This summer was the first time in many years to hold a painting exhibition in Norway.
Gallery Flood is situated on an island just outside the city of Sandefjord. Just130 km southwest of the capital Oslo it is reached by exellent roads with great views of the ocean along the way and is a very popular holiday destination.
…overcast morning down by the Fjord: water is cool but immensely fresh, if you find the guts, an early morning bath leaves you feel refreshed – and brave! like nothing else…
Featuring the almost obligatory breathtaking views over the ocean and fjords it also happens to be next door to where I have spent quality time in the past on holidays as well as on other occasions as my aunt lives next door.
the gallery in the preparation phase as I am trying to work out the best ways to hang my things in harmony with the craftwork already there.
Having had favourable receptions on my work in Kenya I should have been totally at ease by expanding my circles but it is alway the way, I guess, that every time one enters something new there is this slight anxiety. So, being slightly nervous about the reception of my work in my native setting this gallery gave the best possible frame as a good combination of something new, something well known… bringing the past and the present together.
me slightly nervous but trying not to let it show, however, the clasping hands let it all away, isnt it…!
I came to Norway a few days before, visiting friends and family and taking photos to share with you here on this blog both from the famous Vigeland Sculpture park but also from the Botanical gardens of Oslo as they recently had a new addition I wanted to take a closer look at.
This lovely addition is a garden created with the specific purpose of giving people with Alzheimers desease a sense of belonging and rememberance as it contains “oldfashioned” plants and features from gardens in the Eastern part of Norway.
The idea is that they can come here, sit on a bench and reconnect with memories from a distant past, and to give them a sense of stability through recognition of something familiar.
I think this is a lovely idea. By making the estethical pleasures of the gardens made for beauty and relaxation vivid in the mind through the eye, the touch and the olifactory senses one can connect to deeper levels of self and otherness.
It is always nice to have a quiet bite at the cafe…
Then: Preparing for departure “down south” next day I cycled downwards through Oslo City Center to buy my train ticket and check the departure times. Then back home past the Government quarters to avoid getting stuck in the tramlines next to the Catherdal and then zigzakking up to Frogner via the castle and its lovely park.
Learning that the train tunnels in central part of Oslo was under reconstruction and it would be a complicated journey with buses etc., I chose to ride my bike with my paitings rolled up and my gear on my back to Lysaker - the nearest station open – the next day.
taking a break at Lysakerkilen - my fabulous foldable bike is a new love!
I started early, passed through Vigelandsparken and took these images of people having fun posing as the sculptures, strolling about, enjoying the weather…
It was the morning of the 22nd of June 2011.
And little did I know that the world, for us, would change dramatically that day.
I tried to write about this earlier. Somehow my computer crashed and the blogpost disappeared. Having other things coming up; travels to Italy, Marocco, England… death of a loved one… health issues… I never musted the force to write as I felt I had to deal with this post before anything else. and the time was just not right. Whatever came out too raw, somehow, or it felt too platonic merging the loss and sadness with the happiness and joy of the wonderful experiences that also had been part of this last months so I kept postphoning it. until now.
As I came back to the house after bringing my paintings to the gallery and setting myself up for stretching them we settled in front of the television to watch the news.
There had been a terrorist attack. First a bomb. then shootings. Filled with dread and sadness I remembered passing by the exact spot at the exact time the bomb had gone off the previous day. My thoughts went out to people I know working in the area. were they ok? no answer on the phone. then the details came. the children enjoying companionship and happiness gunned down. it was too much to take in. I was devastated. and in doubt: should we cancel the show? would it be disrespectful?
the gallerist and I talked and thought and decided; we will go on. but on a smaller scale.
I am happy we did that.
Between 150 and 200 people showed up for the opening. And they continued to come. They wanted to talk, they said; we do not want to be stopped by this. life must go on. perhaps we have become complacent, perhaps we have become spoiled. we must open our hearts and mind and embrace life, embrace eachother, grow closer.
it was magical. it changed something in me listening to these people reflecting on themselves in such an open way. At the opening I tried to give an impression of what life in Africa is like and got quite engaged, it seems… (btw the painting in the background is from Langebybukta, based on a sketch I made the previous year…) and I tried to tell the tale of how the strong togetherness in our local Maasai Community is working and how important it is for them to have foras where all aspect of a problem or an idea is discussed at length regardless of your position until an agreement is reached.
the next weekday I went to Oslo. Being very Norwegian, not wanting to pry, not wanting to be in the way for the investigations, still wanting to pay my respect and face the facts I silently made my way downtown.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I came closer to the Cathredal. Even before I saw the hundreds of thousands of flowers I could feel, tangibly, an atmosphere of silent togetherness and strength.
It was as if the normal sounds of a busy city had gotten mufled, somehow. There they were. thousands of them. families with small children. young people and old. all composed. talking, not in hushed but silent and clear voices. standing. feeling. thinking. masses of flowers and greetings, stopping here, reading there. walking through the pathways made. most had flowers, some cards, some flags. and pictures. drawings. it was as time itself had come to a standstill. and I fell in love with my country again, with the strength, with the difference it can do to dare to be silent together, to allow the immensity of what was truly a national tragedy come forward not in loudness and cries of revenge but in a silent intimacy. that touched my heart in a deeper and more lasting way than any outcry would have made. Is it not always so? that silence looms larger than words? when true strength is manifested, is it not so that it does so calmly? that the terror came from within, did that not also show that we had not been present enough? not caring enough? that we needed to rethink?
To be together in silence is a very intimate act. To experience gently move around in a crowd who all move deliberately, consciously, knowingly, respectfully, is, in a way, to experience love on its deepest level.
these people did not belong to some specific group that had made it a point of showing up as a political standpoint. they had not been through years and years of training in empathy and lovingkindness. they were no hardheaders present there to criticize. to condemn. to demand. the point was simple. These everyday people were there to be there. to show that they cared. to feel together and to show by the act of coming there and to participate in silent respectful moving around bringing their most precious ones – their children – that they could be counted on. it was like a dance! magic! It showed, and they wanted to show, that they had their hearts intact, their minds set to overcome and to understand the tragedy. and to continue to live their lives with love and kindness.
Impressingly profound. the very act of being there as individuals, as families and as friends, completely unorganized, yet capable of this great… gentleness. and I, by myself, I walked around in this, I watched and thought and then, when the moment felt right, left for the other things that was on my agenda that day. but it did not leave me. and it never will. and that is exactly how it should be.
perhaps it is time to move on, now.
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