Stavanger 2008

Welcome to the other capital of culture

A bustling port, English spoken with a distinctive accent, grown men who worship Steven Gerrard - Europe's Capital of Culture 2008 is a wonderful place. But this isn't Liverpool. It's Stavanger in Norway


By FINLO ROHRER
Story from BBC News Magazine


Not a lot of people know about Stavanger's big moment. Or at least, not a lot of people in the UK, for whom there is only one capital of culture, Liverpool. But since 2000, there have been two capitals of culture on four other occasions. At Stavanger Airport there is a poem - Arne Garborg's Mot soleglad - written in white bales of hay to mark the prestigious occasion:

There rises from the sea a country of elves
With peaks and moorland
It can be clearly seen against the horizon
in the blue of the evening sun.

As the year of cultural happenings wears on, the poem will disintegrate as farmers cart away the bales for use. After this poetic welcome, the first thing any visitor will notice is the wind. Strong enough to blow spray off the sea, strong enough to make a solid building whistle and moan, strong enough to blow the spectacles off your head.

Stavanger does not look like Liverpool. Visitors to Capital of Culture 2008 (Liverpool) will see streets of neat brick Georgian terraces, neighbourhoods of Victorian two-up/two-downs and monumental Edwardian city centre architecture. Visitors to Capital of Culture 2008 (Stavanger) will see wood. This corner of south-west Norway boasts of being the wooden house capital of Europe. Cobbled streets meander and white, wooden clapboard houses proliferate in the old town, with fairy lights completing the Christmas card image.

It seems remarkable that with the wind - in the depths of winter at least - ripping in off the North Sea, its inhabitants historically have chosen to put their faith in wood. Then again, in Norway, there's a lot about. A big project to build new wooden buildings is called, needless to say, Norwegian Wood.

The history of this part of the world is told in natural resources, of towns built in wood, of fortunes made from timber and paper mills, of an empire built from wooden ships. And after wood, oil. In the 1960s the discovery of black gold in the North Sea and some astute manoeuvring on the part of local politicians and businessmen saw Stavanger become Norway's oil boom town. Planes go to and from Aberdeen every day carrying the oil workers that make the local economy tick.

So it is perhaps appropriate that the head of the Capital of Culture organisation is a Scot, former violinist and arts journalist Mary Miller. She has had to address a degree of scepticism from some residents. "There is no Bono, there is no Tall Ships Race, there are not the names people expected here," she says.

Instead the theme is "Open Port", a year of events that will encourage international artists to come, work with local artists and generally galvanise the population. At its heart is four month-long residencies - music theatre company Muziektheater Transparant, Lithuanian group Oskarus Korsunovas Theatre, Israeli dance company Inbal Pinto and the South African Handspring Puppet Company. Paul McCartney it ain't.. But the aim is very different from some other capitals of culture. Each company will hold workshops so ordinary people can make their own art. Despite its wealth, Stavanger is a place that aspires for more - for recognition of its status, of its culture. But its very wealth can be an obstacle to participation.

"When I first arrived, I thought why does this place need to be European Capital of Culture? It's an extraordinarily precious place, almost like a little utopia," says Ms Miller. "It is a massive investment in people. We are not putting any money into bricks and mortar. You look at this pristine country, in many senses the chief enemy here is that it is as good as it is."

And as far as the economy goes, it is good. Whatever Liverpool's manifesto, the desire in Merseyside is to use the culture already there - pop music, art galleries, the city's vibrancy - to lure tourists and relocating businesses.

But Stavanger does not expect economic gain from its year in the spotlight. It's already rather rich. The city's mayor, Leif Johan Sevland, offers a crushing handshake as he says: "We have unemployment of 1%. If you gave me 1,000 skilled people tomorrow, we could find jobs for them." He's on message when he says it's all about stimulating culture and improving Stavanger's profile.

But on the winding streets of the little city, heads are scratched and there are mixed feelings as the town prepares for the king and queen to launch proceedings on Saturday. Dragging on a roll-up cigarette and bracing himself against the wind, shop worker Finn Ivar is not impressed. "I think it's kind of a stupid event. It doesn't think of local culture. It's just all these concerts and art stuff and things like that. I can't see how it would benefit us."

The disaffected Mr Ivar is not alone. There are local artists, musicians and performers who are not onboard. The organisation "Ka da ittepa?" or "What then after?" believes the year may have no lasting effect. Other critics see a waste of money, and an unpatriotic few can't see how Stavanger deserves this elevated status. When it comes to big names in the world of music, film, art and performance, the city is not exactly replete. Jan Groth, a Stavanger-born, New York-based modern artist, is one of the bigger ones.

As far as modern culture goes, the city has its fair share. Its symphony orchestra punches above its weight with the help of funding from main Norwegian oil firm, Statoil, and this year it hosts the European Amateur Brass Band championships, a big event in a country where such bands are an institution, particularly for schoolchildren. Maijazz is its annual jazz festival, Numusic is a club-based electronic music festival.

Much of Numusic takes place at Tou Scene, once a derelict brewery with an obvious echo of Liverpool. The brewery closed in the 80s and production shifted elsewhere. In recent years, under the stewardship of composer Nils Henrik Asheim, it has been transformed into a music and arts venue with a fashionable bar at its heart.

The same can be seen in Liverpool's former warehouse district - deserted symbols of changing economics transformed into places where fun can be had. Stavanger's museums also tell its story. There is a sardine canning museum about a past resource that ran out, and the oil museum talks of a future of renewable energy.

Any efforts to hold joint events with Liverpool during the culture year have fallen through, but the links with the UK are still strong. Questions of identity are important in Stavanger as in Liverpool. In this corner of Norway they have the term "Siddis" for a native. The strictest definition means someone born there, who speaks the dialect, and whose parents were from Stavanger.

And yet Stavanger's occupants describe it as an international city, more so than any other in Norway because of the cosmopolitan nature of the oil industry. The question "do you speak English" is answered invariably with "of course I do". Linda Svendsen, a worker at the Outlands comic shop, is one of those who has lived in England, has an English boyfriend and is excited about the culture year. "It seems to me a lot of people here have forgotten. It's kind of cool, but then again my boyfriend's dad is from Liverpool."

Signs of the Capital of Culture are not everywhere. But for a countdown in the main square and a massive blue marquee in the city centre, it's easy to forget that Saturday's launch is even happening. And for all the international artists, there is a laidback, restrained feel about much of what is going on. At Engoyholmen, on an island in the fjord, part of Stavanger's story is being told with the building of traditional wooden boats and buildings.

This is a place where young people, many who cannot stay in a normal school, learn boatbuilding and sailing. A century ago on the coast, before the bridges came, everyone could handle a boat and many would have had the basic skills to repair or even make one. But in dynamic, thrusting, modern Norway, these skills are in danger of being lost.

As he stares at the churning foam of the inlet, project worker Ketil Thu intones: "Stormy weather, stormy life."


(Published: 10.01.2008.)

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