Björkudden 2018 engelska webb by Taeko Ostergren

Stockholm, an exhibition and the summerhouses

Villa BjĂśrkudden Memoirs of faith and hope 1897â&#x20AC;&#x201C;2018

Contents Preface

p. 5

Timeline

p. 8

1897 Stockholm, an exhibition and the summerhouses p. 10 Villa Björkudden is maintained by Sisyfosgruppen – a company built around the idea of an ancient Greek myth. Sisyphus has defied the powerful sky god Zeus. As punishment for his hubris, he is forced to roll a heavy stone straight up a tall mountain. He must use every ounce of strength in his body to accomplish the task. Yet when the stone finally reaches the top of the mountain, it rolls down the other side and Sisyphus has to start all over again. He must continue with this endless task forever. Today, it is often said that a task that seems never-ending is a ‘Sisyphean task.’ But Sisyphus discovers a way to escape his punishment. By deciding that this physical workout is in fact fun, Zeus’s punishment is a punishment no longer. In Camus’ book ‘The Myth of Sisyphus,’ we ourselves are the ones pushing the stone uphill. Life, just as the stone-rolling, has no enduring value. It is we who must create the value in our lives. We can choose to believe that what we do is worthwhile, in the same way that Sisyphus placed value in his own work. Being forced to choose what has value and taking responsibility for one’s own life are ideas that define existentialism in itself.

1898–1908 Mr Johan Sjöqvist, the builder

p. 22

1908–1943 The Steinwalls

p. 34

1944–1945 Those who fared over the sea

p. 52

1949 When the villa became a school

p. 66

2015 A Sisyphean task

p. 78

A place that lives in the heart

p. 94

Crystal gets a home at Björkudden

p. 100

Before and after

p. 104

A Final Word

p. 108

Text: Hampus Busk Sejda AB, Bibbi Fagerström, Olle Larsson Sisyfosgruppen AB. Editing: Johanna Lundeberg Ordaglad. Translation from Swedish: Kayla Holderbein, Hampus Busk Photo: Anneli Lindh Care of Lindh, Olof Ringmar, Gabriel Lundh Ljudbildsverket and Olle Jo. Archive photos from Stockholm city archive (p 13, 15, 21, 25, 52, 55), the Swedish Museum of maritime history (p 50, 51). Other photos: private collections of Birgitta Steinwall, Bibbi Fagerström, and Helga Nõu. Design: Taeko Östergren, Grafish. Print: Danagård Litho. Font: the body text in Cochin, designed by Georges Peignot in 1912 and the headings are in Base 12 Serif, designed by Zuzana Licko in 1995. This book is a translation of the second edition of this book. It was first printed in may 2016 with the title: Villa Björkudden, Levnadsöden och framtidsdrömmar 1897–2016.

Villa BjĂśrkudden Memoirs of faith and hope 1897â&#x20AC;&#x201C;2018

Foreword

Memoirs of Faith and Hope

illa Björkudden tells stories. Stories of people’s destinies, of dreams and hope for the future. Of war and freedom, of parties and delight and of tough times. Sisyfosgruppen’s responsibility is to preserve and share this house and place’s fantastic history. We also want to use these stories and this place as inspiration for creating a new story. We who have been captivated by the house’s magic want to re-establish Villa Björkudden and create a home for our network and our brand Sisyfos on the island of Tynningö. In Greek mythology, there was a King named Sisyphus. After a defeat, he was given punishment by the sky god Zeus to roll a stone straight up a steep mountain. Every time, the stone would roll down again and the task became endless. This eternal punishment has become a symbol for perseverance and hopeless projects. Yet the story also has another side. The stone was not Sisyphus’s first challenge; he had defied Zeus before and had managed to con his way out of Hades’s death grip. Sisyphus had decided that he would never let himself be punished and came up with a solution for this new stone-challenge. Because he was forced to roll the stone uphill forever, he had no choice but to find happiness in the task and to imagine that this was the most fun he could have. By accepting his fate and finding happiness in the moment, he fooled Zeus one last time. The punishment had transformed into a reward! Today, we have the freedom to choose our

lives for ourselves and shape our future. This is not just a benefit, but also a responsibility, and we must challenge ourselves and set goals for development and growth. Difficult is fun, easy is boring. This is Sisyfos’s motto. Out of Villa Björkudden’s fascinating history, we have chosen four stories that we will share in this book. They share a common denominator in dreams of the good life and a better world, a hope for the future that inspires us and gives us energy: Johan Sjökvist, the Stockholm Exhibition and the new Stockholm; Georg Steinwall, the roaring 20s and the reaction to the war’s challenges; Helga Nõu, the Estonian war refugees and their journey from home toward an uncertain but better future; Grethe Fagerström’s thoughts around education and how the authoritative school system could be changed to a new pedagogic view. These are the people who have created history, and from their time and position have made an impression on our own time. In this book you will meet them, their friends and relatives, and their ideas and ideals. A wonderful description of 120 years of Stockholm’s history. Villa Björkudden holds an important place in the past, present, and future. Welcome! Olle Larsson Sisyfosgruppen

L 6

et me say this about Villa Sisyfos: this house is not so much a house as it is a function or a vessel. There are places in the world that stand out from the dull mass of everything else. Places where history is so clearly present. Physical spaces where the layers of time have left such a distinct mark that each layer tells its own story. Stories that expand far beyond the walls and shrubbery that mark the physical boundaries where the house stands. These are places where things that feel so distant in time become imaginable: the feeling of walking out on a river that has frozen over, and beneath its icy cold surface you see glimpses of things past and feel their presence. All the people, their thoughts, fears, and hopes. Villa Sisyfos is such a place. Here you can sense traces of histories much greater than the grandeur of the faĂ§ade, which in itself would be more fitting of a fin de siĂ¨cle borough in some Central European capital. Embedded in these walls, you find the saga of modern Stockholmâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s own birth and development, which mirrors the incredible transformation of Swedish society: from an ugly duckling into one of the world's wealthiest nations. It is also a history shared equally by the most unlikely of people. Here were summer school students, punch-drunk artists from the golden years of Scandinavian painting, and refugees from the merciless tides of the Second World War. All have passed through this house and left their marks, claiming this space inch by inch, memory by memory. This is not a house; this is the sum of the stories of those mentioned in this book. Theirs are the stories we found and fell in love with, a story that now becomes yours.

Timeline

Upper part: local context lower part: larger context

1879 Mr. Munthe sells the land lots of Sofiero (Tynningö 1:12) to Mr. Gustaf Åkerstedt who later sells them to a silk factory owner Mr. A N Berglöf. The Middle Ages the island of Tynningö is known as Thyninge.

Medeltid

1252 the city of Stockholm is founded

1543 Copernicus declares his heliocentric worldview, with the sun in its center. 1400 The Island belongs to the burghers of Stockholm but is later annexed by King Gustav the 1st.

1400

1500

1560 King Erik the XIV rewards Jakob Bagge with the island, a wing of the old mansion is still situated next to the ferry quay today

1600

1517 Martin Luther announces his criticism of the Catholic church, which sparks a chain of events leading to a schism now known as the Reformation. 1523 Gustav Vasa is elected king of Sweden the 6th of June.

From the late 15th to the late 16th century. The Renaissance.

From the late 16th century to the first decades into the 18th century. The Baroque. Sumptuous, over the top and luxurycraving aesthetics.

The mid 18th century. The Rokoko. The style is known for its striving for forms of ease, pleasure. Flowing forms and pastel colors.

1874 the westernmost part of the island is bought by the businessman Mr. Munthe, who renames the isthmus Höganäs. 1800 The island areas are sold in portions to different self-owned farmers.

1897 the Stockholm exhibition is held on the island of Djurgården in Stockholm. The house that is now known as Villa Björkudden was erected as an administrative office for the exhibition staff.

1800

1700

1723 A law is passed in Sweden making it compulsory for parents to make their children learn to read.

1890 the property is given by a will to the builder Mr. Johan Sjöqvist who buys the house after the exhibition.

1800-talet Den industriella revolutionen inleds i mitten av seklet i Storbritannien.

1735 the first copy of Carl von Linnéus system changing book Systema Naturae is printed, making him one of the greatest Swedish scientists up to date. The later 18th century. Neoclassicism, known as Gustavian style in Sweden after Its ruling king Gustav the III. A return to a revival of classical architecture and manners.

1842 a four-yearlong primary school system is introduced in Sweden, known as 'Folkskola.' 1895 the famous establishment 'Operakällan' is reopened by the brothers George och Gustav Steinwall.

Late 18th and the first half of the 19th century. Empire style called Karl Johan-style in Sweden after Its most profiled king during the era. The style is known through expressive use of color, dark wood and a lot of gold.

The decades around the turn of the 19th to the 20tha century Jugend/art nouveau style. A style born from the wish to break free from revivalism.

1943 the family of the deceased Mr. Georg Steinwall sells the villa to Mrs. Maria Lövgren. 1944 The villa is sold to an entrepreneur Mr. Gustaf Åkerström. 1944−1945 The villa is used as a refugee camp for Finnish and Estonian nationals.

1898 the house is dismounted and moved out to the island on barges and erected at its current place. 1908 the brothers Gustaf and Georg Steinwall buys the Villa cojointly.

1900

1905 Albert Einstein publishes his theory of relativity

1916 Gustaf Steinwall gets married and sells his share of the house to his brother Georg.

From the latter half of the 19th century until the 1920´s 1,5 million Swedes emigrate, primarily to the USA. Mid- to late 19th century. Revival styles. A tendency during the industrialization lo look back and use the shapes and forms of earlier ages often using modern, mass-produced techniques.

1936 the 'Folkskola' is extended to a compulsury seven year education.

1918 Democratic representative reform, All men, and women achieve equal voting rights.

20th century. Breakthrough of Modernism.

1950−1967 Mr. Mauritz och Mrs. Grethe Fagerström manage a summer school in the villa.

1940

1920

1914–1918 First World War. Sweden remains neutral.

1949 The villa is bought by Mr. Mauritz and Msrs. Grethe Fagerström. It will stay within the family until 2015.

1939–1945 Second World War. Sweden remains neutral.

1960

1950 The Swedish Parliament passes a law making 9 years of education compulsory.

1980

1973 The oil crises cause panic over the world.

1917–1955 Sweden has an extensive alcohol rationing system, the Bratt system or Motbok, using social profiling to estimate citizens allocated rations.

1920–1930 Art déco. A sub sequel- style of Art Nouveau that enhances individual taste and particular and decorative shapes.

2015 the villa is bought by the property developers Sisyfosbruppen AB.

1989 The Berlin Wall is torn down.

2000

2001 Two airplanes crash into the World Trade Center in New York on the 11th of September.

1995 Sweden holds a referendum and becomes a member of the European Union.

1930–1960 Functionalism, s.k. funkis, a Swedish version of modernism. Recognised through its flat, plaster covered facades with equally flat ceilings and box-like buildings.

2004 The population in Sweden excedes 9million.

1970–1980 Postmodernism. A style breaking with much of the rules connected to modernism. Known to refer to older architectural styles on a free basis but using modern materials such as concrete and glass.

The architect Fredrik Dahlberg designed the administrative building (far left) of the Stockholm Exhibition in 1897. Its beautifully plastered and painted faรงade fooled visitors and architecture experts alike into believing that it was made of brick and granite instead of wood framing.

1897

Stockholm, an exhibition and the summerhouses

uring the latter part of the 19th century, change was stirring in Sweden’s cities. Reforms in representation and the economy combined to produce an era of economic growth that had never before been seen. This swift boost in productivity transformed Sweden from a primitive agrarian society to one of the most expansive industrial nations in the world. All in less than half a century. The prosperity created here would later create the backbone of the Swedish social welfare system, also known as ‘The Nordic Model,’ which took shape in the decades that followed. Those born in this country during the mid-19th century lived through a time of remarkable change. They started their lives in a Sweden without electricity, trains, or any large-scale industry. It was a country where church and states were the unopposed authority. By the end of their 55-year life expectancy, they could look back and see a society that had changed entirely, at a remarkable speed.

This development began with one group in particular gaining power during this time. The bourgeoisie of the towns, while lacking the noble epithets of ‘von,’ ‘count’ and ‘baron,’ had an ever-increasing affluence. This fueled the formation of an identity entirely their own, with a specific set of habits, preferences, and interests. The 19th century was indeed the century of the bourgeoisie, where men wore titles like Director, Banker, or Entrepreneur with the same gravitas as the titles of the propertied elites of old. They displayed their status in a number of ways: a yearly cycle of semi-public parties and cultural events. Property ownership moved to the cities, where status was defined by the number of rooms you could afford in your residential apartment and what part of town you chose to live in – Östermalm being the most exclusive borough for Stockholmers. Here society and progress were surrounded by a patchwork of rules written and unwritten. There also developed an increasing separation between the public and private spheres, which made for a golden age of double moral standards. In response to this new era and new demand, the modern art and gallery scene as we know it came into being. All to supply this new class, with their ”new money” and longing for an old story, with an aura of grandeur. It is with this backdrop that you can understand the reasoning behind the summer villa. The custom of having double accommodations in Stockholm

Stockholm, an exhibition and the summerhouses

was nothing new for those who could afford it. Back in the 18th century, even a low-ranking clerk could afford to rent a small cottage outside the city. The opportunity to flee the reeking stench of summer and grow one’s own vegetables was attractive to many. Stockholm was one of the most polluted and smelly towns in Northern Europe, packed with tanneries and lacking a modern sewage system, making this desire all the more understandable. Few summer retreats remain from this time, Svindersvik in a fjord near city center being a lovely rococo example of an early-generation, top-notch summer villa. It was during this time that a villa became a firstclass sign of social progress. The golden age of these summer residences would be primed with the rise of the bourgeoisie as described above, and the introduction of regular steamboat traffic between the city and the surrounding archipelago islands. Entrepreneurs who could see the writing on the wall quickly bought up large plots of land from naïve island farmers and fishermen who could not see economic value in any property not deemed fit for agricultural purposes. In fact, up until the 1950s you could buy your very own island for a few thousand Swedish crowns at Nordiska Kompaniet, a fashionable department store in town. As steamboat technology and speed improved, the villa developments rolled further out over the islands towards the open waves of the Baltic Sea. The houses were constructed almost uniformly in wood, with spacious covered verandas and gingerbread carpentry imitating the leafy crowns of the tree-planted gardens. A distinct stage from which to see and be seen.

The latrines were emptied into the lakes and seas surrounding Stockholm. In the background, you can see a glimpse of Norra Real secondary school. The wooded lake in front has completely disappeared.

It was from the ever-growing and increasingly unhealthy city out into the fresh air that city dwellers migrated every summer. A need that only heightened with the increase in industrial pollution. This was migration in an almost literal sense: many people packed their entire household in boxes, moving furniture from their city apartments out to their summer villas. By late spring each year, Stockholm’s waterfronts began to look like the world’s most extensive outdoor auction. Servants tirelessly loaded stacks upon stacks, piles upon piles of belongings onto steamboats that then towed out towards their destinations, followed by their owners in less-crowded boats. The season stretched from April to late September, thanks to regular boat traffic that allowed men to continue working in

the city while commuting to their summer paradises. These summer villas, or ”sommarnöjen”(eng. ‘summer delight’), developed into their own little microcosms. They were often vastly more loved by their owners than their city dwellings, which in comparison often stood out as grey, dark and dull. Even in the summerhouse, public appearance remained a subject of utmost importance. The layout of the rooms often imitated that of city apartments, with drawing rooms, dining rooms, and salons as examples. As a compliment, there was usually a gazebo nearby, often secluded from the main house. Here, undisturbed by weather and wind and nosy servants, you could get as close to nature as possible. The sheer number of verandas, gazebos and covered patios that characterize the summer villas of this age may seem a little less odd when considering the fashion norms of the time. Starched collars, dinner jackets, and corsets were ill-fitting for the warm summer season. That and the beauty ideal of pale skin made the sun an unwanted guest. This called for the creation of shaded spaces for the tranquil enjoyment of nature from afar. 14

There were opportunities to push some boundaries, like fraternizing with the locals, which would have been unthinkable in any other context. At the turn of the century, the building style went from excessive gingerbread-carpentry and Swiss-style into an era of flowing Art Nouveau and nationalistic, red-painted dreams. This shift in style also signified an end to the non-relationship between the villas and their surroundings. Instead of carefully-orchestrated microcosms with sprawling gardens, a new order came into being. Increasingly, people went beyond garden boundaries or went without gardens entirely. They had the great outdoors surrounding them, and made use of it. By this time, a vast majority of the land available in the archipelago had been sold off from its former farmer owners into private hands. After the First World War, society changed again and these monuments of bourgeoisie power scattered across Stockholm’s archipelago fell out of fashion and repair. The habits of the wealthy had changed, and so had the economy. These old houses answered poorly to the needs of the late-modern society that had grown upon the backs of industrialists. This opened the door for new inhabitants on the islands. In the time after World War

Stockholm, an exhibition and the summerhouses

Early Nouveau styles were characterized by organically winding, billowing plantlife. Ceramic and glass shaped like fruits and blossoms. Lamp stands shaped like pine trees. Long, slender female figures can be seen in images and even ceramics and glasswork. Below: ‘Fruit’ by Alfons Mucha, 1897.

II, the working class started to make its mark economically in Sweden. Around the increasingly dilapidated mansions, sports cabins and prefabricated two room-cottages were built in increasing numbers on seeded land from the old main houses, creating the landscape we see today. After a nearly eighty-year depression in the summer villa market, interest in the conservation and heritage of Stockholm’s summer houses peaked again in the 1980s. Though many villas are still in disrepair, it is because of the heritage enthusiasts that we can continue to enjoy these exquisite pieces of art along Stockholm’s waterways. They are windows to remember a Stockholm long-gone, a past that yielded the foundation of our way of life of today.

Björkudden, an ”odd bird.” Compared to the surrounding houses of similar age, Villa Björkudden stands out from the rest in a number of ways. It lacks many of the typical hallmarks of the summer villa. Absent are the covered patios and gingerbread carpentry. The façade was once covered entirely in plaster to give the appearance of stone-and-brick construction, a far cry from the wooden architecture of the surrounding homes. The building’s exterior has an almost gothic, Dutch-renaissance style that expresses an eclectic sense of style typical of the 19th century. Even to the untrained eye, or a person unfamiliar with the history of the house, it is evident that it doesn’t fit in with the beautiful countryside setting. Neither before nor since the industrialization of Sweden had so much armory, Oriental furniture and Flemish Renaissance carpentry been produced. During the late 19th century, an enthusiasm developed for the styles of past centuries. This use of the past would feel strange today, but was commonly seen as giving character and taste, and told of a time long gone. It was also a way of handling modernity: to dress it up in old gowns. This trend was not only celebrated, but was also heavily criticized with the thought that you needed to understand the modern style that reflected the ‘modern man.’ Around the turn of the century, this longing for an art style that mirrored the current time birthed the Art Nouveau, or Jugendstil movement. Embracing beauty and intricate floral patterns, there was a

Fredrik Dahlberg – Architect of Details

illa Björkudden’s architect, Fredrik Dahlberg, is little-known today despite being one of Stockholm’s most prominent architexts. During his lifetime he was able to develop his style to fit a broad range of tastes. From his first year as an architect in the 1880s until the turn of the century, the homes he designed were characterized by a New Renaissance style with Nordic influences. The apartment building he designed on Valhallavägen from 189496 could pass for a German’s prince’s castle.

With the turn of the century, trends shifted away from the one he specialized in. It was the National Romantic and Art Nouveau styles that now dominated. These styles balanced historical reference with modern inspiration. Now buildings were made with genuine material – that is to say, buildings that were not covered in thick layers of plaster, which had once created a desirable appearance. Now, brick facades and granite dominated. With more villas in Lärkstaden in Stockholm, Fredrik followed suit in adapting this new style. His largest contribution to the Stockholm Exhibition in 1897 is the home we now have on Tynningö, which is something of a breaking point or milestone in his development from stylistic architecture to Art Nouveau. Throughout his life, Dahlberg was an intensely meticulous architect, with a sense for details and customers’ sometimes odd requests. The most well-known house he designed stands at Skeppsbron 44 and has a special place in Stockholm’s city landscape. The house was ordered by the wealthy director Carl Smith and given a magnificent exterior with a ships’ bow

jutting out from the façade and an enormous globe on top. But it is neither this nor the restaurant Zum Franziskaner on the bottom floor, with its preserved interior décor designed by Dahlberg, that is the reason for the building’s renown. Above the door leading to the stairwell is a sad man’s face staring down, and below it something resembling the shape of female genitalia. The man’s face looks undeniably similar to that of Dahlberg’s customer, Carl Smith. The story that has been spun around this strange façade is one of infidelity. Carl said he had been betrayed by his wife around the time of the building’s completion, and allowed the architect to add this less-thansubtle symbol for his contempt and despair. This is how the building earned its current nickname, ‘The Cuckold of Skeppsbron,’ and Fredrik Dahlberg was written into the city’s history. Although no one has been able to confirm that the story is true, it is one of the more extreme examples of Dahlberg’s odd requests from his customers. Today the building is designated as culturally significant.

Stockholm, an exhibition and the summerhouses

shift away from the unimaginative imitations of before. Villa Björkudden is an expression of the last quivering moment of revivalist architecture; it could even pass for some kind of stage set.

Like looking straight into a fairytale. The Stockholm Exhibition offered a playful mix of parapets and towers that led the imagination to another world.

The architect behind the house, Fredrik Dahlberg, designed it as an administrative building for the Stockholm Fair of 1897. In the original plans, you can see that it was once intended to be double its current size. Yet even in its final form, it is still a grand palace. Carefully-placed plaster and paint on the façade succeeded in deceiving visitors and architectural historians alike into believing that it was permanent, brick-and-mortar construction. A modern architect true to the ideal of ”honest materials” would consequently shake their head in disbelief. This delusive, temporary architecture imitating ”real buildings” wasn’t unique to the Stockholm Fair. It was, in fact, an integral part of the World Fair concept that the Stockholm exhibitors celebrated. Due to the transient nature of this kind of architecture, very little remains today.

The Stockholm Exhibition of 1897 – the Dream for a Better World The Stockholm Exhibition of 1897, or the Inter-Nordic Art and Industries Exhibition as it was then called, was an illuminated dream of the future in plaster and wood. It was not the first or the last great exhibition in Sweden of its kind. But it came to represent, through its massive scope and reach, what a world exhibition meant to the general public. The reason is easy to see when looking at photographs from the event. Towering cupolas and minarets hearken to the saga of The Thousand and One Nights. There were hundreds of pavilions for the most fantastic things: a fairy-tale-tower built of flasks promoting Cederlunds Punch, or an enormous candle-shaped obelisk advocating the visitor to buy Liljeholmens Candles, promising 100% stearin products. Not to mention the full-scale reproduction of Stockholm’s old town, ”with scheduled scenic 16th-century brawls at 1PM every day.”

Background Before we go on, let us deepen our context. The concept of world exhibitions traces its roots back to the French Revolution. With dreams of

liberty, equality and brotherhood, Europe’s most populated country went through a bloody revolution in the late 18th century. Out of this extreme turbulence came technical innovation at a scale never seen in France or even England, said to be the home of the Industrial Revolution. In opposition to the English, the French public committee wanted to show their citizens that the revolution project and its industrial development had a bright future ahead. This resulted in national exhibitions for the French public.

The Exhibition started in Paris, but the true beginning of the exhibition era came with The Great Exhibition of Works of the Industry of All Nations 1851 in London. The idea and execution of the exhibition was brought about by the Queen’s husband Prince Albert, to show all the progress that had made through industrialization, mainly by Great Britain. The World Exhibitions soon became a genre of entertainment in their own right. A burgeoning generation of architects, technicians and artists gathered to show the progress their countries had achieved in a time of new modernity and culture. This was a place for peaceful competition amongst nations. It was here that many of the technical inventions of the time took shape and were shown to the public. Perhaps more than anything else, it was the extravagant show of optimistic faith in human ability that marked the golden epoch of exhibitions, which lasted up to the First World War. There came several influential exhibitions after this, but the Great War had removed much of the optimism and enthusiasm that dominated the previous ones,

Stockholm’s Turn, Again Before the Exhibition of 1897, the context was much different in Stockholm. This fair was very much a national endeavor put on by local industrialists who wanted to showcase their goods. A newfound national pride in the achievements and economic growth that the country had seen in the previous 50 years and a robust Pan-Scandinavian movement called for cross-Nordic relations. The Stockholm exhibition was a synergy between industry and culture, with powerful families standing behind financial and practical execution. Arthur Hazels, founder of the Nordic Museum and Skansen, provided the historical and national canvas. The setting of the exhibition on the island of Djurgården, most often used as a recreational park by Stockholm’s inhabitants, was consciously laid out for dual use.

The lead architect of the Exhibition, Ferdinand Boberg. Boberg was also the architect behind the NK building, Rosenbad, and Gävle fire station, among others.

Stockholm, an exhibition and the summerhouses

Not only was there a lot of undeveloped land to use, but it also gave an excuse to clean up and provide a facelift to the sad, dilapidated park entry. Another reason for the location of the exhibition was the nearby borough of Östermalm. During the last decade, it had transformed from its old name and identity – the poor and unattractive Ladugårdsgärdet – into the most modern, continental borough in town. Several newly-built buildings came to be rented as hotel rooms for incoming tourists. From the collective funds of industries, the state and other economic interests, the main plans for a fair were drawn up and stretched out across several acres. Several of Sweden’s leading architects were invited to participate in a prized competition to present plans for the fair, within just 30 days time. Ferdinand Boberg was appointed the head architect, but the fair can be seen as a real ”gesamtkunstwerk,” as a whole range of creators worked within the grid laid out by Mr. Boberg. At his disposal, there was a team of eight architects and a small army of assistants who worked for months to complete the many drawings and designs needed. 19

Ferdinand Boberg was chosen as the lead architect, but the Exhibition area can be seen as a true collective effort with a variety of creators involved in the project. For several months, a team of eight architects and a small army of assistants worked in one of the royal palace buildings to complete the many drawings needed.

The Grand Opening The day before the Exhibition opened, there stood an entire city dominated not by the church, but by the palace of industry. Its enormous dome was the most massive wooden structure constructed, with a clear reference to the Hagia Sofia Mosk in Istanbul. Around this giant of a building were scattered hundreds of pavilions, galleries and kiosks of all kinds. There were several restaurants, cafes and of course a love tunnel complete with a canal and gondoliers. In what would later become Villa Björkudden, the administrative building, were the foreign commissary, lottery girls and janitor’s offices.

The Stockholm Exhibition, through its sheer size, power of innovation, and marketing created the sheer essence of what the Exhibition meant to the Swedish public. On opening day there were representatives of both the old power and what was soon to come. The first in the form of King Oscar II, the latter in the way of August Palm, forerunner and strongman of the Social Democrats in Sweden. Although they likely didn’t speak to each other, neither regarded the other highly; yet both attended the formal opening. It bears testimony that it was an extraordinary day for everyone. After a slow start, there rose a steady volume of visitors to the temporary dream city on Djurgården. By the time the exhibition closed in August that year, they counted a staggering 1,900,000 visitors in a time when Sweden had little above 5 million inhabitants total.

After the Exhibition The majority of the buildings used in the exhibition were deconstructed after the exhibition, and the material was used for other purposes. A few of the buildings remained in the exhibition area, while some were reused in their entirety or in smaller parts on other places around town. None larger than Villa Björkudden. But that’s not all! The exhibition came to live on in hundreds of homes around Stockholm, as a collective souvenir hunt broke out in the last days of the fair. To the despair of a few guards, the once-great area became victim to the hunt of any object that could fit in a bag. Decades later, the City Museum reclaimed such ‘souvenirs’ as donations. Memories of the radiant summer of 1897, the birth year of Villa Björkudden.

Stockholm, an exhibition and the summerhouses

Moorish Coffee House

The Machinery Hall.

Hot air balloon launch from the Exhibition area. (Photo: Oscar Halldin)

The garden exhibitionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s pavilion.

1898–1908

Mr Johan Sjöqvist, the builder

uildings seldom move on their own, which was fortunately also the case with Villa Björkudden. So how did it come about that this prominent world fair building found its way out to an island in Stockholm’s archipelago? The house’s first owner after the fair was a certain Per Johan Sjöqvist, a master builder from humble origins in the province of Värmland. By the time of his death, Sjöqvist would reshape the Stockholm he worked in his entire life in beyond recognition. He specialized in large, technically innovative building projects. He often worked in tandem with ”Skånska Cementgjuteriet,” known today as Skanska, a multinational building company. Anyone familiar with the buildings in Stockholm quickly realizes, after studying Mr. Sjöqvists resumé, just how much he has affected the outward appearance of the city. Ranging from breweries to opulent residential buildings and department stores, he did it all. During the time he was in business, Stockholm more than tripled in population size. Demand always vastly exceeded the supply.

Mr. Sjöqvist went to technical college in Stockholm in the 1870s, which is today called Konstfack and is one of the most prestigious art schools in the country. He managed to get an internship as a drafter, a kind of technical assistant, in the studio of Mr. Axel Kumlien. Kumlien was one of the most celebrated architects at the time, who among other things created the design for the Grand Hotel in Stockholm and many train stations around Sweden. After further apprenticeship, Sjöqvist finally managed to get the prestigious Letter of Approval from the Board of Master Builders in 1892. By then he had already made his home in the growing borough of Östermalm, which would be the place for many of his most well-known projects. Not only did Sjöqvist build houses for others, but he also became his own most significant customer. Already by 1890, some years before he got his letter of approval, he had so many houses in Östermalm that he decided to document his properties. This photo album is still kept in the archive of the association of property owners, and was curated by the photographer Axel Lindahl. The album shows page after page of Mr. Sjöqvists impressive works in somewhat strange solidarity; an intentional choice. ”I want my buildings to stand out like monuments in a desert,” he stated in a letter

Per Johan Sjöqvist, builder who specialized in large, technically innovative projects.

Mr Johan Sjöqvist, the builder

to the photographer. On a majority of the houses he built for himself, he consciously let the facades testify who had created them. His monogram is scattered all around Östermalm for those who look closely. This is the same monogram you can see on the mantelpiece of the great fireplace In Villa Björkudden. The pinnacle of his career is the palace-like residential building next to the Royal Dramatic Theater. This yellow neo-Baroque palace also stood as the entryway of Stockholm’s own Millionaires’ Mile: the Strandvägen boulevard. The house’s style, soon followed by others in the area, took clear inspiration from the Royal Drottningholm Palace outside Stockholm. Not only was it a beautiful full-service apartment building for the rich and famous, but it also improved the skyline of the prestigious Nybroviken. It kept the court stables hidden completely out of sight from bayside flâneurs. The stables were popularly described as one of Östermalm’s biggest eyesores, or as a writer in the day said: ”It made one wonder if it was a correctional facility for dilettante architects.” It was at this exclusive address that Mr. Sjöqvist himself moved in, his former apartment now used as an entire office. When he passed away in the late summer 1923, he left behind sweetening change in the city he had been so vital in forming.

A uniformly-constructed district along Strandvagen helped disguise the then-criticized stables nearby, and created a new skyline on the waterfront.

The Exhibition Becomes a Summerhouse

When the Stockholm’s Fair of 1897 opened, it was during Mr. Sjöqvist’s most active years in the construction business. One of his close friends and confidants on the Board of Master Builders was responsible for the enormous building project that included the fair. Perhaps it was through him that he took notice of the impressive exhibition house, with its plaster-covered façades so resembling Sjöqvist´s own houses. After the fair had closed in the fall, there was a public auction on the buildings that were now without use. The cost of materials still exceeded the value of manual labor at this time, so there was no shortage of interest and everything was auctioned off. The building material used for the large Palace of Industries found its way to all corners of the country: the elevators ended up in a luxurious hotel in the city center; enormous wooden beams were shipped off to be reused in a paper mill. Mr. Sjöqvist claimed the elegant fair-expedition building for the price of 1500 Swedish kronor. Certainly a small sum against the original production cost of 26 058 Swedish kronor – though this came with the additional challenge of having to move the house. Already in 1890, Mr. Sjöqvist had inherited some land on the island of Tynningö situated in the inner archipelago. The plot was on the panjandrum-peninsula of Höganäs, right in plain sight of the main waterway, or centerstage you might like to say. Since then he had been looking for a suitable house to crown it. Craftsman’s and workers were in good supply enduring the wintry author of the exhibition of works started. The plaster was removed, the underlying panel and framework were marked up before the nails were removed. Doors and windows, nails and fireplaces all was marked up and saved like a giant three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle. Finally, it was all packed in the chests and ready for shipping. Out in the islands, preparations and landscaping were underway, and large chunks of rock had been manually cut onsite for the foundation. During the fair the house stood on a makeshift foundation of plaster imitating solid rock; this time it was done for real with granite and bricks. This also made room for food and wine cellars. Separate from the main building were planned additional houses to be built. These included a jetty and boathouse, a gazebo, a greenhouse, and lodgings for the gardener and

Mr Johan Sjöqvist, the builder

other staff and servants. And let’s not forget the house for the sailors of the family’s yacht. Most of these buildings still surround the house, though many with new owners as the property was sold off over the years. During the spring thaw the following year, the deconstructed house was loaded onto a barge and towed out to Tynningö. Now reconstruction could commence. The rebuilt house did not entirely cohere with its old layout. Part of the house was turned around so that the turret faced the water, maximizing the visibility of the building from the waterway. The main entrance was set on the side facing away from the water. This was a clever way to make guests approaching from the jetty walk around the house and notice the grandeur and scale of the property and gardens. New openings were made for three large loggias, or inverted balconies, that offered shade while still giving the possibility of enjoying the outdoors at a distance. The inner walls of the ground floor were wainscoted and adorned with English wallpaper. The pompous staircase 27

Mr Johan Sjöqvist, the builder

still holds some of the Stockholm Exhibition’s grandeur with a four-meter high window of stained glass. The mantelpiece in this room was adorned with its rebuilder’s monogram. The walls of the servants’ quarters and the bedrooms of the upper floor were covered in tongue-and-groove paneling. This kind of paneling was one of the biggest international exports from Sweden during this time, and you can find over ten examples of it throughout the house. Typical of its time, the house has an distinct partition between ”upstairs” and ”downstairs,” with separate staircases and lodgings for servants and owners. This was made in order to keep services as smooth and invisible as possible, dividing the parallel worlds of the serving and the served. As one can see in the layout of the house, it would be many years before the practice of cooking became a norm in the social life of elites. When this house was built, freedom from the practical was a measurement of success. In the drafting of the summerhouse and its additional buildings, special care and effort were taken in creating the gardens. Exotic trees and carefully-laid gravel pathways weaved smoothly through lawns and flowerbeds. Between the dwellings and the kitchen entrance, there was large garden patch with fresh flowers for house’s vases during the summer season, as well as fresh vegetables on the plates. The greenhouse supplied fresh fruits such as grapes and figs. It was no wonder they needed a full-time gardener to run it. All this was accomplished at a remarkable speed, and the family began to spend their summers at Villa Björkudden. Its palatial setting was befitting of the entrepreneur who had created it. It was a time characterized by the lively interest for sailing that Mr. Sjöqvist and his sons had, and many tours were made out to the luxurious Sandhamn for regattas held by the Royal Swedish Yacht Club. The oldest son Arvid, who would later become a celebrated architect himself, and his twin brother Fritz made it as far as the Summar Olympics of 1912 where they competed in the 8m class and did well in fifth-place. The Sjöqvist family had Villa Björkudden for just under ten years. When the children moved out, they decided to put it up for sale. The stage was set for the new owners that bought it: the Steinwall brothers, both restaurateur legends.

Mr Johan Sjรถqvist, the builder

Greg Steinwall and son.

1908â&#x20AC;&#x201C;1943

The Steinwalls

he brothers Georg and Gustaf Steinwall bought Villa Björkudden together in 1908. By then they had each made their names as masters of the restaurant trade, and wanted to crown their achievements by acquiring a summerhouse befitting their status. Their family history does not begin in some German-speaking area as their name might imply, but rather in the far northern Swedish province of Västerbotten. The name Steinwall originates from the profession of their late forefather, who was a surveyor and geographer.

The Steinwalls and Stockholm, A Strange Tale

The road from the far north of Sweden begins with their grandfather, Mathias Wilhelm. Known for being adventurous, choleric and later strikingly handsome, he left his childhood home of Skellefteå in the 1830s to seek his fortunes at sea at the tender age of 15. He ran out of luck instantly, you might say. On his first voyage, his ship was captured by pirates on the Mediterranean and he was taken for ransom to Algeria. Unfortunately for the pirates, led by the local sultan, the Swedish state had a non-negotiation policy for hostages. Instead, it was Mathias’s local parish in poor Skellefteå that had to scramble for the ransom. This would take them three years. Meanwhile, the Pirates rented Mathias out as a slave to Danish and American consulates in Algeria. These years of servitude were something that gave him both a knowledge of language and a hatred for Danes – the former would benefit him enormously. When the ransoming day finally came, he continued his career at sea, becoming a successful sailor and marrying into money. In 1841, he traveled with the commission of traders who asked the king to grant city rights to his home parish. The request was granted, and Mathias counts as one of the founders of the city of Skellefteå. Around the same time, he decided to go from sea to land and became a prominent trader in wood and leather. This further strengthened his wealth. Though he was gifted in business, his character was not complemented by softness or servility in his social life. No servants stayed in service for longer than the con-

The Steinwalls

tracted minimum of one season. When he later died, only one person had stayed with him: his youngest son Mathias Leonard. Left with almost all the inheritance, he moved down to Stockholm to invest his capital in the sawmill industry. The brothers George and Gustaf kept to their private lives at Villa Björkudden, and in their professional lives operated the restaurant Operakällaren.

Mathias broadened his property business as one of the go-to agents for foreign companies wanting to get ahead in Stockholm. Meanwhile, he gave equal attention and enthusiasm to an area that his father had never fully understood: his own social life, and later his eight children. All of his children, male and female, got first-rate education. The oldest son Johan was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps and take over the family firm. His two younger sons Georg and Wilhelm underwent thorough, painstaking training for a career in the hotel and restaurant trade. It was a laborious process for both brothers. The world of service and dining was undergoing a rapid change, and both had the chance to undergo training at first-class restaurants and hotels across Europe. It was then, as it is now, a practical hands-on education where students worked their way up from dishwasher to waiter and upwards. In time, the relationship between the two brothers would develop so that Georg had responsibility for the finances and customer relations while his brother Gustaf was king of kitchen and table settings. It would prove to be the most fortunate of partnerships. Shortly after the brothers began working in Stockholm, Georg married the adventurous Esther Myrstedt. She came from a family of exceptional heritage, though she caused both her parents and now husband much stress from her ”liveliness.” As a teenager, she competed in diving and was always center-stage at parties. These traits did not cohere with the ideals of a wife in the late 19th century: gracefully modest and quiet, an adornment to the husband. Married women didn’t have any authority until 1918, when equal voting rights for women were passed. Esther had to adapt to her husband’s demands to become less upfront and social. Yet her sense of humor was something he could not control. Throughout her life, she was known in her family for her wit and sarcasm, a stark contrast to her high-society appearance.

The other brother Gustaf found love too; twice. He remained a bachelor longer than his older brothers, and continued to live in the summerhouse with Georg. He married the beautiful Inez Erica Vasseur in 1910, and when the couple’s son Gösta was born, the summerhouse became too crammed. Gustaf bought a villa of his own not far away. In 1922 he re-married, this time to Dagny Feuk, whom he came to live with up to his death in 1936. The spouses of the two brothers would survive their husbands by decades; Dagny passed away in 1956, followed by Esther 1965. They were the ones who carried on legend of these two eccentric brothers, some of which can be found here in the house.

The Brothers, Their Establishment, and the Success

It was through generous donations from their father and elder brother that Georg and Gustaf acquired rights to the most famous establishment in Stockholm, and perhaps all of Sweden: the restaurant of the Royal Opera, Operakällaren. The old 18th-century theater house was torn down in 1892. In its place, a new opera house was erected in the most bombastic style imaginable, drawing vaguely upon the appearance of the royal palace across the water. The old house previously had its restaurant in the cellar beneath the theater hall, giving the restaurant its name.* The young duo took on the challenge, at 30 and 28 years old respectively, and the public was dumbfounded by the rumors of what the restaurant was becoming. Who were these young outsiders who had been away from town so long? Did they really have a handle on the stewardship of this dear restaurant? The opera house itself was a massive public building project, and unforeseen expenses went through the roof, exceeding every budget. The Steinwall brothers took on ordaining and decorating the restaurant at their own cost; the result looks more like a palace than a restaurant. They showed a spin-doctor mastery that would put any lobbyist today to shame. They commissioned a high-profile artist for the decorative paintings in the grand dining hall. Here Mr. Oscar Björk, famous for his academic paintings, crafted a work based on the ancient Greek-Roman cult of Bacchus, god of wine and ecstasy. Without going into too much detail, the ”titillation” expressed on the walls pushed all boundaries of decency in this era of strict morality. The scandal was imminent. As word got out to the public,

*The colloquial name ”Nobis” comes from a low-class German reference to the steps to hell, used both for the deepness of the entryway and the ruin of a man awaiting down below. The Italian equivalent of this term, ”abissio,” has given the English word abys.

The Steinwalls

everyone had a view on the matter, including the newspaper columnists. The blunt displays of explicit nudity and moral fragility should never have a place in public society – even less in a temple of the arts, said some. Still others claimed it was a feast for the eyes, drawing upon the tradition of Bacchus as the protector of artists; suitable indeed for an opera. The matter extended to the royal family for intervention. Old King Oscar II personally visited the restaurant during its construction and ”counseled” the artist. This counsel included making the grass in the painting taller and taller. This, as the reader might expect, only furthered the public’s curiosity.

Operakällaren and its accompanying bar’s beautiful décor resembles a castle more than a place for food and drink. By the beginning of the 20th century, the restaurant and bar had become popular places for Stockholm’s elite and artist community alike.

Foto: NOBIS Hotels, Restaurants & Conference

When the restaurant opened on the 4th of April 1897, an onslaught of curious guests packed through its doors. It seemed as though the entire population of Stockholm wanted to taste the main course of the new restaurant and, we can assume, cast a sneaking glance at the walls. Success was evident, and the young men continued to dominate both Stockholm’s and much of Sweden’s culinary scenes until the time they withdrew from public life in 1932. Visiting Operakällaren became a must-do if you wanted to make the most of a visit to Stockholm. In particular, the wine cellar’s wide selection and the illustrated menus were met with praise. The brothers were in some ways ahead of their time; for example, trying to prohibit smoking indoors because it had a negative impract on both the interior and the food. The result wasn’t as intended, and instead of not smoking, guests moved their unwanted habit downstairs to the café. The smoke created such a fog that the restaurant had to close several times, and thus the smoke prohibition was abandoned – until over a century later when it was officially reinstituted. The most significant change effected by the brothers in their years of business occurred just a few years after the restaurant opened. They had both had a proper dining hall and a café, but their main competitor, The Grand Hotel, had something they didn’t: an American bar. First introduced just a few years earlier, the brothers saw their chance when a barber moved out of the corner store in the opera house. They spared no expense creating one of the most accomplished Art Nouveau interiors in the country. The artist community instantaneously adopted the place as their own. Amongst many visitors and was friend and artist Anders Zorn, whom after many years in the United States was so disapproving of the bartenders’ shaking that he got an entire trolley to help himself to drinks that met his high standards. The Opera Bar has remained a popular establishment, such that the interior and atmosphere have been carefully preserved by its owners through the years. Today it remains one of the few complete rooms of its age. Throughout their entire careers, the brothers were committed to humble and tireless service. They called themselves ‘maître d’hôtel,’ i.e., first waiters, a gesture of great modesty in their time. They also laid the foundation for much of the bustling, opulent restaurants in Stockholm. In response to the strike and looming prohibition, they became two of the coordinators of the Swedish Association of Restaurant Owners. One of the organiza-

A poster from the popular vote on prohibition of alcohol in 1922, created by Albert Engström.

The Steinwalls

Steinwall Created Sweden’s First Wine Label

story that reflects the brothers’ influence on Swedish culture is also a story about port wine. Their father Mathias Leonard Steinwall was one of Stockholm’s largest importers of high-quality alcoholic beverages. Everything from cognac, sherry, single malt whiskey and in particular, Very Old Superior Red Port Wine. This mid-range port wine was introduced in the middle of the 19th century by Grönstedt’s Wine Shop, and quickly became a top-seller. The name was long and complicated, and the wine soon

became more well-known by its nickname ‘Grådask’ (Eng. ‘Dirty Grey), after the color of its label. It would take until 1905 for the name change to be officially registered, which then marked the creation of Sweden’s first domestic wine label. In the Steinwall family tradition, the story goes that Georg was behind this stroke of genius. But they and others in Sweden’s spirits manufacturing and importing business were forced to become government-run in an effort to decrease drinking in the country.

The level of care given to creating beautiful, yet simultaneously personal, menus was unmatched.

tion’s more publicly-known efforts was the mobilization against prohibition in 1922. They engaged the artist Albert Engström, a frequent visitor to Operakällaren, to create the main poster for the anti-prohibitionists. The result was one of the most famous posters ever created in Sweden: picture the artist himself staring angrily at you, pointing towards a crayfish and stating, ”NO! Crayfish demand these [alcoholic] beverages! You have to denounce crayfish if you don’t vote No on the 27th of August/Albert Engström.” The vote – the first with female participation – was won by anti-prohibitionists with the smallest possible margin, and many blamed/ thanked Mr. Engström as responsible for tipping the scales. Instead of prohibition, the outcome of the vote gave Sweden an alcohol rationing system that would be in place until 1955.

The Archipelago - Palace of the Steinwalls 42

Georg and Gustaf Steinwall bought Villa Björkudden in 1908. By then they had already made their place in the crème de la crème of Stockholm’s restaurant business, and now wanted a summer home to mirror their family’s status. For them, the site was just as much a stage to host large parties as it was a space for family leisure time. On the Höganäs peninsula where the house is situated, the family was already surrounded by many members of high society, who also happened to be their core customers. The short commute enabled them to continue working during the summers, an intensive time for the restaurant, though Georg often complained that it put a strain on family life. Another critical component of the choice and location of their summer retreat was sailing. Some years before they bought Villa Björkudden, they had joined the Royal Sailing Society and acquired an 18-foot yacht by the name of Hermione. The Steinwalls maintained and added to the complex of buildings and greenery now commonly known as the Archipelago-Palace. It was during this time that the smoking lodge was added to the glass-walled gazebo, giving the opportunity to enjoy the views even on rainy days. The greenhouse and flowerbeds were both extended, and a combined tennis and cricket field was built. The big house remained the heart of summer life, and a rare glimpse into it is offered by one of Georg’s grandchildren who recorded his memories:

The motor yacht of the Steinwall brothers, which they used to fare to and from Stockholm and their holiday retreat.

The Steinwalls

”The large house had 22 rooms, crenellations on the balconies and a tall tower which we grandchildren believed to be haunted.

Children outside the gazeebo on Björkudden. Children had a central place out on Björkudden. Children and the grandchildren spent most of their long summer leaves out here.

I remember that big house so well; you entered after passing the combined tennis and cricket court where ‘grandpa’s swing’ hung, as we called it. Then you came to the half enclosure glass veranda where you have drinks after dinner. There you entered a large hall with double-doors in lounge furnishing, a fireplace, the staircase to the upper floor and the colossal window with many colors in it. On the left, in the hall, were Georg´s drawing room and library, and to the left of that was Ellen’s salon full of beautiful furniture, and straight ahead was the dining room. This was only used when the weather was terrible. Passing this [the dining room], you came out to outdoor dining room. It was walled-in on three sides and opened towards ”the smaller waterway toward Stockholm.” If you sat with your back against the waterway, you could still have a nice view thanks to the colossal mirror on the opposite wall that gave full visibility of what was taking place on the water. If you went through the great hall on the upper floor, there also was a smaller staircase for the servants, and there was large number of bedrooms. On the righthand side of the great staircase, there were guest bedrooms. After that came Ellen’s husband’s bedroom for her husband as well as one for her sister Margareta, married to Hamilton, with three children and a nanny. Further, there were more rooms that have escaped my memory. The attic was huge but unfurnished. It wasn’t haunted, but we children thought it was! From there, you could climb all the way up the wooden steps to the peak of the tower. If you removed hatch there, you had a fantastic view of large parts of the archipelago.” Children and grandchildren always had a place at Björkudden, but apart from this also served the brothers and their two main passions: sailing and parties. These two hobbies defined life at Björkudden; regular dinner parties often had over 20 guests present. With Sweden’s best chefs and by far the most well-equipped wine cellar available, the results couldn’t be anything less than glorious. This is evident in studying the two preserved menus from 1916, when the war was raging in Europe and rationing was harsh: Madeira wine from 1848 with dessert, asparagus, fresh dairy, meat and exotic fruits. This was wealth beyond what money could buy in this time of food shortages. The dishes were complemented with precise in-

structions to the staff: that whisky should be poured into a cooled carafe before serving, and make sure the ladies present are offered water ‘from time to time.’

To be invited to Villa Björkudden was an honor that few earned, and could be compared more to a fine dining establishment than an archipelago retreat. It functioned as an unofficial extension of their restaurant, open only to their core customers; a place you could never ask for access to but required an invitation. The journey out to the house began in the family’s stylish motorboat; to have been invited to the villa at all was a sign of high status, a stamp of approval for the rich and famous. This symbol of international luxury and hint of a grand lifestyle is still present in the collective memory of the islanders on Tynningö. If you talk to them about the villa, it isn’t long before the Steinwalls’ time is mentioned, which they hold to be a golden age. It was a time that lasted into the mid-1930s. Georg passed away in 1938 after a life marked by hectic activity and a taste for better things. By then his brother had already passed two years prior. Georg’s estate sold the house which again changed in ownership, ending up in the hands of Gustaf Åkerström in December 1944. He had altogether different plans for the house than for it to be a grand mansion. A new chapter in the diverse story of Villa Björkudden.

Esther Steinwill in summer clothing on Villa Björkudden’s jetty. In the background, one of the guests rows out toward the large sailing yacht Herminoine.

The Steinwalls

Top left: Georg Steinwall with daughters, 1920s. Bottom left: The Steinwall Brothers with friends and guests on the way to Sandhamn, clearly happy to be having a beer. Photos on the right, from the top: Georg, Esther and child out sailing, late 1920s. Georg’s pale bare head shows how rarely he removed his hat, even at the summer house. Lunch down in the family’s large sailing yacht Herminoine, 1920s. On a joyride in Herminoine. Mother Esther steers while the oldest son Carl Georg sits with his arm around his sister Ellen. Behind them, in a neat bowtie, is the youngest son Erik Wilhelm, born 1907. 47

Esther Steinwall, wearing her son’s summer hat, taking an afternoon coffee outside Villa Björkudden with Ellen, wearing her father Georg’s oversized KSSS-hat.

The day’s delicacies were complemented with instructions to the Villa’s staff: “The whiskey should be poured into a carafe before serving, and the ladies present should be offered water now and then.”

The Steinwall family with friends, drinking port wine and cognac (a guess based on the bottles) in front of Björkudden’s main entry. On the far left, you can see the entrance to the loggia. The two men on the left are unidentified. The boy in the sailing outfit, unidentified, wears a sailor’s hat bearing a strange detail: on it, the text “SMS Germany” can be seen. This was the German Navy’s greatest pride before the First World War, and offers a foreboding premonition of what would await Europe just a few years after the photo was taken. It also shows that boys’ affinity for playing war is far from new. Beside him stands the oldest son in the family, Carl Georg, with an magnificent ‘hat-tan’ and striped summer suit. The adults to the right in the photo include Georg Steinwall and Esther enjoying the company of their guests. Of the two girls, the one in front is likely Ellen Steinwall. Of the boys in the foreground, the one to the left is the family’s youngest son Erik Vilhelm, while the one to the right is unknown.

The Steinwalls

The children, likely the Steinwall sons with friends, serve as guests aboard Herminoine. A summer photo with the familyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s smaller sailboat, Iverna, which the oldest son Carl Georg was especially fond of taking out during the summers. A photo from the regatta in Sandhamn. The boats were docked with the sterns facing the beautiful beach. The gatherings were true celebrations, which can be seen in the many signal flags on the masts. 1910s.

KSSS and Sailing Looking at photos of those who owned summer villas such as Björkudden, the elegant men in the photos often wear a white captain’s hat, often marked by a royal crown above three blue S. The Royal Swedish Sailing Company (or KSSS, abbreviated from the Swedish name), is the group behind this emblem. Its origins trace back to the 1830s when some of the city’s richest elite, in keeping with continental European trends, wanted to compete in sailing. Yacht sailing became one of our first organized sports and was seen from the beginning as exclusive and potentially dangerous, most comparable with today’s Formula 1 racing. It was during the rule of the proudly-bearded Oskar II that the sailing company gained royal association and with it, a social heyday. For a short time, the company had its clubhouse near Björkudden, on the island of Tynningö. 50

The distinctive house with its glass sunroom on the top level is one of the island’s most notable buildings. The sailing company soon moved out to Sandhamn, and be-

The family’s small sailboat Iverna sailing past Villa Björkudden. The peninsula where the house stands is still sometimes used as a turning point in sailing competitions. Photo: Bertil Anderson, 1914.

came a hub for summer parties in Stockholm’s elite circles. It was also during this time, the late 1800s, that sailing technology made significant progress and made the sport accessible, even to those who had not trained in the Navy. This broadened the membership base to include everyone who resided seasonally in the archipelago. The general improvement in Swedish living standards after the turn of the century, as well as the introduction of the motorboat laid the groundwork for even more people to make life in the archipelago a reality. KSSS led this development and has in its own way been one of the main factors in creating the ‘summer villa lifestyle’ that is so characteristic of the archipelago today. The sailing company has not ceased to be a symbol of status and an active lifestyle. The KSSS logo remains a dear accessory on everything from sweaters to cufflinks in Stockholm’s upper class, and those who want to associate with it.

The Steinwalls

The Family’s Fleet

nitially, the boat lines were many and the steamboat docks far more numerous than today. Up until the 1880s, most of the summer dwellers in the archipelago were far from having the means to afford their own boat. This increased gradually to become the mass of boats we see in the archipelago today, thanks to technical improvements and the creation of sailing clubs. KSSS solidified sailing as something modern. With regattas, fantastic parties and a solid brand, sailing become not just a sport but also a lifestyle. To have a captain’s hat with their club’s emblem became just as desirable and natural as wearing a summer suit. These symbols expressed both belonging and exclusivity.

How this manifested within the sailing itself varied. The Steinwalls put more effort than most into the boats they owned, both personally and collectively. The drawings of several of their boats can still be found today in the Maritime Museum’s archive. The beautifully sketched vessels include a slender sailboat created for competition, and a solid motorboat, among others. The motorboat provided quick and comfortable transport for the restauranteur brothers between the city and archipelago, and can be best described a bar with a keel. The interior drawings show a beautiful panel-clad salon with stuffed seats – not entirely different from the Opera Bar’s cozy feeling. The sailboat, a slender 18-foot boat with the name Iverna, was far from the fully-equipped plastic boats seen all over the archipelago today.

It was used briefly by Georg’s son who competed with it in KSSS sailing competitions. In the summers he often lent it to a neighbor at the summer house, the boat builder’s son Bertil Andersson. The most impressive of all the boats the brothers owned was of course Herminoine – an archipelago cruiser with a massive 150 square meters of sailing area. Of all the photos preserved in the Maritime Museum archive, there is one of particular interest. In this photo, we see Georg with the entire family out on a leisurely sail, fashionably dressed. Considering how few people learned to swim in Sweden, it is remarkable how relaxed people were being out at sea without any floatation devices. Life vests that could be worn during a sailing outing would not be introduced until many decades later.

Refugees from the Baltics in a small sailboat reach a warship, 1944. Photo: Lennart af Petersens.

1944â&#x20AC;&#x201C;1945

Those who fared over the sea

hile researching this book, I quickly realized that Villa Björkudden holds an astonishing amount of archived records, in places where I never imagined looking. One sheet of paper that caught my interest had the tantalizing title, ‘Record of the State Foreigners Commission’s Foreigners Camp of Baltic Refugees.’ In the document was printed ‘Tynnngö,’ the island of Björkudden, in the careful handwriting of a civil servant. It was one name in a long list, but behind these rows of letters stood the faith of tens of thousands. I had to look further into it.

The Stockholm archipelago and our Villa Björkudden bear testimony not only to the summer memories of fin de siècle bourgeoisie. They also serve as the backdrop to and testimony of one of the darkest stages of the 20th century: the WWII refugee crisis. You can find traces everywhere, even etched into the wallpapers and paneling of numerous houses; greetings from another world. Their stories are tucked away in stacks and files, meter upon meter filling the shelves of state and municipal archives. Their testimonies are also kept alive through oral accounts, the kind that all of us carry and share with our families. The kind of stories that tell us who we are and where we came from. These are the stories that complement the written reports, and offer a scope and context in the way no paperwork or government documents can.

The Great Escape. In the aftermath of the Russian Revolution-triggered turmoil of World War I, Estonia became an independent state for the first time ever in 1920. Before this, the scenic region near the southern coastline of Finland had been subjected to numerous foreign powers: Germans, Danes, Swedes, and more hoping to establish themselves in this highly strategic Baltic location. Estonia would only enjoy a mere 19 years of independence before foreign invaders crossed the border once again. During that time, Estonia had evolved as one of the most prosperous regions in Northern Europe. As a result of the Molotov Ribbentrop non-aggression pact between the great powers of the Soviet Union and Nazi Germany, Estonia fell under harsh Soviet influence. The communist dictator Stalin then restored the now-Russian territory to its pre-World War I borders.

Those who fared over the sea

Baltic refugees onboard a warship in 1944. People fled in whatever vessel they could find, many in small rowboats and overloaded fishing boats. Several thousand sank during the voyage, and those who survived faced a difficult time. Photo: Lennart af Petersens.

Despite declaring neutrality at the outbreak of the Second World War, Russian forces moved over the border in August 1940. The surprise attack, although anticipated, was the beginning of a brief but ruthless reign of terror. Russian officials tried to stamp out any potential resistance against the new regime. Thousands were rounded up and sent to prison camps, while some were executed straightaway. This purge continued for just over one year, and ended when German forces invaded in a surprise attack on their former ally called Operation Barbarossa. The Estonians, many of whom were of German descent, first saw the German troops as liberators but were severely mistaken. After the victory against the USSR that the Nazis were gambling for, they had an altogether different plan than the Estonians may have hoped. It was a plan of massive displacement in which more than 50% of Estonians would be moved out to be replaced by ethnic Germans; the remaining 50% would be ”Germanified.” This ”Generalplan Ost,” as it was called, managed little except murdering Estonia’s sizeable Jewish population, as so much effort had gone into the anticipated victory against the Russians. But things did not go according to plan for Nazi Germany. After the exceptionally harsh winter of 1942, it became clear that this was not a war the Germans could win. The tide turned just a few kilometers outside of Moscow and would not stop until the gates of Berlin had been smashed in. On the Western side of the Baltic Sea, the Swedes managed to stay out of armed conflict. The government in Stockholm understood that the German breakdown on the Eastern front would bring masses of refugees attempting a risky escape over the sea. By now, the Estonian people had a clear picture of what the Soviet authorities had in store for them with ”liberation.” The Board of Civil Defense and the National Board of Health and Welfare were mobilized by the famous prince Folke Bernadotte, who would be responsible for the white bus operation later in the war. The first evacuations were organized by the Swedish state in early 1944. In a deal struck with the German occupation authorities, they bought out the Swedish-speaking minorities in Estonia. These groups had inhabited the large islands of Hiiumaa and Saaremaa (in Swedish: Dagö & Ösel) since the 12th century, and the Swedish press attentively covered their re-immigration. But with the German army’s continuing deterioration, imminent catastrophe became apparent and more Estonians decided to flee. By the

time the Red Army breached Estonian territory in late fall 1944, more than 80,000 Estonians had made their escape from the Russian forces – 32,000 of them across the water to Sweden.

Sweden Receiving the Refugees The majority of Estonian refugees arrived in Sweden during a very short timeframe; 6000 refugees were received at the island of Gotland in the two weeks of September 1944 alone. An improvised refugee camp was hastily organized by the foreigner’s commission to meet the demand. It quickly became apparent that the 55 camps organized for the Estonian refugees were insufficient. The civil defense board managed to mass together 216 more camps in record time, just for the Estonian refugees. This quick fix involved renting hundreds of large estates, hotels, schools and summer houses and equipping them with makeshift solutions to meet basic needs. Anyplace with access to sanitary facilities and a roof would do – including Villa Björkudden. 56

The people who stayed here lived with the hope that they would soon return home, but this would not be the case for a long time. In the meantime, they celebrated and tended to the memory of their country. During the entire Soviet occupation of Estonia, which lasted until 1991, the Estonian minority in Sweden became a vital node for Estonian culture and debate. For many years Sweden was the country with the highest volume of publishing in the Estonian language overall. Several celebrated names in Estonian literature lived in Sweden, many of whom are yet unknown outside the Estonian community. It is a story that is major in scope, yet its proportions are hard to grasp. Villa Björkudden’s use as a refugee camp during the war offers a small window through time. A window through which to contemplate this dark maelstrom that swept through the mid-20th century world. This history which many, mainly in Sweden, had forgotten and perhaps never realized how close to home it was. Unfortunately almost all detailed documentation referring to the camp is now lost, much of it never making its way into the right file due to the chaotic circumstances. But there are still those who remember, those who were there and are still around to tell their story. People like Helga.

Those who fared over the sea

Helga’s Story Helga No‑u, or Helga Raukas as her maiden name was, was a little girl when she came to Sweden in 1944. Her story encapsulates so much of the hopes and hardships that awaited those who made it ashore safely to foreign Swedish soil. She was born in a well-to-do family of the upper middle class. Her mother Elsa worked as a textile crafts teacher, her father Aleksander was Head Forest Inspector for the Northern State-Owned Forests and an accomplished leisure painter. They lived with their three children, Helga and her two younger brothers, in a four-room apartment in the suburbs of the Estonian capitol Tartu. Helga was only a small child when the Soviet occupation began, but the terror of seeing it firsthand made a stark and lasting impression on her. People around her disappeared without any given reason, and Soviet commissars were everywhere. When she was seven years old, the Soviet occupation changed to German authority. When the fighting reached Tartu, her mother took them to their grandparent’s cellars for shelter from the barrage until they could escape the city. On the roadside she could see corpses hanged for collaborating with the Russians. During the conflict her father Aleksander was designated by Soviet authorities to be sent off to Russia. During the journey, the boat was torpedoed and stranded on an island. From there he and the other survivors could make their way back to the mainland, which by then had already been captured by the Germans. During the new occupation, Aleksander Raukas switched to a lower-profile job in the port town of Raukas on the Gulf of Riga. From there they could follow the news on the radio of how the near-victory shifted to inevitable defeat for the Germans. The family kept a map of Europe where they mapped out the frontlines with a blue woolen thread, pinned down by needles. By the summer of 1944, it was apparent to everyone that the front would collapse and the Soviet Union would soon reconquer Estonia.

Under the Bridge and Out on the Sea By chance, Aleksander met a group of men who were building a barge for their planned escape. Through bribes involving a golden barometer, a freshwater tank and a chest of vodka, he managed to barter for the entire

family to come along. The departure was due on the 19th of September. It would be a critical moment to escape, as Tartu fell to the Red Army just three days later. The night before the planned departure, all preparations were complete. Everyone in the family had packed their bags and put on as many layers of clothing as they could. The lingering summer heat was now long gone, and they had no illusion of the discomfort they would face on a cold, windy sea in an open barge. Helga’s Grandma refused to join them. At 75 years of age she felt to elderly to face the open sea. She would stay behind to keep their belongings safe until their return. And one of the most essential preparations: the guard watching the bridge over the river where the barge was hidden had had been bribed with half a pig to look away when they passed.

But, on the night of the escape, they faced an unforeseen obstacle. The boat, which had laid hidden on land to avoid prying eyes, had dried up and couldn’t hold water. Horrified by this, several families decided to bail on the expedition and turned home. The others waited by the river for the wood to swell, risking detection. Next, the motor didn’t start. It was as if the illegally-bought gasoline was of such bad quality that the engine refused to function. Aleksander was forced to make the risky way home, breaking curfew to retrieve a flask of gasoline of pre-war quality. He successfully made his way back through the darkness, and they gave the engine another attempt – this time it worked. They were now on their way down the river, but their departure was hours behind schedule. The guard that had been bribed had now been replaced, and no one knew what awaited them downstream. ”Halt!” the words echoed through the night as the guard spotted their barge floating through the water. He quickly readied his automatic rifle and began to shoot, just as he was instructed to do. Helga still vividly remembers the bullets whizzing by before hitting the water on all sides. The barge was unharmed; maybe he consciously avoided shooting straight at them, they’ll never know. They managed to get past the first obstacle on the way to safety. But the worst was still ahead. Patrol boats would soon be on their tail, and they sped away from the coast as quickly as possible, losing their orientation in the darkness. They suddenly ran aground on the sandbanks south of the city, where they were stuck all night. Yet this might be the reason they made it in the end: the patrol boats likely tried to follow their presumed course, passing them in the darkness and out to sea. Before starting again, they had to discard much of the baggage to

De som kom Ăśver havet Those who fared over the sea

Migrants, 2014. Photo: Massimo Sestini / Eyevine / IBL BildbyrĂĽ

ease enough weight to free the hull. In the light of day, navigating with Aleksander’s land compass, they steered south of Saaremaa towards the open sea. There, the next great obstacle: a German ship convoy carrying evacuated troops lay like a long string of pearls before them. It was too late to turn back now, and they took their chances making their way between two of the ships. Nobody shot at them – by this time, they were all seeking refuge.

Further out at sea they had their final encounter with the Germans. An attack aircraft caught sight of them and came in at low altitude above them. They thought this was the end of them. But the pilot passed when he had gotten a closer look, and disappeared on the horizon. Their time wasn’t up yet. During the next day, the situation became more critical. The heavily-loaded barge had consumed more gas than anticipated on the rough sea. If they couldn’t make it to land soon, they would find themselves drifting at sea. Adding to their concerns, they could see clouds massing as a storm approached and knew that the waves would easily destroy their frail vessel. Suddenly, far away in their southern horizon, they spotted land. They found refuge on the small island of Fårö just outside Gotland in the middle of the Baltic sea, and were taken in by the islanders. The next day, the storm broke out and took the lives of thousands of refugees seeking safety in vessels as unsuitable for the sea as their own barge had been. They had been one of the lucky ones. They had arrived.

Their First Time, Camps and Transfer After living most of her childhood years during the war, Helga couldn’t remember the appearance of a peaceful city. She marveled at all the food available, the streetlights, the shop windows – and she even got hot chocolate. It was like arriving in heaven. Starting in Gotland, they were moved to several transitional camps before ending up in one outside of Stockholm. All of the facilities they stayed in were of an improvised nature. There were over 200 camps around Sweden just for Estonians and even more for other nationalities. Authorities tried to put all capable people to work as soon as possible. Helga’s father quickly found employment as a forestry expert in The Department of Public Domains, controlling economic maps out in the field. He would hold the position until his retirement in the 1960s. In total, her family stayed at nine different locations during the first year of their escape.

Those who fared over the sea

A Palace in the Archipelago In parallel with the family’s frequent transfers, her father spent the summers doing fieldwork away from home. Her parents’ correspondence letters serve as a complement to the memories of young Helga. In June 1945 they were transferred to a camp out in the Stockholm archipelago, but when they arrived the camp was already full. This time they were sent to a camp nearby on the island of Tynningö: Villa Björkudden. When they approached their new destination, Helga could hardly believe her eyes. It was like a magical castle surrounded by lush greenery, different in every aspect from the other camps where they had stayed.

Life in Camp The family would spend two summer months in the ‘castle,’ as Helga still calls the house. They were housed upstairs in a large, tapestry-furnished bedroom. As she previously concluded, this was a camp much different from the others she had encountered before. It was much smaller, with only 30-40 residents compared to the hundreds that fit in the old barracks

Estonian refugee camp on Tynningö, 1945. In the center, the teacher for the Estonian camp school, Ms. Siim. In the back row furthest to the left is Helga Raukas (married Nõu). In the middle row, second from the right, is Arvo Raukas, brother to Helga Raukas. Sitting second from the right is Rein Raukas, Helga Raukas’s youngest brother. Sitting furthest to the left is Ingrid Kuldevere (married Ungerson).

of other places she had stayed. But the routines were just as harsh. In her letters, Helga’s mother wrote to her husband about how strict the Swedish supervisor was. They had to work all day in his private garden, and only had a break for lunch. Apart from the supervisor, contact with Swedish locals was very rare as nobody had mastered the language yet. Aside from working in the garden, the chores in camp were handed out to the adults on a rotating schedule and included assisting in the kitchen, cleaning, etc.

Helga, her brothers, and the other children at the camp went to a school supervised by an Estonian teacher, but otherwise had plenty of spare time. That summer was especially beautiful and the blooming lilac flowers have stayed in her memory. Here Helga met her first friend in Sweden; another child in the camp. Her name was Ingrid Kuldvere, and they often took evening walks along the water and speculated about what kind of life lay ahead of them. They still keep contact. It wasn’t all work at the camp, and there were many colorful personalities around. Everyone from professors to one of Estonia’s most well-renowned singers. They had even formed a puppet theater for their entertainment. Among the strange places and people Helga encountered during her first year in Sweden, Villa Björkudden with its chateau-like appearance and beautiful surroundings has kept a special place in her memory.

A group photo from the Estonian refugee camp, 1945. Sitting furthest to the left is Professor Andrus Saareste, celebrated language researcher at Tartu University. Sitting behind him is Helga Raukas (married Nõu). Sitting third from the right is Rein Raukas, and fourth from the right is Arvo Raukas. Standing third from the right is Elsa Raukas. Sitting beside Helga Raukas is Ingrid Kuldvere. Standing lowest to the right is likely Professor Evald Blumfeldt, professor at Tartu University.

Those who fared over the sea

After Tynningö After August 1945, the family was transferred again to their last camp. From there the family managed to arrange accommodations in a house on Adelsö outside of Stockholm. Within a year Helga learned Swedish and later educated herself to become a primary school teacher for a steady income. She would rather have gone to art school, but her parents saw it as far too uncertain for income. They, with the trauma of losing everything they owned, lived by the motto, ”all material things perish, but the things you keep in your head persist.” In 1957 she married Enn Nou, who was also Estonian, and they moved to Uppsala. Art and literature came to play a central and vital role in their lives. Today they are both celebrated authors in Estonia, and for many years have split their time between their homes in Uppsala and Tallinn. The escape has left a significant mark in both their lives and literary work. At the beginning of the 21st-century, their daughter Lisa, who has a summer house on an island close by, brought her parents to revisit Villa Björkudden. When Helga saw it, she was shocked by how worn down the ”castle” of her childhood had become. But back then it was also one of her first reference points for Sweden and her new life. A life that has since been rich in experiences and personal fulfillment.

The Country Store Next Door

eighboring Villa Björkudden lived the Johansson family: the father Erik, mother Ulla, and their son Göran. From 1935 and for more than 20 years, the family ran the country store that sat just across the road. There the refugees usually bought cigarettes, among other things. Many of them were skilled craftsmen, and Erik and Ulla even purchased candles that they had made. The thought was to sell them in the store, but they weren’t as sellable as they wished, and Erik and Ulla often took home the ones that had sat and collected dust for a while. The refugees were also able to take water from the drilled well across the road. They collected water in large 50-liter buckets. The capacity in Villa Björkudden’s dug well was likely not enough. Sometime the refugees also bought wood from the family, as lighting fires in the ceramic furnaces used a lot of wood.

The refugees brought sauna culture with them to Sweden. Almost immediately upon arriving at Villa Björkudden, they rebuilt what had been a washroom in the bathhouse and turned it into a sauna. The construction went quickly, and soon there was constantly smoke coming from the sauna’s chimney. But it was not only Estonian refugees who reached Vaxholm and Villa Björkudden. War survivors came from Germany, many with injuries such as lost limbs. Many of them were trained cobblers and started a business where they made shoes and created prosthetic limbs. Some of the refugees later settled in Kumla and started a shoemaking business there.

1945 in the dining room of the Tynningö camp. Furthest to the right is Elsa Raukas, mother to Helga Raukas (married Nõu); second from the right is Helga Raukas. The wallpaper is still preserved today.

Tynningö’s Estonian refugee camp – a castle in Helga’s eyes. All photos taken by Aleksander Raukas, father of Helga Raukas (married Nõu).

Those who fared over the sea

The Marionette Theater on Tynningö

ynningö was for a short time the home of an Estonian puppet theater. In the camp’s early days, when uncertainty and idleness were contagious, the idea was formed by a group of people (Helga’s parents among them) to create a marionette theater. The father Aleksander, who in his youth studied art and painted his entire life, took part and created the the décor. The mother Elsa had been a handicrafts teacher and took care of the puppets and costumes. It started as a way to pass the time and entertain the children. Soon however, the interest grew and a small theater tour started. In the repertoire were fairytales such as Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel. Despite several in the theater troupe, which was now 6-8 people, being funneled out

of the camp into different workplaces, they were able to keep the operation running at the Tynningö camp. They also translated the pieces to Swedish and had the opportunity to perform in several schools in Stockholm. The labor board was so impressed that they suggested the troupe should have a proper theater education. This never came to fruition, however; everyone in the troupe already had an education, and the puppet theater was just a hobby for them. But the theater’s short activity left an unforgettable impression on those who witnessed the performances. Helga’s father documented it during the summer of 1945, when the entire troupe and theater was on Tynningö.

The puppet theater on Tynningö on tour in 1945, outside of Bromma Secondary School. First from the right, Helga Raukas (married Nõu) with mother Elsa Raukas. First from the left is Elmar Livet, second from the left is Rudolf Rink, officer.

Caption (Right): 1945. The puppet theater at the camp. Little Red Riding Hood.

Students gathered outside, 1963.

1949

When the villa became a school

new time had come for the villa. In the summer of 1950, a summer boarding school was founded on the property. The school had students from all over the country, as well as daytime students from Tynningö and the islands nearby. It was primarily a school for those who needed help improving grades so they could continue to the next level of education, but there were those who went just to advance in one or two subjects.

Our story begins long before this. In 1937, Grethe and Mauritz lived on opposite sides of Öresund, the strait separating Denmark from Sweden. Grethe studied to become a children’s physician in Copenhagen and Mauritz studied humanities in the Swedish university town of Lund. They were both members of student associations at their respective universities. Summer exchange programs were arranged between the universities and both participated. The first time Mauritz saw Grethe, she was wearing the Danish flag’s colors with red trousers and a white blouse. It was love at first sight, confirmed by Mauritz in his own re-telling of the moment: ”And we saw the sun go down, and we saw the sun go up again.” They were married on Midsummer’s Eve in 1939. Grethe moved to Lund with Mauritz. Two months after they married, the Second World War broke out. Mauritz was drafted and served until the risk of conflict had eased for Sweden. After this, they left southern Sweden for Uppland, north of Stockholm. From the time they met, they had talked about having many children, and from 1941 they would in due time have five. Adding to the growing family, they also adopted a Danish-Jewish boy who had escaped the German occupation on a fishing boat.

Boarding Schools It was at this time that Grethe had the idea of founding a boarding school. The idea wasn’t strange to the Fagerströms as both had grown up in communal circumstances. Grethe had grown up in a boarding school for future teachers, where her grandfather worked as principal. The institution provided lodging for both teachers and students on the school’s property. Mauritz had grown up on the grounds of a large mental hospital, where his father supervised agricultural work. All employees had their homes on

Grethe and Mauritz on a walk in Copenhagen.

When the villa became a school

the hospital’s grounds. In founding the boarding school, they created an environment for themselves and their children just like the one they had growing up. Together in 1943 they started ’Rimbo Private Läroverk,’ a private grammar school. They would run the school until 1965. The school became a home for both the students as well as Grethe and Mauritz, who hoped to foster their students into becoming able citizens in addition to passing their exams. The Swedish school system excluded many from the chance of further study. Grethe and Mauritz’s private school offered opportunity for young people who didn’t have the grades to get into the few public schools available. Most of their students graduated with satisfactory results and could go on to university studies or other education. Grethe had ended her physician studies when she moved to Sweden, but continued reading about children’s and youth psychology among other things. Both she and Mauritz were driven by the desire to improve the lives and opportunities of children. They understood their students as individuals, supporting change and knowledge through positive feedback instead of corporal punishment. The latter was far too present in schools and homes during their time. Mauritz in particular emphasized having fun as a crucial part of learning. Perhaps he had this insight from his own upbringing. He was one of nine children and was deeply affected by the dull and gloomy circumstances of the mental institution where they lived, as well as his strict and unforgiving father. They were always short on money, and the cost of pursuing secondary education was high. There was still the possibility of being admitted on scholarship for those who excelled, which Mauritz and some of his brothers did. Getting in did not shield him from the degrading experience of being singled out by teachers who regularly reminded him of his low status. He had to hear to comments like, ”you who are here for free should watch yourself!” or ”you who are here as a ‘frielev’ [at the municipality’s expense] can’t...” This went on all throughout school. Mauritz vowed never to treat his or any other children in such a way.

The Reasons for a Summer Boarding School As was the case with their boarding school, it was also Grethe who came up with the idea for a summer school. The entry requirements for higher educations were rigid, and students had to pass all classes before being admitted to a higher level. If you didn’t pass, your only chance of being admitted to the next level was to study during the summer. These students got a second chance in August before school started for the next term. If they passed they could go on to next level, otherwise they needed to re-do the entire year. The Fagerströms held summer classes at their school for some years before deciding to expand. During these summers, the students had complained that the lake nearby was too small to swim in. It made sense that in the fall of 1949, they bought Villa Björkudden and moved the summer school there. This became a combined school and summer retreat for them and the children.

How to Run a Summer School 70

Grethe, Mauritz and Mauritz´s brother Kjell made up the summer school’s staff. Grethe taught classes in mathematics, physics, and chemistry. Mauritz taught Swedish and German, and Kjell was responsible for courses in Latin and French. The summer school was run like a family business. When their children were old enough, they too helped with running the school. The gardeners Oscar and Ester Carlsson followed from the grammar school in Uppland and worked with the summer school until 1965. More than just a gardener, Oscar was a jack of all trades. He tended to practical matters on the property, from repairs to emptying the latrines, as well as managing the flowerbeds and landscaping. Ester also worked in the kitchen in addition to gardening. The first year, all food was bought from Johansson’s General store, the small red house near the main road to Björkudden. After a few years, they began to get fresh milk delivery by boat. When the general store later closed, the groceries had to be retrieved by boat from Vaxholm. Before the students arrived, the bedrooms were prepared and everything was made tidy with tablecloths and flowers. Flags were raised on the flagpole atop the house so that all students arriving by boat from Stockholm

When the villa became a school

could see it from afar. The Swedish flag on top, with the Danish flag just below. The student rooms were furnished with military bunk beds, writing desks, drawers and bookshelves. All of the upstairs bedrooms were occupied by students except the small room to the right of the great staircase. This was the isolation room, only used if someone got sick â&#x20AC;&#x201C; this gave the sickly some privacy and prevented the illness from spreading. The first evening upon arrival, when some students may have felt a bit lost, Mauritz eased the tensions by playing his harmonica.

Time for Recreation Classes went until noon, and the time after lunch was kept free for leisure. Most students used this time to go down to the bridge and swim. Some went to the old bathhouse to sunbathe there, now reserved as girls-only for those who wanted to soak up rays with discretion. Others played ping-pong in the gazebo. All meals were eaten together in the dining room at a long table. A short piece of railroad track hung from an oak branch near the dock, and was used as a makeshift gong to announce dinnertime.

Grethe and children during their first summer on TynningĂś, 1950.

When the signal rang out across the yard, everyone came sauntering from all directions toward the dining room. After dinner, there were two hours assigned for homework. Almost every night there was dancing in the common room and sometimes on the porch. In the common room, students could smoke if they had permission from a guardian. Many students did smoke, and as the wooden structure of the house was extremely flammable, safety measures were taken.

A New School System Marked the End

In 1962 the Swedish Parliament passed a bill that changed the system of primary education. Now, primary school was required for all children for nine years. This reform was intended to remove class differences in society, and wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t hold students back if they failed one subject at the end of the term. It ended the split-education system in Sweden and introduced a base-education with primary education open to everyone. This new system was successively implemented region by region until fully implemented in 1972. With this reform, the summer school was no longer necessary. The last classes at BjĂśrkudden were held in the summer of 1967.

Bathing students, 1964.

When the villa became a school

A Memory of Torbjรถrn Fagerstrรถm We arranged dances almost every night, and danced to Sinatra and Elvis. I got to help with miscellaneous chores: each Saturday the gravel paths were to be tended and the latrines emptied for example. As we had no refrigerator, I had took the boat into the city of Vaxholm each day to get groceries. We were wholly self-sufficient when it came to vegetables and berries. The Carlssons who lived in the gardeners cottage were like a couple of house gnomes tending to the greenery. One time, one of the students switched the contents of the sugar jar before breakfast. Mauritz noticed immediately and forced the boy to eat a bowl of salty cereal. Students listening to Top 10 on the jetty, 1962. Torbjรถrn lays in front. Annika lays on her stomach with curlers in her hair.

Memories of Bibbi Fagerström When we approached Vaxholm, we were all filled with anticipation. The moment the wheels touched the bridge leading into town, we all burst into a song we had made up ourselves: ”We have arrived in Vaxholm, We have arrived in Vaxholm, We have arrived in Vaxholm...” There were no car ferries back then. When we arrived at the dock, we loaded everything onto the beautiful mahogany boat and headed out toward the island.

As we approached the house, everyone who had already arrived would come out on the bridge to greet us. We were all eager to jump onto dry land. One time our dog jumped out too early, landing in the water, and had to swim the last few meters. My memories from the summer school are primarily how we children lived and coped with the students. I used to go with my uncle by boat into town, where my mom had ordered fresh bread from Zander´s bakeshop. We went during the morning when the students had classes and returned in time for lunch. In the common room we played cards, and it was there I learned to dance along with my elder brother and the older students. When we children got older, we were gradually assigned more chores at the school. I had a summer job as a cleaner, a washer, and managed the kiosk. The latter was something I enjoyed very much. The kiosk was in the cellar. I had business hours after lunch and dinner, using a small window as a service counter. It was mainly popular amongst the students for purchasing sweets before homework hours. When summer ended and the boat came to pick us up, we always thought it was so sad.

Grethe with a Danish student cap.

A student lifts Bibbi and Peter, 1963.

When the villa became a school

The students enjoyed being on the bathhouse roof. Peter, 1965.

Grethe and Mauritz with family, July 1983. Taken on the old tennis court with the house in the background. Photo: Per Janse.

Proper Order

rethe and Mauritz shared equal responsibility for the school and students. They reasoned and made decisions together. Both had contact with the students and their parents. Their personalities complemented one another. Grethe wanted to have a system and order to everything: papers, books, and money. She was detailed and organized. Mauritz was more spontaneous and an optimist. He has said himself that he has always taken life as it comes and that there will always be a way. And it usually works out for the best in the end. He was a warm and joyful

person with a boisterous laugh. It was, for example, Mauritz’s idea to name all of the buildings on the property after their own children: Åsebo – the elongated house where there were once pigs and a shoemaker during the refugee camp’s time; Tobbe-torp – the henhouse that was later torn down; Anne-häll – the gardener’s quarters; Bibbi-bad – the bathhouse; and Peter-ping – the gazebo where students played ping-pong. There was one house remaining, and he named that one ‘Smålandsstugan’ as a reference to his own roots in Småland.

The Memories of Annika Fagerström It was never easy being the principal’s daughter. I was a teenager and here were all these fantastic, sweet, funny students, and among them some really good-looking guys. In my early teens I stayed with the students and wanted to seem loyal to them, otherwise risking becoming an outcast in the group. Mom and Dad got more and more tired as the summer went by but I simply could not tell on my friends – the guys using the fire escape ladder to sneak into the girls rooms, or the ones who ventured into Vaxholm late at night. Whenever I participated, just like the rest of the students who got caught, they gave me a scolding like I never got at home. My parents were outraged, understandably since they responsible for all those youngsters and feared anything could happen to them. 76

When I was 17-19 years old, I got my own room in ”the closet” – a small maids room above the washing room that had a secret staircase. It was wonderful to have a place of my own. From there I could lay and listen to the radio all through the night or smuggle visitors up through the secret staircase. And best of all, from there I could eavesdrop on engaging conversations taking place in the washroom below me.

Down in the cellar, 1962.

Students playing records in front of the house, 1962. Torbjörn second from the left. Annika furthest to the right.

When the villa became a school

Students playing in front of the cellar door, 1965. The large water and milk jugs can be seen along the wall.

The building where the latrines were housed.

The Collective at Villa Björkudden

n the middle of the 1970s, the Fagerström family rented out parts of Villa Björkudden during the summers. Tippi and Stig Unge and eight of their friends found the house via an advertisement from Mauritz and Grethe, and they fell head over heels. They shared the house with the Fagerström family and had the upper floor as well as the small kitchen. If they wanted to bake bread, they could sneak into the large kitchen with Grethe’s permission and use the oven there. Most of the people in the collective had jobs in the city and commuted from Tynningö. They took bicycles on the boat in the morning, and when the boats docked at Strömkajen they biked to their jobs. They were city people and appreciated Björkudden’s unique environment, which allowed them to grow their own vegetables in the garden, go down to the jetty on foggy mornings and drink a cup of tea with the sound of the Vaxholm boats in the distance. Throughout history, Villa Björkudden has been a gathering place for many parties, and the collective was no exception. They often had parties, which often ended up with many empty bottles.

Afterward they had to take the little rowboat, with its unreliable engine, and fill it to the brim with empty bottles. Then they would steer carefully toward Vaxholm, and about halfway there the motor often died, and they would have to row the rest of the way. When it was time for the Midsummer party, they cleared out the verandas and flung the doors wide open. They scrubbed the floor and hung string-lights across the ceiling. Often, people came who no one seemed to know. One man who was mistaken for being Tippi’s colleague came one Midsummer’s Eve. He put on his bathing suit and laid out on the jetty. No one had invited him, but no one disturbed him either. He knew that on Midsummer, there was always a party at Villa Björkudden. The rain often leaked into the great hall on the upper floor, and it became a whole orchestra when the raindrops reverberated differently in each of the glass bottles and buckets placed on the floor. In the summer of 1978, it was so rainy that Stig passed time waiting for better weather by building a small house of glass bottles in the likeness of the Tynningö house. It is a clear memory that still stands on the couple’s fireplace mantle.

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From Summer School to 2015

For the remainder of the 19th century and into the new millennium, the Fagerströms remained owners of the villa. The question of maintenance and management lingered and only increased as the large building needed care. A few ambitious projects had been started, among them a roof replacement and renovation of the grand glass window in the stairwell. The greatest challenge of all lay in repairing the façade on the sea-facing side of the house. After a decade of wear and tear, the plaster on the façade was in a neglected state. The solution was to remove the existing plaster and replace it with an entirely new wooden façade. Later in the decade, a small-scale rental operation was started at the house. Throughout this time, the need for additional renovation became increasingly clear. After a long negotiation process, the Fagerström siblings decided to put the house up for sale, which sold at the end of 2015. The sale of this spectacular house was covered heavily by the media, with such headlines as, ‘Now you can get a unique mini-castle in the archipelago!’ and ‘Now you can buy one of the Stockholm archipelago’s most impressive homes.’ Despite the widespread coverage and plenty of curious visitors at the showings, it became clear that many were hesitant to take on such an intimidating building project, with all the technical challenges that would be necessary to get the house back to a livable condition. It was an alluring fantasy that few could handle in reality. At that point, the house caught the attention of entrepreneur Olle Larsson.

When renovations started in the winter of 2015, the plaster facades on the land-facing side were replaced. Water damage and moisture had penetrated the plaster, into the reinforcement of the wood and reed mats that became moldy and fell away in large pieces.

A Sisyphean task

About Sisyfos

The surroundings of Wenngarn Castle were transformed in just 8 months from an overgrown, inaccessible place into a welcoming and thriving micro-community.

The night after Sisyfos got access to Wenngarn, arson was committed on the property. Five fire departments were called in effort to put out the fire.

To understand what happened next, it is first important to know more about Sisyfos and their largest project up to that point. It was through Wenngarn that Sisyfos developed an interest in culturally significant historical buildings. Wenngarn, an area near the town of Sigtuna, houses one of Sweden’s oldest castles. This castle was originally built for a prominent Swedish count, and later home to one of 19th century Sweden’s most wellknown alcohol treatment centers. The alcohol treatment center continued to operate with support from the Lewi Pethrus Foundation through the 1980s, until going bankrupt in 1997. The buyer of the bankrupt estate had grand plans to transform the area into a central European-style spa destination. Despite high expectations and a promising start, all plans and work on the property fell through. What was at first a large development project soon became home to unscrupulous and vulnerable tenants, with barely enough income to pay the rent. Wenngarn was taxed by this ever-increasing social burden and developed slowly until the 2000s, when it was recognized as a separate community by the municipality. After ten years had gone by with no start to the development project, the owner of Wenngarn put the property up for public auction – but still found no buyer. In the realm of Sisyfos founder Olle Larsson’s business, he had primarily worked with property renovations in Stockholm that focused on attic renovations. When he heard about the nearby Wenngarn property, it quickly developed from a loose interest to an opportunity he was completely captivated by. The thought of turning around a looming technical catastrophe fascinated him. Here was a place with a fantastic history. His interest only deepened as he began to research the place’s history and its strange progression. After careful preparations and negotiations, work on the Wenngarn property began in the fall of 2013. His idea for Wenngarn was to build on the existing cultural heritage and physical infrastructure, while adding new technical and social components. In this way, a new community would be created – a living village. The project began with a strong belief that historical environments can play a key role in providing perspective and value to people’s everyday lives. The intensive development and restoration work took strong influence from

the castle’s own history, which was brought to the forefront as its most prominent asset. The challenge of reflecting the present while maintaining a place’s history had a profound effect on both Sisyfos and its owners. It was through this process that Sisyfos’ motto was born: Preserve-Tell-Create Stories; and with it the desire for those involved in Sisyfos’ projects to become co-creators of those places’ futures. The Wenngarn project also strengthened Sisyfos’ ability to assess potential projects from a new perspective: how could these places mirror the world today through the amplification of their histories? In the fall of 2015, Wenngarn had entered a more stable phase, and people began moving into the village community on a larger scale.

“I never had any doubts, here is an incredibly beautiful landscape, easy access to Stockholm, Uppsala and Arlanda, fantastic historical contexts, a castle from the Baroque period with a chapel, and a fantastic park dating back to the 1600s.” – Olle Larsson

A Sisyphean task

Love at First Sight ”The house came to us,” Olle Larsson usually jokes when people ask how he found Villa Björkudden. It began as an email from a friend – a recommendation to check out a house that needed an unbelievable amount of renovation, but had a great history. He and the rest of the Sisyfos’ team were instantly taken by the unbelievably beautiful house and setting – as much for its history as for the challenge of renovating a place with such run-down beauty. Here was value which, rightly earned, could be made available in an entirely new way. The message was clear – the motto ‘Preserve-Create-Tell Stories’ would resurface on a new, smaller stage than Wenngarn. The decision was made and the house was purchased in December of 2015. The hope was that the inauguration would happen June 1st of the following year. Now it was time to get started.

A Sisyphean task

Adaptation With Respect

The goal with Björkudden was to respect the house’s original appearance and structure as much as possible, while also showcasing the building’s rich history in the many layers and marks left by each different owner. At the same time, the building needed to be protected for the future in a challenging climate and adapted for modern necessities such as sanitation and basic amenities. This meant that color samples were taken on all of the woodwork. They then selected a color that matched one from the turn of the century. As much as possible, the outer layer was preserved, including flooring and wallpaper. In the rooms where the wallpaper was poorly installed, it was swapped out with a newly produced version that had a similar appearance to the original design. The façade facing the land with its poorly-installed plaster was reconstructed architecturally with the same techniques as the original: with plaster reinforced by reed-mats that were nailed to the façade. The side facing the sea, with its wood paneling cleverly crafted by the Fagerström family, was saved as a memory of their contribution to the house’s history. All of the old ceramic furnaces were repaired and the fireplaces were checked so that the house’s existing heating system could continue to function.

In consultation with antiquarians and specialists, it was decided to uncover the entire old plaster façade and then restore it to its original condition. New reed mats were mounted to support the plaster on the newly-repaired wooden foundation. After that, the plaster was laid with the same technique and material as it had been over 100 years earlier.

The ceramic furnaces were also complemented with four air heaters, hidden under the new kitchen stairwell, which help to maintain the temperature during cooler seasons. Other final additions were toilets and cleaning facilities, where there had previously only existed a drying closet under the large stairwell and one washing room upstairs. These were then followed by new plumbing which made it possible to install both toilets and showers on the same floor. In most cases the new spaces were created by adjusting existing spaces – for example, making the linen closet smaller – and could therefore be created without the overall floorplan being noticeably impacted. The Fagerström family, who owned Villa Björkudden before Sisyfos took over, created a wooden panel on the side of the house facing the water. It has been preserved as a memory of their efforts.

A Sisyphean task

The original floor and wallpaper have been saved wherever possible. Where the wallpaper has needed replacement, it has been exchanged for newly-produced versions similar to the originals.

A large effort was given to recreating the appearance of the houseâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s interior. Color tests were taken in all rooms and used to blend paint colors as close as possible to the original ones used in the house. In the rooms where new wallpaper was needed, new options were selected as long as they went well with the older versions in the house.

New Additions The kitchen areas were the part of the house that needed the most thorough renovations. Previously, the space had been solely for staff and servants, not entirely different from popular culture’s Downton Abbey. The kitchen’s role in the home had shifted over time, from being an inaccessible place in the house to becoming a central place for people to come together. The old servants access, pantry, kitchen counters and stove were ill-fitting for a modern kitchen’s needs and accessibility. To completely re-do the kitchen in an entirely different style would go against the thought and idea for the house. To create a balance between utility and historical consideration, Sisyfos collaborated with chef Erik Videgård. Through clever reuse and modification of the old woodwork, the kitchen was adapted to a modern size and layout, while maintaining cultural and historical reference points. A balance which allowed for hosting large events but also opened up a previously closed-off part of the house to new visitors. 88

Up in the attic, another addition was made that hails Sisyfos’ roots and expertise in the attic renovation business. Between the stairs and what during the summer school’s time functioned as a classroom was a large, unfinished attic. Here, attic chambers were built: six spaces for bedrooms and bathrooms. The new space was outfitted with beaded paneling to harmonize with the older attic’s appearance, which was left largely untouched, with markings still present from the summer school students. Another rediscovered place was the loggias, or inverted balconies which were built when the house was moved to Tynningö after the Stockholm Exhibition in 1897. After a decade of neglect, these summertime favorites were renovated with their original colors, complemented by folding glass partitions that made it possible to enjoy the view even on days with bad weather.

Looking Out One of the larger exterior additions can be seen from the dining room and out into the garden. Here in the dining room, a door was installed with a wide staircase that led down to the garden. The addition, which connects the house’s monumental presence with its vastly increased width, provides a dual function. It offers an additional point of access between the outside

When Sisyfos first accessed the house, the inverted balconies (loggias) had been added long before. The balconies on the upper floor had been removed after significant decay. One of the largest renovations was to restore these in usable condition. Earlier there had been enormous blinds to help protect against weather and wind. These have been exchanged for foldable glass partitions that allow visitors to enjoy the view from the room on both rainy and sunny days. The lower loggia is nicknamed the Crystal Bar, which you can read more about on page 100.

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The houseâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s kitchen, once home to a large service staff who often prepared meals for large parties despite simple conditions. The treatment of these rooms during renovation was, as much as possible, to preserve their unique character. Maintaining its signature tongueand-groove paneling and custom woodwork, the room was adapted for a modern standard flexible enough for both large parties and individuals alike.

and inside, with greater use of the dining room space. At the same time, it also creates a comfortable space to sit and admire the view and all that the garden has to offer. This is just one part of the larger outdoor environment, set in the woodwork. Through successive division of the property through the years, the old addition lost a large part of its complementary buildings such as greenhouses, a croquet field, gazebo and bathhouse. In collaboration with the garden architect Daniel Bell, who earlier also worked on Wenngarn’s gardens, the outdoor environment got a fresh look. For the underlying groundwork, a pelouse – or decorative lawn – was added at the front of the house, framed by neatly pruned bushes and ready for outdoor enjoyment, parties and games. On the land side, the main entry was lined with foliage, and a parking area was created nearby as a logistical solution for large numbers of guests. On the East side of the house, where growing beds for the old greenhouse had once been, a tennis and boule court was added. 90

The main entry to the house, the jetty, received a thorough renovation. The jetty was lengthened to create space for large boats, and a floating dock was added with capacity for large private boats. Taking inspiration from turn-of-the-century glass-covered verandas, two identical pavilions were added to frame the jetty. The left pavilion contains a sauna with a washroom, and the one on the right acts as a generously-sized gazebo appropriate for receiving guests who have just arrived by boat. Both the sauna and gazebo are features that had previously been included in the building plans, but had never been completed. In this way, the house was restored in its entirety, all framed by an impressive oak tree, older than both the jetty and the villa itself. The view of the waterway was restored by carefully re-planting the shrubs and trees surrounding the house. This opened up an unobstructed view of the archipelago from the house, as well as the view of the house from the waterway. This was a view that had once inspired Sjöqvist himself to build his archipelago palace here; a memory which has now been made accessible for visitors and sea-traveling passersby alike. The landscape around the main building was freshened up, with improvements such as new greenery and a larger parking area.

A Sisyphean task

The houseâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s exterior, 2015 to 2016.

The Idea Behind the House The approach that Sisyfos took toward the house, of preserving its features as much as possible, has its own underlying idea. A building is not just a story that can be told in written or verbal form. Instead, there is a strong belief that a building is most alive when it is experienced and interacted with. By preserving and enhancing the space’s features, visitors have been able to experience the building by moving through it. The set of rooms on the ground floor – stairwells, bedroom, lounge – add another dimension and value to the house. In the same way, the upper floor and attic area have retained much of their original character. The rooms bear details of the past: in one of them, there is a bedframe like those used during the time when the house was a refugee shelter. In another part of the house, one of the old signs from the Stockholm Exhibition of 1897 can be seen. In this house, it is easy to get caught up in a scavenger hunt for hidden treasures from the past. 92

The rooms have been named with reference to their previous functions and personalities. Names like ‘herrummet’ (Eng. ‘smoking room’), ‘skamvrån’ (Eng. punishment corner), and ’Mauritz’ all carry their own stories, ready to uncover. The goal was to build the narrative itself into the house. To experience Björkudden in its entirety is to create something new in history’s tracks. To jump from Stockholm’s quays into a boat and lose sight of the concrete city, passing pockets of houses on Lidingö and Nacka islands, as the forest and other summer delights bathed in greenery slowly begin to take over. When, expecting signs of civilization as you approach Vaxholm, you then see the villa’s magnificent tower sitting majestically on the horizon, framed by its seaview. To approach the house’s jetty with an anticipation that grows stronger the closer you get to the grand building, and are then served a chilled beverage before being welcomed inside. To leave the jetty and stroll up the pathway to the entry, winding gently around the land side of the house to admire the villa in all its massive grandeur. Then entering the house through its magnificent double-doors, wandering through the hall and into the splendid stairwell, complete with a monogrammed open fireplace and a welcoming host. That is Björkudden’s spellbinding effect to its fullest, and the moment itself feels timeless.

A Sisyphean task

During the winter and spring of 2016, a frenzied work was underway. In parallel with the renovation itself, the first edition of the book you now hold in your hands was being written. In June of the same year, the house opened up to the world again. The hope was to offer something here that could be relevant to anyone, anywhere. A house for fellowship, with the belief that its value would only increase the more people who had access to it and could make its history their own. Sisyfos began inviting its own network to use the house for meetings, parties, and weddings with the offer, “pay what you think it is worth.” This ongoing story continues to develop many of the thoughts Sisyfos has cultivated around participation and co-creation. So much has happened since that spring of 2016. For two years we have had the opportunity to maintain Björkudden as a home for Sisyfos; a place for important conversations and decisions within our business. It has been a natural gathering place for our network and our friends. We have also had the opportunity to share this with people who are new to us, and who have chosen to make Björkudden a part of their own story as a place for their weddings, Christmas celebrations, parties or other gatherings. It is a house that easily becomes a home. It is also a house which is still uncovering all of its possible forms, to be shared by many and to continue to be remarkable in an unremarkable way.

The house’s original floorplan has been carefully preserved and complemented by re-purposing the old linen closets, wardrobes and auxiliary rooms as bathrooms and technical installations wherever possible.

Author Hampus Busk f. Sahlqvist on his connection to Björkudden

A place that lives in the heart.

hat makes a place special? The question boils down to the individual; what you want to do and what context you find yourself in. Perspective enriches people and that, if anything, is what Björkudden has taught us. An innumerable number of guests have passed through this house over the years, most recently from Sisyfos’ community. Many of them who have been involved in projects have developed their own personal relationship to the house. For me, as author and cultural historian, this house has been a pivotal place in my life. After a long sickness and convalescence, it was the renovation that guided me back to my love of archival research and storytelling again. I have had the benefit, as both a host and handler of the house’s narrative, of meeting hundreds of people from all over the world and all walks of life. Here I have found the stillness and calm to complete several book projects. It was also in this place that my wife and I chose to confirm our love for one another through marriage. We married here one August day in 2015, on the stairs leading down from the dining room and into the garden, with the archipelago and more than a hundred years of people’s stories and experiences as a backdrop. Later that day, we stood in the doorway between the lounge and dining room and called for our friends’ attention. We had not yet

decided what our new last name would be, only that we would share the same one. The moment had arrived: the decision would be made through rock, paper, scissors. The drama was high, and the gravity of the moment took both my wife and I by storm. It may be just a name, but also the rest of your life. I lost the game and my old last name – but you could also say that I won another name. There is a small plaque on that doorstep now, as a reminder that Villa Björkudden is a place that can change everything, even a last name. What makes a place special? For me it is the ability to create perspective. With perspective, the world becomes bigger, problems surmountable, and life a story worth telling. I live according to this philosophy, and have built my own business around it. I have my work, and especially Björkudden, to thank for it. Björkudden has taught me that we never know what the future holds, nor can we change the past. It is here and now that we can find the world and ourselves, but how we approach it is entirely up to us. And my approach is enriched by the belief that everything works out. That, if nothing else, is what Björkudden has shown.

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Björkudden can earn a special place in many people’s hearts. Here you have the opportunity to add your own story to the place, perhaps through a celebration or other activity. Even just by going around and taking part in the house’s existing history, feeling all of the memories and becoming a part of something that has had so much meaning for so many people.

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Villa BjĂśrkudden is a place that inspires, both for weddings, dinners and theatrical fun. Here youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll find room for mysterious 1920s festivities just as easily as a visit to the newly built sauna.

A Sisyphean task

Crystal gets a home at Björkudden Experiencing the history of Björkudden is like walking over a clear-frozen lake, seeing everything visible beneath you. This was the metaphor we envisioned during the first weeks working on the house in the winter of 2015. We hardly knew just how accurately it would be reflected in the future. In a meeting between Sisyfos founder Olle Larsson and the owner of New Wave Group, which includes Orrefors and Kosta Boda, Torsten Jansson came up with the thought to create an interpretation of Sisyfos’ motto to ‘Preserve-Tell-Create Stories’ in crystal. It was a collaboration that began at Wenngarn Castle with Erika Lagerbielke designing ‘the house’s glassware.

Lena Bergström – The Crystal Bar 100

QR Code: All you need to do is open the camera on your smartphone and scan this code with the camera. You’ll see a link pop up in the top of your screen; click on this and you’ll be able to watch the video right away!

After Wenngarn, the cooperation was deepened further. The conversation led to the artist Lena Bergström. Known for her solidly-shaped and cleanlined designs, she was given the opportunity to create an art object for Björkudden that would be equally admired and practical. When she had studied the space and its stories, she fixated upon two things in particular: the rich amount of tongue-and-groove paneling, once one of Sweden’s largest exports, which was represented in dozens of different dimensions and styles around the house. This also became an homage to her business, Orrefors, which was founded in 1898 – the same year the villa was transported to its current location after the Stockholm Exhibition. Her other great inspiration was the story of the restaurant royalty – the Steinwalls – and their influence on Swedish revelry at the turn of the century. As a location for the work, she selected the summer dining room: the old heart of the house that came alive during the summer months, with a mirror along the back wall so that the view of the waterway was always visible. Parties, wealth and playfulness – the choice was made to create a bar as a complementary function in the house. The tongue-and-groove style can be seen in the construction, with crystal shafts spun in the same style as the wooden panels around the house. It isn’t just in the glass’s function and placement that Lena Bergström chose

A Sisyphean task

to honor the house’s most well-known owners. By introducing air into the crystal during the glass-casting, the finished crystal glass has the character of ice. This underlines a similarity to time itself, operating outside of any normal laws. When the bar is lit, a brilliant gold light illuminates through the crystal shafts like champagne, bubbles with double-meaning. The bar was inaugurated with a celebration in the winter of 2016, one year after Sisyfos acquired the house.

Bertil Vallien – Blue Wand After another successful collaboration, the idea was born for Kosta Boda’s own Bertil Vallien to create a piece for the house. His thought was to, in a respectable way, elevate the house’s current story by combining the old with the new. He quickly selected the location for the work in the monumental staircase, a placement that allows the viewer a new perspective of the work when going up or down the stairs. The theme was the house itself, and the archetypical form was a rod – a common theme in much of Bertil Vallien’s artwork. The rod in itself is a symbol for strength; Björkudden having stood as the one constant in all of the life-threads woven together in that place, represented in the faces on the sides of the rod. The composition is crowned with an obsidian-black house and above it a Janus face blinking backward and forward in an unknown world. The composition was created by Bertil Vallien after a long conversation with Olle Larsson. According to him, it can be seen as reflecting the present manager of Björkudden: a person who has an active relationship to the story, present and future, but also gives visitors a chance to see a poetic interpretation of the thoughts behind Sisyfos.

Kjell Engman – and even more In 2018, work is ongoing with yet another reflection of Björkudden. This time it is the mystic Kjell Engman, known for his poetic reflections in glass that always pushes the impression of what can be done in this fleeting and simultaneously time-resistant material. As this book is being written, the concept for his work remains a secret. But to give you the chance to see more of the existing work and, when Kjell Engman’s work has been put in place, take part in future artwork, we have some technological assistance. Hold your smartphone up to scan the QR-code and see what you can find. During 2018 it will lead to videos about the crystal work at Björkudden. In a hundred years, we will see...

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Before and after

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A Final Word

A villa, a Sisyphean task

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hen I concluded my work with Wenngarn a few years ago, I realized that the project had just as much impact on me as I had on it. Places with stories change people. Björkudden was a place we bought on a gut-feeling, with the primary purpose being to test ourselves. The goal? To see what questions the house could answer, if there were problems we could solve, and to elevate the house to become a place for new memories to be created. We quickly saw the key: authenticity. Because Björkudden is as authentic as it gets. Within this run-down house we bought, there was a clear yet unnamable quality. The feeling of authenticity is something we tried to maintain, while at the same time wanting to make the house welcoming and usable. And this desire also answers the question of why we didn’t want to take even more. We didn’t want to lose the intimacy of the experience. Why is it so much nicer with a hostel-standard than a five-star feeling? What is charming about a drafty kitchen on an island that isn’t always the easiest to get to and from? Because this brings people and the experience closer together. Some stories need to be added to, and also to let themselves be told. In Björkudden’s case, I as the entrepreneur wanted to offer remarkable things in a unremarkable way. In the summer of 2016, we opened up

Björkudden to the rest of the world, but also to ourselves. Here, several of us who worked on the project have already written Björkudden into our own narrative with weddings, dinners, and memorable conversations. It is gatherings such as these that create the story, but also the fantastic works of art we had the opportunity to add to the house through Orrefors and Kosta Boda, who reflect our motto: to preserve, tell and create history. It is with these experiences that we continue our journey of maintaining this place, so that Björkudden can remain just as important of a place for the next hundred years as it has already been for us. The storytelling and management model that we work with now at Björkudden and in other spaces is something we call Storyhouse. Storyhouse is our way of making this journey possible. And the best part about houses with stories is that they, if done right, can continue to tell those stories. To create a story that never ends is our goal a real Sisyphean task. Björkudden, with all of its stories, new additions and portals for new experiences, is our platform. A testament of the attempt to be authentic as possible. Our Sisyphus House. And it is open for you. Welcome to your story. Olle Larsson

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This book has been made possible thanks to several dedicated and knowledgeable people who have generously shared their stories and photos.

Thanks to Bibbi Fagerström and family, Birgitta Steinwall and family, Helga and Enn Nõu as well as Anders Genfors, whose grandmother married into the Steinwall family, for sharing your photos, stories and memories. Hans Langenstedt, whose collection of Tynningö’s 20th century history has been invaluable. Mai Raud-Pähn in the Swedish-Estonian archive group, who put us in contact with Helga and provided great research tips. To everyone on the island of Tynningö who have made it one of the Stockholm archipelago’s true treasures, for your participation and feedback that continues to make us better.