With mama Nature one crisp spring morning last April. This beautifully mutilated tree hides in the Nuuksio National Park, just a half hour’s drive from downtown Helsinki.
(Espoo, Finland; April 2017)
Belle epoque kitsch
That is a Steinway. Upholstered, because black was apparently not stylish enough. This must be a prime example of 1890s kitsch.
(Hallwyl House, Stockholm, Sweden; April 2017)
Gilded ceilings and electric lights
Imagine the splendor and style of Versailles – with original electric light fittings. The bustle of a country castle downstairs kitchen – with modern, white tiles stretching over the walls and the ceiling. And an electric kitchen elevator, and three water faucets: one for hot, one for cold, and one for rain water.
This was all highly unusual in any wealthy, traditional-style house in Stockholm at the turn of the 20th century. But the Hallwyl couple seem to have been unusual, too: they built a palace with all the modern, sometimes experimental, luxuries of the turn of the century. They then proceeded to decorate it in the style of what can only be described as flitting from good taste to extravagant kitsch. During that time, who really chose their salon decor to mimic French gilded rococo?
The lady of the house sure did not hesitate when she bought 15th century tapestries before she even had a house, and designed the living room to fit the tapestries. She also did not hesitate in general, as she collected almost anything and everything she considered art: from china to paintings and to swords and pistols. She then proceeded to convert her newly built house to a museum for future generations, and produced a set of 78 printed books cataloguing all her possessions.
One cannot help but wonder whether this was truly the passion of a lady interested in beauty and the world, or a well-planned project to gain power through magnanimity? And how did she fit into society? Her house surely must have been the cause of many curious rumors and stories. Perhaps this was just as she liked it?
(Hallwyl House, Stockholm; April 2017)
Apologies for the radio silence
Lovely ones, apologies for the long silence. You see, I have spent the two past months in Africa. I thought I would have so much time to write, but first there were long (lovely) days with dolphins, then some crazy driving around the desert, and finally more lovely days by and in water a most astonishingly shade of turquoise.
Back up North now. Please bear with me as I pick up where I left off. And drop by for impressions of Africa. 
(Helsinki, Finland: August 2017)
Lunch in Stockholm
Quick snapshot of the City Hall after a lunch with the Mayor of Stockholm. Although I must confess I did not know she was the Mayor until much later – this due to the confusing title she has in Swedish (I just thought she was a senior council member). And I sat opposite to her. Oops.
Usually I don’t make such a miss because I depend on my excellent governmental affairs colleagues who brief me before every meeting. I am terrible at trying to follow the politics of any of the Nordic countries I work in – including my own. Instead of being thankful that I live in a democracy and actively participating, I try to exclude politics from my life. How very privileged and ungrateful.
(Stockholm, Sweden; April 2017)
Spring (just recently)
spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)andwithout breaking anything.
(e. e. cummings)
(Helsinki, Finland; April 2017)
Sunday, 11 am
I try to educate myself. The cats do not share my priorities.
(Helsinki, Finland; April 2017)
Blue for Kathmandu
There was cocktails, and delicious food. There were people dressed up all lovely. There was live music – and an auction to support our orphans in Kathmandu. And the location was probably the most contrasting to the cause: the “home” of Absolut Vodka, in Stockholm.
We toured the “apartment” (which really was an apartment, save for the kitchen, because no rock stars and artists staying here ever have time to cook). There was a bedroom with a floor-covering bed, and a bathroom with televisions from a U2 concert. And a studio. Of course. The staff were fiercely proud of the place, to the extent that they had been insulted by our question if it was possible to serve beer at the bar (only Absolut cocktails were ever going to be served!).
And I could not help but think of the kids in Kathmandu who had probably never tasted Absolut vodka. To whom a brand, an image, of an alcoholic beverage is not worth a rupee. I thought about the absurd abstraction of building a luxury party home for a distilled rye beverage that melts your brain and crisps your liver. And how we worship images, whether they were religious or consumables that we most likely do not need.
I work in the pharmaceuticals and health technology industry; a branch that also has been heavily criticized. Sometimes with reason. But I know we save lives and make people’s lives better. I could not say the same if I worked for Absolut. And yet, because of my lovely friends and the people at Absolut Atelier, we were able to raise a significant sum of money for the kids in Kathmandu; enough for a few years to come.
Maybe Hamlet was right. “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.”
(Absolut Atelier, Stockholm, Sweden; March 2017)
Saturday, 11 am
Whoever thought getting up was a good idea was wrong.
(Helsinki, Finland; March 2017)
Cante y baile
After 10 years, it was still there. In the vaults of an old building at Placa Reial. Of course it was, since it’s been there since the 60s. Still as fresh and interesting – and a little freshened up as well.
But this time there was not only baile (dancing) but also cante flamenco, singing. And oh, what singing! It was grief, longing, and despair vocalized. Intense pain and saudade shoved through a microphone into the speakers and making the air in the club vibrate and my hair stand on end.
Before we left, the crying turned into an impromptu party: the stage was invaded by a bunch of visitors, kicking off their shoes and joining the show in jeans with bare feet. It turns out one does not need the step-shoes or the frills-dress to put on the airs of flamenco passion.
(Barcelona, Spain; March 2017)
This blue marble 