A nice book-end way to close the chapter called, "Working in Norway", in the metaphysical book of Hannah.
I started in Oslo, at the Anker Hostel. And I ended in Oslo, at the Anker hostel.
To pick up where I left off:
After Seth and I went to the museum, we walked around Oslo a bit more, admiring the beautiful warm weather. We went to the Munch museum. It was the second time I had been there, so this time I watched one of the films they had. Munch was a strange man. He attempted suicide. Like so many other artists. It makes me wonder if all artists at one point or other don't attempt suicide. He also checked himself into an asylum as well. He also got shot in the hand by his lover, and otherwise seemed to live for nothing but his work. I mean, literally. He considered his paintings his children. When he was younger, he kept in contact with so many people: writing to them and such. But towards the end of his life, he became a recluse. He was very famous in his day, and was the center of more than one art world scandal. His paintings apparently caused much scandal in the art world. They were not received very well at the time, but after a while, they became desirable, which is when he refused to give them up, and locked himself away. It's odd, because when I looked at his paintings, I thought some of them were disturbing, but the colorful quality and some of the composition gave me a humorous impression. After watching the film, I took a quick walk through the exhibit again to reach the exit. This time the colors seemed to reflect more turmoil than comedy... Although, some pictures were still humorous, the humor was seemed darker, and more desperate. A little context changes everything. Munch willed all his paintings to the city of Oslo when he died. Which, in an interesting way enriches the city immensely. Not just monetarily, but culturally. It brings so many people, and since the city owns it, they loan them out to other exhibits and museums, and therefore bring a lot of attention, too.
Munch is the MOST famous, most influencial, and most original artist to ever emerge from Norway. At least to date. Some of those students at the Norwegian Theatre Academy very well may be the future artisans representing Norway. They were so very talented.
But, for now, Munch is top dog. And, his paintings are just as visceral and interesting as the man was himself.
He is right that his paintings are his children, though. They live on after him, and carry on his legacy. Visceral, interesting, living, and confrontational. They are hardly nugatory progeny of a most original man.
That afternoon/evening, we met up with Seth's friend, whom he randomly ran into in Fredrikstad. We were sitting in the cafe in Fredrikstad with Trond, and she walked past the window of the cafe. So, literally, a very random run-in.
Anyway, we met up with her, and she walked us around some lesser known parts of Oslo, like the Bohemian section. There was a Sunday market, which I kick myself for not having any cash at the time, because some of the things they made were brilliant. It was very inspiring. But, it's just these two buildings on the river with sculptures sitting in the trees. There was an art exhibit upstairs above the market. It was paintings and drawings and art made of birds, rope, and chicken wire. It was very cool. You could buy the different pieces. I would have liked the raven lamp, but it was a bit expensive, and very fragile.
There is so much art going on in Norway. It was like when you dream, you find sections of your brain, or images in your brain that you weren't previously aware existed. But then, when you dream it, you realize, "Oh, yeah... that's in there..."
That's sort of how wandering around Norway, from art exhibit to art exhibit, and museum to museum. It was like wandering around different compartments of a giant brain. And it felt like I was a little neuron sort of floating through this giant, living brain. Parts of it made sense, and other parts were a little unnerving.
I always feel when I am looking at something another human made by hand, and therefore absolutely uniquely, I'm actually looking across space and time into another world, and getting a little glimpse of something that ties us all together.
That's why I enjoy art, anyway... And hand made things. Art is usually hand made. At least orginally, anyway.
Sooooo...
Yeah, after we walked around the arts district, we had a coffee in the park. Then, Seth and his friend continued to the Vieglund park. But I had seen it previously on my tours, I was very tired, and my broken toe was starting to complain. Since Seth would be leaving at 4am the next morning, we said our good-byes at the Art University on the river. Short and simple. I'm certain we'll meet again at some point.
So, I walked back through Oslo to the hostel. I went to my room and took a shower and went to bed.
Snooze.
The next day I awoke feeling much refreshed, and almost exactly as I did seven weeks earlier: excited for where I was going to go. I was leaving for England the next day. I woke up really early, having gotten used to doing so while I was working, and I ate breakfast at the Anker kitchen and walked around town. I just love walking around cities without any real aim. I don't really remember what I did. I saw some street performers, I remember. They were playing music.
Anyway, I was sitting in the lobby on Monday, on my computer because the internet signal was too weak in my room. I was doing that when I looked up and Enrico walked by the window. What!
I ran outside and stopped him. "HEY!" I so profoundly said.
We chatted a bit, and I discovered we were both staying at Anker hostel, again. It was so nice to know I had a friend in Oslo again. I mean, when you spend almost 24/7 around a few select people, suddenly being alone in a city feels little unnerving. But, we decided to meet up the next day, as he had some business on Monday.
I was still very tired, so I walked around the bohemian side of town a bit more. I had some wonderful sushi, although I did discover that raw fish, however delicious it is, makes me feel a bit sick. I also had, apparently, the worlds best coffee. I can't remember the name of it, but the person who owns this coffee company has won the international coffee championships for three years in a row, or something like that. I got a macchiato, and I have to say... the best coffee drinks I have ever had go something like this:
1) The Turkish coffee me and my parents had in London
2) The macchiato I had in Oslo
3) The chickory/Pero instant coffee blend my dad makes in the morning.
It was DARN good coffee.
There was this really weird couple of guys that came into the shop while I was waiting for the coffee. He put a 500 Kr. note up to his face and said, "Woo-hoo, little girl."
I tried to pretend I was amused. But it just actually pissed me off to an unbelievable degree. The two people working in the coffee shop just basically stared the guy down. His friend looked very embarrassed. I don't know what was up with them. But, it was weird.
I sat in the chair, savoring every sip of this most excellent brew. It was SOO tasty.
Anyway...
I walked through one of the street markets and bought a couple little things for my friends.
Then I had dinner somewhere... I don't remember where... I was pretty tired and out of it. I met up with Enrico again and we had a nice evening chatting together, sitting outside the hostel.
I had a shower, and went to bed.
On Tuesday, I checked out of my hostel, and spent three hours on the previous blog... I waited for Enrico and enjoyed the sunshine on my back through the window of the Anker hostel. He showed up, and we walked to find some food. I had a delicious lunch at this very nice cafe, and enjoyed swapping travel stories with my Italian friend.
On the way back to the hostel to get my suit case, I was discussing with him my dreams and future plans for my artistic endeavors. He is a graphic illustrator, and does cover art for bands and gigs, and such, so we had a lot of discussion about careers in art and creative media.
I was talking to him, when my purpose fell out of my mouth:
"I want to experience the world and share it with other people."
And what I had been trying to define as my artistic pursuit for months was suddenly there.
I said good bye to Enrico at the Heavy Metal conference he was visiting and walked to the Sentral Stasjon.
I got on my train.
I don't remember getting on the plane. The next thing I remember is standing at the bus stop outside Heathrow Terminal 5 waiting for the bus to Brighton....
Good-bye, Norway. It was great knowing you.
