Thursday, August 11, 2022

Getting Out

I suppose that, by necessity, this post will largely take the form of reportage. So much has happened that, in order to maintain some sense of continuity, I'd better just tell you the story. If I'm able to sneak in some opinions, anecdotes, or asides, well then so much the better.

I last left you, my reader, with the news that we were moving to Sweden. So much has transpired since then that, as I write to you now, I am writing from our newly rented home in the small town of Lund, in Southern Sweden. 

The last few months in Taos were a whirlwind. So much work. Too much work.

Christina and I, despite having gotten married in Sweden in 2017, had always wanted to have another ceremony... in Taos. So on the blustery and rainy day of June 25th, in front of about 12 good friends, we tied the knot... again!





We then followed that with a going-away party at our pal Steve McFarland's Revolt Gallery, where we took this lovely group shot...


The subsequent week was consumed by the job of preparing for our container shipment. Knowing that we would be given only 3 hours free-of-charge to load the container, I spent several weeks mocking up the load in our workshop.


You can see the 'island' of stuff in the middle of the floor... which is the load waiting to go into the container.

This turned out to be time well-spent, as the load went flawlessly. We stuffed that container full, to the ceiling and to the doors. I like to say that we put the best 25% of our stuff in there. The load included a small mill, a small lathe, quite a bit of Christina's blacksmithing equipment, hundreds of pounds of books, 2 motorcycles and a moped, a piano, 30 or so pieces of artwork, all my painting equipment, 3 mannequins, 2 sewing machines, furniture, beds, bicycles, clothing and kitchen equipment. Et cetera. 




The original estimate for the arrival of the container at our home in Lund was the 8th of August, and to a large degree we built our travel plans around that date. As it happens, that date has been pushed back by at least 3 weeks, which has precipitated a few difficulties. More on that later.

After we sent the container off, we entered into a somewhat strange 3-4 week period. It felt strange because, even though we'd made this big ceremonial 'GoodBye' to Taos, we were actually still there, engaged every day in the hard labor of cleaning and organizing our land, preparing our home for rental, and selling off big items like tools and vehicles. It was during this time that I also installed Fledgling (with help from friends Cedar Goebel, Josh Cunningham, and Shiloh Gossner) in its 'forever home' at Revolt Gallery.



Then, finally, it was time to leave. Christina and Kodiak departed on July 22nd, landing first at a hotel in Lund and then taking occupancy of the house around the beginning of August. The house was literally empty upon their arrival (save for the fridge, stove, and laundry machines) so their first few days were occupied with the task of finding some basic furniture and light fixtures. 

Meanwhile I stayed in Taos an additional week, wrapping up the last things, and then set out for the East Coast in a rental car with our dog Griselda. Most US-based airlines no longer fly dogs in cargo (allegedly because of... the pandemic!) and Griselda is too big to fly in the cabin, and I had been wanting to visit my brother Trevor and his family at their new digs in New Hampshire. So off we went on a 4 day drive across the country. After spending 4 lovely days with Trevor in the rather idyllic little town of Portsmouth...





we were finally off on our big adventure. Luckily SAS (Scandinavian Airlines) still flies dogs in cargo, so on the grey and rainy morning of August 5th Griselda and I landed in Copenhagen, where we were met by Christina and Kodiak. Griselda went wild when she saw them!

I mentioned a few minutes ago that the delay of our shipping container has caused some problems, and what I mean is this: Christina and I put quite a lot of thought into exactly what to pack, and one of the guiding principles in that process was that we did not want to have to buy - in Sweden - a bunch of stuff that we already owned. Why buy mattresses (which are expensive), or kitchen stuff, or a dining room table, or bicycles, when we already own it all? So we were quite careful to time the arrival of the container with our arrival. But the fact that it's quite late (apparently caused by congestion at US ports, a result of... the pandemic!) has meant that we have needed to buy exactly those things, again. After all, we need to sleep and eat and get around.

The other problem it has caused is a little less concrete. The last few months in Taos were marked by a non-stop sense of purpose and focus. There was never a lack of tasks to accomplish, all in service of the larger goal. Now, having arrived in Sweden with nothing to unpack, no art supplies, no tools or motorcycles to keep us busy, we are in somewhat of a 'holding pattern.' This dramatic change of pace felt quite strange to me for a day or two. But then again, if I'm totally honest about it, it has been nice to have nothing particularly pressing to do most of the time, other than explore and discover this new place we are in. Things have been so busy, so intense, for so long that I never felt I had the breathing room to write a blog post... until now. I'm even going to get back to studying the Swedish language pretty soon. This week or two actually feels a bit like a real summer vacation and it's nice to enjoy the downtime with Kodiak before he starts at his new school next week.

I suppose I'll wrap things up with a few early observations about this place, and how it compares to America. My overarching theory of America is that it is fundamentally broken because it was built on the wrong principles of capitalism, racism (and sexism and homophobia), and guns. Having spent the overwhelming majority of my first 52 years in that place, I think the filter through which I'll be looking at Sweden is something like: "In what ways does this place, which purports to prioritize people over profits and the collective over the individual, and which furthermore has no history of slavery, differ from America? And is life actually better here?"

To be honest, I can't give a real answer yet. I've only been here 6 days, and I still feel like a tourist. In fact I imagine I will continue to feel like a tourist for the next year or more. That being said, there are a few things that are already apparent. Wealth seems to be more evenly spread around; I have seen almost no signs of either very rich people or very poor people. And people of different races seem to get along more smoothly. I've noticed this especially in Malmö, the larger city to the southwest of Lund. Pedestrians have an inviolable right-of-way, followed closely in the hierarchy by bicyclists. Cars will stop for you, without fail. Also, the police are more integrated here and their role appears to be closer to the old-fashioned idea of "serve and protect," as opposed to whatever it is they're doing in America now. (For the record, I don't believe the police are completely to blame for their current role in American society; I think economic inequality [poverty] mixed with racism and guns makes their job quite difficult, and dangerous.) 

Malmö, despite having a bad reputation, seems like a very cool city. Christina and I both envision ourselves spending a lot of time there. KKV, the collective artist's workshop where Christina and I will likely be working quite a lot in the next few years, is located in Malmö. The city also has an off-leash dog park which borders the North Sea... and therefor has a 'dog beach'... and which measures approximately 60 acres (!). This feels like something one would be hard-pressed to find in the US, and needless to say, Griselda loves it.


Griselda and one of her many new friends running on the Dog Beach!

Our home in Lund is lovely, although rather large for our purposes (not complaining!) and also still quite empty. It has a luxuriously large yard complete with apple trees and a tree house. Our goal, if we can manage it, is to stay here in this house no more than 2 years (or maybe less) and purchase a home or rural property in that time. It's ambitious, but property is more affordable here than in most parts of the US, so we shall see.


Our yard, just now!

I feel that this post was necessarily superficial, as there was a lot to cover. I imagine that in the coming posts I'll go into more detail and offer deeper observation about what life is like here, and how it differs from the good old US of A. I hope to also talk more about the bicycle culture here, and maybe even get back to talking about art-making!

Cheers


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