The Nordic Summer University (NSU) has commissioned 10 artists and researchers to trace the spread of NSU’s values across the world. At the forefront of creative techniques in archiving, philosophy and creative methods, the projects will culminate in a mini-festival in Norway in Summer 2020 to celebrate NSU’s 70th anniversary – truly the oldest Nordic institution of its kind!
Follow links on the bar to the left to explore our history as it is revealed…
Almost as old as the Nordic tradition of summer schools – to which Nordic Summer Univeristy is indebted – is that of the Winter School. Generations of writers, thinkers, artists and mercenaries have met during the long days of darkness across Scandinavia to refuel: to learn, to discuss, to keep their brains warm.
Our 9 study circles each meet during the winter months, around February, for mini-symposiums. Pick a subject and find out more:
The dedication to extreme conditions marks the “winter school” experience – and we have been happy to hear that this typifies other, similar institutions!
As Bohuslav Balcar and Petr Simon recount for 25 years of winter schools on “Abstract Analysis” for Acta Universitatis Carolinae, “The worst living conditions were at Strazne 1979. It was necessary to break the ice if you wanted to wash your face or to use your toothbrush. One foreign participant arrived late evening, suffered through the whole night and escaped the next morning forever”.
Hopefully we have never been beset by such conditions – but it certainly brings back memories from our 1995 session, as you can read about here!
A psychoanalyst, metascientist, philosopher and music theorist, Carl Lesche (1920-1993) was a member of the Nordic Summer University in its earliest days from 1952.
Also a member of the radical music group Fylkingen, Lesche was a theorist in the experimental music and performance field. His travels took him all the way to the Soviet Union, where he made some of the earliest recordings of orthodox liturgical music.
(from ‘A Short Biography and List of His Scientific Writings’ By Åke Åredal)
The major challenge of the Oleana project is to find a way to visually recreate the parts of the story that are buried deep in the past. Oleana was founded in 1852 at a time where photography was in its infancy and it was still quite rare to see photographs reproduced in newspapers. In addition to this, the colony lasted only a little over a year, which made it difficult to find some time to document it. This is why there is no photographic evidence of the existence of the colony.
In the early 1900s some photographs were taken of the ruins of what once was Ole Bull’s castle. The violinist’s home turned out to resemble more a log cabin than a royal abode. In my project I make use of old photographs found in archives and historical society to re-construct and provide a visual representation of what is lost in time.
“I guess I’m trying to subjectify the world, because look where objectifying it has gotten us.”
Ursula K Le Guin
What happens when we start experiencing the world as a living subject? Through centuries, we have fostered a belief system stating the opposite, an idea that came with Christianity where the world was given to us humans as something to satisfy our needs with, ours to control. With the development of modern science, the world turned into a machine where the mechanistic worldview pulled the veil off of nature, wanting to expose her secrets to man.
This mechanistic worldview has then turned forests into tree plantations, water streams to sewers, wildlife to cattle and mountains to mines. It has driven our culture to the brim of a environmental collapse on a global scale, a disruption of the conditions we need in order to live. Earlier this year the IPBES report came out, telling us that we are facing a tremendous loss of biodiversity with one million species threatened by extinction. While we are busy transforming nature to useless things we hardly need on the expense of countless ecosystems, we are losing the living world right before our eyes. It is a collapse with a magnitude hard to grasp.
How can this even be possible?
Around the world, a movement that is asking this same question is gaining momentum: the movement for rights of nature where countries, states and cities are granting legal personhood to ecosystems. As people have, for decades, tried to understand how to protect their natural surroundings and finding the frustrating realisations that the old way of going about simply does not work. Trying to defend the living world, the ecosystems, has proven to be very difficult through the legal system. Something is fundamentally wrong within the system itself.
“We need not only to talk about the environmental harm that is being done, we need to talk about the legal harm”
This is from Mari Margil, from the Community Environment Legal Defence Fund, when she visited Sweden in May 2019. She was invited to speak in a strategic meeting regarding the Swedish Lake Vättern. Margil has been a long time champion in the field of rights of nature, with merits such as being one of the advisors for the Ecuadorian government when rights of nature was written into the country’s constitution in 2008, the first in the world. She was also one of the writers behind the Universal Declaration of Rights of Mother Earth, written in the World People’s Conference on Climate Change and Rights of Mother Earth in Cochabamba Bolivia in 2010. According to Margil, in order to get to the root cause of the problem of the environmental crisis we are facing today, we need to see that the system itself is at fault. The legal system itself is not about defending nature, it is about regulating the harm done to it. If we ought to not harm nature, we need acknowledge the inherent rights it has to exist in the first place.
In the system we live in today, nature is viewed upon solely as a property that belongs to us. Rights of nature is, on the contrary, a great shift of mentality in our relationship to nature, wherein nature is rather acknowledged as a living entity with its own inherent rights, and something we can have relationship with. There is a world of difference between these two perspectives.
The above mentioned Lake Vättern has, in recent years, received attention due to it being subject to many threats. As the largest sweet water source in Sweden, a country known for its strict environmental policies, it is a ghastly realization to see how the body of water is treated today. This lake, providing drinking water to hundreds of thousands of people daily and a home for countless species, is being shot at by the Swedish military, which releases large amounts of toxins and violently disturbs the ecosystem. In Norra Kärr, north of Gränna, the canadian company Tasman Metals is planning a day pit mine, just few kilometers from the lake that all likely would leak toxic waste water into the lake.
This has led to growing protest around the lake, with locals closest affected raising their voices and trying to protect the lake. And it has not been easy, or as easy as one thinks it should be when it comes to protecting something as fundamental as a source of water. The example with lake Vättern has led the rights of nature network in Sweden to take interest in it, as it exemplifies how a system is at fault when a lake of that importance does not have legal standing. The network has during 2019 addressed the rights of lake Vättern by writing the Lake Vättern Bill of Rights where the declaration was the basis for a tribunal during the Earth Rights Conference in Sigtuna May 2019.
With the project Jagjord Jagvatten, we are trying to get close to the idea of carrying this movement that is growing both internationally, and in Sweden particularly. Just this year, one of the key people in the Swedish rights of nature movement and of those who we have interviewed, Pella Thiel, was granted the prestigious price of Årets Miljöhjälte, the Environmental Hero of the Year, by WWF for her work with the matter. With the work, we aim at exploring the different levels of the idea itself, what it means in terms of activism, law, art, philosophy and politics. What does it mean when we live in a culture, or at least try to approach it, where the world is a living subject? Where does it take us?
Jagjord Jagvatten is a project run by Arci Pasanen and Phil Jamieson and the name of the project is a tribute to the Maori people, who after more than 100 years got the government in New Zealand to recognize the inherent rights of the Whanganui river. They have saying that goes “Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au” translating to “I am the river, the river is me”.
Looking through a box from the NSU Archive, I found a marketing brochure about Turku: Turku Kesällä 1954. Åbo Sommaren 1954. Turku in Summer 1954). The 1954 summer session must have been in Turku. In the brochure is an advertisement for American Club cigarettes; it shows an enormous pack of cigarettes in front of a Manhattan skyline and the words: ‘today …tomorrow … always …’.
Setting aside the irony regarding what we know now (and probably did then) about cigarettes and longevity, I wondered why they sold cigarettes by appealing to a longing for immortality.
Immortality and origins are what we hope to find in archives. 1954 is the year I was born, this is why I was looking in that box, trying to find a way into the early history of NSU by linking my history with the organisation’s. My mother smoked Craven A, I wonder if she did so when she was pregnant with me. I’ve never thought about this before. Craven A was a woman’s kind of cigarette. Whenever we had to make something from clay at school, we’d make an ashtray. A tray for ash.
The Danish National Archive protects the NSU’s documents from physical degradation, theft and loss. Perhaps they even receive the same protection as major state documents; age affords a levelling. Each year we hold worried conversations about the future of NSU. We never know what will happen. But the past is taken care of.
Later, at home I randomly open Derrida’s Archive Fever (trans. Eric Prenowitz, 1996) and read on page 36 that the question of the archive is not a question of the past but is a question of the future: ‘the question of a response, of a promise and of a responsibility for tomorrow. The archive: if we want to know what that will have meant, we will only know in times to come. Perhaps. Not tomorrow but in times to come, later on or perhaps never.’
The flight, flight, to Oslo in July next year is booked.
Dining with NSU in the 1950’s. Today we have more women but fewer bow ties.