A larger project is in development: arts-based inquiry as a deeper approach to ethnographic methodology.

As I process and develop a proof of concept for one component of the larger project – a graphic novel about my stoic Norwegian grandfather, Gunnar Thorsen  and the generational effects of his POW experiences in WWII –  I need a large painting on my studio wall on which to keep “doodling my thoughts” and clear the brain.

Large portrait of Gunnar Thorsen started October 6 2024:

October 7, 2024:

Crow showed up as I was prepping the underlay of the painting last night. I choose to portray the hooded crow, the “gråkråke,” Corvus cornix, an ashy grey bird with black head, throat, wings, tail, and thigh feathers, as well as a black bill, eyes, and feet. I recall seeing them in Säffle, Sweden, in 2009 on the trip with Julian to honour Mamma who passed November 2008. Crows are often linked to the concepts of death, the afterlife, wisdom, intelligence, adaptability, prescience, fortune, destiny, transformation, and the future. The hooded crow is associated with the Morrigan, an Irish triple goddess of war and fate.

I will work on this large piece over many months. A place to land my thoughts as I work on multiple projects including this one. It feels so good to work big for the initial “listening” to the ghosts of the past and then over time add/record the tiny messages coming through.

October 9, 2024:

Following instinct and just listening- certain areas are being blocked off- I feel my father’s house will appear upper left, Grini camp upper right, a cave lower left, forest lower right. As I slather on quickly, drips naturally appear. I am moved by the drip that came down from Gunnar’s hat.

October 10, 2024:

October 11, 2024:

 

October 15, 2024:

I realized the other day, as I was painting Gunnar, that if the neighbour across the lane looked into my studio window, with my bright studio light on – Gunnar may be interpreted as a Nazi. It’s a huge painting. “What the hell is she painting?!”

Yesterday, family came over for turkey dinner, and they too felt he looked Nazi like, even beside the original 1970 photo. This makes complete sense. Gunnar was very proud of his uniform as head of Motor Vehicles. He wore it with pride always. He designed the logo on the cap.

But his outfit in the painting does indeed look Nazi like. This makes sense, not only because of the uniform colour and shape, but because I am currently (in the manuscript) at the start of the Nazi occupation of Norway. But Gunnar immediately resisted. So it was time this morning to apply the next layer that I had been planning. To illustrate resistance, I attacked the canvas with red marker with messy graffiti like gestures to deconstruct the image. To move the events into abstraction. And now I am looking only at the shapes and filling them in- a sense of returning to the true nature, stripping away the uniform, the image he wanted to present. This layer will lead to another layer… one I don’t know yet.

October 19, 2024:

October 20, 2024:

October 22, 2024:

October 26, 2024:

As soon as I started this portrait study, I felt the fox inside my grandfather, inside my Norwegian-Swedish DNA. The fox also appeared in a few conversations this week.

Process continues. It is not precious. It is unpredictable. And led by mystery.

© KATARINA THORSEN