Week 19 of „One Year – One Island“ – Bläsinge Hamn
Sunshine was forecast for this Wednesday, and I was looking forward to the day I would spend outside in front of my drawing pad. In my mind, I had marked a route around Bläsinge and Norra Möckleby. Our largest ring castle, Gråborg, was also an option nearby. First, I drove through Norra Möckleby for a while, but somehow nothing caught my eye. Then I drove to Bläsinge, a village I had visited once before, during the Skördefest (Art Night), but that was many years ago. In my memory it was much more picturesque. Finally, my search led me to the fishing harbor in Bläsinge, and to my surprise, there were actually three fishing boats in the water – in the middle of winter. Hmm… now that I think about it, they probably fish all year round, right? Or is there a rest period in the winter, like with farmers? I know absolutely nothing about fishing – you can tell, haha. There were also a few men busy in the harbor; a fishing net was spread out on the quay, and a small rowboat was being pulled out of the water. I wandered around the harbor, taking photos and looking for a suitable angle for a painting. There were a few motifs here – on the other hand, I had already painted the small harbor in Gräsgård not too long ago. The difference was: here the fishing boats were in the water; fishing was obviously still going on here. And fishing is, or rather, was, one of the most important sources of income for the people of Öland, as it is for all islanders worldwide. With this, I had not only found a good motif, but also an important connection to Öland. I set up my workstation, and no sooner had I started sketching than the first fisherman stopped behind my chair to watch. Naturally, we got chatting, and I asked if they were going out in the winter, too.
„We’re not going out at all anymore – at least not for the next two years,“ the man grumbled. His explanation came right after: the responsible authority had imposed a fishing ban that prohibits small fishing boats from fishing close to the coast.
„We’re standing here watching the large industrial ships cast their trawl nets out on the high seas.“ Frustration and incomprehension are written all over his wind-beaten face. He tells me the details of this regulation, as it is when someone lives completely in their own world and assumes everyone else knows what they’re talking about. I understand only one thing very clearly: this has dealt a fatal blow to the professional fishermen. And there seem to be no provisions in place to compensate these men in the next two years. „There are probably too few fishermen left in the Baltic Sea who can even make a living from fishing. So there was no need to worry about it,“ he says with biting sarcasm. All I can do is nod. I understand the despair of this man before me, and beyond that, I also recognize the historical tragedy for Öland in it.
When I got home, I looked it up online to understand what exactly was happening to Öland’s fisheries. I’ve found countless articles and comments, all of which roughly say this:
The Swedish Maritime and Waterways Agency’s action plan to save fish stocks in the Baltic Sea, in the form of a ban on coastal fishing, comes into force on February 1st. This will prevent the last small fishing boats from Öland from fishing. However, the real problem in the Baltic Sea is the huge industrial vessels with massive trawl nets. A comprehensive study from 2022 revealed that the twenty largest vessels in the Baltic Sea were responsible for 95 percent of the fish stocks in the Baltic Sea. But it was only in October that the EU more than doubled the 2025 herring catch quotas in the central Baltic Sea—from 40,000 tons to 84,000 tons.
To be clear: The industrial fishing vessels are not operating on the coast, but in the central Baltic Sea. So will this action plan save fish stocks in the Baltic Sea? Of course not. Because the big problem isn’t the small boats, but still they’re completely undermining the local fishermen. This is a death sentence for commercial fishing on Öland.
I’ve only lived on this island for 17 years, but—even if I don´t open a history book—I know that Öland has had three economic sectors for centuries: limestone mining, agriculture, and fishing. The signs of this can be seen everywhere on the island. At the beginning of the 20th century, the fishing industry on Öland employed over 500 professional fishermen. In 2025, there are only 16 people on the island who can call themselves more or less professional fishermen.
So I then understood: I was lucky to have found three fishing boats left in the harbor. Perhaps my painting documents the very end of Öland’s fishermen?
Not to end on such negative news, but to tell you something positive: After I had packed my things in Bläsinge Hamn, I drove over our long bridge to Kalmar. There I had signed up for a workshop at the Kalmar Art Museum: Dance-Kroki with tango dancers. It sounded too exciting to miss. When I was younger, I would have loved to dance the tango for real, but never made the time for it. And Kroki-sketches are a painter’s exercise, I think. Around 10-15 participants showed up, and they were supposed to capture two tango couples, either dancing or „frozen in motion,“ in quick, simple strokes within seconds or a few minutes. The floor was covered with paper, and we knelt in front of it and worked with ink and brush. Until then, I had only ever done modellsketching (basically the sketching of a naked body in position) with charcoal or pencil. The idea of these very quick sketches is to focus on the essentials, i.e., to convey the position or movement with just a few strokes. It’s meant to train the painter’s eye. Here are my sketches: