I’ll sleep there because the day before, a silhouette slipped in at the foot of this short cliff. A shadow between the trunks and black rocks of this forest, long after sunset. Third night in my sleeping bag, between the pines and blueberries, covered with a camouflage net. It’s mid-March. In this valley sheltered from
“We [naturalists] try not to appear as weirdos, in our eyes and in those of Society, by camouflaging our anxiety at seeing nature disappear with fear of dying of hunger… But, if we were shown that the repression of nature can continue without economic damage, we would not be relieved, we would be saddened. So
I saw it with the naked eye standing out on a ridge. A few trees hide me, a light wind in my favor that carries my scent far away. I advance slowly, cautiously thanks to this Mountain Hare that I came across half an hour before. It was in this forest of birches with an
It almost makes me think it’s a habit, but what are the chances? They are rare in this region, so much so that it is forbidden to hunt them. Most of the inhabitants have never seen them, even after decades of hiking in these mountains. It is the largest of our land mammals and the
Protecting nature, conserving, preserving, saving, rescuing, restoring, repairing… An obvious fact for some, an absurdity for others. I am one of those who care, but I remain skeptical about the reasons that push us to act. Or more precisely, I am convinced that we misunderstand the reasons for our actions, that we greatly underestimate the
I left to explore plateaus that are a few hours’ drive from home, with the secret hope of finding reindeer there. No need to keep the suspense going, I didn’t see them. On the other hand, I found subtle hints of the Arctic there. A feeling that is barely felt but whose difference is surprisingly
I look away from my paintings, from my exhibition. My eyes roam the room and glance over the stuffed animals of the “Vår Natur” (“Our Nature”) exhibition at the Natural History Museum of Stavanger. Among them, a wolf. But unlike the other animals here, this one doesn’t stand proudly. The taxidermists have not rendered the
Peregrine falcon in the distance in the heat haze. As is often the case in this kind of situation, I draw too big. It is small, too small, in the eyepiece of my spotting scope. However, I paint it large on my sheet of thirty by forty centimeters. The usual consequence is that I get
« As soon as you see something,you already start to intellectualize it.As soon as you intellectualize something,it is no longer what you saw. » Shunryu SuzukiSeptember 8, 1967 As enigmatic and obscure this quote may seem, it is a very powerful description of the main predicament the drawer-from-observation is facing. He wants to paint his
« One death for one life, a fundamental principle of life on Earth. A sentence which can be delayed, which can give the illusion of being circumvented, but which, whatever form it takes, will always end up falling. It is the necessity imposed by a finite world, our planet, on which life has sought to fill
It’s Christmas and New Year’s time, but I must admit that the most important date for me remains the Winter Solstice. It happens around December 21st, the date of entry into winter on our calendars, and corresponds to the shortest day and therefore the longest night of the year. From there, the days start to
“Identification is only the front door to naturalism and I have the feeling of having remained at the doorstep. All my life, I’ve made lists. I identified, bird after bird, by the hundreds, by the thousands, learning along the way some facts about their biology. But what do I really know about the life of
I live inbetween two worlds. To the west, the coast. The plains open to the horizon, the beaches, the fields and the lakes which welcome a whole diversity of birds which are easily observed from the road. One searches with excitement for the unexpected rarity. To the east, the mountains. The forests that close the
To all appearances, these are just a few messy, abstract lines. The pencil rushed across the paper, scratching at the speed of the eye, leaving the conscience lagging behind. The image passed from the eye to the hand. The brain was short-circuited. I think we can talk about mindfulness and present moment when thoughts disappear
There’s a side of Norway I love: you take the boat like you take the bus and in an hour and a half, you go from your door step to a little lost corner at the bottom of a fjord, without having to take your car. The boat drops you at the foot of the
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