A for August Strindberg, the poet

A man with a so-called character is often a simple piece of mechanism; he has often only one point of view for the extremely complicated relationships of life.

― August Strindberg

Page from my art journal with the writer August Strindberg (1849-1912) in focus, who some of us love and some of us hate. He is one of Sweden’s biggest and most famous writers, but personally I got sick of him in compulsory school, when we were all forced to read his Hemsöborna (People of Hemso). Se some of his bitter quotes and you’ll see what I mean. So why is he in my art journal? I love this picture which was in the paper – plus I dig his new ears! And I really like some of his work, like this poem:

“Här rivs för att få luft och ljus;
är kanske inte det tillräckligt?

Välkommen åter, snälla sol,
lys över land och vatten;
nu klingar sång, nu stäms fiol,
nu dansas hela natten.

Där hänger på boklådsfönstret
en tunnklädd liten bok.
Det är ett urtaget hjärta
som dinglar där på sin krok.

Vinden vilar, viken ligger som en spegel,
kvarnen somnar, seglarn tar ner segel.
Oxarna bli släppta ut i gröna hagen,
allting rustar sig till vilodagen.

Vad vänta de bråkiga kråkorna
därnere framför mitt hus?
De hänga i lindarne,
och gunga för vindarne;
på nattkvist kraxa de,
på morgonkvist flaxa de,
och vänta att dager blir ljus.

“There in the book shop window, hangs a little thread-bare book, like a cut out heart, dangling on a hook… “

I remember those lines from school, because they are some of my favorite lines. Strindberg, take him as he was, or not at all.

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