Mirinda loves the British Arts and Crafts movement. We have pieces in our house that owe their existence to the artistic movement. We have visited many British sites in order to bathe in the brilliance that was Arts and Crafts. And today, Mirinda was made very happy when she discovered there was an Arts and Crafts movement in Sweden, as well.
The Rackstad Colony was a small community of artists which formed on the edge of Lake Racken in Värmland. At the turn of the 20th century, Gustaf Fjaestad (1868–1948), a man who specialized in snow scenes and had a hankering for the remote and wild, along with his wife, Maja (1873-1961), an artist in her own right, rented the studio house of sculptor Christian Eriksson. They later moved to Kampudden by Lake Racken and built their own house and studio.

The Fjaestads were soon joined by artists such as Björn Ahlgrensson (1872–1918), Fritz Lindström (1874–1962), and Bror Lindh (1877–1941), who shared their love of the remote beauty of the Swedish landscape. There was also a strong desire to celebrate local craftsmanship and collaboration. The British Arts and Crafts Movement inspired them.
These days, examples of their work can be seen at the Rackstad Museum in Arvika, where we went today with Birgitta, Nicoline’s friend.

And what an amazing place. For an art lover like me, it is a paradise of beautiful works, spread out over two floors: one, a light and airy gallery space, the other down a flight of stairs, built into the slope of the land in order to allow natural light to spill in on cases of artefacts and small statues on stepladders.
While I’m here, can I just say that the young fellow at the ticket desk was correct that the movie downstairs had subtitles. However, his contention that they were in English was incorrect. It was a shame because the little I understood looked like it would have been well worth watching.
The video aside, everything was amazing. So many pieces, by so many different artists. From paintings, to sculpture, from cupboards to chairs, it was all fantastic. It reminded me, a bit, of Watts Gallery in Compton, Surrey. Except you can take photos.
There was even an exhibition of a contemporary Swedish artist in the gallery at the back of the museum. It was called Ögonblick av liv (Moment of Life) and featured the works of Värmland local, Karin Broos.

I’d enjoyed seeing works by Karin Broos at Liljevachs back in August 2023. I found her works haunting and mesmerizing in their mystery. Her depictions of water are especially good. The exhibition at Rackstad featured paintings that seemed to be waiting for something bad to happen. There was a threatening presence in them, undefinable but palpable.
But, as much as I love Karin’s ability to create almost photorealistic images, we were really at the museum to see the Arts and Crafts pieces.
There were some amazing paintings and sculptures dotted around the galleries. And, while I really liked a lot of them, I think my favourite piece was a cupboard. Okay, it wasn’t just an ordinary cupboard. It almost looked as if it could transport a person to an equivalent Narnia when the wardrobe wasn’t handy.

You can’t really see the extraordinary and delicate detail from the photograph but it was a stunning piece of furniture. The intarisa (wood inlay) was particularly beautiful.
Having filled our minds with a lot of wonderful expressions of artistic brilliance, we sat outside (the rain having stopped for a bit) and filled our tummies with some delicious lunch. Jason saved himself from the indignities of having to eat a salad by reaching Mirinda at the counter, shortly before she ordered for him. He said he had to have meat. Relieved, he tucked into a korv that he said was particularly delicious.
Mind you, he cooked sausages for dinner back at the house, so had a double dose. Not that he was complaining. Like me, he’s rather delighted by sausages.
Speaking of similarities, as well as sausages, Jason also enjoys a beer (or two) and talking nonsense. Poor Mirinda has now to contend with two of us. It’s almost as if we had a son who took after me. It’s uncanny. I’m loving it.
We also share a marked indifference for visiting linen factories, something we did later in the day. Birgitta wanted to buy six napkins to leave to one of her children when she dies. She already had six for the other one and wanted to get six more, matching the initial six.

Unfortunately, the linen factory (Klässbols Linneväveri) didn’t have any in stock, however, they very kindly offered to make six, having found some thread of the right colour. Innocently, I asked if they were making them there and then, while we waited, but this suggestion was laughed at in derision, as I was informed that the napkins would be made and posted off later.
And, obviously, Mirinda couldn’t resist buying a new table runner.
But, back at the Rackstad Museum, having finished lunch, we headed up the hill to the former home and studio of Christian Eriksson (1858-1935), where he lived with his French wife Jeanne de Tramcourt (1875-1952) who, it would appear, was a bit of a looker.

In yet another Selma connection, she was the model for Anna Stjernhök, a character in Gösta Berling saga, illustrated by Jeanne’s son-in-law, Einar Nerman (1888-1983).
Christian met and married Jeanne while he was in Paris. She was 18 when they married in 1884. He was 36. The marriage didn’t last. They divorced in 1911 and Jeanne moved to Stockholm where she opened a hat shop. She then had a long relationship with Prince Wilhelm, Duke of Södermanland who she never married. She died in 1952 when the Prince accidentally drove his car into a pillar during a blizzard.
Christian was working in Stockholm and created his first sculpture, Martyren in 1888. It was shown at the Paris Salon and received a third place medal. The statue is now outside the studio and house we visited today.

All round, we had a lovely day.
Incidentally, Nicoline opted for a day on the sofa, reading. I’m pretty sure she enjoyed the peace and solitude provided by our absence.
Oh, I almost forgot, while waiting in the toilet queue, a woman thought I was Gustaf Frödings. I’m not sure that she was joking.