I am actually only a small percentage Swedish, yet that strand of my DNA takes over every December, as Christmas in my household is full-on Scandinavian, complete with mostly colorless (but delicious) smorgasbord and my brother’s amazing Jul Glogg. My Swedish-born grandmother made sure of that and it has been that way ever since in my heart and stomach. Of course, it may also have something to do with the 100% Swede I married 40 years ago. At any rate, Christmas means “God Jul!!” and “Skol!” and always brings that branch of the family tree to the forefront of my consciousness.
In the studio, that inevitably leads to thoughts of Uncle Olaf Anderson, my great-grandfather’s older brother. It was he who first emigrated to America from Goteborg, Sweden in the late 1800’s. He was a sculptor, trained at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris, and I imagine that America, particularly New York City, was viewed as a land of artistic opportunity. Virtually all other details of Olaf’s life are bits of family history and conjecture, which in themselves are fascinating, such as:
He worked on the sculpture in the New York Public Library, specifically the ceiling friezes and the lions on either sides of the front steps.
He was acquainted with and worked for Stanford White, the preeminent NY architect.
He married a jazz singer, Svea Doderberg, who frequented the speakeasies of Harlem (and sadly, died very young of complications due to alcoholism).
He had a sculpture in the 1939 World’s Fair in New York.
He traveled the world extensively, bringing back stories of adventure.
These tidbits of oral history are only hearsay, and yet to be confirmed. There are many personal theories, supposed connections and leads to be explored, but I have taken it upon myself to track down what I can. At the moment the only tangible evidence he left is a small collection of artwork, dispersed among my family. A couple of plaster busts, relief maquettes and bronze commemorative medals. They lead me to think that he was a decorative artisan, charged with executing the artistic ideas of architects and artists in the age before computerized fabrication. A time when hand skills were highly valued and hard to come by.
I actually have visual memories of meeting my Great-Uncle Olaf in his last years in a nursing home in Brockton, MA. I was but a toddler, yet a large old man with a funny accent and white mustache holding me in his lap is burned in the back corners of my mind even today. I hope to build on that memory. Any suggestions or information would be most appreciated.
God Jul!
