Mistet og Funnet: researching in Oslo and reflections on Laidlaw

Past rector of St Andrews, Fridtjof Nansen was an internationally renown Norwegian. He initially gained fame when his Arctic expedition gripped the European imagination and he later became a global humanitarian. The focus of my research is his output as amateur artist.
 Mistet og Funnet: researching in Oslo and reflections on Laidlaw
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Using this summer period to reflect on my Laidlaw experience, the four-day trip I took to Oslo stands out to me. I travelled to Norway to contextualise the subject of my research, Fridtjof Nansen, since his nationality and art were inherently linked. Furthermore, I was becoming aware that Norwegian patriotism was going to be a focal point of my research. The art group that Nansen was a key patron of, the Lysaker Circle, formed to culturally challenge Swedish control of Norway in the late 19th century. Norway cares deeply about Nansen: when I visited Oslo I saw his name given to streets and parks. Yet, these were not my first instances of seeing his name in the wild. It is inscribed on Younger Hall, the building where students are welcomed to and then graduate from the University of St Andrews. Ultimately, travelling to Norway was important because of the insights I gained upon my return. 

Tuesday 11th June

In a pretty solipsistic way the geographical references to Nansen were comforting as I spent my four days in Oslo, the first time that I had done an international trip alone. I was weirdly star-struck, giddy to see proof of his existence as national icon and not the niche bit of St Andrews history I had never encountered until I had applied for the Laidlaw Scholarship. However, it was obviously daunting to find myself in a new city and, as proof of this, I promptly got on the wrong bus and the museum I had hoped to visit on my first afternoon closed with me thirty minutes away and staring at Apple Maps with increasing befuddlement. Not ideal. I contented myself with visiting Oslo City Hall, which hosts the Nobel Peace Prize annually, and is located on Fridtjof Nansens plass in the city centre. I returned to my hostel feeling like my research was slightly more real, and eager to get stuck in properly the next day.

Fridtjof Nansens plass, June 2024. Photo taken by the author.
Fridtjof Nansens plass, June 2024. Photo taken by the author.

Wednesday 12th June

The art group I was researching were called the Lysaker Circle because they, along with Nansen, lived in Lysaker, a neighbourhood on the outskirts of Oslo. The houses they lived in are artistic artefacts in and of themselves since they were designed and decorated with a focus on embodying the nationalistic goal of making "pure" Norwegian art. Nansen was one of the architects for his own house (I later found out that he held a contest for its design for architects across Europe and found not one of their plans acceptable); therefore, visiting the place, named Polhøgda, would be massively helpful to my research. Nansen stated in his will that while some parts of Polhøgda should be kept as he left it, it should not be turned into a museum but "utilised in the best possible way today as a place of work, preferably in connection with interests close to Fridtjof Nansen, such as ocean and polar research and research of importance for international cooperation." 

The Fridtjof Nansen Institute has certainly kept up their end of the bargain, researching the environment and taking it upon themselves to show me and an elderly Australian gentleman around the place on Wednesday afternoon. Beforehand, I had walked around a Lysaker park named for Nansen and gone to what I had thought was a café that turned out to be the canteen of a very modern office. My battered bright blue backpack announced that I was somewhat out of place among the shirt and ties of the businesspeople.

Polhøgda entrance, June 2024. Photo taken by the author.

I arrived at Polhøgda in the middle of a pretty serious downpour, and—without umbrella or raincoat—I felt bad about dripping onto the entrance hall where Nansen would have stood, characteristically judging me for my lack of forward thinking. After gratefully accepting the offer of tea (it is true that Norwegians are by and large fluent in English), I stared in awe at my surroundings. The aesthetic and contextual analyses can be left for my essay, so all I will say here is that I was not prepared for how much of the house was in its original condition. The walls were plastered with art made by Nansen or of Nansen by the rest of the Lysaker Circle. In the basement was a small museum that showed off the original plans for Polhøgda, an empty spot where his (now mouldy, and thus away being professionally cleaned) boots from his polar expedition would have been, and a Nansen passport. These passports were an initiative he created when he worked for the League of Nations to allow stateless refugees from WWI to travel easily back to their home countries. We climbed to the first floor, allowed access to the balcony that Nansen took his last breaths on in the spring of 1930. Ascending again to the top of Polhøgda's single tower, we arrived in Nansen's study. It was bursting with equipment he had used in his expeditions, books he had collected, a polar bear rug, an array of pipes, a phonograph, fossils, busts, papers, all topped by a blue ceiling almost reminiscent of an Arctic sky. This visit to Polhøgda was essentially the main reason I wanted to visit Oslo and I am still blown away by the kindness shown to me in the thoroughness of the tour. I couldn't have asked for a better experience of the place that I had read so much about now brought to life. I finished my day by reading in a park, watching the sunset, and tucking into a waffle with brown cheese, sour cream, and raspberry jam (don't knock it 'til you've tried it).

Fridtjof Nansen's desk in Polhøgda, June 2024. Photo taken by the author.

Thursday 13th June

While Wednesday had been all about Nansen, Thursday became more about learning about the artistic traditions of Norway. I couldn't learn about a political group like the Lysaker Circle without knowing what they were reacting to in Norwegian culture that made them so passionate about preserving it. Thus, I had to know about dragestil. This style draws inspiration from Norway's rich Viking history. It was an architectural trend that looked to the woodcarving found on these boats to create buildings reminiscent of this period of Norwegian domination. Holmenkollen is a neighbourhood most known for its skiing, but it also boasts a rich array of dragestil buildings. I visited the church, whose exterior is emblematic of this Viking approach.

Holmenkollen Chapel, June 2024. Photo taken by the author.

I returned to Oslo to explore the National Museum of Norway. It was split into 'Arts' and 'Crafts'. Everything I had come to recognise to be typical of the Lysaker style, notably the large influence they drew from folk art, was to be found in the latter section. In one way, due to their focus on embedding their nationalistic art into their lives in the forms of domestic objects this was logical. However, it did not escape my notice that the aesthetic objects aligned with what rural peasants made was not put in the 'Art' section. This at least gave me a clear direction for my essay, as I made a conscious decision to avoid discussing this art within a hierarchy that is clearly outdated in contemporary art historical thought.

Gerhard Munthe, Daughters of the Northern Light, 1903. Tapestry. National Museum of Norway. Photo taken by the author.

Friday 14th June

On my last full day, I decided to learn more about Norway's history, so I stopped by the Cultural Museum. This gave me a clearer view of the importance of their Viking history, as well as introducing me to many of the motifs that were popping up in the Lysaker Circle's art. Mythical and natural images in blocky shapes turned out to be references to traditional woodcarving.

Later, I went to the Fram museum. Named for the sturdy ship that took Nansen to the North Pole, I was able to board the vessel that now sits in the museum. Nansen would sometimes sit on the top deck with his pastels, below deck he hung art by the Lysaker Circle. A place where new scientific knowledge was recorded was also a site of major artistic inspiration for Nansen and it was fascinating to explore the twisting corridors. It was also amusing to hear about his shipmates' opinions on him, a man known to be stubborn and indecisive in turns, his role as captain was perhaps the only reason he wasn't thrown overboard. 

The Fram, June 2024. Photo taken by the author.

By virtue of being astoundingly lucky, my mindless meander around the museum meant I happened upon an exhibition tucked in a far corner of a back room entitled 'Fridtjof Nansen as Artist'. I couldn’t believe it as I took in all the information being presented to me, specifically the far more comprehensive collection of his artistic output than I had ever seen online. Also lucky though, was the fact that I could spot the parts within it that I had been able to expand upon by linking Nansen and the Lysaker Circle more firmly. It's exciting that my research could possibly add to an understanding of Nansen's aesthetic importance that was only recently being explored in Norway.

 

Saturday 15th June

To call this a day in Oslo is a complete misrepresentation, but the reflections I had on my flight home were the seeds of my current thoughts on the Laidlaw experience as a whole, so I thought I'd stick the whole thing here.

I've been forced to take a lot more responsibility for the things I think and write than the usual set up of university. This has been daunting and I've honestly failed on a lot of my first and second and third attempts to make any of these ideas and writings any good, but the great thing has been the freedom I've had to make these failures.

I’d also discovered that I really liked doing research in all its forms. Meeting people, seeing primary sources, and digging the depths of Google Scholar are all a lot of fun it their unique ways. Perhaps most rewarding is trying to create links between a diverse array of information and weaving your own ideas into that. 

Ultimately, I am extremely grateful for both my brief time in Oslo and my Laidlaw experience as a whole. Had I never dedicated six weeks of my summer to this turn-of-the-century peppery workaholic, I wouldn't have had some of the most genuine learning moments of my life.

Per Ung, Fridtjof Nansen, 2011. Statue. Photo taken by author.

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