Dec 25, 2011

In the middle of a time line

- Where do they all come from, my sons are asking me this Christmas morning.

The little white wooden church in my village close to Umeå is temporary awakened from its hibernation. It’s filled with people up very early for the Christmas morning service, the traditional “julotta”. So where do they all come from?

I am the seventh generation on my mother’s side in my village, my sons the eighth. That’s as far as the family tree takes us. Once this church was a bride. Born and built in the late twenties by my grandfather and the farmers of the village, dressed in white by their women. Every Sunday they greeted her. They filled her soul with hymns and dignified rest of the seventh day. 70 years later her body is still solid but mostly cold, empty and forgotten.

Except for the Christmas mornings. My sons question is legitimate, for there are more people in the church this morning than inhabitants of the village. The room is warm from the electrical stove. The light is shut down, replaced by flickering candles. People gather in the pews, shaking hands, nodding, smiling, scooting after to let everybody have a seat.

I am a grand daughter of these Christmas mornings and I am sitting on the front row with my sons and their cousin ready for our contribution, the music. The people of my village has been known for being musical, and my grandfather Carl had the most beautiful voice. He had been told that putting reed in the wooden walls of the church would make a wonderful acoustics, so he did, and it was proven to be true. Through the years Carl had enclosed the Christmas morning ceremony with singing the song that to parts of the western world was the most powerful one, Adolphe Adam’s “O Holy Night”. It was sung in churches and cathedrals in capitols and cities, and it was sung in a white wooden church with the sound of a concert hall in a tiny village in the woods.

Carl died before he got to know that his voice was carried on to his son and his grandchildren. This morning O Holy Night was sung by his great grandson, who at the age of 26 has already carried that tradition for more than a decade.

I feel like I am standing in the middle of a time line. On one side; the generations behind me. My mother and her siblings, my grandparents, great grandparents, that is as far as the stories go. On the other side; my children and their children and grandchildren to come. And the stories they will be told. And that’s why the wooden church is filled with people on the Christmas morning. To be a part of this. To be a part of the big story.

Dec 10, 2011

A nobel day


Winter has arrived. A big storm hit Sweden yesterday, covered a lot of parts in heavy wet snow. Although we are, in comparison, prepared for this kind of weather, power outings and impassible roads are still an inconvenience.

But it’s beautiful. Although the snow and I aren’t best friends while I am forcing its powers, I can recognize the Christmas card beauty here at the end of the road in my little village in he outskirts of Umeå. And the winter landscape is laid out just in time for the Lucia celebration on Tuesday December 13.

But today a different celebration, as reliable and enlightening as Lucia. I am watching the Nobel Prize Ceremony on television. I’ve only watched the whole thing once before, in 1997. I had promised to tape every minute of it for The Nordic Heritage Museum in Seattle, they were preparing for their own Nobel celebration. So, I was loading hour after our on my VHS while watching this ceremony with new eyes. Eyes that had just arrived in Sweden after spending a year in Seattle.

This was a year when the snow had laid out its soft quilt all over Stockholm. Venice of the Nordic countries, a picture in the dark December afternoon. The City Hall with its characteristic tower the main setting, inside The Blue Hall all spruced up with Italian flowers, glowing warm from artistic lights, candles, music and gorgeous dresses. And then there is a king. And a beautiful queen. A handsome prince and two lovely princesses.

With eyes who had just spent a year in the US I could sense the foreign guests astonishment being a part of all this. This tiny country close to the North Pole frozen in frosting. Hosting one of the most important events of the world. Is it really for real? And today, I hear Alexis Steinman, daughter of late Ralph Steinman, Medicine Laureate, saying what I was thinking back then 14 years ago: “It’s like a fairy tale!”

I’m not sure that we in Sweden are fully aware of the impact of the Nobel Prize. It’s an institution in the Swedish society that passes by like a glimpse every dark December, out in the world though it’s a torch for scientific and intellectual enlightenment. Nobel is one of very few magic words in any language, for most parts unquestioned and solid. And a Swedish brand, I would say understated and somewhat overlooked by us. Maybe we are too close. Maybe you need to get your eyes opened far away to see. Maybe you need to get out of your own shadow. And even then it might be hard to find the words. To quote Tomas Tranströmer, the Literature Laureate 2011:

I am carried in my shadow
like a violin
in its black case

All I want to say
gleams out of reach
like the silver
in a pawnshop 


Dec 4, 2011

Two ways of doing it

“We are presenting three concepts. The first is re centering the psyche of Seattleites around the Bay. The second is re connecting the city with the waterfront. And the third is creating a vibrant new public raum.”

Oh, I like that take on a city entrance. A welcoming front porch.

I know I am repeating myself here, but I just find it too interesting not to. This quote above is from James Corner of James Corner Field Operations and his presentation of the Seattle waterfront design a little more than a month ago. I would say the goals for the Umeå waterfront are very similar though. With replacing the word bay by river it would fit right in at the aim for the City of Umeå on the waterfront project The City Between the Bridges (Staden mellan broarna). As Seattle is using the word re centering, re connecting, it seems like they are more aware of the origin of the heart of the city, but I think Umeå would easily sign on those statements too.

My two cities have chosen different processes to reach their goals for the waterfront projects. Seattle has given the assignment for the design of the 26 blocks to James Corner Field Operations, probably most known for the design of The Highline in New York. Very important though is the Central Waterfront Committee, a group formed by the mayor and the city council. Civic partnership between government, communities, philanthropy and business in Seattle will help drive the project and give it a strong foundation. The committee is to provide civic oversight and leadership to make the project not only be good design, but to actually build it and make it happen.

Umeå has chosen to keep control of the process and the design for the river waterfront within the City Hall, although interacting with the property owners along the 8 blocks and assigning architects for the different sections of the stretch. Ulf Nordfjell, gold medal winner of The Chelsea Flower Show in London, will be designing the landscaping for the most central parks along the waterfront. And the Norwegian architectural firm Söhetta, famous for the Alexandria Library and creating the National September 11 Memorial and Museum in New York will be designing the main attraction on the Umeå Waterfront, a new building for cultural arts; Kulturväven (The Fabric of Culture). Kulturväven is an example of the City collaborating with a developer, as the City and Balticgruppen formed a joint company to build this new landmark. 

It will be very interesting following these processes in Umeå and Seattle over the next few years. I am a very lucky woman being a part of two cities where building cranes is a constant and the visions sometimes are as high. We take our time, yes. But a waterfront is the front porch of a city. The entrance, the welcome, the hi there, come on in! We better get it right.