My grandfather was a fisherman. He owned several boats. One of them had the name “Liljen” which means the Lilly, a beautiful boat, all his children loved it. Boats often get a special position in fishing families and my mother and her siblings were proud of this boat. Accidently it was hit of another boat and sunk. The next one was called “Solbris” – perhaps it can be translated as the wind blowing gently in the sun. But it was not of the same class of “Liljen”. My mother use to say; they turned their heads another way when they passed it, they meant it was too ugly. I grew up with that boat and felt familiar with it. I used to join my grandfather when he went to maintain the boat. We rowed to and from, checked if there was water inside. I was younger than five. We had a good time, me and my grandfather.
He died suddenly when I was at the age of eight. Nobody had told me he was terminally ill with cancer. I was going to see him that day, but my mom told me he was too sick, I had to wait till he got better. There would be another chance. They left me home alone; some women in the neighborhood were going to look after me. I played around; I remember the weather was bright. It was not winter. They say it was in April. But for the most I remember me jumping up and down in the sofa, having fun, and the sound that appeared when the others returned. I did not understand it; I had never heard it before. My grandmother was crying in a terrible way. They told me and my world as I knew it fell apart. I did not get the possibility to say goodbye.
I love boats. Sailboats, wooden boats, small boats, big boats, ships, rowboats and so on. One of the coolest things I see is when fishing boats dock. It is cool when they do it gently; it is cool when they are in a hurry. Looking at handling boats, and ships, make my heart beat. Deep inside my dream is to dock a really big boat.
When I see boats standing on land, I get curious. What happened, who owned them, what where they used for? As a historian I can do research about that. Now I am also photographing them. I think they are beautiful. I really want to capture them, and I want the world to see their beauty. They have been workhorses as we call it in Norway. The relationship between men and their boats are in my interest. I have done some research about that. How does this kind of relationship develop when they are fishing or hunting in dangerous areas? For example polar areas with special strong storms and ice? I am not going to tell the answer, yet. Now I am searching for the story about this little boat.
It is standing on land not so far from where I live. I visit it quite often.