Sven Thorgren wearing a rust-coloured top and a welding helmet with flame graphics for the CDLP journal.

SVEN THORGREN IN MERINO WOOL

The Swedish snowboarder reflects on a life devoted to his passion, the freedom found along the way, and a renewed sense of excitement beyond competition.

You started pursuing snowboarding seriously at just 13. At an age when most people have little idea what they want to do with their lives, you were already heading down a very particular path. What was it about snowboarding that captured you so completely?

I was riding every night at Väsjöbacken, just outside Stockholm. I also had an older brother who skied, and trying to keep up with him pushed me to progress quickly. I was sponsored by the time I was 13, which was also the first year I started travelling around Europe. The sport, the lifestyle and being around the mountains all appealed to me. Since then, I’ve never really questioned what I wanted to do.

Turning your passion into your profession sounds like a dream. But does making a living from something you love ever change your relationship with it?

Sometimes it’s easy to forget to ride just for yourself, without cameras or competition. If I’m not progressing or finding that flow state, it can start to feel like a job. It’s a balanceI try to keep an eye on.

From the outside, you've built a life that many people would envy — travelling the world, doing what you love and living largely on your own terms. What have you had to sacrifice to make that possible?

I don’t feel like I’ve had to sacrifice too much. Maybe a few relationships along the way.

There's an interesting contradiction in professional snowboarding: a culture built around freedom and self-expression that increasingly demands the discipline of an elite athlete. How have you navigated those two worlds?

It’s about finding a balance between having fun and maintaining good relationships with sponsors, agents and other snowboarders, while also staying disciplined enough to remain healthy, fit and competitive. That isn’t always easy.

At the highest level, snowboarding involves extraordinary physical risks, with serious injuries an ever-present possibility. How do you develop a relationship with fear when taking those risks is part of your profession?

I’ve dealt with PTSD, and it’s something I’m constantly working on. Usually, repetition and spending more time riding help. That’s why coming back from an injury can be the hardest part, but also the most rewarding.

You've created a rather unconventional home for yourself in Sälen, Sweden, known as Dreamyard. It's part residence, part workshop, part playground. Tell us about the idea behind it.

I lived in Monaco for a few years, but I never felt completely comfortable there. After a few injuries, I realised I needed a big change in my life. That’s when the idea of moving near Kläppen and creating the best possible conditions for my snowboarding started to take shape.

Alongside your own career, you've created Rip-Off Sessions, a snowboard event you've now hosted for two consecutive years. What inspired you to start something of your own, and what did you want to bring to the sport?

Rip-Off Session was inspired by an old contest called Oxborn Session, which made a big impression on me when I was a kid. I felt that a contest like it was missing from snowboarding, and Kläppen was keen to make it happen. Luckily, I have really loyal sponsors, and the whole thing came together quite naturally.

You've recently turned 32 – an age that would be considered young in most professions, but makes you something of a veteran in competitive snowboarding. How does that change your perspective on the years ahead?

I still feel very young, even if I’m not. Two years ago, I decided to step away from the World Cup and focus on filming. Now I feel like a kid again, learning a lot of new things. Hopefully, I’ll be proud of what I’m doing.

If you hadn't become a professional snowboarder, what do you imagine you'd be doing today?

I probably would have become a professional athlete in some form. The urge to compete and use my body would have been too strong to ignore. Maybe I’d have pursued skateboarding or football.

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