See the puddles on the frozen fields? Spring is gaining foothold every day, even in Norway!
(Norway, March 2015)
Tag Archives: Scandinavia
Good Monday morning Norway!
(Oslo, Norway; February 2014)
Finnish inherited blindness
There were white surfaces, and light wooden floors. Clean edges and no frills. There were practical tables, durable chairs, and simple lighting. And it was all so Finnish we did not think it was all too marvelous. We shrugged; of course the home we grew up in had several Savoy vases. Of course we ate our kindergarten lunches on the Stool 60 and the table with L-shaped legs. They were designed by a Finn to be used by Finns.
And so it was difficult to set our minds on the wavelength of quiet reverence of the American party that joined us on our tour of Alvar Aalto’s home. What did they see that we did not? I washed my thoughts with images of American homes, focused really hard, and stared squinting at the Tank chair. After some effort I began to catch glimpses of how different the zebra upholstery and the simple curved frame was from everything that was ordinary across the Atlantic. How our fellow tourists saw the boxy, minimalistic shape of the house so extraordinary, and how everything Aalto is both Finnish and resonates so with the Japanese. I blinked – and the magic was broken. I was back in a room that felt homely and familiar.
Aalto is wired into our cultural inheritance, and it surfaces with symptoms of inherited blindness for things others consider singular. Things we consider for granted others collect as design items.
As I stepped back out into the bleary January Saturday I wondered how much we could learn about ourselves if we could only step out of our own cultural contexts? And how much more beautiful and wonder-full the world would suddenly become?
(Alvar Aalto house, Helsinki, Finland; January 2015)
Oh summer, why are you so far away?
It was a cool, rainy midsummer, but it was still mid-summer. Now it is mid-winter. Oh summer, why are you so far away? Is it not unreasonable to require us to speed through space half a lapse around the sun until we see you again?
(Helsinki, Finland; June 2014)
Winter solstice
Cold cold cold on Christmas Day. This is how high the sun is in Southern Finland at 2 pm, 4 days after winter solstice. I am happy we do see the sun once in a while, even if it usually happens on bitterly cold days. Because further up north, Day took a vacation until later in 2015.
(Loviisa, Finland; December 2014)
I spy visitors from behind a frosty glass
While we feasted on Scandinavian christmas delicacies, these roe deer feasted on frozen, sweet apples from last summer. It was a cold, snowy christmas night. Hopefully somewhere a barn door was left open by a friendly soul.
(Loviisa, Finland, December 2014)
Christmas in the country
We packed our bags and presents and cats and groceries and headed for a christmas in the country, for the very first time. Christmas is probably the least probable time of the year when we find ourselves thinking of change. Yet it is change my thoughts unwillingly return to each year, and the reminder of how much I was against the changes that shaped our christmas from a beloved tradition to a glove that just does not fit.
Traditions are not meant to be broken, but sometimes life goes on and old ways cling to us desperately like the last leaves on winter-bare trees. Sometimes a shrug and a shake may be a better way. Sometimes a sparse arrangement of the most precious baubles and garlands and angels is better than a tree so covered in tinsel one barely sees the branches underneath. Even if it seems like traditions can be set in stone, they all have had to flex through time to stay on board. Sometimes it is time to gently nudge them into new grooves and discover how surprisingly smooth this can be, and how welcome the end result.
(Loviisa, Finland; December 2014)
Santa’s layover lounge
The reindeer must have their own hangar. With bales of lichen instead of tanks of kerosine. But in vain I looked for mincemeat pies in the lounge bar. Perhaps Santa stopped by here last night?
(Finnair lounge, Helsinki airport, Finland; December 2014)
Waving, not yet drowning
I could bore you with a million wing shots. Or hotel room shots. Or shots of my telephone and headset. Suffice to say I am buried under an avalanche that is called a new cancer drug launch. Hoping to resurface in London later this week with a few days off. Until then would you kindly sympathize with me when I tell you the Nordics is currently drowning in a wave of frost from Siberia? Oh yes, it is exactly as cold and dark as it looks like on this photo.
Again I remind myself it is we who are on a trajectory away from the sun. The Earth and I are both leaning towards the cold outer space until Christmas. I look at the seashells I picked from the beach sand in Kenya, now looking slightly lost on my windowsill, and remind myself that the heat and light still exist, elsewhere. For now dear Nordics, it is candles, tea, and woollen wraps. And ice-cold airplanes in the morning.
(Hotel J, Stockholm, Sweden; October 2014)
Daylight breaking at Helsinki airport
Taxiing down as the sun comes up. Only cold mornings bring such crisp dawns. So often I forget that the sun always shines and it is the world that turns away at night.
(Helsinki airport, Finland; October 2014)
This blue marble 