Forms of Solitude 5-19-12

Aselund, Norway

Nights this far north are so very short this time of year. In a few weeks it will be non-existent. We seem to gain about fifteen minutes each day against the darkness. It’s nearly 11 PM and still quite blue and will be so again by 3 AM. Two years ago when I was due east of here in Russia I had the disorienting experience of night’s absence. I’m told continuous daylight is harder to deal with than continuous darkness.

I arose early and ventured out into the sublime city of Aselund. This rather handsome city is architecturally coherent and solid like few I’ve ever seen. In 1904 the all-wood city burned down in a firestorm leaving more than ten thousand homeless. To avoid a replay, the city was entirely rebuilt in stone following the then popular Art Nouveau style raging in Germany. The result today is an imminently pleasing cityscape in astoundingly fine repair. This region was spared the convulsions of the great 20th century wars which destroyed so much of the grand architecture in continental Europe.

As astounding as the condition of the city is, even more impressive was my having the city entirely to myself. The only person I saw as I made my rounds with a bagful of cameras was the security man on the docks. A photographer’s dream is having a pristine city to roam about in with no traffic to consider, no waiting for people to ‘clear’ a scene. Shop lights in dim blue early daylight give grand montages. Spring has just begun so blooms provide colorful highlights in an often monochrome landscape of snow and ice.

Several painters and photographers have gained great prominence from their focus on ‘evacuated’ environments, capturing a sense of people having just left a scene or about to arrive. My experiences with Aselund at first light remind me strongly of their interesting work. A grand aspect of this kind of work is being able to use a tripod in low light to capture magical scenes. It seems so very appropriate to do this kind of photography; given this northern journey is part of my experience of intentional creative absence.

Curiously, a faux pas has added to this experiment in isolation and absence. Week before last I left my eye glasses in the Bank of England in London and have not been able to see across rooms to look for people I have recently met. This has produced a strange sort of visual isolation. I had no idea I was so dependent on distance vision to orient myself to inhabited environments, seeking out familiar faces. Fortunately, I’ve had no problem with seeing the physical environment as I almost always have an ultra-wide angle or telephoto lens in my face. I’m hoping next week to go back to the Bank and see if my glasses turned up in the lost and found. A place keeping million dollar bricks of gold bullion should be able to keep my $15 glasses safe a couple weeks!

Adding further to my experiment in isolation has been the inability to clip onto decent broadband signals to upload notes or photos to anyone since leaving Canterbury. I’m getting more than ready for some aspects of this creative absence to come to a close. I miss my phone!