Week 18 – Lenstad, „One Year – One Island“
Tuesday, February 18th was „Emperor-weather“(Kaiserwetter) – that’s what they say in Germany when the sky is bright blue, the sun is shining and the air is clear and fresh. After many weeks of cloudy skies, fog and dull grey, I was already in a very good mood when I set off. We had had snow a few days before and I hoped that some of it had still remained on southern Öland. So far we have had little snow and I have only painted in the snow in Mörbylånga – so one single picture with snow so far. Because the island is so long and on a north-south axis, there are many weather divides on the island. If we have snow in the north, that doesn’t mean that those in the south have it too, and vice versa.
During my preparations, I had discovered something on the map in Lenstad: a farm with Icelandic horses and Highland cattle. A look at the website showed that horses and cattle grazed together all year round. Both Icelandic horses and Highland cattle seem to be suited to our climate and the barren landscape. There are quite a few of them on Öland. Even if the animals are not native here, it is a fairly common sight on our island these days. I had written down the phone number of the owner, Helena, and called her in advance to ask for permission. But she didn’t answer. I went there anyway, hoping to meet her in the stables – if you have horses, you often spend many hours a day in the stables. When I arrived, I knocked on the house and Helena opened the door with a flourish, her mouth full of apple. I held out my business card to her and briefly explained my project and that I would like to paint her animals in the pasture. Without hesitation, she said that I was welcome to do that, she just wanted to put on some different trousers and then we could go. I liked the woman – uncomplicated, direct and spontaneous, something I don’t come across very often in Sweden. She helped me carry my equipment and took me straight to the pasture. She said that it could happen that the animals would come over, they were just curious, but I didn’t need to be afraid, not even of the cattle, they would never attack anyone. I hadn’t thought about that at all, because I really am not afraid of animals in general. And certainly not cows and horses. A healthy respect and an understanding that you can scare an animal with quick, careless movements has always been enough. I answered Helena that the animals would notice how boring I was if I just sat there and painted. They would quickly lose interest in me. She laughed and said that I obviously knew what was going on. I positioned myself so that I had the sun at my back and the pasture in front of me. Unfortunately we chased away a big fluffy cow that was lying in the grass and was struggling to get up when we arrived with our backpack, folding chair and stool. It turned out that she was limping badly and Helena was grateful that she now discovered the sick animal. She would take a closer look at it later, she said, and went back to the stable.
Soon two of the Icelandic horses spotted me and one of them made a real fuss: it snorted and trotted to the right and left, but didn’t come any closer, but always kept an eye on me. Then it stopped abruptly, flared its nostrils, pointed its ears in my direction and stared at me. Until it started trotting off again – to the right, to the left… This attracted the attention of other horses and soon several of them were standing about 30 meters away and staring over. But they never came any closer. About 20 minutes later it was no longer of interest, because they went off again, one after the other. The Highland cattle were even less interested in me. I even had to hurry to get them sketched on paper before they disappeared into the huge pasture.
It was just wonderful: here I sat in the bright sun, in the middle of a snow-covered meadow, enjoying the great silence. Only the birds (a woodpecker behind me, a bird of prey circling above me with a hoarse cry, quarreling sparrows in the thorn bushes), the snorting of the horses and their dull hooves could be heard. And so I sat for 3 hours and just sketched roughly and then took out the watercolors. Is there a better way to spend a day? Finally I painted the purple-blue shadows in the grass and noticed that they had gotten longer. Now it was time to pack up. I hadn’t quite finished, there were still a few details missing on the animals, but the paint dried more slowly out here at 4 degrees, so I couldn’t work any faster. Just then Helena came to check on me. And again she helped me with my luggage. I find it remarkable that she trusts me, a complete stranger, to have access to her animals. After all, she makes a living from her cattle and horses.
But that’s often the way it is in the countryside, I guess. And especially here in Sweden, I think. In the past 16 years that we have lived here, I have noticed so many times that people here are not at all suspicious. You always get the benefit of the doubt here, it seems to me. People simply believe what you say. That makes life here so much more positive to deal with. One example that comes to mind is how your boss reacts when you have to call in sick in the morning: a Swedish boss normally wishes you a speedy recovery in a friendly manner and want you to make sure you get well before you come back to work. In Germany, I always wondered whether I sounded sick enough on the phone for the boss to believe me. And then I was told that now of all times was a really stupid time to be sick and that my colleagues would just have to somehow manage to do my work and always asked in an angry manner when I thought I would be able to come back to work. And somehow it always sounded as if the boss thought I was faking it. Or a second (last) example: when we arrived here, we immediately started renovating our café (which at the time was just a summer kitchen and a laundry room on a farm). We drove with an empty trailer to the local building materials store to buy lumber, strips, paint, nails, screws, gloves, brushes, etc. A real big shopping trip. When we had loaded everything we needed and got to the checkout, we introduced ourselves. We were the new guys from Germany who had bought the farm in Mellböda and would be shopping here more often in the next few weeks because we were doing a big renovation. Ah… they knew what was going on. They wrote down our names and then said they would send us the bill for this and the upcoming purchases at the end of the month. What??? We weren’t supposed to pay now? No, that’s fine, no problem – and made a joke: we know where you live, haha… My husband and I looked at each other in complete disbelief. And then we drove home beaming with joy with a fully loaded trailer. We had neither shown any ID nor pulled out a credit card. Where did you get something like that? That’s one of the reasons why we like living here so much: people here treat each other with trust and often with understanding for a situation that you don’t have to explain in detail to get the help you need. People believe you. I think that’s wonderful and I wish that everyone in the world could get along like that. And: Thank you Helena for trusting me!
So here is my painting of the week. It looks a much more illustrated than the barn last week. The size proportions of the animals to each other seem wrong – even if I have mesured them with my outstretched pencil as I usually do. Last week my Mom called me after she had read the blogg about the barn. She said she loved it and that she surely could see a different to earlier paintings. ”It is wonderful, congratulation! It is not quite so much … hmm…how shall I say…. childish?” Hahaha… I really don´t hope my style is childish. She probebly had childrenbook illustrations in mind. Well, Mom – this one really looks like a childbook illustration, I am afraid. And I am aware that there is still a long path to go untill my painting style is the way I want it to be. But there is just one way: practice! Next week it will be about fishing – I was at the smal fishing harbour in Bläsinge and met some fishermen, who talked about their problems. Hope to find you here next week!
