The human touch that keeps us sane
Even in beautiful Stockholm our modern living environments have the potential to drive us insane. As soon as Lucy and I turn the corner on our early morning toddle in the peaceful Malmen area of Drottningholm the sound of a drill penetrates through us like an electrical shock. Everywhere there is fluorescent red signifying not to go here, not to go there. I’ve learned to ignore all of the metal posts protruding out of the cement because if I thought about them I would feel as though I was living in a Matrix film.
We turn another corner back up into the sanctuary of our hill and Lucy stops to sniff against an elskåp (something between a fuse box and a transformer station). Dogs try to turn them into trees by peeing on them. Nice try, furry friends. I notice that on the front of this metallic cupboard someone has painted a detailed image of the vegetation and the fence on this side of the path. I think the intention is to camouflage the box but the result is more fascinating than this. The electrical box becomes an artistic contribution to the landscape, just like all of the well-designed houses in this area which are like architectural thought pieces (some of Sweden’s most famous architects have lived here). I feel like shouting over to the tourists who are disembarking from the bus on the other side of the road at the palace: “Hey – there’s something more hip over here.”
By the time we’ve finished our walk, Lucy and I have admired at least six elskåps and we feel as though we’ve been to the art gallery. The fact that someone has actually bothered to look at the neighborhood and take some considerable time to soften those modern protrusions fills me with hope for humanity. Maybe we don’t have to become basketcases or sensually dead in order to live in the neighborhoods of the future. We have the capacity to save ourselves through something as simple as a paint brush.
I chat with the artist. He’s British, but he’s been here long enough to know what egenmäktigt förfarande means (doing things you are legally not allowed to do). “No one ever notices an elskåp”, he says and continues: “The brain does a nice eraser job on them in our own interest. If we actually noticed every elskåp we passed we would probably all have heart attacks because of the horrible inappropriateness of their very existence. Especially in a paradise like Drottningholm.”
After living in a little wilderness for the past ten years and now returning to the land of elskåps, I agree with Peter Tucker. We need to think more about what is acceptable and what is not acceptable in our environments and measure that against what keeps us sane and what instinctively we know drives us around the bend. Oh, and if you happen to know what the proper English translation of elskåp is, don’t hesitate to share.
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To be released in March 2010
Peter has created a guide to his Drottningholm graffiti which is available from him at peter.john.tucker@gmail.com. Get in touch and be guided by the artist himself! Visit Peter’s web site and learn more about his and his partner’s (Cilla Ericson’s) work, including a painting school for children, at www.kosmikon.com. Peter’s elskåp paintings are being featured in an upcoming book about graffiti in Sweden entitled “Sätta Färg på Staden: Obeställd kreativitet i det offentliga rummet” by Kolbjörn Guwallius (hardcover, 216 pages in color, expected release March 2010). Visit www.kooli.net for further information.
Tags: Drottningholm, elskåp, graffiti, Malmen, Peter Tucker, Torbjörn Guwallius, Urban Environments
