Keep repeating - it's only paper.

Even at a great workplace frustration seeps in once in a while. Not everything always goes as planned, and sometimes things do unfold as planned but it just turns out the plan wasn't all that great. The good thing about being responsible for your own schedule means you usually can step away from tasks when agitation gets a hold of you. Still, it did take me a while to realise this, and it took me even longer to actually put it into practice.

On good days I enjoy hearing the Swedish chattering around me and I take pleasure in using my limited vocabulary to decipher the topic of the conversation. On bad days it makes me feel like an outsider, lonely and a bit unwanted. Almost everyone in Stockholm speaks fluent English and they are terribly helpful, so it's not like I actually ever encounter real problems. But still, not speaking the language makes me far more vulnerable than I thought it would. I can't imagine how horribly disconnected people who can't resort to any mutual language must feel when they arrive in a foreign country.

Frustrations come, and they also go again. There is usually always someone around who can help. (Except for the IT-guy. He just mysteriously appears and then dissolves again and nobody seems to know where he actually comes from.) I just need to remember to open my mouth and actually ask for assistance, but I have already gotten a little better at that.

But then the day came when no amount of venting to my dear cohabitants of our island-of-desks could prevent a mental breakdown. Ironically, but perhaps typically for me, it was about the lamest tasks of all: printing. It seemed to be the simplest job I had gotten my entire internship - print out emails with all their attachments. Sure, there were a lot of emails, but it was still just a matter of clicking one button a few 100 times. How foolish I was.

See, not everyone thinks ahead when they send mails with attachments. Oh, the exotic file types I have seen! And even pdf's don't always work along... Pressing one button quickly turned into manually opening almost every attachment, battling faulty files and soothing an overheated printer. The hours went by, lunchtime was approaching fast and I still was nowhere near the end. A new error message cheerfully popped up on my computer screen and it was immediately followed by an unannounced tear rolling down my cheek. And another one. I tried to wipe them off quickly and tell myself I was being stupid, but before I knew it I was having a full-blown sobbing session in the middle of the office.

My sweet colleagues quickly ganged up on me with comforting words, hugs, appropriate hot beverages, pieces of orange and cardamom buns. For a long while I was only able to answer them with snorting noises, wheezes and weird whiny sounds. There I was, the globetrotting adventurer, bravely travelling all alone to an unknown city in an unknown country with a language, a currency and pastries I was not familiar with, working day in day out alongside some of the most inspiring people I have ever met - and now I was blowing snot in their direction over the most stupid thing ever. This was it. I would now forever be known at Bonniers Konsthall as that failing intern who cried because she couldn't handle a few prints.

Katya was notified of her malfunctioning intern and took me into her office to calm me down. As I tried to explain myself I felt so ashamed. But it started to dawn on me that I seemed to be the only one who thought my breakdown was ridiculous. No one was laughing or rolling their eyes. Katya said: "It's not worth crying over. It's only paper. Nobody is going to die if printing them takes a bit longer. If this doesn't work we just need to figure out another method." The words echoed in my head and slowly started to make sense.

It's only paper.

Nobody is going to die.

It is only paper.

It's only paper.

It's only paper.

It's only paper.

It took me some time to pull myself together and I didn't go anywhere near the printer again that day. Katya suggested a new plan of action which required less printing and gave me more time. I began to feel a little less ashamed of breaking down over some unknown person carelessly sending in both Apple and PC-only files in one and the same e-mail. Instead, I got a bit angry at myself for not speaking up when I realised I couldn't print it all in time. The combination of stress, lingering sadness over leaving soon and the shame of not being able to handle a simple job probably stopped me from doing the most logical thing. But still, I could have and I should have just opened my mouth.

This was probably the most horrid day of my internship; but it also turned out to be the best. It was the day I learned that it was okay to fail sometimes and to admit I was overwhelmed. I learned that asking people for help or advice didn't necessarily mean I was bothering them. And I realised part of the reason I felt so good at Bonniers Konsthall was because I was surrounded by wonderful people who also allowed me to feel bad once in a while. And of course I got that delicious cardamom bun.

As Katya told me later that week, everyone gets stressed once in a while, and supporting each other through those downs is also part of working in a cultural institution. So next time you're feeling stressed or overwhelmed, don't try to handle it alone. Gigantic problems can shrink really fast when you share them with friends. And remember the mantra.

It's only paper.

Nobody is going to die.

It's only paper.

It's only paper.

Södermalm. Probably the best malm in the 'holm.

Did you know that the city of Stockholm expands over 15 different islands? I found it a very amusing idea at first that I was crossing four entire islands by bus to get to the office every day.

Eastern Södermalm, map, 1674

The island I live on is called Södermalm. You might be familiar with it as the location of Stieg Larsson's Millennium/Dragon tattoo girl-trilogy. Due to its many hills it's the place to be for the best views over Stockholm. Apparently it is one of the most densely populated areas of Scandinavia, but to me it still feels like a very lively area in the countryside because there are so many parks, green areas, playgrounds and open squares around. It also never feels crowded, unless you decide to go to one of the many designer brand pop up sales.

Södermalm is sometimes also referred to as Sofo or hipster central, thanks to the many handsome bearded men who inhabit the area and make a living by selling specially brewed coffee, locally crafted thingy-mc gee’s or homemade organic ecologic vegan gluten free hotdogs - or of course by grooming the beards of the other locals. Everyone on the island is, aspires to be or has been the owner of a gallery at some point in their lives.

When I first arrived here I felt like I had stepped into a giant caricature of the real world, but I quickly grew fond of the area and I learned the locals were much more colourful and divers than I first thought. I am not the only one who likes it here: the large amount of people who want to live in Söder are pushing the housing prices up steeply and quickly. As a result, soon the things that attracted them to the area in the first place might be disappearing, as the circle of urban life tends to go.

Södermalm wasn't always home to the hip, the privileged and the artsy. It used to be a working-class area, expanding vastly during the rise of industry in the 1800's, and the area has not lost that vibe yet. Across the street from my studio flanked by two bistros, people still live in original wooden houses without modernised water works (and according to some, the original inhabitants might also still be around). Just a little further down the street, the futuristic Globe, the largest hemispherical building on Earth, is rising above the city skyline, on the border of a suburb that to me looks like an endless series of replicas of Pippi Longstocking's Villa Villekulla.

Most of Stockholm seems to be constructed this way - oldest, old, newer and newest are built next to and on top of each other without any concessions, excuses or attempts to assimilate. In many ways it seems to work better than any other urban development plan I have seen. It also means you can only describe Stockholm by using a lot of opposites. In Stockholm, turning a corner often means stepping from the 16th century into the 23rd. The traditional semla exists alongside new and trendy semmelwraps and wienersemlor. And yes, not everyone agrees with these modernisations and eccentric occurrences. Muttering, disagreeing sighs and even outrageous yelling happens. But in the end both 1800 wooden houses and the gigantic Globe stand right next to each other, and every morning fans of the traditional semla ride the bus together with semmelwrap eaters. And I love it.




Vi ses

Cathy


P.S.: If you want to see more of Södermalm, you can find some additional photos in this album.

There's no place like art

I haven't written that much about my internship at Bonniers Konsthall itself, and I hope that doesn't give anyone the idea that it's boring. I just seem to have the tendency to only write about things after they have passed and I have had some reflection time. Furthermore, most things I do at Bonniers Konsthall are a bit confidential so writing about them would result in rather vague posts.

But here is something I can tell you: I love it here. I love the work I do. Even the so called boring jobs, like administration, are quite interesting and enjoyable because they often offer insights in the institution specifically or the Swedish cultural field in general. And when handling incoming mail mostly means opening packages with publications from museums all over Europe, it feels more like a daily birthday party than work, even if I am not allowed to keep the books.


Talking about books, Bonniers Konsthall owns a very interesting collection of reference material. Every exhibition is preceded by a period of extensive research. You don't always get a chance to see this, but at Bonniers Konsthall visitors can actually rummage through the research collection and get a little peek behind the scenes or take a look inside the brain of the institution.

The wonderful thing about the selection on the shelves here is that it brings so many different kinds of books together - books you would never see standing next to each other in regular libraries or bookshops. Information and inspiration come from everywhere: fiction, non-fiction and science fiction; classic literature, poetry, fairy tales, and philosophy; yes, even science, math and history. Browsing through the reading material will 100 percent certainly result in new ideas and insights - consider yourself warned. I worked a lot with the reference material and I constantly had to fight the urge to sit down and read every single book in the room.

      

The books are awesome (and I haven't even mentioned the great view over Stockholm from the room they're stored), but the best part about Bonniers Konsthall are the people. Every single person here is intelligent, passionate and a teeny tiny bit bonkers - like all the best people are. It's great to listen to all their stories. Everyone is helpful and they happily make time to answer any question I have, and also to listen to my stories.

I am not a morning person but I happily roll out of bed every weekday knowing what's ahead of me. There's no place like Bonniers Konsthall and I feel privileged and grateful to be part of it, even if it's just for a short while.

        

Vi ses




Cathy