As promised, here is a short presentation of Jenny Nyström. She is the Queen of the Swedish tomte, the gnome that delivers the Christmas presents and just slightly resembles the Anglo-American Santa Claus. When Nyström created this character she was influenced by the folklore house gnome, that took care of a household if the family treated him nice — otherwise, things turned bad. This figure was grey, almost invisible and quite moody, if not plain angry. Nyström infused him with the Santa Clauses of Germany, Netherlands and Britain, and also with porcelain garden gnomes from Germany and Italy. So, on Christmas Eve it is this small, colorful and cheerful tomte that delivers presents to Swedish kids of all ages. He loves animals of all kinds, plays with children and help with the decorations. He works with many other tomtar, as they live together in large (mostly male) communities.

Jenny Nyström's tomte became popular nationwide since her illustrations were common in the new media of Christmas magazines for children at the turn of the century 1900. She did about 250 covers of different magazines. Today she is most famous for her Christmas cards, and from her first originals in 1898 until her death in 1946 she is believed to have made c. 3000 original paintings for these postcards. No wonder she made us believe!

In the next issue of RIG (2013:4) due in mid-January, you can read more about visual representations of Christmas celebrations in my peer-reviewed (Swedish) article: "Julfirandets ideologi och genus i svensk bildkonst från sekelskiftet 1900: Elsa Beskow, Carl Larsson och Jenny Nyström"(Ideology and gender of Christmas celebrations in Swedish art from turn of the century 1900).

With that I wish you all a Mary Christmas with a Nativity scene from the baptismal font of Grötlingbo church in Gotland. I will be back with new posts in the new year.

I quite enjoy December, even if it is dark and (occasionally) cold. Decorations and lights brightens up my day and I simply cannot resist the kitschiness of Christmas. It is also a season for annual public lectures, and I have two versions that I keep returning to since a couple of years. One is connected to the Imitatio Mariae-project and concerns images of the Nativity and the Three Magi. It focusses on the development of the visual representations of the Christmas story and its various contents and characters. But this year that particular lecture is hibernating.

My other public lecture in the December collection concerns visual representations of Swedish Christmas celebrations. At first it was a lecture I held with a colleague from literary studies under the title The Man in Red, where we used gender perspectives in the analysis of Christmas and Santa Claus in art, film and literature. Now I have dropped the title for two reasons: 1) there are not that many Santas (or tomtar as this figures is called in Swedish) in artworks, and 2) our witty intention caused some confusion as the audience did not seem to know about The Man in Black: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iXRmJyIyJbM&noredirect=1.

The visual representations of Christmas celebrations are a vital part of celebration itself and particularly illustrations from the turn of the century 1900 is crucial in creating our understanding of "a real Swedish Christmas". It is a commercial, modern, aesthetic, nationalistic and urban understanding of a rural past, where the patriarchal father figure is compared with the farmer as the superior provider of all material goods for his family. Basically it is dad's money that makes Christmas possible, and mom's hard labour with food preparations, cleaning and decorating the house is kept in the dark.

The above image is an illustration from the book Spadarvet (1905), that was also the name of a small farm owned by the artist Carl Larsson. In the book one can follow the life on the farm during a year, and it ends with the feast of Christmas Eve. You can see a decorated Christmas tree in the background, but it is the laid table with food and particularly all the silver ware that are in focus. A veritable triumph of the farm and farmer (born an urban man). He really does not need a Santa Claus to satisfy his family!

Hopefully I can tell you the story of the Swedish tomte and its creator, Jenny Nyström, in a blog post before Christmas...

Today (in Sweden at least) we celebrate Saint Anna (or Anne), mother of the Virgin Mary and grandmother of Jesus Christ, so I post a quick post of this particular figure. Her story became popular during the Middle Ages with the increase interest of the Virgin when stories of Mary´s family was invented. This sculpture from the parish church of Skellefteå is an example of a common depiction of Anna. It is called Anna-själv-tredje in Swedish from the German Anna selbdritt (also known as Metterza in Italian), but I actually do not know if there is an English name for it. Please tell me if you know.

It shows Saint Anna holding both the crowned Virgin and baby Jesus in her arms. In this particular model mother and son is holding hands over Anna's chest, almost creating a heart-shaped form. If it is a heart it should be read as the love of God and the Salvation made possible through all three. There are variations in the Anna-själv-tredje, but this type can also be found in other regions of Sweden.

Saint Anna is patron saint for unmarried women, housewives, women in labour, grandmothers and more. She is celebrated in the Western church also at 26 July. But Anna-day, 9 December, is also part of folklore traditions concerning Christmas celebrations in Sweden. This is the day when the Christmas beer should be ready and when a particular fish dish (lutfisk) is starting to be prepared.

One of my research interests is on how women are represented in art, the Imitatio Mariae-project is part of this since it involves the question of ideals. On Sunday 24 November a column in the newspaper Aftonbladet written by Katrine Kielos discussed how women now often are judged by different parts of their bodies (http://www.aftonbladet.se/ledare/ledarkronika/katrinekielos/article17899906.ab). Only this morning I could read articles in the very same paper on how some woman totally have lost her curves, another is showing a nice cleavage, the next has perfect skin, and yet another apparently does everything to hide her pregnancy. Most of the time these small notices are scornful as the woman in question has not showed enough style or discipline, or she might be complimented for being perfect in her looks. Her profession does not matter; the same measures are used on models, actresses, politicians, etc. since they first and foremost are women in this particular way of judging.

As I was looking for images to use in this post, I noticed how when googling "body parts" all anatomical imagery was of the male body (and this was also the majority of the hits I got), while the photos of women most often were from the above kind of articles. It is quite depressing, so I chose a totally different image — in itself also an ideal image — the name of the Virgin.

 I have been reading medieval Marian prayers lately, and one category concerns the different limbs of the Virgin that are worthy of praise. This might make you think it involves the same practice as in the contemporary examples above, but it is kind of the opposite. The Virgin's arms, knees, mouth, breasts, eyes, etc. are worshipped because of her actions. How she used her body in the worship of God, how she cared and showed love of her Son, and this is what makes the body parts of the Virgin Mary beautiful. She is also praised for being chaste and pure, of course, which adds to her physically magnificence. This ideal is not the easiest to copy, but it does not reflect the same scorn for us sinners as the stories of todays newspaper.

Last week i finished the new graphic book by Nanna Johansson, Hur man botar en feminist [How to cure a feminist], and it fun, political and visually explorative. In this book she presents single images, collages, and longer text based stories. She investigates social media (Facebook and net dating) and interacts with commercial companies and authorities (her job applications are quite special). Basically she uncovers social norms, criticize patriarchal hierarchies and manages to make inclusive images. Nanna Johansson is just one of many fantastic Swedish artist who makes graphic books (other favorites of mine are Sara Granér, Nina Hemmingson and Liv Strömqvist), women who are feminists and well articulated both visually and in writing. They make you laugh, they make you think and they make you work a little bit harder. 

Medieval wooden sculpture is naturally marked by age and (as is often the case in Sweden) hundreds of years of neglect. They are broken, have lost both most of their color and are placed outside their original framing. In the northern parts, however, this material is at least protected from the problems of wood worms and therefor not full of the characteristic little holes these creatures makes.

Last week Art History and Umeå Group of Premodern Studies had an invited guest, professor Lena Liepe from the University of Oslo. We took the opportunity to make a trip north to Skellefteå and the collection of medieval sculpture in the parish church. This enthroned madonna from c. 1200 is a true master piece, with fine carved details even though it originally was covered with paint. The sculpture is missing the baby Jesus that was sitting frontally towards the spectator in her lap (also quite common among medieval Madonnas in Sweden). The Virgin is a young girl, crowned as the Queen of Heaven, depicted as both the Throne of Wisdom and Mother of Christ. This well preserved majestic madonna alone is worth a visit to Skellefteå!

While you wait for your chance to travel to Skellefteå, you can pop over to a new stunning homepage. Cecilia Lindhé have been working on the homepage for the Imitatio Mariae-project that I am part of, and its is also well worth the visit: http://imitatiomariae.wordpress.com

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I went to the movies during the week and saw Gravity, and left it with headache due to lack of oxygen and a stiff neck due to the tension. It is a film that is not exactly based on a grand story, but on the experience of being lost in space - and that is very strong to a sensitive, easily scared person like myself. And it is totally clear that space is not a solution to the problems we have on earth; no one can hear you scream!

This movie made me think of medieval visions of space, googled a bit and found this nice little "UFO". It is a detail from a mural painting of the Crucifixion in Visoki Decani Monastery in Metohija (Kosovo) from 1350. It is placed to the right of Jesus above the head of Saint John and I would guess that it is a representation of a comet. The cosmos in medieval thought was a more controlled space than it is today, but it was probably as scary.

Celestial space in the Christian art is often associated with Heaven, especially when painted in gold (as was noted in my last blogpost). But of course it is more complicated than that. During the summer I read Dante's Divina Commedia in order to get some idea of the world view of the medieval culture. But I also needed aid from Margaret Wertheim's study The pearly gates of cyberspace: A history of space from Dante to the Internet (1999) to better understand the very concepts of the medieval cosmos. It was not as overwhelmingly infinite as it is today, since it was symmetrically centered around the earth and also connected to ideas of man and soul. Wertheim says that "Dante's Divine Comedy is the ultimate map over Christian soul-space." This soul-space was divided into three kingdoms: Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, and visuals trying to recreate the "geography" Dante's story shows this cosmos either i spherical or spiral form.

All his descriptions of the different kingdoms are very realistic and material, it is muddy, hot and stinky in Hell and the souls are often being painfully punished. Hell is placed under the earth, and Dante has to climb downwards to reach its darkest centre. Heaven is placed outside the realm of planets and stars. It is a space full of light and not as materially described as Hell and Purgatory, which is perhaps typical of human imagination. It is very hard to invent a place where there is no pain, no boundaries and where everybody is totally satisfied and content forever and ever, since it is not what we have experienced as human beings more than momentarily. Just take a look in any Christian artwork visualizing Heaven and Hell, I bet that the artist have been far more creative on the parts describing Hell. But Heaven is the goal for Christians and during the Middle Ages your soul was your ticket, and depending on your character, it might be quite a bumpy ride.

 Gold. There is something magic about this material. This morning a radio show reported on the content of the Swedish gold reserve with some excitement, but of course I started thinking of  gold in art. There is an idea of sustainability of value in both context. Nations keeps gold as a safe capital stock, while in art it is a material that never change or gets old. It just glitters on, and this has also been used symbolically in religious art. I will focus on two examples.

During late Middle Ages, as in the Pietà-sculpture  from Klockrike church (Östergötland), it was used in the clothing of holy characters in order to make them shine. Gold makes the illusion of light coming from the image, instead of the usual effect of light falling on the image. Virgin Mary and the saints could also be covered in gold as the material symbolizes goodness, chastity and virginity.

A golden background is also common in religious art. There is a heavenly and timeless quality to the space the gold creates, as can be seen in Arne Olsson's untitled painting  (a donation to Umeå university). It opens up the surface to a pure place with no borders, just light. In medieval art gold was often contrasted to ultra marine or other shades of blue, since it deepened the effect of both colors. Olsson puts black abstract figures on the shining background, and by painting the vertical figures more shiny than the horizontal he gives the painting a three-dimensional sensation. Minimalistic and very striking.

This week I have been having fun in the archive with one of my research colleagues, Cecilia. The interesting thing with archives is that you do not really know what to find. Usually you have some idea or expectation, but then you realize that the collectors and keepers of the archive might have had other plans. Researchers wants the archived documents to be keepers of truth. And this might very well be the case, but there is also stuff that is completely useless for your work — or the archives may lack materials that you expected. Pieces of the puzzle that for some reason was never kept as they were not considered important.

Architecture historian Beatriz Colomina touched upon this in her book Privacy and Publicity: Modern Architecture as Mass Media (1994), since the archives of the architects Le Corbusier and Adolf Loos were each others opposite. Le Corbusier kept everything for the afterworld (literary everything, from blueprints to laundry notes), while Loos sorted out everything he thought useless (basically just the finished drawings were kept). Both practices are of course problematic for researchers.

Cecilia and I had a creative time working with material on one of the medieval churches of Uppland. School teachers, church wardens and people responsible for restorations of the church all played part in a most dramatic story of sold/stold doors, a Marian altarpiece found under the floor of a barn, the lost and partly destroyed head of the baby Jesus (both stored before restoration in the school's material shed - not out of reach of the pupils curious fingers). But the work also brought us new interesting questions that, hopefully, will end up being answered in both an article and a digital installation. Just be patient!

Just a quick note reminding everyone that today we celebrate Saint Luke. He is the patron saint of painters since he is believed to have made a portrait of the Virgin based on a vision. The icon of the Madonna with child in Rome's Santa Maria Maggiore, called Salus Populi Romani, was believed to be by Luke's hand (together with a few other icons). This illumination of Saint Luke is from a Book of Hours belonging to Maria von Burgund from 1477, where we also find the ox that is his symbol as an evangelist.

When doing a simple google search I found that this is one of the most popular images of the Virgin Mary since it was top of the list (I mean who knows the secrets behind search engines?). Search engines are text based, so this could mean that the image is often used as an illustration in texts that concerns the Virgin Mary. It is called "The Immaculate Heart of Mary" and is believed to have been made in the nineteenth century. What kind of image is it?

The motif is based on the devotional name of The Immaculate Heart of Mary, where her emotional virtues and experiences as the Mother of God is recognized, particularly her love of God, her Son and all Christians. We can see a burning heart with a band of white roses in front of her chest, sending rays of light that reflects on her left hand. As an art historian (I am a secular Protestant in case you are wondering) analyzing this depiction of the Virgin I also notice her appearance. Her young beautiful face, with a compassionate expression. Blue eyes and light brown hair. She wears her traditional colors of red and blue, together with a white vail. She points with her right hand towards the burning heart, that also is the symbol of Christ and his eternal love.

This image is probably made for private devotion, where the Virgin is the intermediator between man and Christ. She listens to your prayers and worries, points to the solution that is loving her Son. She is compassionate and angelic, a friend in need and not judgmental. You can also contemplate on her life and mission, use it as an inspiration for your own if you chose and believe in her existence. I think the picture is popular because it reflects multiple ideas of the Virgin, and that makes it useful for devotion. It also gives her the most common look — the sum of her most popular expression in modern visual culture.

Something that tends to get lost in art historical writing is the situation of the analysis. Maybe one should not go so far as to add your playlist on Spotify as an appendix, even though it might have some influence on your work (I am listening  NINs "Hestitation mark" right now in case you are wondering). The reasons why the situation is left out can be many, not least traditions of academic writing or the fact that you tend to revisit the place of an art work at many occasions. Literature historian bell hooks was the first author I read that included situations of her writing in the texts as an experiment (Now a heavy noise of drilling in concrete drowns my thoughts and NINs music). But also an art historian, T. J. Clark have tried to use the situation as a method in his study on Poussin, The sight of death (2006). He found that his daily journal was more exiting and enlightening of the process of analysis than the more conventional academic prose. In this book one can read of different light conditions due to the weather, how he experiences the art work in the solitariness of a closed museum, when he is disturbed by "the sounds of squeeking Nikes" of a school class and of how the postcard reproductions on his desk finally solves an enigma. I am not sure how this kind of study can give new knowledge of the art of Poussin, I do not have the required competence of the artist to be able to judge that, but it does reveal the complex and sometimes contradictory processes of an art analysis. I have tried to include aspects of situations in texts on methods and academic writing, as illustrations of what can happen with an analysis under different circumstances. Still I have to find ways of illuminating the situation more in my work, because it is a vital part of the experience of art that has impact on your analysis. Just think of how an exhibition can be more interesting if you have a friend along to discuss the art with. (Now the drilling has stopped and piece has returned to my office).

Sometimes my work is fantastic, like today. I will begin with alterations on an article on illustrations of Christmas celebrations that has been on review. Then I will write a proposal of a new article on Virgin Mary and medieval death for a small research group on my department with an interest in Death Studies. Finally I will make the final preparations for the lecture on Surrealism tomorrow morning. All days are not like this, I guess they would loose some of the attraction if they were. But it shows how stimulating academia can be at its best.

The image of the author Christine de Pisan comes from Feminae: Medieval Women and Gender Index: https://inpress.lib.uiowa.edu/feminae/Default.aspx
Here one can find images, journal articles, book reviews and lots of other interesting material on women and medieval studies, so go and have a look.

I always tell my students that as an art historian you learn how to see. One actually becomes quite good at observing details and notice things in a room that, perhaps, others might not pay attention to. Still the fantastic thing with most art is that there always seems to be something left to discover. The more you look, the more you see. This became apparent to me during this week when working on a forthcoming guide of the art at Umeå university. Almost daily for the past decade or more I pass a grand textile called Livets träd (Tree of Life) by the artist Berta Hansson from 1960. And as common for textile art the artist made the original for a weaver to execute. I always thought this particular work was made by one of the most famous studios in Sweden, so I was looking for their brand when I found something else. A beautiful signature with the initials GB inside a loom. Who was this? 

It turned out to be a weaver that Berta Hansson collaborated with on many occations, and who also made her own original work - Gunn Leander-Bjurström (1922-2008). Here she is working with another piece by Berta Hansson, Skapelsen (The Creation). Gunn Leander-Bjurström made mostly tapestries for public spaces all over Sweden, but also in other techniques. Indeed; the more you look, the more you learn!

My interest in medieval images of the Virgin Mary began with the Annunciation of the Virgin. During my doctoral studies I had the opportunity to take a course in Italian art history at the Istituto Svedese in Rome — truly a feast for any art historian since we could visit and study art and architecture in a Grand Tour fashion. But there is also a risk of overload, particularly in the churches of Rome that are heavily decorated from floor to roof with visual propaganda. To focus on one particular motif was not just a strategy of orientation in the various narratives present in the churches, it was also a matter of survival from the risks of a Stendahl-syndrome (something that might happen to tourists of Florence when over-exposed to the marvelous art collections - basically a nervous breakdown). At first I tried to use the Madonna of Mercy, but that figure was not depicted as much as the Annunciation and the variation in the last motif was stunning. The Virgin got different looks, positions and activities by artists from different periods and places. Her gaze was directed to the viewer, to other characters in the images or to nothing at all, and the holy spirit in the shape of the dove flew towards different parts of her body. Could close readings of different Annunciations bring new understandings to views on women in different eras and geographical boundaries? Back in Sweden I started to take photos of the Annunciation from different periods and it struck me how some of these were different from the ones I saw in Italy, or just plain strange. Like the above from Bro church on the island of Gotland, where the angel Gabriel seems to actually touch the Virgin and with an almost arrogant face. I started to read and realized that the Annunciation is quite a challenge for the artists since the story in the Bible records a scene where the Virgin does not see Gabriel, the dialogue between the angel and the Virgin is silent with the exception of the Virgin's positive answer and the miracle itself - the Incarnation - is invisible. Now this motif is part of a wider research project I am involved in on the depictions of the Virgin, but I want to recommend Mia Åkestam's brilliant thesis on Swedish medieval Annunciations Bebådelsebilder. Om bildbruk under medeltiden [The Annunciation. On the use of imagery during the Middle Ages] from 2010. She presents the Annuciation in a historical context, does close iconographic readings and explains how the images were used rhetorically.

Thinking about sustainability is required by my employer both in research and education. Important, but for some reason it sometimes feels as a difficult task being an art historian - at least if focussing on content (I can of course use less resources and travel more environmental etc.). The structure of the courses are by tradition chronological, but a strand of environmental themes could be highlighted in more contemporary art alongside the already existing perspectives like gender and post-colonialism. That would in fact not be hard at all since artists expresses these issues in their works as part of a continuing debate. One example of this I can see everyday at work, Atti Johansson's Hot om liv (Threat of life) from the 1970s. It is a contribution to the debate on the use of poison in forestry at the time. In short - I have no excuse not trying to include more thoughts on sustainability in my work.

This past week I have been thinking a lot of reproductions of art works. In many ways my work would not be possible without them (even though the thought of traveling to important collections around the world with students is tempting). Research is also a lot easier with reproductions, but you cannot leave the actual objects out completely since you would miss out too much of important context. To think of the impact of technical reproductions is of course not new at all, to use copies has always been the basis of art historical education, but the reason I am giving it attention is the variety of different digital possibilities that are available today. My own digital photos that can be enlarged and make me come closer than I can do in situ (so I can discover details like all the colors in the illustration above), and online digital platforms with large collections of really good quality images are just two simple but meaningful examples. When I was a student of art history most of the illustrations in the books we read were black and white photos, just a few were selected to be printed in color. It was during lectures we saw color reproductions of art works and through slides available for students when studying to an exam. I turned out an ok art historian during these conditions, but how can I make optimal use of the possibilities available today for my students? That is the exciting question.

During the weekend I have been in contact with public art in different ways. On Saturday I guided a walk to ten artworks in public places in Umeå (an arrangement of Umeå public library). It is actually an honor to do this since it creates discussions of art in general, why we have public art and what these artworks do to the places we visit, use or just pass by. People attending usually gets a new experience of their home town and may look at art differently afterwards. See new relations between art and space, how this can interact and perhaps make us revalue a situation. 

Yesterday I was in a car between Bjurholm and Vännäs when this amazing sculpture appeared. It is by the artist Kent Karlsson and is called Hägring (Mirage), and because of the speed you travel in it truly becomes like its title. You're not really sure that it was for real. Last time I saw it was on a bus travelling to Östersund in the middle of February and everything surrounding it was bright white. Now all the colors of the early autumn reflected on its surface — so amazing! 

What is this? Well, this might serve as a some kind of illustration of what is on my mind right now. I am happily in the middle of an inter-diciplinary research project called Imitatio Mariae: Virgin Mary as a virtuous model in medieval Sweden, hence the blog title. Besides dwelling into a medieval past I have started to explore the digital possibilities in expanding my (and others) knowledge of art historic material. This is part of that investigation but also a place for me to generally discuss art - one of my great passions.