Olof Rudbeck - a defense speech
In December 1674, Olof Rudbeck sent a letter to Magnus Gabriel D... more Olof Rudbeck - a defense speech
In December 1674, Olof Rudbeck sent a letter to Magnus Gabriel De added Gardie where he hinted that he had made an incredible discovery, a discovery that made everything else he had shown De la Gardie pale. Exactly what it was about, he wanted to wait to tell them until they was met, but Rudbeck was so stunned that he could not hold back with its discovery especially long. He had found Atlantis. Plato's Atlantis – this island of the Gods – as for a short time in someone Incomprehensibly ancient times had accommodated a fantastic civilization with unheard of riches, until suddenly one day she was swallowed by the sea never to ever more rise up. Now Rudbeck announced that they didn't need to look longer. He was able to prove that Atlantis was in fact Sweden, and that the most sacred of this strange kingdom had been in Old Uppsala. There is probably no work in Swedish literary history that has been reviewed by so many but read by as few as Olof Rudbeck's Atlantica. The reviews have shifted from condescending hilarity to violent condemnations. Articles about Rudbeck and his huge opus are rarely lacking some of Rudbeck's more startling thoughts, the breathtaking place-name speculations or his acrobatic deduction skills. The sometimes seems like we need someone to convince us of our own excellence, Rudbeck therefore gets to personify everything that is wrong with the elder historical research. The meaning is that we should shake our heads and then think how incredibly much better we have a grip on our science today. It is a very risky starting point. If you study it a little more closely not only will you get more reasons to question that image of him - even if Rudbeck's conclusions were, to put it mildly, up the walls, we are also forced state that his approach is often more scientific defensible than many of what we see evidence of today.
Lucia... and the love of a troublesome man.
(An English translation is coming soon)
Early in Apr... more Lucia... and the love of a troublesome man. (An English translation is coming soon)
Early in April 1607, Lucia Grothusen sat in a spring-like Danzig and wondered what she had done with her life. She strongly longed for something, a meaning, a larger context. All her friends had had time to start a family; some of them had more children than they had fingers. Still, Lucia had succeeded in most things. After all, she was a street-smart Stockholmer with an extremely well-developed sense of business. After devoting herself to an impressive array of activities to get back on her feet after moving from Sweden, she decided to sell salmon to the Poles. It was a brilliant idea in a country where the church's strict fasting rules forced people to eat fish - she soon controlled the entire market. But it was tricky to be an enterprising, unmarried woman. Everywhere a signature of a man was required, preferably a husband. Although there had never been a lack of married men outside Lucia's gate, none seemed to have the right talents. Now she sat there and felt that life was about to fall away from her. All Lucia asked for was a literate man who could make her laugh, but the world seemed to suffer a tragic lack of such. And now, at thirty, she feared that she would die as a maiden. It was about that moment that a learned and particularly entertaining Swede swayed in through Danzig's gates.
THIS IS ROUGHLY how one could begin the story of Lucia Grothusen and the Swedish historian and playwright Johannes Messenius - two of the most colorful personalities in early 17th century Sweden. It is a breathtaking story about two soulmates who found each other, but who at the same time lost everything. The story is so full of joy, love and tears that it is almost impossible to do it justice.
This is also the story of how one of Sweden's most impressive works of history came to be. Messenius's "Scondia Illustrata", written under reprehensible conditions in prison. But Messenius was happy, the watchful eyes of the royal power in a far away Stockholm had no idea what he wrote - therefore, the work is free from the worst national fantasies. But it is impossible to write about Messenius if you don't also write about Lucia. It is often said that the women's stories are hidden between the lines, that they would stand and whisper behind the scenes. But anyone who spends some time on old-fashioned research will pretty quickly realize that Lucia definitely did not hide between the lines, let alone stand and whispered behind some scenes. Fearless, she goes out on stage and delivers her lines with perfect timing,
"The Art of Falling"
I don't remember when Buster Keaton fell into my heart, but I know it was lo... more "The Art of Falling" I don't remember when Buster Keaton fell into my heart, but I know it was love at first sight. No shadow over the other silent film comedians, Chaplin was brilliant in his way, Harold Lloyd in his, but Buster Keaton - it was comedy by someone who took both me and comedy seriously. However much one loves this or that Chaplin film, his appeal for sympathy can feel intrusive, and the expressions are far too sentimental and calculating. Keaton never indulged in such things. Today, my fascination with Keaton is about the ingenuity, perfection, and solid craftsmanship that you only find in truly great artists. The ones who make everything seem so easy. It's also about professional integrity - the courage to follow your muse, to let go of projects that are going in the wrong direction, or because you dare to admit that you no longer have the ability or the power to carry them out. HOW WELL A person takes a fall is often reflected in how well that same person views their successes. Anyone who sees their fame as a matter of course and the road to it as a series of victories in an eternal zero-sum game, will not understand anything when they fall, much less how to get back up. Imperceptibly, they disappear into anonymity. Although many believe that is exactly what happened to Buster Keaton, nothing could be further from the truth. (An English translation is coming in May 2023)
Olof Rudbeck - a defense speech
In December 1674, Olof Rudbeck sent a letter to Magnus Gabriel D... more Olof Rudbeck - a defense speech
In December 1674, Olof Rudbeck sent a letter to Magnus Gabriel De added Gardie where he hinted that he had made an incredible discovery, a discovery that made everything else he had shown De la Gardie pale. Exactly what it was about, he wanted to wait to tell them until they was met, but Rudbeck was so stunned that he could not hold back with its discovery especially long. He had found Atlantis. Plato's Atlantis – this island of the Gods – as for a short time in someone Incomprehensibly ancient times had accommodated a fantastic civilization with unheard of riches, until suddenly one day she was swallowed by the sea never to ever more rise up. Now Rudbeck announced that they didn't need to look longer. He was able to prove that Atlantis was in fact Sweden, and that the most sacred of this strange kingdom had been in Old Uppsala. There is probably no work in Swedish literary history that has been reviewed by so many but read by as few as Olof Rudbeck's Atlantica. The reviews have shifted from condescending hilarity to violent condemnations. Articles about Rudbeck and his huge opus are rarely lacking some of Rudbeck's more startling thoughts, the breathtaking place-name speculations or his acrobatic deduction skills. The sometimes seems like we need someone to convince us of our own excellence, Rudbeck therefore gets to personify everything that is wrong with the elder historical research. The meaning is that we should shake our heads and then think how incredibly much better we have a grip on our science today. It is a very risky starting point. If you study it a little more closely not only will you get more reasons to question that image of him - even if Rudbeck's conclusions were, to put it mildly, up the walls, we are also forced state that his approach is often more scientific defensible than many of what we see evidence of today.
Lucia... and the love of a troublesome man.
(An English translation is coming soon)
Early in Apr... more Lucia... and the love of a troublesome man. (An English translation is coming soon)
Early in April 1607, Lucia Grothusen sat in a spring-like Danzig and wondered what she had done with her life. She strongly longed for something, a meaning, a larger context. All her friends had had time to start a family; some of them had more children than they had fingers. Still, Lucia had succeeded in most things. After all, she was a street-smart Stockholmer with an extremely well-developed sense of business. After devoting herself to an impressive array of activities to get back on her feet after moving from Sweden, she decided to sell salmon to the Poles. It was a brilliant idea in a country where the church's strict fasting rules forced people to eat fish - she soon controlled the entire market. But it was tricky to be an enterprising, unmarried woman. Everywhere a signature of a man was required, preferably a husband. Although there had never been a lack of married men outside Lucia's gate, none seemed to have the right talents. Now she sat there and felt that life was about to fall away from her. All Lucia asked for was a literate man who could make her laugh, but the world seemed to suffer a tragic lack of such. And now, at thirty, she feared that she would die as a maiden. It was about that moment that a learned and particularly entertaining Swede swayed in through Danzig's gates.
THIS IS ROUGHLY how one could begin the story of Lucia Grothusen and the Swedish historian and playwright Johannes Messenius - two of the most colorful personalities in early 17th century Sweden. It is a breathtaking story about two soulmates who found each other, but who at the same time lost everything. The story is so full of joy, love and tears that it is almost impossible to do it justice.
This is also the story of how one of Sweden's most impressive works of history came to be. Messenius's "Scondia Illustrata", written under reprehensible conditions in prison. But Messenius was happy, the watchful eyes of the royal power in a far away Stockholm had no idea what he wrote - therefore, the work is free from the worst national fantasies. But it is impossible to write about Messenius if you don't also write about Lucia. It is often said that the women's stories are hidden between the lines, that they would stand and whisper behind the scenes. But anyone who spends some time on old-fashioned research will pretty quickly realize that Lucia definitely did not hide between the lines, let alone stand and whispered behind some scenes. Fearless, she goes out on stage and delivers her lines with perfect timing,
"The Art of Falling"
I don't remember when Buster Keaton fell into my heart, but I know it was lo... more "The Art of Falling" I don't remember when Buster Keaton fell into my heart, but I know it was love at first sight. No shadow over the other silent film comedians, Chaplin was brilliant in his way, Harold Lloyd in his, but Buster Keaton - it was comedy by someone who took both me and comedy seriously. However much one loves this or that Chaplin film, his appeal for sympathy can feel intrusive, and the expressions are far too sentimental and calculating. Keaton never indulged in such things. Today, my fascination with Keaton is about the ingenuity, perfection, and solid craftsmanship that you only find in truly great artists. The ones who make everything seem so easy. It's also about professional integrity - the courage to follow your muse, to let go of projects that are going in the wrong direction, or because you dare to admit that you no longer have the ability or the power to carry them out. HOW WELL A person takes a fall is often reflected in how well that same person views their successes. Anyone who sees their fame as a matter of course and the road to it as a series of victories in an eternal zero-sum game, will not understand anything when they fall, much less how to get back up. Imperceptibly, they disappear into anonymity. Although many believe that is exactly what happened to Buster Keaton, nothing could be further from the truth. (An English translation is coming in May 2023)
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In December 1674, Olof Rudbeck sent a letter to Magnus Gabriel De
added Gardie where he hinted that he had made an incredible discovery, a
discovery that made everything else he had shown De la Gardie pale.
Exactly what it was about, he wanted to wait to tell them until they
was met, but Rudbeck was so stunned that he could not hold back
with its discovery especially long.
He had found Atlantis.
Plato's Atlantis – this island of the Gods – as for a short time in someone
Incomprehensibly ancient times had accommodated a fantastic civilization with unheard of
riches, until suddenly one day she was swallowed by the sea never to
ever more rise up. Now Rudbeck announced that they didn't need to look
longer. He was able to prove that Atlantis was in fact Sweden, and that
the most sacred of this strange kingdom had been in Old Uppsala.
There is probably no work in Swedish literary history that has been reviewed
by so many but read by as few as Olof Rudbeck's Atlantica. The reviews
have shifted from condescending hilarity to violent condemnations.
Articles about Rudbeck and his huge opus are rarely lacking
some of Rudbeck's more startling thoughts, the breathtaking place-name speculations
or his acrobatic deduction skills. The
sometimes seems like we need someone to convince us of our own
excellence, Rudbeck therefore gets to personify everything that is wrong with the elder
historical research. The meaning is that we should shake our heads and then
think how incredibly much better we have a grip on our science today.
It is a very risky starting point. If you study it a little more closely
not only will you get more reasons to question that image of him -
even if Rudbeck's conclusions were, to put it mildly, up the walls, we are also forced
state that his approach is often more scientific
defensible than many of what we see evidence of today.
(An English translation is coming soon)
Early in April 1607, Lucia Grothusen sat in a spring-like Danzig and wondered what she had done with her life. She strongly longed for something, a meaning, a larger context. All her friends had had time to start a family; some of them had more children than they had fingers.
Still, Lucia had succeeded in most things. After all, she was a street-smart Stockholmer with an extremely well-developed sense of business. After devoting herself to an impressive array of activities to get back on her feet after moving from Sweden, she decided to sell salmon to the Poles. It was a brilliant idea in a country where the church's strict fasting rules forced people to eat fish - she soon controlled the entire market.
But it was tricky to be an enterprising, unmarried woman. Everywhere a signature of a man was required, preferably a husband. Although there had never been a lack of married men outside Lucia's gate, none seemed to have the right talents.
Now she sat there and felt that life was about to fall away from her. All Lucia asked for was a literate man who could make her laugh, but the world seemed to suffer a tragic lack of such. And now, at thirty, she feared that she would die as a maiden.
It was about that moment that a learned and particularly entertaining Swede swayed in through Danzig's gates.
THIS IS ROUGHLY how one could begin the story of Lucia Grothusen and the Swedish historian and playwright Johannes Messenius - two of the most colorful personalities in early 17th century Sweden. It is a breathtaking story about two soulmates who found each other, but who at the same time lost everything. The story is so full of joy, love and tears that it is almost impossible to do it justice.
This is also the story of how one of Sweden's most impressive works of history came to be. Messenius's "Scondia Illustrata", written under reprehensible conditions in prison. But Messenius was happy, the watchful eyes of the royal power in a far away Stockholm had no idea what he wrote - therefore, the work is free from the worst national fantasies.
But it is impossible to write about Messenius if you don't also write about Lucia.
It is often said that the women's stories are hidden between the lines, that they would stand and whisper behind the scenes. But anyone who spends some time on old-fashioned research will pretty quickly realize that Lucia definitely did not hide between the lines, let alone stand and whispered behind some scenes. Fearless, she goes out on stage and delivers her lines with perfect timing,
I don't remember when Buster Keaton fell into my heart, but I know it was love at first sight. No shadow over the other silent film comedians, Chaplin was brilliant in his way, Harold Lloyd in his, but Buster Keaton - it was comedy by someone who took both me and comedy seriously. However much one loves this or that Chaplin film, his appeal for sympathy can feel intrusive, and the expressions are far too sentimental and calculating. Keaton never indulged in such things.
Today, my fascination with Keaton is about the ingenuity, perfection, and solid craftsmanship that you only find in truly great artists. The ones who make everything seem so easy. It's also about professional integrity - the courage to follow your muse, to let go of projects that are going in the wrong direction, or because you dare to admit that you no longer have the ability or the power to carry them out.
HOW WELL A person takes a fall is often reflected in how well that same person views their successes. Anyone who sees their fame as a matter of course and the road to it as a series of victories in an eternal zero-sum game, will not understand anything when they fall, much less how to get back up. Imperceptibly, they disappear into anonymity.
Although many believe that is exactly what happened to Buster Keaton, nothing could be further from the truth.
(An English translation is coming in May 2023)
In December 1674, Olof Rudbeck sent a letter to Magnus Gabriel De
added Gardie where he hinted that he had made an incredible discovery, a
discovery that made everything else he had shown De la Gardie pale.
Exactly what it was about, he wanted to wait to tell them until they
was met, but Rudbeck was so stunned that he could not hold back
with its discovery especially long.
He had found Atlantis.
Plato's Atlantis – this island of the Gods – as for a short time in someone
Incomprehensibly ancient times had accommodated a fantastic civilization with unheard of
riches, until suddenly one day she was swallowed by the sea never to
ever more rise up. Now Rudbeck announced that they didn't need to look
longer. He was able to prove that Atlantis was in fact Sweden, and that
the most sacred of this strange kingdom had been in Old Uppsala.
There is probably no work in Swedish literary history that has been reviewed
by so many but read by as few as Olof Rudbeck's Atlantica. The reviews
have shifted from condescending hilarity to violent condemnations.
Articles about Rudbeck and his huge opus are rarely lacking
some of Rudbeck's more startling thoughts, the breathtaking place-name speculations
or his acrobatic deduction skills. The
sometimes seems like we need someone to convince us of our own
excellence, Rudbeck therefore gets to personify everything that is wrong with the elder
historical research. The meaning is that we should shake our heads and then
think how incredibly much better we have a grip on our science today.
It is a very risky starting point. If you study it a little more closely
not only will you get more reasons to question that image of him -
even if Rudbeck's conclusions were, to put it mildly, up the walls, we are also forced
state that his approach is often more scientific
defensible than many of what we see evidence of today.
(An English translation is coming soon)
Early in April 1607, Lucia Grothusen sat in a spring-like Danzig and wondered what she had done with her life. She strongly longed for something, a meaning, a larger context. All her friends had had time to start a family; some of them had more children than they had fingers.
Still, Lucia had succeeded in most things. After all, she was a street-smart Stockholmer with an extremely well-developed sense of business. After devoting herself to an impressive array of activities to get back on her feet after moving from Sweden, she decided to sell salmon to the Poles. It was a brilliant idea in a country where the church's strict fasting rules forced people to eat fish - she soon controlled the entire market.
But it was tricky to be an enterprising, unmarried woman. Everywhere a signature of a man was required, preferably a husband. Although there had never been a lack of married men outside Lucia's gate, none seemed to have the right talents.
Now she sat there and felt that life was about to fall away from her. All Lucia asked for was a literate man who could make her laugh, but the world seemed to suffer a tragic lack of such. And now, at thirty, she feared that she would die as a maiden.
It was about that moment that a learned and particularly entertaining Swede swayed in through Danzig's gates.
THIS IS ROUGHLY how one could begin the story of Lucia Grothusen and the Swedish historian and playwright Johannes Messenius - two of the most colorful personalities in early 17th century Sweden. It is a breathtaking story about two soulmates who found each other, but who at the same time lost everything. The story is so full of joy, love and tears that it is almost impossible to do it justice.
This is also the story of how one of Sweden's most impressive works of history came to be. Messenius's "Scondia Illustrata", written under reprehensible conditions in prison. But Messenius was happy, the watchful eyes of the royal power in a far away Stockholm had no idea what he wrote - therefore, the work is free from the worst national fantasies.
But it is impossible to write about Messenius if you don't also write about Lucia.
It is often said that the women's stories are hidden between the lines, that they would stand and whisper behind the scenes. But anyone who spends some time on old-fashioned research will pretty quickly realize that Lucia definitely did not hide between the lines, let alone stand and whispered behind some scenes. Fearless, she goes out on stage and delivers her lines with perfect timing,
I don't remember when Buster Keaton fell into my heart, but I know it was love at first sight. No shadow over the other silent film comedians, Chaplin was brilliant in his way, Harold Lloyd in his, but Buster Keaton - it was comedy by someone who took both me and comedy seriously. However much one loves this or that Chaplin film, his appeal for sympathy can feel intrusive, and the expressions are far too sentimental and calculating. Keaton never indulged in such things.
Today, my fascination with Keaton is about the ingenuity, perfection, and solid craftsmanship that you only find in truly great artists. The ones who make everything seem so easy. It's also about professional integrity - the courage to follow your muse, to let go of projects that are going in the wrong direction, or because you dare to admit that you no longer have the ability or the power to carry them out.
HOW WELL A person takes a fall is often reflected in how well that same person views their successes. Anyone who sees their fame as a matter of course and the road to it as a series of victories in an eternal zero-sum game, will not understand anything when they fall, much less how to get back up. Imperceptibly, they disappear into anonymity.
Although many believe that is exactly what happened to Buster Keaton, nothing could be further from the truth.
(An English translation is coming in May 2023)