The Vigeland Sculpture Park

Let me tell you, if this place is not on your personal “bucket list,” put it there.

My most resonant memories from my first trip to Norway come from this place, and even having after this most recent visit, I feel it calling me back. Truly, this is one of but a handful of places in the world that I have encountered with such legitimate and powerfully good spiritual Ju-Ju. I frankly debated whether I should blog on this place or not, questioning whether or not I could do it any justice.

Gustav Vigeland was Norway’s signature sculptor. His emotional range is only met by his vast productivity during his lifetime. I counted nearly 200 sculptures and bas-reliefs in the park that bears his name, though I’m pretty certain I missed a couple.


Having made a name for himself during the 19th Century, the secession of Norway from Sweden in 1905 gave Vigeland the opportunity to practice his craft with a focus that few artists are given to achieve. Initially, it was his intent to create an enormous fountain that would be placed in front of the National Parliament. As this notion became politically unviable, he proposed, essentially, to indenture himself to the government. In exchange for a house on Oslo’s Frogner Park and a stipend, the remainder of his work would become the property of the newly created Norwegian State.

Given state backing and free reign to practice his craft, Vigeland created over the remainder of his lifetime this spectacular result.

Laid out over a space of 80 acres, the park contains various series of Vigeland’s work: universal vignettes of life, organized loosely from birth until death. The human figures are just larger than life-sized, and are exclusively nude. This gives the work a timeless and eternal quality, never to be dated as fashions become obselete.



While his detail is sometimes crude, Vigeland’s emotional range is frankly astounding. Whether expressing the tender insecurity of adolescence, the wonder of new love, the donning of new responsibility, or the acceptance of death and loss, his intent is clear, compelling and universally understood.








The park has two centerpieces: a fountain in bronze, held up by titanic young men in the peak of their strength, and a massive obelisk, made up of human figures scrambling to the top.



The park made an impression on me at 21, and even more so now at 41, perhaps because I have lived that much more of my life that is reflected in Vigeland’s work. Oddly, the impression that I have this time is not just of the sculpture park, but of the people viewing and interacting with it. Guests from all walks of life walk amongst these statues almost as if they are new, living works themselves.


Or maybe I have that backwards.

What a feat! Here, with his life’s work, Gustav Vigeland created a mirror for the human experience and invited the whole world to view themselves within. The statues themselves don’t come to life, but they call on something deep within each viewer: an inspiration; a command to awaken that he or she should somehow become more alive.

Come here.

Really.


Tomorrow: Riga.