Space, the final frontier...
The birds are chirping and the snow on the ground is knee-deep. The light has a softness in it that belongs more to the future than it does to the now when the earth is still hard and the branches bare. These contrasts make the month of February an interesting and surprising time to be in Sweden and not at all the monotone freeze that this country has a reputation for being in until midsummer when the tourists begin to arrive.
Among the other contrasts that I notice this February are those that I see in the landscape of this country of supposedly charming rust-red houses trimmed with ‘carpenter’s delight’. A Sunday walk with my husband on the ice reveals a new and juxtaposing picture of architecture in Sweden and with this a shift in values taking place within a whole society. “This place is starting to look like America,” my husband comments as he notices the large waterfront houses that have shot up in no time. My husband is old enough to remember Sweden in the 1950s so there is the possibility that he could be exaggerating. On the other hand, during the fourteen years that I have had the opportunity to observe Swedish coastlines from the ice, things have clearly changed.
The going gets tough as we hit a patch where the snow is so deep that it has insulated a layer of water between itself and the 40 cm-thick ice. We are forced to stop and look. On the shore just up in front of us we behold three houses that tell a story of the rapid transformation of a cultural landscape that is happening without almost anyone commenting. To the right, at the bottom of a low hill nestled among the trees is a tiny house that looks like a DIY sports cabin. It was obviously built to provide a simple base from which to enjoy the beautiful natural environment. To the left of this cabin is a slightly larger cabin with terrace and a small kitchen with running water. This place was also clearly built with life in the outdoors in mind. Even further to the left, perched up on the hill, is a great, grey house with no carpenter’s delight and a double garage. It’s long row of front-facing windows demonstrates that it is clearly built for enjoying the outdoors from the indoors. Before us we have the story of late twentieth century and early twenty-first century Sweden. There is a shift happening from outdoors to indoors and from nature to convenience.
Sense tells me that it is important to resist a glorification of the past. In mid-winter indoor sanitary facilities are a great blessing. I know what it is like to weather a Swedish winter without running water (we’ll leave that story for my memoir of island life which is coming out later this year or another blog entry!). On the other hand, there is something about the rapid emergence of these big and rather unoriginal houses in a very short period of historical time that is disturbing. How do we actually create more space for ourselves in modern society? Bigger houses mean greater use of energy, more cleaning and less time in the greatest space we’ve got: nature.
There is of course another trend and one I have reported about at my e-magazine. That is, the rapidly increasing popularity of hermit huts and tree houses. People with the resources are today prepared to pay a premium for the opportunity to live in a designer ‘box’ for a night because it gives them an opportunity to taste a form of freedom that is available on a path that society is slowly relinquishing.
Two days later my husband and I walked past a recreation of Lådan, a 20 m square functional-style house built during the early 1940s, by the famous Swedish architect Ralph Erskine and his wife. We peered into the windows of this house which has become a charming historical relic in our area. The double bed hung from the ceiling and could be lowered to the floor by a well-designed pulley. One of our friends remembers that the Erskines “hung their infant daughter in a small hammock outside” on the terrace when they had guests who came to visit them during the summers. Today most people cannot imagine choosing such a life – even if only for the summers. Yet we glorify structures created by people who have made a determined effort to enjoy ’space’ in other ways by showing off their homes as examples of fine architecture. I am quite certain that the new instant giants along the coasts of Sweden’s inner islands will never be revered in this way.
Obviously, we are confused about what it is that truly gives us a feeling of space and freedom in our society. There is a gap between what we want and the choices we make. The next time you are out walking, skating or skiing on the ice observe and think about it, and please do get back to me. I’m still trying to work out the most lagom (meaning just about right in Swedish) solution for meeting my need for space.
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For links to places and designers working with hermit hut and tree house projects in Sweden visit http://www.nordicwellbeing.com/web/design/more_design/Hermitic_Design.php.
