Oliver Latta, AKA Extraweg
Berlin-based artist Oliver Latta, alias Extraweg, crafts surreal 3D animations that merge beauty with grotesque discomfort. A former physiotherapist turned Bauhaus University design graduate, his work critiques societal norms through unsettling, abstract visuals—like his Emmy-winning Severance title sequence, which mirrors fractured identity. Collaborations with The Beatles, Gorillaz, and Valentino highlight his viral Instagram-driven rise. Latta’s art thrives on ambiguity, provoking visceral reactions and self-reflection. He explores emerging tech (NFTs, AI) while balancing commercial projects with personal work via his studio, Extraweg.
How Abstraction Fuels Ambiguity
- What initially drew you to the surreal and abstract style that defines your work, including the ‘Severance’ title sequence?
- The balloon motif appears repeatedly in your work, even before ‘Severance’. What is it about balloons that fascinates you as a visual metaphor?
- The credits feel like a mix of David Lynch and ‘Black Mirror’. Were those conscious references?
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I’ve always been drawn to stripping visuals down to their core—to reduce rather than decorate. That minimal approach allows for space, curiosity, and emotion. I want my work to feel like a question, not an answer. The surreal and abstract give people room to bring their own meaning to it. With ‘Severance’, that mindset aligned perfectly with the show’s deeper themes: identity, isolation, and constructed reality. I like it when something looks beautiful but feels a little off. It makes you stop and ask why. That tension is where my visual language lives.
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The air inside a balloon doesn’t last long—they’re light and fragile, made of something intangible, almost like a memory. For me, they symbolize the human mind: light, fragile, and shaped by invisible forces. That made them a perfect metaphor for ‘Severance’, where the characters’ memories and identities are split and manipulated. I explored this metaphor in a personal piece called Past, where a woman drags human-shaped balloons behind her, symbolizing emotional baggage and unresolved history.
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While I admire David Lynch, the inspiration came more from my own body of work. The sequence is rooted in visual language I had already been developing, like in Past. That piece, for example, shows a woman dragging balloon-like figures, which later evolved into core elements of the show. The influence was more internal than external—it grew out of ideas I’d been exploring long before ‘Severance’.
Severance – Season 2, 3D Characters
From Office to Oblivion: The Subconscious Evolution of Severance’s Visual Language
- You’ve said you prefer working with minimal information. Why does that help your creative process?
- The goat painting in the credits is such a bizarre yet captivating detail. What inspired that choice?
- How does your background in Berlin influence your artistic style?
- The Season 1 credits focused on repetition. How did you evolve that for Season 2?
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Because it prevents me from getting too literal. I want to start wide—open to strange connections and abstract thinking. If I receive too much material at the start, it can become a blueprint instead of a creative space. When I began Season 1, all I had was the script of the first episode. No visuals, no detailed direction. That helped me explore big concepts like duality, memory, and fragmentation without replicating existing ideas. That space was creatively freeing.
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The goat painting represents a shift from conscious thought into subconscious chaos. It adds to the disorientation and surreal logic of the sequence. I reused a visual idea from the Season 1 intro—where Mark jumps into his own head—and reinterpreted it here. In Season 1, the jump represented the split between Mark’s “innie” and “outie” selves. In Season 2, it becomes a descent into his fractured inner world. The painting also ties back to how ‘Severance’ uses framed artwork as symbolic riddles.
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Berlin is a city of contrasts—raw and polished, experimental and grounded. The freedom here—to fail, to explore, to not fit in—has been crucial. The constant evolution of Berlin’s creative scene pushes me to take risks, blend mediums, and mix traditional techniques with digital tools. It’s a place where ideas can breathe.
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Season 1 centered on work-life division and duality. For Season 2, the focus shifted to Mark’s subconscious—darker, fragmented, and emotionally heavier. The theme moved from separation to reintegration, reflecting the collapse of boundaries between “innie” and “outie.” The challenge was reusing Theodore Shapiro’s iconic music while making it feel fresh. The visuals became denser and more psychologically driven, mirroring the show’s shift from structure to chaos.
Trial, Error, and Digital Dreamscapes
- What was the first image or idea that came to mind for the Season 2 credits?
- How do you balance creating something personal while serving the show’s tone?
- How do you translate abstract concepts like “walking through a brain” into visuals?
- What’s the strangest idea that didn’t make the final cut?
- How do you know when a sequence is “finished”?
- Are there subtle details you’re proud of that viewers might miss?
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I imagined a dreamlike journey through the mind—abstract and psychological. Ben Stiller sent me an image of Mark walking down a hallway with human balloons, which became a metaphor from Season 1 taking physical form. That’s when I knew we could push it further.
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Trust is everything. Ben gave me complete freedom, and I trusted his guidance. We had many conversations—some technical, some emotional. He knew the story better than anyone, so collaboration was key. If something didn’t align, he’d guide me constructively.
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Trial and error. I test constantly—building scenes, simulating ideas, trashing them, trying again. The camera rarely cuts, so transitions must flow like a single thought. Music also guides the rhythm, making it feel dreamlike even though it’s digitally constructed.
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A moment where babies were born from a brain—symbolizing emerging thoughts or identities. It felt too literal and disrupted the music’s pace. Sometimes cutting a strong visual protects the piece’s rhythm.
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You feel it click. After that, it’s refining. With fixed budgets and timelines, I pushed as far as possible without compromising integrity.
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The whole structure—how each scene transitions and builds. The emotional through-line matters most, not individual shots. It’s about cohesion and immersion.
When Vulnerability Becomes an Aesthetic Act of Rebellion
- What does the intro reveal about Mark’s psyche?
- How do you approach visual storytelling without words?
- Why end the sequence with Mark prying open his skull?
- How does the intro reflect ‘Severance’’s themes of identity and memory?
- What do the unsettling babies represent?
- How do you hint at plot points without spoilers?
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It reflects his fractured identity—caught between memory and manipulation. The surreal transitions and loops show how trapped he feels as his inner and outer worlds blur.
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I think in emotional beats. Each scene is a chapter in a dream, using rhythm, symbolism, and transitions to guide viewers through subconscious connections.
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It symbolizes vulnerability and truth breaking through, even with pain. It’s about identity, control, and self-discovery—disturbing because his journey isn’t comfortable.
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Every frame is about duality and fragmentation. Balloons, mirrored figures, and floating memories show fragile boundaries between identities.
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They symbolize creation—psychological, not just biological. Their design straddles the familiar and uncanny, adding tension to surreal contexts.
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Conversations with Ben and the team helped align the sequence with the season’s emotional core. It’s visual foreshadowing disguised as metaphor—details that click later.
Director, Muse, Editor: Ben Stiller’s Multidimensional Role
- What was your first reaction when Ben reached out?
- How did Ben’s suggestion to add babies evolve?
- Describe your creative dynamic with Ben.
- What’s Ben’s most unconventional suggestion?
- How does Ben’s background influence his feedback?
- What project would you collaborate on next?
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I almost missed his email! My work was gaining traction online, and a friend spotted it. I was hooked by the concept immediately.
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My first thought: “Okay… that’s bold.” But I trusted his instinct. The babies became a surreal layer and powerful metaphor.
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He gave me total freedom. We’d discuss ideas, and he’d guide me if something didn’t align. Collaborative, not micromanaged.
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Nothing felt unconventional—we were in sync. The process was fluid, driven by mutual trust and openness.
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He’s focused on every angle—story, tone, performance, rhythm. His feedback was emotionally and technically valuable.
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Something artistic, psychological, and bold. I’d work with Ben on anything with emotional impact.