A Well Thought-Out Place

I've decided that one of the overarching characteristics of Swedish society... one of the 'by-words', if you will, is 'well thought-out.'

When it snows, the town of Lund sends out a fleet of miniature tractors which clear the snow from the sidewalks and salt them. Not the street, mind you... the sidewalks. Well thought-out.

Kodiak and Griselda on a freshly cleared and salted sidewalk

As I've mentioned before, pedestrians and bicyclists have the right of way at crosswalks in town, and there are a lot of crosswalks. In order to compel drivers to slow down before the crosswalk, most of these crossings have a slight little ramp in the road... analogous to a speed bump... and it is paved in brick which transmits a different and 'chunkier' feel to the driver. Well thought-out.

(I personally see a philosophical correlation between the high importance placed on the rights of pedestrians and cyclists and the democratic/socialist orientation of the country.)

On a recent visit to the police station, to get Kodiak's National ID Card, we found these orange tags. 

If you hit a wild animal on the road, but suspect you have not killed it, you are supposed to place one of these orange tags around a tree near the site of the collision. Then you go and report the incident to the police, who in turn send out a team of specially trained hunters and tracker dogs to kill the animal. And the point of all this is... to reduce unnecessary suffering of the injured animal. Well thought-out.

I mentioned all of this to our Swedish friend Krister. He, having spent his whole life here, acknowledged my observation, but also made the point that it can all feel a bit TOO well thought-out sometimes. A bit too regimented. I can easily see his point. For instance, Kodiak has a drone, which we used to fly at our property in Taos from time to time... getting beautiful views of the gorge. Here in Sweden, you need to register every drone with the government and mark it with the name of the operator. And there are various classes of drones, some of which require training to operate. I'm actually not certain whether our drone would require training or not, but I am pretty sure Kodiak is considered too young to be an operator here. The upshot of all this is that, until we jump through the various required hoops, we cannot legally fly the drone here. Also... no flying in town and no flying at night. Lots of rules. It's a far cry from the lawless cowboy town we moved from. It's easy for me to see, from a bigger perspective, how these assorted rules would make for a better and more humane society for everyone to live in. And... as an American who is used to being able to do what I feel like doing, when I feel like doing it, it can be a bit challenging. But it's a tradeoff we are willing to make. 

Kodiak has been to the emergency room twice now, both times with not-too-serious injuries that resolved themselves. But these episoded have been our first exposure to the healthcare system here, and I can report that, although it can be quite slow, the care is pretty top notch. Kodiak has had an MRI, an x-ray, and follow-up appointments with orthopedic and eye specialists. And all of that has been free. And prescription medicines are free for kids up to age 18. No real complaints yet. 

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Change of topic.

In the world of house-building, a builder (what we call in the US a 'contractor') can either...

A) Build a house for a client, in which case the cost of the building is pre-paid by the client and there is essentially no risk for the builder, or...

B) Build a house 'on spec', in which case the house is built by the builder, with his (or her) money, and only once it is finished is it put on the market to be sold. In this scenario there is considerable risk for the builder because there is no guarantee it will sell, or will sell at a good price. (Although the housing market is usually thought of as a good bet)

Most of the artwork that I have made over my career has been made in a context similar to mode A above. Whether it was for festivals or the special-effects industry, most of the work I've made has been commissioned, which is to say it has been approved and paid for before it was built. My risk has always been low. As I toiled away, working on these big sculptures, I knew the work would be shown and I knew I would be paid.

Many artists (I'm tempted to say 'most artists' but I guess I'm not really sure, so...) Many artists work in mode B. They labor in their studios making paintings or sculptures or photographs or music, powered only by their own belief in what they are doing... and when the artworks are done they put them up for sale, either through galleries or websites or social media. As they make the work they hope it will sell but they don't really know. (I suppose that if you get 'connected' with a gallery that believes in your work there is some sense of assurance, but even then there are no guarantees.)

I think a few factors have coalesced for me and are slowly forcing me from mode A into mode B, and it's scary. The factors at play are the gradual closing of opportunities to fund big sculpture, our moving across the ocean and away from our traditional sources of funding, and my burgeoning interest in making a kind of work that is better suited to smaller and more traditional pieces. So it is, in a way, like starting over... because I am not connected with a gallery and I am not known as a painter or traditional sculptor. And yet, when I consult the list I've recently made (for myself) of ideas I've had for new works over the last few months, they are all paintings or small sculptures. There is really no need to close any doors, though. If a large-sculpture commission comes my way and I can make it work in terms of time and workshop space, etc, then of course I would move forward. But it's feeling less and less like that's where my passion lies. And yes, moving into uncharted territory is scary.

But I do have that list. The one I mentioned earlier, the list of painting and sculpture ideas. And I have begun to paint again. And play with a new medium, oil pastels. And I'm set up to start working on a new small sculpture which I hope to cast in bronze at the KKV foundry. And, I had a bit of a 'clarity moment' a few weeks ago... something along the lines of "Well, you're an artist. It's what you chose to be. And the job of an artist is to make art. So do your job... make art!"

I think I'm basically on the right track. 

Small oil painting, recent

Oil pastel 'drawing'. Oil pastels are like drawing with paint... 

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And I got into the state-sponsored (free) Swedish language course, so I'm now learning Swedish. Ironically, I won't be in the class for long because it's designed only to bring students up to a basic functional level, not true fluency, and because of my self-study and proficiency for languages I am close to testing out of it.

And Christina and I are looking at houses in the countryside just outside of Lund, hoping to find something we can afford to buy. In which case, we'd be living the bicontinental dream! A house in the US and a house in Sweden! Dreamy! (Well, let's see if we can really pull that off before we all get too excited...)

And for all you motorcyclists out there reading this, my bike did not pass the initial Swedish inspection. I have to do some work to it before I can re-test. And... I thought I'd be bravely riding here all year-round, because cold weather can be dealt with with the use of proper clothing. What I didn't count on is perpetually slick / snowy / icy roads. (See the first two photos in this post, above.)

Well, as Porky Pig says... That's All Folks!