, we forget how brilliant the map really is: that such a complex system of metro connections is presented so clearly that millions of people use it daily worldwide.

Many aspects of everyday life operate so smoothly that we rarely stop to consider the research behind them. Through iterative design—refining a system until it functions flawlessly—the complexity of the process itself becomes invisible. What remains is the concept made accessible and approachable for as many people as possible.

Yet when you look closely at the red mural, you also understand nothing at all. How did he get those lines on the wall in one go? How can the mural be so large without any hesitation or smudges? Did he paint this by hand?

His own tools

Thomas often creates his works on a large scale and develops his own tools for the process. Large vehicles, like agricultural machines that work rhythmically with maximum efficiency, serve as inspiration. In his studio, he constantly experiments to discover new ways to make an image. He builds tools such as giant felt-tip pens and custom rotating spray machines, which he then uses to paint. Developing the tools takes him a lot of time, with trial and error, while the final painting itself often takes only a few minutes.

When painting, he uses his own tools, and the interaction between human and machine is central to his work. It’s like a choreography to apply the line to the surface in the best possible way. The traces he leaves behind form the core of his practice. He is fascinated by this and wants to focus exclusively on line and color. He works within a self-imposed limiting framework. The final paintings appear on all sorts of surfaces, from a sheet of paper to a multi-meter-high façade.

The new works Thomas shows at Villa belong to the series Parallel Lines. For these, he imposed a new restriction: his handmade pen may move only in parallel. This seemingly simple rule has a huge effect on how the paintings in this series look. The limitation forces a new visual language and demands a lot from the production process. Thomas must work even more precisely with his pen and exercise more control, which can only be achieved by moving the pen across the surface with multiple people. Machines often individualize work—tractors, for example, allowed farmers to work alone in the fields. It is interesting that Thomas now seeks collectivity, even while using machines he developed himself.

Moving together

Alongside the red cylinder on the wall, titled Two Red Parallel Lines, he shows Two Blue Parallel Lines on canvas. Here, the marker moves parallel to the edges of the canvas, and this diagonal, italic motion lingers in the form. The work seems to relate diagonally to the architecture of the space, leaving you disoriented.

Although Thomas’s work may seem abstract at first, it is built according to a clear, almost mathematical system. In other series, he allows lines to bend or loop, creating the appearance of circles and rectangles. He uses a simple but colorful visual language of geometric shapes. In Parallel Lines, he adds ellipses, reminiscent of circles seen from the side, giving a sense of depth and volume. The work therefore feels almost three-dimensional.

Thomas remains fascinated by leaving traces and the physical act of making itself. Yet this new restriction to only parallel lines introduces a fresh tension. He wants to see how the same forms can look different depending on the direction of movement and the viewer’s perspective.

The choice to show these works from Parallel Lines on the Westergas site is no coincidence. This former industrial location still bears the marks of labor and architecture. The monumental Gasholder, with its cylindrical form shaped by the building’s function, resonates with Thomas’s investigation into the dance of cylindrical movements.