stalking fehn

I think I am the cause of global warming. Here are some facts: When I was a kid it use to snow in Seattle. I remember it snowing. All the time. As I grew up, it slowly stopped snowing. You might say - Hey, that’s global warming. But the year I went to Ireland it snowed in Seattle and not in Ireland. The year I went to Taiwan it snowed in Seattle and not in Taiwan. The four years that I’ve lived in Seattle it hasn’t snowed once. I am now in Norway. I’m in Norway! And it is November, and despite the last post, it hasn’t snowed here like it should be at all. The Halloween dusting was gone the next afternoon as the temperature shot up to the mid 50’s. And right now in Seattle, well it’s raining. And, yes, that’s normal for this time of year. But here, it’s sunny depressing. If it snows in Seattle this year and not here then we’ll know for sure. I have caused global warming and I am sorry for that.

The last week has been pretty interesting. I took a trip south to a town called Horten to check out the Photography Museum, a building remodeled by Fehn. This trip involved a ferry ride, something I always enjoy. The morning I left, I was on the train station platform here in Oslo when the train pulled in. Normally the train cars have numbers on them that correspond with a number on your ticket. That corresponding number indicates the car you are supposed to ride in. That’s how the civilized world has created order, by labeling things clearly. The usual drill is that when a train pulls in a the station I’m waiting at, I look for the number that corresponds to the one on my ticket, climb aboard and find my seat. Also, conveniently, numbered.
As this train pulled in there were no numbers on the cars. I was confused and anxious. I’m walking up and down the train looking for my car so I can find my seat. I mean I don’t want any problems. I just want to sit down. All of a sudden some guy is talking at me in Norwegian. I stop. I must have looked frieghtend, and confused. I ask if he could say that again, slower and in English. He so “Oh, sorry. Are you going to Seattle?” I thought, no I’m going to Moss to catch a ferry to Horten. “No, I’m from Seattle.” I said cautiously, having decided to just get on the closest train car and sort out a seat later. “Oh, are you getting onto the train?” “Yes.” “Sorry. Are you an architect?” I’m now running through my head where this guy could possibly know any of this from and settle on some affiliation with the Architecture school here. “I’m going to get the grant.” He says. I have know idea and then I realize what he’s talking about. “The Valle?” “Yes. I just got an email today. I saw your picture.” I wasn’t aware my picture was associated with the email sent out by the Valle. (It’s not, all of this years scholars are shown on a page here. This is a what he was talking about.) I would totally have had a conversation with this guy about Seattle and the Valle and stuff but the whistle just blew for the all aboard and I don’t have time…”email me.” I said, thinking for some reason he might be able to get that information from the website or the Valle department. I mean the guy spotted me in city of hundred thousand people, right? “I will.” And the train leaves the station.
Turns out my email address is nowhere on the Valle website. There is no way for this guy to email me. The Valle office is not aware of anyone in Oslo being interested in going to Seattle. And so that was odd. Vonnegut has this idea in Cat’s Cradle called the karass. It involves the people who are connected to you and you to them in the this life ('a team [of people] that do[es] God's Will without ever discovering what they are doing.''). I always find it odd when people enter my karass for the briefest moments and then disappear forever. I ponder their connection to me cosmically. Like the guy who beat the crap out of me at a party in college. (In my defense I was down a bottle of Jack and a bunch of beers. And in his defense I dig dangle him over a balcony upside down over a concrete patio contemplating dropping him on his head for a while. But he started it by being a jerk. Or maybe I started it by being a jerk, but he should have let it go.) Anyway, I saw that guy once and with in hours we were throwing punches. And then I never saw that guy again. Or the group of beautiful Hungarian ladies I met at the 2001 New Years Eve Riots in Portland Oregon. We were getting on well, I was showing them how to view a riot, where to stand to show you are a spectator and not a participant, so the cops do taser you, how to move down the street in an orderly fashion so you can stay and watch the looting and brutality, things like that. After the riot they left and I never saw them again. I find these momentary people intriguing. Where are they, what are they up to today. God knows. Of course, these incidence might represent the “Granfalloon” (''a false karass, [...] a seeming team that [is] meaningless in terms of the ways God gets things done.'') But I am New Bokononist and find the idea of anything not working in God’s plan abhorrent.
The photography museum was interesting. It on the top flor of an old military building. There is a history of photography and then a display of Norwegian photographers. And a library.
The people were great. They let me take pictures when you aren’t suppose to (which i found ironic, not that they let. But that you cant take pictures in the photography museum). Here are some of the photographs:
Exsiting building

Cafe


Gallery



The Library





I am writing a letter to Sverre Fehn asking to meet him. I found an address for him, but I wasn’t sure it was actually his. Yesterday, I walked out to the place to nose around. See if I could find a big sign that said “Sverre Fehn Lives here” Like the sign for where the pope was born. The address lead to a house. Or what looked like a house. I scouted the place, couldn’t get to the mailbox (where I figured some indication of who lived or worked there would be) which was behind a fence. It seemed reasonable to consider Fehn having his office in his home. I crossed the street and staked the place out from a park bench.
This is what I learn: several people where in and out of the place. A large windowed office in the front was frequented by many people (I thought at one I point one of them might be Fehn, but I couldn’t be sure.) A man carrying what could arguably be a set of half size drawings entered the house and left. So either they are a gang of bank robbers, or it is, indeed the offices of Sverre Fehn. That was fun, stalking a Pritzker Prize winning architect.
I’ve been doing a lot of reading and have made some connection between traditional building and Fehn that go beyond the use of material, formal ideas or special organization. All of these things are there as well. But they are surface similarities. I’ve been reading up on medieval building practices and the way craftsmen approached their buildings. To a large extent, in Norway, the forms of buildings in the vernacular are set. The loft, the stue, the church, all have specific forms. And the material is largely wood. But the way the craftsman approaches the construction is as if he is creating a poem. The form is the same, but the nuance is different. The articulation of the ideas in the building is used to describe things like the structure and use. And decoration is of these parts, these details. And I believe this is a common understanding shared by Fehn by way of Arne Korsmo. Couple that with the understanding of materials and form and special organization and I think I’m getting close to a real idea about this thesis.
At any rate, it’s spurring me on.
I’m thinking about going back to Began. I may be able to see a couple of farms there that are still standing. It’s tricky, though. Because it might snow and I’ll have to dive a car there, and the roads are not something I want to be on in the snow. And even though I may be cause of global warming, it’s a risky chance. Plus, the farms are closed for the season, but at least one has offered to see if they could help me out getting in. I don’t know if this will happen. I’m gong to wait and see if I hear from the other farmstead. If not, it won't be worth going there just to see one farm.