Week 20 & 21, „One Year – One Island“
My (already) twentieth image in this project is connected to the golden era on Öland: the era of the railway. If you visit Öland today, there’s no sign of a railway line, and if it weren’t so well documented, you wouldn’t believe there has been one. Yet the railway was an important means of transportation on Öland for more than 50 years, until all train traffic was shut down on October 1, 1961. The tracks were dismantled, the stations were converted into private residences, used for other purposes, or fell into disrepair over time. Today, when the climate crisis calls for more public transportation and thus fewer cars and trucks, I regret that everything was so mercilessly demolished back then. A small group of Öland residents would like to rebuild the railway and are campaigning for it, but that’s probably an unrealistic goal.
On December 7, 1906, the first line, between Böda and Borgholm, opened over a distance of 55 km (see photo). I suspect that it was initially the logging in the Böda Forest that made a railway line to Borgholm – the largest port on the island – attractive. Instead of transporting logs by horse-drawn wagon to Byxelkrok, then load them on a smaller boat, and then transferring them to the harbour in Borgholm, it was possible to travel directly from the forest to the port by rail to load them onto the larger ships.
The line on southern Öland (another 96 km) must have been under construction at the same time, because just three years later, the northern line was extended to Färjestaden. The port there is located at the narrowest point of the mainland, directly opposite the important trading town of Kalmar. Not earlier than in the 1970s, the Öland Bridge was built, that stretched 7 kilometers from Färjestaden to Kalmar, saving anyone wishing to visit the island the ferry crossing. Just three months later, on February 1, 1910, the railway network was connected to the southern tip of the island, to Ottenby. The entire line was narrow-gauge with a track width of just under 90 cm.
The line started with three steam locomotives, 48 transport wagons, two mail wagons, and five passenger wagons. This also shows that the focus was primarily on transporting goods rather than passengers. Working for the railway must have been highly regarded on Öland, as can be seen from the documentation, which often highlights the staff in the photographs. And small incidents were recorded, such as this: The SÖJ locomotive 4 was nicknamed „Skinnpellan“ („Skin Puller“) by the crew because it was difficult to maintain steam pressure on this locomotive and the tireless shoveling of coal caused blisters until one’s skin hung in shreds.
At that time, Runsten village had about 900 inhabitants (today probably less than half that number), three general stores, a school, two blacksmiths, a mechanical workshop, a mill, and a sawmill. The town’s main activities were agriculture and fishing. The station was run by just one station employee. In 1949, this was Josef H. Hörlin, 47 years old, pictured here. I wonder if that’s his car parked in front of the station.
I’d had the idea of painting one of the old train stations for a while, so I did some research. The website „Allt på Öland“ (alltpaoland.se) – a great site with links to Google Maps to find the exact location – and olandsjarnvag.org – the website of the association „Föreningen Ölands Järnväg“, which is dedicated to preserving the history of this Öland railway, were very helpful in my research. The association is celebrating its 10th anniversary this year. There I found information about how many of the former station buildings can still be found today, and which ones still resemble the original station so closely that you can still recognize them. After looking at a few in person (and driving several routes to do so), I decided on Runsten because the Runsten station building has been renovated and preserved with real attention to detail. I was a little sorry I couldn’t come by later in the season, as the building would have been surrounded by vines and flowering bushes; now the vegetation was still dormant. The crocuses I dabbed onto the photo weren’t actually there, but around me – in other gardens – they were blooming profusely. A bit of artistic freedom on my part… also because I wanted to bring the season into play.
Four-sided courtyard – Lerkaka 43
As I was looking for a motif for my 21st watercolor, it suddenly occurred to me that I would soon be leaving the typical southern Öland behind me and that I hadn’t yet painted any of the typical four-sided farmhouses. Four-sided farmhouses can be found all over Sweden, and not only in Sweden; they can also be found in other European countries. Here on Öland, they characterize the streetscape in southern Öland. Especially in the row-villages (in Swedish, „Rådby“), you pass many four-sided farmhouses. Stora Frö and Lilla Frö, south of Färjestaden, are particularly known for their pretty four-sided farmhouses. But I’ve been past those for a long time now.
Anyway, I was on the lookout for a pretty four-sided courtyards – I had very specific ideas about what it had to „feel“: ideally, the part of the building facing the street, which provides the entrance, should be a building with old, horizontal planks. The courtyard should be separated from the front yard of the house by a wooden fence and ideally paved with limestone. The house entrance should either have a typical porch, preferably with plenty of decorating woodwork, or a curved staircase with a pretty old front door. One or two trees in the front yard of the house would also be perfect. Why did I have such specific ideas? Over the many years here in Sweden, I have seen many very beautiful and, above all, ancient four-sided courtyards – many of them in open-air museums. So, my expectations were high – and yet, in Lerkaka, I found exactly what I was looking for: Gunnar Andersson’s old farm, Landsvägen Lerkaka 43.
It was clear from the start that I could only capture the uniqueness of a four-sided courtyard if I sat in front of the driveway and painted the view of the house through this courtyard opening. I was lucky, because directly opposite the driveway was a row of mailboxes that I could position myself next to.
Shortly after I had settled in, a car signaled to enter the courtyard, and to my surprise, I recognized the driver. Julius is a well-known person on Öland, as he runs the Öland Museum in Himmelsberga, which has an adjoining art gallery. Julius knew about my Öland painting project, but I had no idea that this was his courtyard. I’m uncomfortable with the idea that Julius might think I deliberately chose his house because I hoped it would give me an advantage. I had just a few days before received confirmation from him that the final exhibition for this project could be held in Himmelsberga at Easter 2026. An hour later, another car arrived. It was a woman, Julius’s wife Anna, whom I hadn’t met before. She parked the car in the courtyard and immediately came out to me to enthusiastically see what the painting looked like. She was very happy that I was painting her farm and asked if I was „Gåramålare.“ This is a Scanian expression that means something like „court painter.“
Swedish Wikipedia explains what defines a gåramålare:
A so-called court painter was usually a self-taught artist who traveled around and earned his living by painting houses. The paintings often have a naive character and are characterized by a great wealth of detail; the motifs were often embellished. If there were no curtains in the windows, the court painter would still paint curtains to give the garden a befitting appearance. Sometimes the perspective was distorted so that all the buildings were visible in the painting. The gåramåleriet style became common from the last decades of the 19th century. When aerial photography became popular in the 1950s, paintings (often hung above the kitchen bench in the respective farmhouse) were replaced by framed aerial photographs.
Then Anna invited me to look at another painting by an Öland gåramålare. I asked if it was Monica Zadig – and indeed (Öland is a small world of its own), it was her, an artist who is part of my annual art group. Here is the picture by Monica – even the same detail.
Anna spoke enthusiastically about her home and how much she loved it. We chatted a bit, and I learned in passing that it was her birthday that very day. Oh my God – this was getting more and more embarrassing, just in case Julius thought I had some kind of agenda (although I’m pretty sure he doesn’t suspect anything). Perhaps some readers who don’t live in Sweden are wondering how I could have known that – but in Sweden, such information is easily accessible. If I’d wanted to, I could have found both Julius’s address and his wife’s date of birth with two clicks on the internet.
When Anna also disappeared into the house, I focused again on my picture, just to be interrupted again shortly afterwards. This time it was a passerby, an older man, who curiously stepped up behind me. He told me that this was Gunnar’s farm and – poor Gunnar, he said, – he had found him lying dead in the yard. He told me about him and that he was a nice guy who had been very dedicated. I think he missed him. And in preparation for this text, I did a bit of research. There are many websites for individual villages on Öland where you can read about the history of the village. This is also the case for Lerkaka. At https://www.langlot.se/lerkaka_gardar/index.htm I found the following about „Gunnar Anderssons Gård“ and its namesake:
Gunnar Andersson, born in Lerkaka in 1890 and died in Lerkaka in 1976. Edla and Gunnar acquired the farm in 1927, the same year they married. Edla was the sister of John Eriksson on annother farm in Lerkaka. The residential building dates back to 1865. The farm was already in the family’s possession in the 18th century. The first known owner of the family was Erik Svensson. After him came his son Sven Eriksson, his son-in-law Andreas Nilsson, and his son Gunnar Andersson. Gunnar’s mother was Emma Svensdotter.
Gunnar grew up with his brothers Arthur and Gustaf. The eldest brother Arthur died at a young age, and Gustaf became a general store owner in the village Långlöt, only a few kilometers north of Lerkaka. Gunnar was active in municipal affairs. He was a member of the municipal committee and the municipal council, and chairman of the child protection committee. Edla’s nephew Börje (son of her brother John) became the next owner of the farm.
So here’s my version of the courtyard—I didn’t invent the cat (like a ”gåramålare” would probably do). Julius and his family have several cats, and two younger ones ran and romped around the courtyard while I painted. When they finally spotted me, they became curious and wanted to come over, but the main road was between them and me, and I was afraid they’d get run over. So I chased them back several times, but they probably thought it was a game… It was getting late enough, so I packed my things and went home.
Have a nice week,
