At our last group crit, it was suggested that I consider experimenting with blood instead of ink or paint with my mono printing, since I was not able to convey the underlying gruesomeness of the myth, The Mead of Poetry. Since the wetness and sloppiness of the concept was what led me to mono printing in the first place, I decided to give it a try.
After visiting several family butchers around Edinburgh, I discovered that in order to sell blood in the UK, a butcher must go through several governmental inspections and red tape, which most of them are not willing to do. None of the ones I tried were, anyway. The last one did, however, mention that I might be able to find dried blood and, after a quick internet search, I did, from W. Weschenfelder and Sons Sausage Making Supplies. I ordered a kilogram of dried pigs blood and a few days later it arrived.
After trying various experiments, I ended up using acrylic gloss medium mixed with acrylic gel medium to give it body, which was combined with a mixture of dried blood and water. This gave me a media very much the consistency of frosting, which I spread on my glass and then applied the paper. This results in a different effect than the paint I used previously, rendering an interesting pattern of fractal like shapes when the paper is removed.
I am still experimenting both with the media and with the paper, to determine what is the most desirable effect, so I will probably be posting more on this later.
With assessments coming next week and the end of the semester the week following, I thought I would post a little about what I’ve been up to. Oddly, after working all semester, I feel like I don’t have much to show for it, but I think that is mainly because I don’t have many completed pieces. I have been doing a lot of preparatory work and experimentation this semester which will (hopefully) come to fruition in my degree show next semester.
The Mead of Poetry
As mentioned previously in my blog, my maternal great-grandparents immigrated to the U.S. from Norway. I have been interested in Norway for some time, fascinated with the traditional design elements which spread, blended, influenced and were influenced by the Celtic styles. This past summer, I spent a little time in Oslo, visiting museums and familiarising myself with the culture (blog posts here and here). From this trip, I brought home a number of books of Norse myths and folktales.
Amongst these stories, I found one that left me with a compelling image which could be interpreted in any number of ways, gets still be true to the source. In brief, the story of the Mead of Poetry begins like this:
At the conclusion of the Aesir-Vanir War, the Aesir and Vanir gods and goddesses sealed their truce by spitting into a great vat. From their spittle they formed a man whom they named Kvasir (“Fermented Juice”[1]). Kvasir was the wisest human that had ever lived; none were able to present him with a question for which he didn’t have a satisfying answer. He became famous and traveled throughout the world giving counsel.
Kvasir was invited to the home of two dwarves, Fjalar (“Deceiver”[2]) and Galar (“Screamer”[3]). Upon his arrival, the dwarves slew Kvasir and brewed mead with his blood. This mead contained Kvasir’s ability to dispense wisdom, and was appropriately named Óðrœrir (“Stirrer of Inspiration”). Any who drank of it would become a poet or a scholar.
When the gods questioned them about Kvasir’s disappearance, Fjalar and Galar told them that Kvasir had choked on his wisdom.
Now granted, I am extrapolating on things a bit here, but I envision the murder of Kvasir to be a ritualistic and gruesome act, much like the slaughter of an animal. I picture Kvasir bound and strung up by his feet, inverted and ready for his blood to be drained, in preparation for the brewing of the mead.
To this end, I am working on a wooden sculpture of a man, which will ideally hang inverted from the ceiling of my studio. Work so far has involved getting a 6ft block of limewood to carve, and the basic roughing out of the form. I anticipate working first with power tools (an ArborTech Wood Carver) to working with traditional chisels and gouges once the rough shape is completed.
When finished, I hope to hang the figure by the ankles from the ceiling of my studio. This will, of course, depend on a number of issues, not the least of which is Health and Safety. If the piece is not too heavy (the block began life at approx. 200 kilos) and a beam can be found to support it, and I can get the appropriate assistance from the technicians, then it will hang, approximately 3 feet off the ground in the centre of my studio space for the degree show. If this plan fails, then I will need to build a scaffold of some sort and hang it from that, within my studio, probably much lower.
The sculpture of Kvasir as he is today.
Monoprinting
This semester, I also joined the Print Portfolio project, which was originally to be a group of us who would each provide an edition of prints (probably one per person, with an edition of 20-30) to be collected into a boxed set and (hopefully) sold and displayed. We would each get a set of prints for ourselves, to eventually be sold for a fortune when we all make it big. Unfortunately, the parameters of the project have recently changed and I’m not certain what the status is.
Anyway, in addition to the print portfolio, I wanted to utilise the prints in my degree show, as a sort of adjunct to the hanging body of Kvasir. I have toyed with the idea of creating illustrative, narrative prints which will tell the story, as well as simply some more abstracted images which might explore the idea of the Mead of Poetry, which I am thinking of as being similar to a mind-expanding drug.
So I began experimenting with Mono-printing. a method of creating essentially one-off prints. There are several different methods and I tried a few before settling on one which works and gives me the effects I want. What I do is essentially finger paint on glass with limo-ink, then lay the paper on the glass and run a roller over it lightly. This method gives me the possibility for 3 to 4 prints, each of which are significantly different.
I am also experimenting with images in the computer. The idea is that if I get an image I like, either mono-printed or in the computer, I can try (another experiment) using the CNC Router to create a woodcut of it and print multiple images from that. This method would be similar to the one I used in my piece for the Project Space, the Contemporary Stave Church Portal.
For my degree show, I am considering having prints hanging on the walls, but I am also considering printing on the floor of the space, perhaps in a spiral around the hanging figure. Either way, I would like to utilise mono-printing as the starting point for these images.
An example of four different images from the same print. Each time the paper is removed, the image is altered.
Assessment
The physical pieces I have for assessment at the end of the first semester seem scant to me. I have my Portal, which leads into my studio space. I have a rough hewn block of wood which seems to have taken me most of the semester to acquire — locating sawmills and tree surgeons who deal in pieces that size; finding one who had one that was in a wood that I wanted to work in; and finally rationalising the cost and getting it delivered— took me nearly two months. The last thing I have are the mono prints. These currently number around 100, but there are probably only 20 that i consider successful and maybe 10 that I want to show. Very few of these are on archival paper, since I considered this both an experimental and a learning process. Newsprint is cheap and plentiful, so although I tried a few different paper types, the bulk of these prints are on newsprint.
I feel like what I am putting on display are simply stepping stones to my degree show, which hopefully is what the tutors see them as. Although there is a lack of truly finished work, I think the pieces speak to the path I am currently taking.
As I mentioned previously, when I visited the Biennale I saw tonnes of art. Here is another sampling, presented in all their uncaptioned and unprocessed glory, of the many photos I took while there. The artists’ names will go unmentioned simply because to label each one would take far more time than I can allocate for this post. If you are interested in a piece, I can probably supply more information, so contact me or leave a comment.
This past week I spent with classmates in Venice for the Biennale. In order to try and organise my thoughts, I will divide this post up into three sections, the first of which will be my thoughts about the trip in general and Venice, the city, in particular; next I will concentrate on the Biennale and finally on some of the works which I viewed and enjoyed.
VENEZIA
I awoke at 4.00 AM in order to make final preparations and to consume enough coffee to get to the bus stop and catch the 35 to the Airport at 4.45. I had packed the night before, so was able to simply take care of my morning ablutions, dress, and imbibe caffeine with a few minutes to spare. The trip through the airport was smooth and uneventful and I had made it into the plane with the rest of the MFAs on the trip. We settled in and flew away.
We arrived at Marco Polo Airport where we caught the bus to Venice. Being an island, Venice does not have room for an airport, so there are two nearby, Marco Polo and Treviso. The bus dropped us at the train/bus station, Venezia Santa Lucia, in the middle of the western edge of Venice. From here we divided because our lodgings were in different locations; one group in a flat called Academia II, another to one called Castello and a third in the Santa Margherita Guesthouse. My group, Jake, Tim, Tam, Emma and me, were headed for the Academia II which ended up being on the Calle Dei Tedeschi. We walked in a slow semi-circle south and east, crossing canals and wending our way through the narrow alleyways of Venice until we arrived at the dock near our flat. Here we met our key bearer who showed us who to get to the flat itself and inside. The flat itself was smaller than I was expecting and smelled of mould, but was serviceable. We had our own kitchen and bath and although it was cozy, we were able to sleep five without any complaints.
We spent our first day settling in and wandering about. I did a bit of exploring on my own, with my camera, and managed to get some interesting shots of Venice. Venice is a city that seems suspended in a state of glamorous decay. Nothing appears new, but so much is breathtakingly beautiful. There are no cars and I saw only one bicycle while I was there. The canals provide a transportation network on the water – water taxis, gondolas and barges – that allows for an alternative to walking. Most people walk because that’s the most practical way of getting around. The bridges over the canals are stairs rather than ramps, and the spaces between buildings which make up the streets would get termed as alleys in another city. Many of the streets are only wide enough to walk two abreast, while others you could drive a care down if you could get it there. Every neighbourhood seems to have a piazza or two and every piazza has a well. These wells connect to a cistern where rainwater is collected and stored, and though they do not seem to be used at all today, they were once the main source of fresh water in Venice.
LA BIENNALE
Each evening we would meet up as a group (all 13 of us) and get dinner and/or drinks, but during the day, we tended to stay in our housing groups or split up while we were at the Biennale, meeting for lunch or other prearranged times. The Biennale was open until 6pm, with two main sites, the Arsenale and the Giardini. The Gardens were created during Napoleonic times and in 1894 the main pavilion was built. The Biennale webpage explains that the national pavilions were added later.
The pavilions were built over the years, in the following chronological order (name of the architect in brackets): 1907 Belgium (Léon Sneyens); 1909 Hungary (Géza Rintel Maróti); 1909 Germany (Daniele Donghi), demolished and rebuilt in 1938 (Ernst Haiger); 1909 Great Britain (Edwin Alfred Rickards); 1912 France (Umberto Bellotto); 1912 Netherlands (Gustav Ferdinand Boberg), demolished and rebuilt in 1953 (Gerrit Thomas Rietveld); 1914 Russia (Aleksej V. Scusev); 1922 Spain (Javier De Luque) façade renovated in 1952 by Joaquin Vaquero Palacios; 1926 Czech Republic and Slovak Republic (Otakar Novotny); 1930 United States of America (Chester Holmes Aldrich and William Adams Delano); 1932 Denmark (Carl Brummer) enlarged in 1958 by Peter Koch; 1932 Padiglione Venezia (Brenno Del Giudice), enlarged in 1938; 1934 Austria (Josef Hoffmann); 1934 Greece (M. Papandréou – B. Del Giudice); 1952 Israel (Zeev Rechter); 1952 Switzerland (Bruno Giacometti); 1954Venezuela (Carlo Scarpa); 1956 Japan (Takamasa Yoshizaka); 1956 Finland (Alvar Aalto Pavilion); 1958 Canada (Gruppo BBPR, Gian Luigi Banfi, Ludovico Barbiano di Belgiojoso, Enrico Peressutti, Ernesto Nathan Rogers); 1960 Uruguay; 1962 Nordic Countries: Sweden, Norway, Finland (Sverre Fehn); 1964 Brazil (Amerigo Marchesin); 1987 Australia (Philip Cox); 1995 Korea (Seok Chul Kim and Franco Mancuso).
Each pavilion is a marvel in and of itself. The architecture varies from Neo-classical to more contemporary forms, but they all seem to fit well into the setting. The Main pavilion was used to house the Encyclopaedic Palace, a show based on a concept by Marino Auriti who designed a museum to house all the world’s knowledge together in one place. Although the majority of artists represented are still living, the show does seem to collect a wide variety of pieces and styles from the past century.
Thetitle chosen by curator Massimiliano Gioni for the 55th International Art Exhibition is Il Palazzo Enciclopedico / The Encyclopedic Palace. Massimiliano Gioniintroduced the choice of theme evoking the Italo-American self-taught artist Marino Auriti who “on November 16, 1955 filed a design with the US Patent office depicting his Palazzo Enciclopedico (The Encyclopedic Palace), an imaginary museum that was meant to house all worldly knowledge, bringing together the greatest discoveries of the human race, from the wheel to the satellite. Auriti’s plan was never carried out, of course, but the dream of universal, all-embracing knowledge crops up throughout history, as one that eccentrics like Auriti share with many other artists, writers, scientists, and prophets who have tried – often in vain – to fashion an image of the world that will capture its infinite variety and richness.”
The National Pavilions are just that. Each one houses an artist or artists that represent that nation. For me, the National Pavilions worked better than the Palace, since you were rarely bombarded by more than a handful of ideas at a time and you had the chance to digest what you had seem while you walked from one pavilion to the next. The Palace was like a never-ending art gallery with hundreds or possibly thousands of different artists, themes, styles, concepts and ideas constantly vying for attention. Although I saw a lot of wonderful artworks in there, without my camera I would have forgotten so many simply because of the sheer, overwhelming spectacle of it all.
The Arsenale is located in another area of Venice, and housed even more art. As the world has grown smaller, more and more nations want to exhibit at the Biennale and there is simply not enough room at the Giardini. The Arsenale is a complex of buildings which were used for manufacturing, ship=building. storage and so forth. The first buildings were built in the 13th century with others being added over the centuries after.
The Arsenale is the largest pre-industrial production centre of the world. Its surface occupied forty-six hectars, and it would host up to 2000 workers a day in full swing. It is an important place for Venice, not only because the Serenissima fleet was built there, but also because these shipyards, depots and workshops were the symbol of the military, economical and political power Venice had back in time.
Although it was not completely filled, the majority of buildings housed either national or groups of artists. Because of the size of the spaces, few of them were filled completely which made the pieces easier to digest before going on to the next.
SOME OF MY FAVOURITES
Over the two days exploring the Biennale I saw a lot of great art and though some of it was overwhelming in scope, I definitely did come away with some I liked and some I remembered.
Pawel Althamer, Venetians. The unconventional use of materials in these sculptures really intrigued me. Althamer had life masks made from volunteers here in Venice, then attached them to metal armatures in various positions. These were draped with different types of thermo-plastics which were shaped and melted on the body to suggest muscle, ligament, tendon and skin, as well as clothing and hats. They remind me in some ways of Gunther van Hagen’s plastinated figures.
Shary Boyle, Music for Silence. This piece interested me in a number of ways. I found myself fascinated by the way that lighting can transform a piece. To me, the way she used lighting on the main piece transformed it into three separate pieces. The piece as a porcelain sculpture, in white with lighting that described its shape was interesting to me as a sculpture. The shadowed piece appeared to be formed of separate two dimensional pieces, like a collage, while the piece with the projected colour images on it became a nearly solid two dimensional piece. Her other sculptures on display were interesting, but didn’t affect me as much.
Yiqing Yin, In Between. Something about this spoke to me and I am not sure I can articulate it yet. This piece was in the Padiglione Venezia, a pavilion dedicated to textile works, along with other textile artists. The sketchy quality of the figure, the ethereal way the fabric move in the breeze, the excess thread which collected below and anchored the figure to the ground all seem to contribute to an otherworldly quality that appealed to me.
Patrick Van Caekenbergh, Drawings of Old Trees. As a naturalist artist, I really liked the devotion to detail of form and texture that are conveyed in these pieces.
R. Crumb, The Book of Genesis Illustrated. I was surprised and pleased to find R. Crumb represented at the Biennale. In the past, I have known fine art aficionados to dismiss his work as purely illustrative, after all, he’s only a comic book artist!But he is also a creative genius and, like Norman Rockwell and Maxfield Parrish, has given the U.S. many iconic images from Mr. Natural to Fritz the Cat and the Keep on Truckin’ slogan of the 1970’s. It seems only fitting that his 207 page black and white illustrated Story of Genesis be represented here. Each panel reflecting the biblical text in a way that has not been seen previously.
In addition to R. Crumb, there were a number of other American artists included in the Encyclopaedic Palace– Richard Serra, Robert Nagel, John DeAndrea, Charles Ray, Duane Hanson, Paul McCarthy, Eliot Porter, among many others. I find that my US-centric education has made them more familiar to me than their non-American counterparts, and although I am trying desperately to catch up, it is always reassuring to know that those artists that I studied in school and recognise are also recognised in a global context.
Other pieces I saw, felt compelled to photograph, and liked enough to include are:
On this trip, I took 538 photos, the majority of them at the Biennale. I will try to post some more of them later, possibly without comment. I think this post has gone on long enough as it is and I need to do something other than blog this weekend.
Below are some videos from the Biennale’s YouTube channel which go into greater detail about some of the pieces.
Pawel Althamer, Venetians
CANADA: Shary Boyle, Music for Silence
GREAT BRITAIN: Jeremy Deller, English Magic
FINLAND: Antti Laitinen, Falling Trees
BELGIUM: Berlinde De Bruyckere, Kreupelhout – Cripplewood
Day two of my Oslo adventure was, unfortunately, a short day since I flew out in the evening. I needed to head to the airport by 4pm, so I had planned only on visiting the National Gallery of Art today, leaving the afternoon open for whatever. On my (roundabout) way there, at the intersection of St. Olaf’s Gate and Kristian IV’s Gate, I discovered a wonderful memorial to the composer Rikard Nordraak who composed the Norwegian National Anthem. It is hidden in a little copse of trees with stairs leading up to it. At the base of the stairs is a pair of wrought iron creatures which strongly resemble traditional Viking dragons, and at the top of the stairs is a block of stone with a statue of Nordraak. This piece was created by Gustav Vigeland around 1911.
I arrived at the Gallery early and got my ticket to Munch 150, a retrospective of Edvard Munch‘s work, celebrating his 150 birthday. Like most museums in the UK, The National Gallery in Oslo is free if you’re visiting the standard collections but is ticketed for special exhibitions.
Unfortunately, the Gallery did not allow photographs in the Munch exhibition, so I have no photos of his work. If you are only familiar with The Scream, I suggest checking out examples of his other work on the Google Art Project, or on Wikipedia.
Since they curated the exhibition in both a thematic and a chronological order, I found it very interesting to watch Munch’s transition from a Realist portrait painter to that of the Symbolist who painted the Scream, with several stylistic variations in between. Looking at paintings during the period 1893 and 1900 I could see a variety of styles and influences, before he arrived at the intensely coloured, flowing style he is most associated with. With his paintings, Munch began exploring peak emotional states, and began working on a series he later called “The Frieze of Life.” This series includes works such as Madonna, Anxiety, The Kiss, Vampire, Death in the Sick Room, and, of course, The Scream.
Munch worked in a number of media, experimenting with lithography, woodcuts and oil pastels among others. The exhibition shows how he would recreate the same motif in multiple media, or by developing printmaking techniques to change the image’s colour or background.
He died in 1944 during the Nazi occupation of Norway, bequeathing his artistic estate to the city of Oslo. This became the basis for the Munch Museum which opened in 1963.
After the Munch exhibit, I wandered through the other exhibits. The Gallery had a modest gallery of European artists on display including Picasso, Monet, Rodin, Degas, and Gauguin. They were also running an exhibition in conjunction with Munch 150, called Highlights from the Collection. This featured Norwegian artists such as J.C. Dahl, Adolph Tidemand, Christian Krohg, and Harald Sohlberg. They were primarily realist, romantic painters whose work often had a nationalistic focus. This exhibition was an interesting contrast to Munch, whose focus was the psyche, rendered in symbolic style.
When I finished at the Gallery, I still had a couple of hours to kill before heading to the airport. I decided to take a walk and explore Pipervika, the district around the waterfront. On my way, I passed through Eidsvolls plass, a park with the National Theatre at one end and the Norwegian Parliament building at the other. Bordered on one side by Karl Johans Gate, a pedestrian shopping street, the park is dotted with statues and trees, a fountain and an ice rink in the winter. It is a beautiful little oasis in the downtown area of Oslo.
I made my way down to the Oslo City Hall, a huge brick building built in the early twentieth century. It faces the harbour and is surrounded with statues, a fountain in front, and a clock in one of the towers. A second astronomical clock is also situated on the north side.
From here, I headed west and passed the Nobel Peace Center, then headed out toward Aker Brygge, a district situated on an arm of land that juts out into Oslo Fjord. I walked along the water and discovered several public art pieces– statues of both traditional and modern styles. At the end of Aker Brygge is the Astrup Fearnley Museum of Modern Art, a privately funded contemporary art gallery. I had planned on visiting here, but looking at the time I realised that I needed to start heading to the airport.
I turned around and walked back to the National Theatre train station and caught the train to Torp-Sandefjord where I was flying out of. The train was crowded and I feared that I would have to stand the entire trip, but after a few stops, enough commuters got off to allow most of us to sit. I soon arrived at the airport, checked in and flew out.
This past week, I took another quickie trip, this time to Oslo, Norway. The choice of destination may sound a little odd to some people, so let me briefly explain. I have been doing genealogical research this summer since I have been, for a long time, interested in my ancestral roots. I find it interesting to think of how our ancestry influences the people we are and what those roots can tell us.
My father was adopted, so we know virtually nothing about his (biological) side of the family. I think this may have influenced my quest for identity more than any other factor. On my mother’s side, I have been able to trace the the family back several generations, and it appears that my great-grandmother (along with her parents and a passel of siblings) immigrated from Norway to the United States in the late nineteenth century. I have yet to trace them into Norway itself, but still hope to do so.
I am considering working some of this heritage into my art, possibly through folk tales or mythic imagery, so I decided it would be a good opportunity to do a little hands on research. I arrived in Norway at the Torp-Sandefjord Airport, south of Oslo, on Wednesday evening. My plane was late and it was dark out, so I was unable to much of the landscape. I boarded the shuttle to the train and took the train to Oslo. It was a short walk from the train station to my hotel.
On Thursday morning, I rose early and had breakfast in the hotel. They had a buffet which was geared to a more continental palette, reminding me of what was considered breakfast when I stayed in Germany many years ago. The hotel had made some concessions to their US and UK visitors by providing scrambled eggs, baked beans and cereal. The rest of the buffet consisted of breads, runny yogurt, processed meat, fresh veggies, cheese, tomato and onion salad and other items I was unable to identify. It was interesting and fun to have such diverse options.
My first stop was the Viking Ship Museum which is located with a cluster of other cultural museums on a small spurt of land called Bygdøy. Bygdøy juts out into Oslo Fjord and is bit west of downtown Oslo. The bus took me right to the doorstep of the museum and in I walked. It was amazing to see the ships here in their various states of reconstruction.There are three ships here, perhaps the most famous of which is the Osberg ship, discovered in 1903 by a farmer on Lille Oseberg farm in Slagen in Vestfold.
In the year 834, two prosperous women died. The Oseberg ship was pulled ashore and used as a burial ship for the two ladies. A burial chamber was dug right behind the ship’s mast. Inside, the walls were decorated with fantastic woven tapestries and the dead women lay on a raised bed. The women had a number of burial gifts with them. There were personal items such as clothes, shoes and combs, ship’s equipment, kitchen equipment, farm equipment, three ornate sledges and a working sledge, a wagon, five carved animal heads, five beds and two tents. There were fifteen horses, six dogs and two small cows.
The Gokstad ship was uncovered in 1879.
The Gokstad ship was built in about 850, at the height of the Viking period. There was a need for ships that could serve many purposes and the Gokstad ship could have been used for voyages of exploration, trade and Viking raids. The ship could be both sailed and rowed. There are 16 oar holes on each side of the ship. With oarsmen, steersman and lookout, that would have meant a crew of 34. There is no sign of thwarts. The oarsmen probably sat on chests, which could also have held personal equipment.
The ship is made of oak and is clinker-built, with 16 rows of strakes. The nine strakes below the waterline are only two to three centimetres thick, making the sides both light and flexible. The keel is made of one straight piece of oak. The deck consists of pine planks that can be easily lifted, so that the crew could easily bale out water if needed. This also gave storage space for a little cargo.
White woollen cloth with red cloth strips sewn on was found in the forepart of the ship. This may have been the remains of the sail. At the time of burial, 32 shields were fixed to each side of the ship. They were painted yellow and black, alternately. The ends of the bow and stern posts had rotted away, so it is unclear how they were finished. There is nothing to indicate that dragon heads were fixed to them. But even without dragon heads, the Gokstad ship must have been an impressive sight when it came over the horizon in full sail.
The third ship is from Tune, excavated in 1867 on Nedre Haugen farm at Rolvsøy, near Fredrikstad. Since this was an early excavation, standard archeological practices were not yet in place and the find was not removed or preserved with the care that the others received. Not only are there spade marks on parts of the ship from the careless way that it was uncovered, but many of the items of the find itself went missing and never made it back to Oslo.
Not only are the ships fascinating, but the artefacts recovered are remarkable as well. I was immensely impressed with the intricate and complex carvings on both the ships and on the other artefacts from the sites. The cart, sleighs, post heads and tent posts are all carved with these distinctive designs. Many are decorated with silver or bronze tack heads which set off and accent the designs. According to the archeologist’s notes, when these artefacts were uncovered the designs were painted with bright colours. “To conserve the fragile wood, many of the objects were immersed in a solution of hot alum salts. Afterwards the pieces were glued and screwed together, and then varnished for display.” Unfortunately, the alum salts removed any surface paint and sometimes caused fine details to disappear.
Just down the road from the Ship Museum is the Norwegian Folk Museum, “Norway’s largest museum of cultural history featuring the world’s oldest open air museum and large indoor collections.” This is similar in some ways to the Alaska Native Heritage Center, where there are houses of the various Alaskan Native peoples and traditionally dressed attendants who answer questions and provide information.
In this case, the houses and outbuildings are from various parts of Norway from around 1500 to the present. They have rebuilt complete farms, logging sites, an apartment building and numerous other dwellings. There are over 150 buildings from rural and urban Norway, including the collection of King Oscar II (yes, he collected buildings). The buildings are decorated appropriately for their status and eras; some quite ornately while others are very simple with perhaps some carved areas on the wooden walls or doors. In addition to classic log structures and traditional looking farmhouses, there is a magnificent Stave Church from Gol. In 1880 it was to be replaced with a more modern building, so it was presented to King Oscar who had it transported and rebuilt on Bygdøy.
There is also an “Old Town” section which is comprised of buildings from Oslo and its suburbs.
Christiania (Oslo) In 1624 the town of Oslo was completely destroyed by fire. King Christian IV decreed that the town should be moved west, closer to the protection of Akershus Fortress. This new town was called Christiania and was laid out with wide streets which met at right angles, designed to hinder the spread of fire. Buildings in the new town were to be made of stone or brick, and not of the traditional log construction. People who could not afford to build brick houses were allowed to build half-timbered structures, “in the Danish fashion.” Christiania became a little town typical of Northern Europe with 330 properties with buildings of brick, halftimbering and logs. Ramparts were built around the town for defense. These defined the town’s dimensions for many years to come. The wealthy lived around Bjørvika, the harbor area. The harbor was continually being filled in and new streets and houses built.
Many of these small, old-world buildings were replaced during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and some were acquired and rebuilt at the Folk Museum to form the Old Town. Like the other buildings in the Folk Museum, you can look inside many of these and see furnishings and decorations from their appropriate eras.
After wandering around the nearly 35 square acre site for a few hours, I was ready for some time indoors, so I hopped the bus back to Oslo proper and headed to the Museum of Cultural History. Here, the more fragile bits of the ship burials residing at the Viking Ship Museum are displayed, in addition other artefacts from the Stone, Bronze, Iron and Viking Ages in Norway, a Mediaeval Gallery and Ethnographic and Egyptian exhibitions.
It was getting to be late in the day and I had only an hour or so before the museum closed, so I concentrated on the Viking Age and Museum galleries. The Viking Age collection contains jewellery, weapons, tools, and such, all uniquely decorated and carved. It was amazing to see these items in person, having so often seen them before in books and drawings. Brooches and pins were all intricately decorated with carvings that baffle the eye. The simplicity of the forms combines with the complex knotwork patterns to form a maze that one can get lost in.
In the Mediaeval Gallery, they had collected some fine examples of the carved entryways to Stave Churches. Stave Churches are of wooden, post and lintel construction; the load-bearing posts are called stav in Norwegian. The portals were often decorated with traditional knotwork designs incorporating animals, birds and people into the intricate patterns.
As I exited the Mediaeval Gallery, I realised that they the museum was closing and it was time to go.