Hausmania
I was out taking some photographs today:
I thought I could enter a photograph of this thing in a photography contest, and I was taking these pictures and lamenting the light, which way flat and uninteresting. I was wandering around the lot, trying to find an angle and an interesting background on this thing, when this yard caught my eye.
I’ve actually been circling this place for a while. Intrigued by the graffiti and the obvious art community that was here. So I was minding my own business, standing outside this gate when a found a destroyed piano in the bushes. I was investigating, thinking that it would make an interesting picture when this guy wandered out of the gated yard and approached me. He said something in Norwegian. I apologized for being ignorant of his language and then he said, “Oh, yes. It was a piano. Then in was vandalized.” I agreed. He asked me where I was from. I said Seattle. He introduced himself, William. I returned, Jeff. He asked me if I’d ever been inside. I said no. And he invited me in. William was meeting some other people who he was to show around the place. We sat and talked. The couple he was meeting showed up. He invited them to sit. We were lounging on broke down couches under a tarp strung up between buildings. It was raining. William was explaining about Hausmania, the community we were sitting in. It’s an arts community, based on squatters who occupied this old fish production plant on the Akerselva River. They have a theater, studios to rent to various types of artists, venues for bands, a vegan restaurant; they squat four buildings additional buildings and are trying to set up a community within Oslo that is self-sustaining. As we sat there talking about the community, politics, squatting, anarchy, responsibility, people drifted in and out of the space. They would sit. Smoke cigarettes. Exchange pleasantries. Participate in the conversation. Leave. After a while, William began to walk us around the community. He showed us all the rooms, told various stories. At one point we were standing in a hallway when a gentleman approached. William introduced him as Günter. He then introduces the small group of his new friends. Kristin, Norwegian woman who was squatting in an abandoned five star hotel in Brussels. Her boyfriend, Guy, A Belgium and also a squatter. Both of these people had come to Norway to visit various communal situations. And myself, an architect from America. Günter looked at me and said, “Would you like to see our the model of our plans.” He lead us up to an office where they had an architectural model from a charette they had with the city to develop the community. We spent another hour and a half with Günter talking about the plans and the community. I was inspired. The effort and passion these people exhibited for their community, the obstacles they faced, from bureaucratic frustration to individual indifference to selfish acts, was amazing. I offered what help I could afford. I will visit them again.
I thought I could enter a photograph of this thing in a photography contest, and I was taking these pictures and lamenting the light, which way flat and uninteresting. I was wandering around the lot, trying to find an angle and an interesting background on this thing, when this yard caught my eye.
I’ve actually been circling this place for a while. Intrigued by the graffiti and the obvious art community that was here. So I was minding my own business, standing outside this gate when a found a destroyed piano in the bushes. I was investigating, thinking that it would make an interesting picture when this guy wandered out of the gated yard and approached me. He said something in Norwegian. I apologized for being ignorant of his language and then he said, “Oh, yes. It was a piano. Then in was vandalized.” I agreed. He asked me where I was from. I said Seattle. He introduced himself, William. I returned, Jeff. He asked me if I’d ever been inside. I said no. And he invited me in. William was meeting some other people who he was to show around the place. We sat and talked. The couple he was meeting showed up. He invited them to sit. We were lounging on broke down couches under a tarp strung up between buildings. It was raining. William was explaining about Hausmania, the community we were sitting in. It’s an arts community, based on squatters who occupied this old fish production plant on the Akerselva River. They have a theater, studios to rent to various types of artists, venues for bands, a vegan restaurant; they squat four buildings additional buildings and are trying to set up a community within Oslo that is self-sustaining. As we sat there talking about the community, politics, squatting, anarchy, responsibility, people drifted in and out of the space. They would sit. Smoke cigarettes. Exchange pleasantries. Participate in the conversation. Leave. After a while, William began to walk us around the community. He showed us all the rooms, told various stories. At one point we were standing in a hallway when a gentleman approached. William introduced him as Günter. He then introduces the small group of his new friends. Kristin, Norwegian woman who was squatting in an abandoned five star hotel in Brussels. Her boyfriend, Guy, A Belgium and also a squatter. Both of these people had come to Norway to visit various communal situations. And myself, an architect from America. Günter looked at me and said, “Would you like to see our the model of our plans.” He lead us up to an office where they had an architectural model from a charette they had with the city to develop the community. We spent another hour and a half with Günter talking about the plans and the community. I was inspired. The effort and passion these people exhibited for their community, the obstacles they faced, from bureaucratic frustration to individual indifference to selfish acts, was amazing. I offered what help I could afford. I will visit them again.
posted by jeffrey ottem at 8:31 PM
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