Events elsewhere (2): ArchiFringe

Updates: unimpressed review of this year’s Art FestivalA wall is a screen, combined walking tour and themed film night, in Leith…talking of the festival, we have artwashing and over-tourism (it was ever thus), plus the council’s call for a tourist taxGlasgow Doors Open Days Festival inc 39! walks and a pop-up hub as part of Doors Open Days throughout Scotland…

Second post (first: EdFoc) in my series of posts on events #not_here, looking at ArchiFringe (@archifringe), taking place for the third time in Edinburgh and across Scotland.

Edinburgh is, of course, The Festival City – it used to (at least) announce itself thus on a signpost on the A90, not far from my family home. It being 2018, such analogue delights have been replaced by a wide-ranging website, listing ten or so annual festivals including The Fringe, the original ‘alternative’ festival. The Fringe has begat further fringes, including Book Fringe and Architecture Fringe, the latter a response to Visit Scotland’s Year of Innovation, Architecture & Design.

This year’s ArchiFringe took place in June, with the obvious point of comparison of CAFxWalking Heads hails a “bold and creatively challenging menu, with unexpected happenings in both likely and unlikely locations” including “an echoing Cumbernauld underpass” (celebrating the new town) and “forgotten parts of Kelty” (street art).

Having grown up in Edinburgh, the place names resonate across the North Sea, even as the places change. Many a time I have hopped on the Kelty bus, enjoying its non-stop surge down the Queensferry Road before hopping off at the Barnton Roundabout. Now when I go back it’s a process of revisiting half-remembered places and finding new ones; the Dick Vet as Summerhall, Lauriston Place Fire Station as event location, hosting a Pecha Kucha Night.

There are commonalities to be found too, with a different take, a different lens. Copenhagen’s brokvartererne have their parallels in Edinburgh’s tenements, once torn down and now gentrifying, creating a need for affordable housing.

The festival’s theme/provocation of COMMON/SENSES invited that British favourite, the play on words, and some diverse responses:

Ironically, fewer commonalities here, given the local ‘one size fits all’ approach and lack of delight in the edgy.

Other provocations included Univer-City (@EdiSolidarity; see Crumble article, LFA’s Knowledge territories), addressing “the historical and ongoing domination of our city’s built and aesthetic form” and Frankentypes, for lovers of typology, “seeking to pluralise expected architectural representation and building types by creating new hybrid structures” (one | two | three).

Creative kudos to Shore 2 Shore (poetry, in Dunoon!), to Sarah Calmus for the Uber Dérive, and to Jenny Knotts for Architext, memories of Glasgow’s Citizens Theatre as a play script in the form of an architectural plan:

Finally, the irresistible Baby Pianodrome (own site), an amphitheatre made from 50 upcycled pianos, to be found in the Botanics in August:

Where I feel less at home is with bothies and ‘hutting’ (paging David Cameron). Like Gaelic on road signs, the bothy-as-lifestyle trend seems to have emerged since I flitted to Denmark. ArchiFringe featured The Shieling Project, which doesn’t exactly capture the remoteness anticipated, resembling rather an idealised edit of hygge combined with an update of the ‘wilderness’ hut more likely to be found in Scandi proper (ie the other side of The Bridge) or Finland, yet one more tie-in with general Nordic envy.

You want more? See Antiuniversity Now’s Solus and the city, a small ‘solitude shed’ based on a bothy, in err…East Dulwich, and the Bermondsey Bothy. The Royal Scottish Academy has a forthcoming Bothy Night, celebrating Shelter Stone, a bothy book “made from 70 per cent recycled midge trap waste” (that’s surely a joke). We are now heading into full commodification, not least with Shed of the Year.

More gratifyingly, Alec (son of Iain Hamilton, creator of Adorno’s hut) Finlay has picked up the hutting ball and run with it, “responding to rewilding, ecology or the renewable avant-garde” with Hutopianism, part of Machines à penser at the Prada Foundation, a fringe event at this year’s Venice Biennale.

Where I find a sad lack of melancholy in the prevailing Danish discourse, here a brace of events (Chez Etym & moreRepurpose idea) celebrated the role of memory in constructing the present, and the future, of place. And where I sense a smoothing out and flattening of complexity here I find ‘comfortable chaos’ (Urbanistas), dissent (Pecha Kucha GLA) and disruption (Salon des Refuses), heralding new styles of living rather than a cradle to grave comfort blanket, ghettoised by age, with life starting and ending in an institution (update: see a caring place: presentations | case studies | notes).

Next up: the light nights of summer 2018.

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Events elsewhere (1): EdFoC

My Twitter bubble keeps serving up interesting events elsewhere offering food for thought to compare with the local summer festival scene. Some common themes keep coming up as well – it’s all quite inspirational. So, here’s the first in a series of posts on events #not_here, looking at the Edinburgh Festival of Cycling (@edfoc).

I grew up Edinburgh, for me the archetypal walking city. I biked as a student, in Bristol and Frankfurt, and ever since have chosen not to, not really a radical lifestyle choice even in (or just outside) Copenhagen. In the same way as hygge and those happy Danes, the picture painted of cycling in CPH is seen through a rather rosy lens, obscuring any number of cultural (and geographic) differences. EdFoC portrays some of these differences, even if it is suffering from a dose of Scandimania.

Unsurprisingly, there was nary a mention of walking on the programme (shared space issues! entitlement!!) – OTOH it’s a relief not to have it conflated as a sort of second best. As it happens the council does a pretty good job IRT walking, vs its near-invisibility in CPH. (The comparatively low number of pedestrian journeys in CPH is generally waved away as why would you, if you can cycle? The high cost of public transport, paticularly for impromptu short trips, surely also plays a role.)

The festival is aimed at ‘all types’ of cyclist, but a lot of events involved challenge style riding/touring, some for charity but others aimed more at self-empowerment – maybe this sort of thing goes on in CPH, but if it does it’s passed me by (although grim-faced lycra-clad MAMIL groups do plague both paths and countryside roads at weekends).

A couple of these events did however capture my imagination – the Ride to the Sun (@RidetotheSun) from Carlisle to Cramond for the summer solstice (over 1000 participated) and the Night Ride the week before. Cycling can be more than a convenient means of transport after all…

Guided ride offerings were mainly on the pricey side and in tourist corner (an Outlander location tour, anyone?), so I was happy to note the free event exploring Edinburgh’s 20th century buildings, with accompanying fab pic. A shout-out too to the UNESCO Chair Refugee Cycle, held as part of Refugee Week and a Summer Fun Day in Glasgow. (Noted also that good works are clearly done by Bike for Good and Bikes for Refugees.)

Danish envy aplenty however behind the cry to Copenhagenize Scotland, cancelled on this occasion due to high priest Morten Kabell falling ill; the grass isn’t always greener, folks. Some Celticization of Denmark wouldn’t go amiss, if only Scots (and Brits) could drop the habit of constantly running themselves doon in the name of self-irony.

Meanwhile pressure group Spokes (@SpokesLothian), celebrating its 40th anniversary, seems to at least equal @copenhagenizers in their zeal to transform the city, here’s hoping they don’t go the full Gehl. A tram is a better place to start, even if it stops just after tackling its first hill.

Literature got a look-in with the on-point Women’s Read and Ride tour (event), and EdFoc even runs a writing competition – for me one of the 2017 winners gets a special prize just for the multi-layered title of her story, Freedom of movement. Bless her.

Are events similar to EdFoC held in DK? I tend to avert my eyes from the self-congratulatory cycling discourse hereabouts, but I can’t help noticing that in Scotland it’s all rather different, and definitely made from girders – see Conquer Kaimes, cycling up this 9% gradient demon…

my breathless pic from Nov 2017, after walking (almost) to the top of Kaimes Road

So, a festival embracing diversity, with events featuring both lycra and cake (probably not together), people doing things for themselves, and lots of different ways of answering the question. Edinburgh has all the Copenhagen it needs.

Next up, and staying in Edinburgh, ArchiFringe.

#CAFx2018: Denmark does urbanism

Has the Copenhagen Architecture Festival (Twitter | Facebook) come of age? This year’s eclectic programme drew Politiken‘s critic to call for a refocus on architecture rather than all the other bits and bobs (eg this). And a new name is perhaps called for, with events spreading as far as Odense; how about Denmark does urbanism?

A renewed spatial turn saw the festival coinciding with the opening of BLOX (sic) on 6 May, of which more below, and the launch of Politiken Byrum, an excellent news service on all things urban, but with most of the content paywalled. Both seem ready to embrace a wider range of interests than the strictly architectural. There have also been sightings of a more nuanced approach in the media generally over the past year, less focused on the lovely and recognising the increasing growth of issues long encountered elsewhere, such as gentrification — time to discard some of the mantle of exceptionalism? Perhaps encounters with BLOX will lead to more self-analysis and a broader focus in future.

According to Politiken Byrum around 220 events were scheduled over the fortnight, with the over-arching theme of At huse hjem/Housing homes. New forms of living beyond the nuclear family, no longer the most widespread form of household in the land, were examined at major conferences on housing needs and post-war housing in Scandinavia. Subthemes included increasing migration to the city, increasing house prices and increasing segregation…times are certainly changing. and Copenhagen feels very different from when I moved here over a decade ago.

Tours included the traditional cycle ride with city architect Tina Saaby to the best new buildings of the year, with the new Publikums Pris won by Axel Towers, an office complex opposite Tivoli boasting a rooftop restaurant and a new perspective on public space from its walkway.

Axel Towers: shiny!

The portfolio of guided walks on offer illustrated some of Copenhagen’s current tussles with its identity, featuring ‘fringe’ areas such as Nordvest (gentrification on Rentemestervej with added street art vs industrial heritage and I ❤ Tagensvej) and Sydhavnen (the growing gulf between old and new).

The inner city’s balcony scourge also got a mention. Perhaps next year there will be space for a dissection of the typehus, bursting to the edge of its plot and surrounded by paving, the suburban equivalent of New Copenhagen Vernacular apartment blocks, so close together that they effectively close off entire areas to non-residents.

In cultural heritage corner, the Jewish Museum offered walks on immigration and diversity in Nørrebro (FB) and Jewish CPH (FB). Storrs Antikvariat looked at changing ideas of house and home with two authors, while Medicinsk Museion had a small (read: minute) exhibition on the use of its 18th century building by the Kgl. Kirurgiske Akademi, not least as flats for academicians and their families. (Famous residents included Nobel prize winning physicist Niels Bohr, who moved in at the age of one in 1886. Bohr had lifelong luck in solving his personal housing needs, spending the last 30 years of his life in residence in what is now Carlsberg Akademi.) Doubtless this is the sort of thing of which Politiken Does Not Approve.

Which brings us back to BLOX

BLOX: the new and extraordinary venue for life in the city

Designed somewhat unexpectedly by Rem Koolhaas’ OMA, who won a competition way back in 2006, this does-what-it-says venue is the new home for the Danish Architecture Centre (DAC), who previously occupied an old warehouse on the wrong side of the waterfront. A multi-functional complex, the building has luxury apartments on the top and automated parking in the basement, with offices/’work desks’, a fitness centre and cafés in the middle.

Koolhaas is known for his “f*** context” provocation, and this is basically what the avalanche of critique of the building comes down to: like DAC’s new branding, it’s just not Danish enough. Even the font looks alien, for goodness sake.

Personally I don’t have a problem with any of it, but then I loved the bold approach taken to the waterfront in Koolhaas’ Rotterdam. BLOX is interesting, extending over Christians Brygge like a heap of Tupperware, with escalators and covered walkways to provide changing levels and protection from the weather. The only disappointment in my customary walk round the building was the children’s play area, which feels exposed and out of place in the heart of a big city.

Realdania, the somewhat shady fund who bankrolled the thing, have backtracked, saying they would not commission the design today, while for once the Gdn’s Olly Wainwright let me down. But six days after the opening a group of architects came with a riposte: cities do not stay static and neither are they museums; if CPH wants to compete as an international city it needs distinctive architecture; the glass facade is open to and reflects the city, etc.

And this part of the city already hosts buildings in a range of styles — BLOX practically rubs shoulders with the Black Diamond aka the Royal Library, which back in the day (1999!) also gave rise to an avalanche of critique. A stroll along the waterfront out of the city centre takes you to a section of PoMo buildings almost universally derided, but which today offer rather more than the apartment blocks shooting up in what remains of the harbour.

Of #CAFx2018, sadly, details of the events vanished from view as they happened, but PDF programmes are to be found hidden under Press. For a look at how the festival has developed over the years, see my posts for 2016 (with nods to 2014 and 2015) and 2017).

#kbhlæser: Copenhagen reads!

Update: Aarhus has just trumped CPH with its LiteratureXchange (FB; JyllandspostenLitteratursiden), an avowedly international festival running from 14-24 June 2018 with an overflødighedshorn of 150 events, some even in foreign languages (sic), NorthLit (a Nordic Arabic subfestival), representatives from all four verdenshjørner; meanwhile KBH Læser has announced a shift in focus to a children’s festival, sheesh…apropos book festivals in general, see Bookfestival-opoly and other bookish games (article | Ullapoolism)…

KBH Læser (FB | Twitter: @kbh_laeser#kbhlæser), is an annual literary festival masterminded by Copenhagen Libraries.

Most of my posts seem to be about events these days, and this one is a rewrite of an old messy post on the festival, updated for 2018. When I first started this blog my focus was primarily the formidling angle, ie how events are presented on the web and how they are amplified (think pictorial broadcasting), shared and archived (or not). Of particular note in this regard is the rise of Instagram and the A3 newspaper.

As I started exploring CPH as place this became an additional focus, and now I’m increasingly exercised by how many festivals feel invisibly labelled “Danish only”, aimed at an audience I’m certainly not a member of, and to be making limited to no efforts to appeal to a more diverse, or, dare I say it, intercultural, audience.

For a public library led event, Kbh Læser is disturbingly highbrow – you’d be hard pressed to find many bestsellers here, and if you aren’t au fait with critical theory you may well be more than a tad turned off. Themes tend to the abstract; 2018 has the somewhat opaque catch-all theme of Manifest (Manifesto; think Julian Rosefeldt’s Manifesto).

Unusually for these days, there is no English version of the website, although the newspaper (64pp; too much already; selected articles in news) has a couple of English features. Elsewhere, the enthusiastic Ark Books (“For the Danes we’d like to provide the world’s literature, and introduce Danish literature to those who can’t read Danish”) offers its Manifesto Month (2017: Growth Month).

With my name on it, if in a four-way clash with the Beast from the East, were Georges Perec & OuLiPo at Storrs Antikvariat (a new secondhand bookshop in NV), Den Røde Sofa med Mette Dalsgaard (literary translator from Russian) and Flanørens Europa with Fabian Saul (as seen at Flâneur in Copenhagen nearly three years ago) and Mette Kit Jensen (in Kunsten.nu on the city), on what a drift through the streets of Europe can teach us about modern identity. (See also Fabian’s piece in the A3 rag entitled Notes for a pamphlet: walking the Assistens Cemetery of Copenhagen: the city as cemetery and Goethe Institute-supported project Traces of Resistance, now in the UK.)

Also with an international flavour we have a Flytningemanifest (and in English), Beirut læser and København læser syrisk litteratur (“Syrian literature as a part of literary Denmark”, hurra). We also have an art writing piece by Khalid Albaih, a Sudanese political cartoonist currently in CPH under the ICORN programme.

More of note:

  • in place related corner, several articles on bookish things in areas of the city: FrederiksbergVesterbro (unpick: “Istedgade…emmer af diversitet og mangfoldighed”) and Østerbro (just Poesiens Hus then), plus profiles of the new Litteraturhuset at Nybrogade 28 (seemingly beset by delay and various teething issues), Arbejdermuseet and KBH Tegner (comics and related)
  • a Litterært Manifest-kort, a map with 12 places; why-oh-why not online, not least when the project has received support from at least three worthy institutions? (this isn’t the first time, either)
  • Læseforeningen guided community reading events in Kulturtårnet, Ørestad Bibliotek and the tower of Vor Frue Kirke
  • Europa.Manifest, the output of visits to CPH central library during the autumn of 2017 by European and Danish philosophers, now available as a book
  • a Mikrofest from 24 small publishers, party and anthology in one (all in all an encouraging amount of wordplay around mani/fest; fest means party på dansk), with an online portal to come later in 2018
  • ENIGMA, the suitable enigmatic newish museum/not for post and telegraphy type things, has MANIFEST NOW, a virtual exhibition and installation at the main library, consisting of cut-ups from 15 manifestos displayed at random and/or put back together
  • and finally, Kbh Læser: the blog

#kbhlæser in previous years:

Event website critique (2015): usual fish in a barrel stuff. With 159 events from 77 organisers, and 58 venues, you need several ways of finding your way around the programme, but as ever there was no way in via theme or audience. A map/app would have been nice, although there was a list of what’s on at each venue. No search…and while the design is contemporary enough, you are diverted to Copenhagen Libraries’ rather creaky site for full details, where when it’s gone, it’s gone.

In archive terms, there is one page on the festival’s history plus brief summaries of the festivals in 2014 (the body in literature) and 2012 (Copenhagen). 2018 update: now replaced by photo selections on the about page (2015-17 only), although the 2017 programme is still advertised.

CPH 850: city identity at Golden Days

Latest, Feb 2018: CPH has got itself a Light Festival; the website is entirely in Danglish, which led to some comments on FB; with 40 installations it feels a tad OTT, and Politiken’s review agrees, suggesting that they turn it down a bit, what with one of CPH’s qualities being its dimness, a component of hygge…Byvandring.nu offer some pics with refreshingly downbeat commentary…meanwhile Edinburgh Lumen has gone for “three unique installations…transform St Andrew Square, Assembly Rooms Lane and The Mound Precinct into zen-like portals of tranquility”…how old is CPH? latest

This year’s Golden Days festival (case), running from 2-17 September, took the 850th anniversary of Copenhagen’s notional founding by Bishop Absalon as its theme:

Byer skabes af mennesker, og ingen by har værdi uden sine borgere: Vi er alle skabere af byen. Det er kernebudskabet, når Golden Days Festivalen i 2017 fejrer 850-året for grundlæggelsen af København.

[Cities are created by people, and a city without its people has no worth. We all create the city. This is the message at the heart of Golden Days 2017, celebrating the 850th anniversary of the founding of Copenhagen.]

This truism demonstrates that it may be about CPH but really it’s all about Us. What is it with Danes and place? Or perhaps, what is it with Brits and place? Anyway, Copenhagen’s place-myth, the one everyone grew up with, dates back to Saxo Grammaticus, the Danish Geoffrey of Monmouth, who related how King Valdemar handed a small island over to his foster brother Absalon, Bishop of Roskilde. In 1167 Absalon built a castle on the island, today known as Slotsholmen in the heart of modern Copenhagen.

Archaeological finds date CPH as rather older than this, as pointed out by various sections of the press, but they’re sticking with it, needs must, playing with the myth med glimt i øjet and a fake news style eventFup og fusk! But in a country where supermarkets regularly celebrate spurious birthdays, it’s not really important.

Moving on, early publicity portrayed a fiendishly complicated festival, with 10 people to bear witness to the development of CPH’s cultural heritage around whom the whole shebang would revolve in a set of 10 spor (tracks, trails), with events, guided walks, maps, using “modern network theory” to reveal how the 10 individuals were connected with their contemporaries and with each other. Gosh.

The site design did seem to have had a bit of shine-up, greeting you with shots of the 10 and clips of Copenhagen, plus a blocky menu on the right. Events were keyworded with an appropriate individual, somewhat arbitrarily at times, and you could also browse by location (of the venue), category and day. On the added value content side there were short ‘essays’ and maps with spots for each of the 10, also to be found in this year’s free magazine.

Festival director Svante Lindeburg’s explanation of the curational strategy described a metro diagram, enabling you to see, for example, which of the 10 had connections to the Royal Theatre. This sounded fantastic, but in practice was let down by poor execution and a limited dataset.

Below I have overlaid the maps for near contemporaries Carl Jacobsen and Herman Bang, showing disappointingly no connections:

map overlaying spots for two of the 10

For starters, I’m peeved that the map can only be opened via the site, despite being made in Google Maps. I’d like to fiddle with it! Next, what are the connecting lines about – join the dots? Third, it’s not possible to browse by place. The squares/nodes merely present the text from each individual’s map.

Here’s what you get at the Royal Theatre if you overlay all ten maps and zoom in – there’s not a lot of network theory here:

the unnamed Royal Theatre appears on four maps

Who is Copenhagen?

What of the 10 themselves? Perhaps refreshingly, no Kierkegaard and no Hans Christian Andersen. Less happily we have Women: 2, and Immigrants: 0. That’s just lazy. It’s a shame no one was galvanised enough to come up with an alternative 10, although DR has offered up a five women of the 19th century without trying too hard.

the CPH 850 10: pick a person for events and an essay

The first woman of our 10 is hostess Kamma Rahbek (1775-1829), included largely as a peg for hanging salons on. A meta-salon at KU Bibliotek presented the 19th century salon as gammeldags networking and the equivalent of today’s bookshop readings, with åndrig samtale og et let traktement. Of several contemporary wannabees a Tove Ditvelsen salon at was held at Gentofte Hovedbibliotek; Danish sweetheart Tove lived in Gentofte from 1945-50 and would have been 100 this year, so there was cake…with her writing on growing up in Vesterbro before WW2 Tove might have been a better choice as the second woman of our 10, rather than folkelig inter-war entertainer Liva Weel. Sorry Liva.

A couple of events gave a nod to gender or explored the distaff side of the city – a literary evening in the form of Gin&Gender #9 and a walk from KulturenNu taking in the three statues of named women in the city (for the record: Caroline Amalie, queen consort to Christian VIII, in Kongens Have, women’s education advocate Natalie Zahle in Ørstedsparken and scientist Inge Lehmann, a newcomer on Vor Frue Plads (pic).

A sole event was spotted on newcomers to the city, an Historisk morgen hosted by the National Museum in the Hamad Bin Khalifa Civilisation Center, looking at the effect of immigration (from Russian Jews, Swedish maids and Turkish guestworkers) on Nørrebro as place and its redevelopment as a diverse area in a multicultural society.

It would have nice to have made a passing attempt at presenting a rather more diverse selection of people to represent 850 years of the city’s history. Coupled with a lack of English or any other language other than the dansk throughout, there’s a clear message of who the festival is viewed as being for, and a clear picture of the city’s people-myth. Even going forward.

Where is Copenhagen?

Now then, when you say Copenhagen where (and what) exactly do you mean? The CPH urban area has a population of nearly 1.3 million and is made up of 18 councils, including Copenhagen itself on 606K. While not quite as extreme as Manchester (541K) and its urban area (over 2.5 million), you don’t have to travel far out of the city centre to hit another kommune, a fact that probably doesn’t feature on many mental maps of the city.

As in previous years a number of events were held to the administrative north (specifically in Gentofte, Gladsaxe, Lyngby-Taarbæk and Rudersdal), dressed up as Flugten fra København (the flight from Copenhagen) and limiting the relationship of city and suburb across place and time to a clutch of royal hunting lodges (C4), salon venues (KR) and post-WW2 housing developments (EW). Just don’t call it Copenhagen.

The Frederiksberg-shaped hole in the middle of the city, created in 1901 when CPH swallowed up Valby, Vigerslev and Brønshøj, was neatly filled by an exploration of the kommune‘s continued independence via walks on its eastern and western borders, noticeboards at strategic points and a podcast series. The difference does go beyond street furniture and parking regulations – it’s Danish scale in action.

Other than that CPH 850 meant the city centre and the inner parts of the ‘bros; few events extended further than your average city-breaker, ignoring the city’s own outer areas never mind its post-war suburbs and sprawlYet as cultural historian Ann-Sofie Gremaud of the Denmark and the new North Atlantic project pointed out, Copenhagen exists in many other places, in music, literature and film, and not least in all the people who have lived there or had a direct connection to its growth. Some of this Copenhagen was celebrated in an event at Nordatlantens Brygge, while KulturenNu led a walk on the city and Dansk Vestindien, now the American Virgin Islands, sold to the USA 100 years ago.

Some CPH 850 takeaways

  • Zoom København – the book version, by the prolific Martin Zerlang (who also did a turn retelling the whole tale in 85 minutes); update, Dec: library copy inspected and lugged back after an unopened month or so, ticking all the usual boxes in terms of materiality and style, feeling more like a coffee table item than something corresponding to 21st century reading habits…there’s a post to be written here; the worthy output of a lifetime’s research, but FWIS a disappointingly conventional chronological presentation, dropping the 10 people and the angle of how they might be connected – maybe they should have taken a leaf out of Niall Ferguson’s latest? 2018 update: the Museum of Copenhagen is preparing an eight volume (yes, eight) history of CPH, with the first “richly illustrared” volume due to be published in 1921 2021, gabe
  • Københavnerkanon – they love the canonic in Denmark, and CPH is no exception; a panel came up with a top 20 based on 300-odd Facebook and Instagram submissions, subjected to a vote and whittled down to a top 10 revealed on 2 September
  • Copenhagen on film – series of films and talks marking the publication of a mursten entitled Filmens København (Gyldendal; Politiken)
  • Copenhagen in literature:
    • 10 forfattere. 1o perioder. 10 oplaesninger. – 10 authors gave readings from their own back catalogue and from one of the 10 historical periods
    • Litterær københavnercabaret (FB) – readings and songs in Literaturhaus
    • a literary drunks’ map of CPH (FB), one of three maps on offer _in_ CPH libraries (and which typically haven’t seen the digital light of day)

Any walks of interest? In Brønshøj, Oline Brønd, following in the footsteps of her grandfather Evald who has led more than 180 guided walks in CPH, traced the suburb’s identity from Absalon’s Brønshøj Kirke, founded in the 1180s, via the first school in the area, now Kulturhuset Pilegården, to Ib Lunding’s iconic 1928 water tower, soon to be converted into a venue for cultural events.

As well as the selection of tours from Kulturen.nu two rather unexpected delights looked at the city through a different lens: KLOAK, a sewer tour led by former Golden Days director Ulla Tofte, and a nine stop Science walk from Videnskabernes Selskab.

Overall though CPH 850 felt both of and for the creative class, offering an inward-looking, exclusive and rather one dimensional view of cultural heritage and identity, similar to that currently presented by DR’s Historien om Danmark. While I realise Golden Days is heavily dependent on sponsorship and the involvement of local cultural actors, it would be nice to see the festival taking more risks in terms of events and venues, and a more inclusive look at its potential audience – and perhaps presenting a more complex picture of Copenhagen reflecting all its people in the process.

Vestegnens Kulturuge 2017: digital art, mindfulness and poetry

Vestegnens Kulturuge (FB; previous years) is usually almost exclusively family oriented, but this year it turned up some ‘high’ culture in the shape of a subset of events around 1980s poet Michael Strunge amidst the broader theme of PÅ ELEKTRISK GRUND (sic; FB).

Sadly though much of the week was a wash-out, grey and chilly with prolonged rain and some slushy hail to finish. Two events were cancelled: Mosensdag in Vallensbæk, due to the bog/marsh, which acts as a flood basin leading water away from nearby houses, being completely under water, and Copenhagen Art Run in Ishøj Strandpark, deemed unsafe due to the conditions.

Where last year there were giants, this year there was Tryllebundet (Spellbound), six exhibits in containers showing the latest in digital art, coordinated by Vallensbæk’s DIAS Kunsthal. As well as the works themselves DIAS put together a number of accompanying activities and a Google Map of the area’s public art – now that is handy!

Forstadsmuseet had a Hvidovre-based game (with notebook and pencil; update: got my hands on this analogue artefact, developed in conjunction with Play Agency – looks very impressive), plus re-runs of some of its walks, while Rødovre opened up its bunker, a kommunale kommandocentral under Arne Jacobsen’s library, who knew, as part of its Cold War project.

Each of the six kommuner had its special day, largely unrelated to the overall theme, made up of events organised by local foreninger with the communal culture centre as venue. Hvidovre, perhaps making up for the lack of a shiny culture centre while we wait for the new bymidte, mounted two special days, pushing the boat out on the second Saturday of the ‘week’ in Hvidovre C with a range of events including a 12 hour mindfulness themed soveconcert (Sleep Concert), from GoSlow and sound artist Karsten Pflum. Gosh.

The previous Saturday was centred around Hvidovre town hall at the opposite end of the kommune. This included readings in Risbjerggård from personal fave Søren Ulrik Thomsen, a contemporary of Michael Strunge, and Caspar Eric, very much inspired by him.

Other Strunge related events included several riffs on the title of his 1984 collection Væbnet med vinger:

Michael Strunge (1958-86) was born in a clinic in Rødovre (venue of Denmark’s first punk gig by Sods in 1977) and grew up in Hvidovre, specifically in Berners Vænge, on the modernist Bredalsparken estate. He went to Sønderkærskolen (reminiscences) before attending Vestre Borgerdyd Gymnasium on Sjælør Boulevard in Valby.

Between 1978 and 1985 he published 11 collections of poetry, most of it written in a flat he shared with his girlfriend in Hvidovre. He died in 1986 at the age of 27, like his heroes Hendrix, Joplin and Morrison, jumping out of a window at Webersgade 17 in Østerbro (plaque), and is buried in Assistens Kirkegård.

A figurehead for his generation and usually dubbed a ‘punk’ poet, but we’re not really talking John Cooper Clarke here:

Søren Ulrik Thomsen was born in Kalundborg and spent most of his childhood in Stevns, but at the reading admitted to living on Arnold Nielsens Boulevard from the age of 2-6, in one of the red and white blocks at the Hvidovrevej end. He knew Strunge well, although was careful to stress that they were very different in personality.

Fondly known as Hvidovre’s tourist bureau, SUT cited the “rigtig smukt forstadsbyggeri” Berners Vænge in Politiken’s Riv byen ned series. A poem in his latest collection has the title I Hvidovre, på novemberdage (translation by Susanna Nied, p19), while a recent essay includes the indispensable quote:

og jeg ser for mig, Hvidovre for fyrre år siden, som med små selvbyggerhuse og lys og luft mellem boligblokkene vel både historisk og geografisk var “den første forstad”, med alt, hvad det indbefattede af søde drømme om en lille sort folkevogn og et tv-apparat og i det hele taget et bedre liv end det, der levedes f.eks. på Vesterbro, som Hvidovre må være udflytning af

[and I see before me the Hvidovre of forty years ago, which with its small self-built houses and open spaces between the tower blocks was probably the first suburb, both historically and geographically, with all that entails: sweet dreams of a little black Beetle and a television and all in all a better life than that lived for example in Vesterbro, which Hvidovre may be a relocation of]

Perhaps the suburbs still have an authenticity of time and place, less found in today’s Happy CPH. In København con amore (2006), the product of trips to the outer reaches of CPH with photographer Jokum Rohde, SUT presents photos of two very local spots, Hvidovrevejens Partyslagter at Hvidovrevej 277 (now Pangs Smørrebrød), while Lis’s Kaffebar at 340 C is now occupied by Hot & Cool and French Chicken. Things are changing, even in Hvidovre.

Back to Strunge with Vestegnens KulturCast, an enthusiastic effort from Vallensbæk Kultur- og Borgerhus, with two dedicated episodes plus full interviews with Anne Marie Mai and Jørgen Aabenhus. The second episode has readings from Asger Schnack in Taastrup Bibliotek and from school students in the 9th class in Vallensbæk. All well worth a listen.

In 1985 AMM and MS published Mai Strunge, a book of their conversations and letters. She followed this up in 2008 with an anthology, En bog om Michael Strunge, on what would have been his 50th birthday, co-edited with JA. In her interview she stated that MS was an ‘anarkistisk kameleon’, unconstrained by fashions/styles in poetry and uninterested in socially engaged poems with a message.

JA examined MS’s relationship with life in the suburbs, not least as reflected in his 1981 poem COMA, observing people waiting at a bus stop on Hvidovrevej. At that time Hvidovre was very homogeneous, middelmådig and småborgelig, a poster child for the velfærdssamfund – and a prime case for teenage rebellion. There’s a tension here with hygge, of which I’m guessing MS wasn’t a big fan, but as JA pointed out hygge is more likely to be found in the home than at a bus stop.

By way of contrast, when asked a brace of Vestegnen residents named the slower tempo of life, which you notice as soon as you get off said bus, vs too much traffic, too many people and the lack of greenery in the city, as the advantages of living in the suburbs today.

More Strunge? see Litteratursiden, which also has a recent feature on 1980s literature, and biographies by Knud Munck (2001) and Peter Rewers (2015). For more SUT, see People vs place in Copenhagen.

Bloom: celebrating the nature of nature

2018 update: second run-out for the naturvidenskabelig turn on 26-27 May, this year with an English programme and much more of the same, inc HCA, wolves (don’t ask), a splendid portfolio of walks (with Træer tackling the Danes’ eagerness to fell ‘sick’ trees) and my personal nightmare, a langbordsmiddag; many events stuffed with speakers while lasting c45 mins, so can’t help thinking it’s more about the hygge

Festival Watch 2017 continues with Bloom (#bloomdk | FB), a new entrant from the Golden Days stable emerging from 2015’s Open Air Academy. It took place over the Kristihimmelfartsdag (Ascension Day) weekend at Søndermarken, one of two almost conjoined parks on the Frederiksberg/Valby border straddling Roskildevej, a stone’s throw from the ‘new’ district of Carlsberg.

Themed around nature and science, the festival positioned itself as a response to the post-factual era. Speakers came from backgrounds including biology and astrophysics, with more than a smattering of sessions slanted towards ‘lifestyle’. But it was all free, benefiting from lots of lovely sponsorship, taking place in the open air on a warm and rain free weekend.

Now then, I was grateful for a copy of the festival booklet from the library to leaf through, as the website was arty rather than usable. (I’m not the only one; comments on #some ranged from “I’m too old for this” to “how smuk“.) The situation was not much improved by offering the programme as a dense 54 page PDF. And despite the number of sessions in English there was no English version – OTOH there was a lot of English appropriation going on, with the now obligatory “talks og walks” and eight(!) stages with English names (I’m appropriating Wanderlust). Plus they went a bit over the top with schematics and classifications, different types of event and something called Bloom Balls. Let’s hope someone had full control of the big spreadsheet.

While the Danes’ relationship with trees is worth unpicking, Søndermarken is known for its sylvan lovelies, and a clutch of Bloom events went beyond saplings in bags. Saturday saw Perspektiv: træer, with four speakers exploring the videnskab (lit: science; here: what we know) behind trees. There were also three tankefrø (lit.: seed thoughts) exploring the cultural history of the oak, the beech and the lime.

Hans Christian Andersen called the oak “det største og ypperste træ i skoven”, a sentiment no doubt echoed by writer Jens Blendstrup, who together with artist Ole Lejbach completed a four year Ege-ekspeditioner (oak odyssey), resulting in an exhibition which toured the country in 2015 and is now available as a book. We also had a cabinetmaker and the founder of OAK – the Nordic Journal (“echoes of the Nordic way of life”) on the oak in Danish design, plus oak hors d’oeuvres from a food artist. Ah well. Here’s a picture of Klopstock’s Oak in Lyngby instead.

Klopstock’s Oak, where every July members of the Danish Klopstock Society meet for a reading

The beech is Denmark’s national tree, even featuring in the national anthem. Amongst Søndermarken’s beeches we find Ewald’s Beech, planted in memory of youthful Golden Age poet Johannes Ewald (1743-81), with a reed-covered parasol acting as shelter for a bench. Here though we had writer and boatbuilder Sigurd Buch Kristensen, a biologist and an architect, who posited the question of whether the Danish chair is an invasiv art. Plus beech snacks. In lime corner we had inter alia Neal Ashley Conrad on Proust and lime blossom tea dipping, and sessions from a landscape architect and an entomologist. You probably had to be there.

Lindehøjen, a group of limes on an artificial mound, site of Bloom’s Sound stage

Moving on, the walks n talks included lots of sciency stuff, with ant and bat walks for good measure, and three representatives from Denmark’s slim walking canon. Bakkehuset’s Gertrud With led off with Adam Oehlenschläger (1779-1850), author of the national anthem, who as son of the nearby palace’s steward had Søndermarken as almost his private playground. Famously, following a 16 hour walk with Norwegian philosopher Heinrich Steffens he composed Guldhornerne, a 1200 page epic poem, in one sitting.

Next up, RUC’s Dan Charly Christensen went for a walk with Oehlenschläger’s contemporary, the physicist Hans Christian Ørsted (1777-1851; of inter alia the eponymous park), who held Kantian beliefs about the unity of nature and the relationships between natural phenomena. Even more physics on the final walker’s walk, led by Henrik Bohr, grandson of Nobel prize winning physicist Niels (1885-1962), who lived for 30 years just round the corner in JC Jacobsens æresbolig (now Carlsberg Akademi) and made regular head-clearing walks in the park.

Adam Oehlenschläger, patron saint of Danish walkers, at the top of Valby Bakke

Frederiksberg was part of the same parish as Hvidovre until 1857, while Valby was not handed over to Copenhagen until its 1901 land grab, so it’s interesting to note that garden designer Marcus Friederich Voigt made a trial run for Søndermarken at Holmegården, just north of the 12th century Hvidovre church, in 1794. Clearly a spot of some note, a great-grandmother of Karen Blixen was installed in the manor house by her lover in around 1810, where she gave birth to three children. In 1833 the house was bought by Søren Kierkegaard’s great uncle, who owned it until 1853. (Our local museum notes that records do not show whether Søren visited Holmegården – but he could have done). Sadly, the manor house burnt down in 1931 and the garden has long since been built over.

Originally designed in the best Baroque style for Frederik IV in 1709, Søndermarken was laid out in triangles around three long avenues in a ‘goose foot’ system. This layout can just about be detected in the surviving path network. FVI’s 1795 redesign incorporated the latest Romantic motifs such as a hermit’s hut, a Doric temple and a Swiss cottage, plus waterfalls and grottoes. Open to the public from 1852, people flocked from the increasingly built-up centre of Copenhagen to admire the view from the top of Valby Bakke, one of Copenhagen’s highest points at 31 metres above sea level, and to enjoy a picnic on the Smørrebrødsplænen lawn.

After falling into decline Søndermarken’s Romantic features were restored in 2012, with the addition of 21st century essentials such as climbing frames and exercise areas, plus a small dogs run free area (unfenced). Today you are more likely to see lycra clad joggers than poets or physicists taking a constitutional. It’s a nice corner of the city, but surely destined to become the playground of escapees from the hyper-dense new area around Carlsberg.

(Talking of playgrounds, the forthcoming CPH Stage has a clutch of performance style walks around the theme of the city as stage. Of passing interest are OmniPresence on surveillance culture, Inge Agnete Tarpgaard’s walking workshop and Cantabile 2’s Hidden Number.)

Søndermarken’s hermit’s hut, occasionally let out for artists’ residences