Food Studio

The things that mattered to me as a child, we always managed to provide, even if it meant we had to find another way. We spent summers along the southern coast (not in our own cabin, but through my dad’s job), we sailed for a whole summer, or we drove to Spain when flying was too expensive. The fact that we had moved the family cabin, a log cabin from Gardermoen to Bøverdalen in Jotunheimen and set it up through volunteer work, or that the plot of land after the family’s place in Nittedal was divided in two and two houses were built, also partly through volunteer work, felt completely normal. When I was a teenager, I remember how the family of a friend went even further; they built an apartment out of a garage and converted a cabin in Nesodden into a house. At the time, I thought my mom and dad were so strange for wanting to live in such a large house without also utilizing its potential. The same thing happened when Airbnb came along, and they didn’t want to rent out the cabin; in my world, it was the most natural thing to use what you have when you need it, and the rest of the time, someone else can easily enjoy it.

When I was a student, the topic of resource management was so central that it was even in the title of my master’s degree: Master’s in Economics and Resource Management. But the amount I actually learned that made sense in practice was surprisingly little. We tried to value nature with a calculation that didn’t really make sense. We went on a field trip to the aquaculture facilities in Sunnmøre and were told that this was Norway’s new oil. We studied the same models in economics and finance that are taught at the business school, and the entrepreneurship studies at the entrepreneurship school were based on a growth paradigm, and it still feels like that’s where we are. Those who work for something else are idealists, the rest just keep going! But is there something in between?

I learned about the planet’s boundaries and the Stockholm Resilience Centre ‘s work around the same time that Gunhild Stordalen started working with EAT foundation together with Johan Rockström in 2013. At that time, I was often in Stockholm visiting one of my closest friends who had moved there. I often combined that with trips to Järna, an anthroposophical center established in 1964. The fact that there was a community built on a completely different mindset, which had its own bank, hospital, schools, and community center, professional studies in specialized subjects that were in a league of their own in crafts such as gardening, and that they managed to establish their own dairy. I was most interested in how the cook for the community center collaborated with a local farmer, how he planned a menu for an entire year based on the harvest from one farmer and nothing else, and how he processed, fermented, dried, smoked, and stored things in a root cellar, for example, using a mixture of soil and sand to keep the carrots crisp until April.

I was deeply fascinated by this mindset, but also by the practice, as it was one of my first experiences of a practical utopia. Since then, this way of thinking and working has become a major part of my own practice. I started writing this a week ago, and since then, I have been tipped off about something that has become a huge topic of conversation here; Collapse. The Prophet from Bærum. Since then, I have seen it, and I have had time to notice how much of a buzz it has actually become during my brief visit to the autumn exhibition and Oslo Negativ last weekend.

First and foremost, I felt that this whole thing was really upsetting. I became worried that it would have the same effect as the NRK documentary that dismissed ecology and made it completely impossible to talk about that topic for many years afterward. I am concerned about the repercussions it will have because we humans are so incredibly fond of putting everything into boxes. I know several people who are seriously working with psychedelics, both in legal research on therapy, such as Ivar Goksøyr, in studies like Anna Høifødt , or Michael Pollan, who wrote the book The Psychedelic Renaissance. I have followed My Humaiden with the book The Ærø Manifesto , and Ingvild Eide Leirfall, plus a number of others who are critical of the increasing institutionalization of children and have therefore chosen to stay at home with their children as much as possible and try to implement homeschooling. Many of these ideas are repeated in the series, but in an extreme version. In a time when division is one of the biggest challenges we face, I don’t know how appropriate it is to throw even more fuel on that fire. Yes, what is revealed is absolutely not okay, but isn’t it also a person who has lost it a bit and who should actually be protected by the “be careful” poster?

I also read an article about Dolly Parton in which she was compared to Gloria Steinem as a feminist icon, and the fact that she didn’t like extremes and insisted on not being put in a box is one of the things that made her the role model she became and that really came to light after she died. Perhaps this is the middle ground I am longing for?

From the podcast Dolly Parton’s America, which also gained popularity in Norway in 2019, she describes her relationship with feminism as follows: “I consider myself a businesswoman. I love men. Because I have a father, a bunch of brothers, all my uncles, all my grandfathers, I love them. And I relate to them. And I write many songs about women because I am a woman, and I write songs about women’s experiences.” The interviewer doesn’t seem to want to give up and asks her again: Are you a feminist, or are you not?

“I don’t like extreme things,” Parton replies.

“I don’t believe in crucifying an entire group of people just because a few have made some mistakes. As soon as you say the word ‘feminist,’ I hear ‘I hate all men.’”

The interviewer still can’t let the topic go. Parton must be at least a little bit of a feminist, right? And even if she refuses to call herself that, can’t she still be one, through the way she lives her life? Parton agrees with that. “I live it. I work it. And I think there’s power in it for me.”

Excerpt from Ingeborg Misje Bergem in Morgenbladet.

In the utopian parallel communities I have visited, none of them have managed to become a fully adequate replacement for mainstream society. Neither the free state Christiania in Copenhagen, Camphill Vidaråsen, the anthroposophical community in Järna, the yoga festival community at Ängsbacka , or Stedsans in the woods and Mette and Flemming’s project have turned out exactly as originally intended. They have all developed and changed, experienced generational shifts where a different perspective has emerged. Most people who are fascinated by a different way of thinking come to the conclusion that it makes the most sense to be part of society and culture, and instead try to influence it by being a part of it.

At the Stockholm Resilience Center, I learned about the theory of, among others, Johan Rockström regarding the Earth’s planetary boundaries in the work with Planetary Boundaries. It simply states that human activity has already exceeded seven of the nine planetary boundaries. We know that this affects large, complex systems and has consequences for, for example, biodiversity and climate, which are beyond our control. When I received this message in 2013, I was told that we then had 8 years to turn things around and that food was one of the most important systems to work on changing. There was a sense of urgency, that it was time to roll up our sleeves and start the work of change. Now, the 8 critical years that were talked about are long past, and after having dedicated 15 years of my career exclusively to working on this change, both in my entrepreneurship, in the public sector, in the district, and in schools, or as a volunteer in building arenas such as Losæter. The reality now is that I am also just an ordinary mother of young children, a citizen in a society, and as an individual, there is a limit to what one can achieve. To achieve real change, it requires everyone to contribute: politicians, investors, the public sector, industry, and all of us ordinary people.

In 2017, it was easy for me to conduct my climate experiment; it was only me and my life that I needed to consider. Today, it’s about such mundane questions as “what circular systems have we created for handling children’s clothing?” Since we were open to the possibility of having another child for a long time, the most logical thing was to save as much as possible and store it. Now, we’ve reached a point where the storage capacity in a small city apartment within the inner ring is no longer sufficient.

My approach is that I think I have friends who are about to enter that phase, or have just entered it, so I invite them to a baby shower, and they can bring whatever they need. I had set aside the weekend, invited them, and felt motivated. I started with the storage under our bed, where we had stored things in vacuum-sealed bags for up to 5 years. In the first bag I open, I discover that several wool items have completely disintegrated. So, moths, which I know live in the apartment building, and which I see flying around in the basement, have been allowed to have a party inside these bags for several years. This was something I was not aware was even possible. But I guess some of the items must have had eggs in them, and if the vacuum seal wasn’t strong enough, they were still able to develop.

The project that I had set aside an entire weekend for turned out to be something completely different than what I had expected. Not only do I have to deal with the grief of having to throw away some of the clothes we loved the most, hand-knitted sweaters from my mother-in-law or my own mother, because they are completely moth-eaten. But everything has to be washed and frozen. And there are huge quantities, after 5 years of life with young children. The baby clothes sorting session turned out to be pleasant, but I hadn’t gotten nearly as far as I had hoped.

I also explored the possibilities for reusing items through other channels. Tise is obviously one of the channels we have used the most, so it is definitely something I want to try, but it requires a lot of work, so you need to have the time and capacity. Some brands have a take-back program where you get points, such as Polarn & Pyret or KappAhl. I have already used these quite a bit by both donating and buying used clothes. I was also tipped off that the recycling center in Skedsmo has a concept called REprise , where there is a complete circular system in one place. It feels good to know that what you donate ends up with people who need it, because the global system for used clothes says that our consumption is so large that the capacity is overwhelmed. Organizations such as Fretex, UFF, the Red Cross, etc. receive a mountain of clothes every single day. This is well described in this school project: Fast fashion – the planet’s latest trend. I have been aware of this ever since my friend Claire wrote her master’s thesis at AHO on the topic of “Swopshop” and later started Prefall. Since then, I have tried to organize clothing swap evenings with friends every year, and if there are larger clothing swap markets, I try to go, and since then, Tise has also emerged as a player.

My plan going forward is to test out the 333 rule with 33 items of clothing for 3 months and then switch them out. It’s not entirely unfamiliar, and I’ve been experimenting with the seasonal wardrobe principle for a while, but I’ve never fully committed to it. I clearly need to wash, dry clean, or freeze all the items and ensure a completely moth-free environment, and maybe even buy mothballs that smell terrible just to be absolutely sure. And the finest heirlooms, like the red coat I had as a child and which I had custom-made in an adult version when I was young by Mrs. Bråthen, who worked at the palace, are safely stored at my parents’ house, far away from the moth infestation.

I overheard a very inspiring conversation from the podcast with a female entrepreneur Jeanette Dyhre Kvisvik while I was dealing with this sorting chaos. She represented many of the same values and mindsets that I do. Daring to throw yourself into things, being allowed to take responsibility early on because someone trusts you, creating win-win opportunities, and working with people from different backgrounds who are extremely skilled in what they do. The only difference is that she is in an investor and technology-driven sphere, while I am trying to create practical micro-utopias with the understanding that both the planet and I have a limit, and we must respect and relate to that.

For me, it’s not that I don’t want to deal with money. Many of my friends see me as a capitalist in sheep’s clothing. It’s not that I don’t have very real needs for resources, just like everyone else. I need a home that is not only safe and practical, but also aesthetically beautiful, and that need feels very real. That was probably why it was very important for me to get into the housing market as quickly as possible instead of renting as a student. The difference is just that I know there is a limit, what in Ayurveda is talked about as “contentment,” which can perhaps be translated as satisfaction. Or what is talked about as the core of the doughnut economy.

What does it really mean to be a different voice in our time? Yesterday, I listened to a very interesting article from Demo that talks about the fact that we are in a pre-war period. It highlights how various artists, such as Bob Dylan and Tove Jansson, helped create stories in a pre-war period that played an important role in contemporary society by telling a different story. The story being told now is that we have no other choice but to go to war, and that thinking otherwise is naive. In my world, this is not true. When I look at how all the leaders in our country flatly deny that there is incivility and cronyism in the Epstein hearings, and not one of them is willing to reflect on themselves, then I understand that war is the only solution. What the world needs is a collective exercise in looking inward and examining our own shadow sides, taking responsibility, and learning to stop patterns that are repeated.

I listened to a very interesting program on P2 this summer about this, with Lena Lindgren , who describes it as breaking patterns. Being someone who breaks the patterns of the past is a very quiet, almost invisible job, but also very physical. She talked about her own mother, who kicked out her father and made sure that the cycle of violence in her family stopped with her. Lena decided to share this after sitting and listening to the Høiby case in court. There were so many elements there that were recognizable to her, and she felt a responsibility to communicate them because the legal system does not have the mandate or responsibility to address this. One of the things she pointed out is how, as a victim in such unhealthy relationships, one often adopts a hyper-empathetic survival strategy, which is most often referred to as the “pleasing” strategy, and that this is a real bodily trauma response on par with “freeze, fight, and flight.” The “pleasing” response was described many times in court, for example, by one of his partners feeling empathy for him even when he hit her.

I have spent a large part of my life in “pleasing” mode. So I know what it costs. I also know that it is possible to change. Collectively, we are all still carriers of the traumas from World War II. Not that we experienced it ourselves, but epigenetics proves that it is inherited. Grandchildren of survivors of Auschwitz experience physical symptoms that can be traced back to things that happened during the war. I am a carrier of a similar story because my grandmother was deported from Finnmark as a child, and my grandmother had to be sent to the mountains as a shepherdess because her sister was arrested and sent to Grini.

What I’m wondering is how we, as civil society, can prepare to protect children in a war? In my view, we are already experiencing an ongoing version of invasion through the tech giants and the way they control and influence us and our children. Incredible stories are emerging about what has been happening through the screen. And we still live in a liberal democracy in peacetime, but what happens if we no longer do?

I am reading the book Partiet now, which is about the decline of the Labour Party, and I have loved Maria Berg Reinertsen’s analyses on how the decisions made by the Stoltenberg government in 2000 are directly linked to the huge “public management” crisis we are facing now, both in the healthcare sector and in large parts of the public administration.

What I keep asking myself in this context is why it shouldn’t be expected of a politician to admit their mistakes? To say they were wrong, just like Mayor Siv Aglen did in front of the entire local population in Brønnøy after hearing Maja Lund’s lecture on Protect the Children. I believe that we need role models who dare to take responsibility for their mistakes, who can show us how to make amends in practice, and who dare to look inward. A large part of those who perpetuate the narrative about the war are driven by the opposite: a large ego and an extreme lack of self-awareness. Perhaps we can learn from books like The Wizard of Oz and Other Narcissists: Coping with the One-Way Relationship in Work, Love, and Family. It talks about how one should deal with narcissism and what can be done to get out of it and turn things around. Could it be used to learn not to buy into the stories that are being served up now on their own channels, such as Truth Social? Or not give it more energy than it deserves.

In such a process, one must also dare to work on oneself, because in any relationship where these dynamics arise, there will also be unhealthy things that one has adopted. That is why the powerful stories about victims and perpetrators are so frightening; they are rarely a simple truth, but rather a dance, and sometimes the roles can even switch. But the work of reconciliation, of moving forward and becoming a better person, always goes through honesty, with oneself, with others, and with the world. Right now, I believe that is what we need most. Honest leaders and role models who dare to lead by example. The speech by Mark Carney in Davos was an example. Raymond Johansen and the Norwegian People’s Aid’s refusal to the USA is another. I look forward to more of our Norwegian politicians and leaders also daring to take the same path.