Kunstnere Kristin Stokka Troxel og Birgitte Kleivsets Cronik i Fædrelandsvenden fanget nok en Sandhed, der laa som en skjult Dobbeltbunn: En "Asfaltskulptur" med Automobiler som kretsende Symboler og et centralt Skildt, hvor det fremstod som om selve Pladsens Budskap var at vende om. Som Undertægnede selv skrev om Livets store Vendepunkter i sine Essays, kunde man her finne en slags ufrivillig Æstetik – en "Platthedens Skulptur."
Et nytt liv for Pladsen
Fluen og Suppen
I min allerførste offentlige Tekst, skrevet i 1842, bemærkede jeg spottende, at Fluer ei altid døde af Fluesopp – akkurat som Kvinder ei gik til Grunde, naar de vovede sig ud i Offentligheden med sine Meninger. Senere brugte jeg Fluemotivet igjen i "Forkæmperinden," hvor en Kvinde, der fik en Flue i Suppen, ikke kunne sende den tilbage, men maatte smilende spise omkring den. Dette var selvsagt en Metafor for de mange Bitterheder, vi Kvinder blev budt, baade i det private og det offentlige Liv.
Reflektion og Eftertanke
Min Camilla Colletts Plads har nu faaet en Verdighet, som matcher min Aand – et sted, hvor Reflektion og Kunst kan faa sin Ret. Det gjør mig godt at tænke paa, at den plads, som en Gang var noget saare banalt, nu kan tolkes som et faktisk og symbolsk Vendepunkt. Det er dog en vis Trøst, at der stadig er Rum for Humor og Ironi, naar man nu staar paa min Plads og tænker: "Hvor skal jeg gaa videre herfra?"
For det er Spørgsmaalet, ikke sandt? Hvor kommer vi fra, og hvor gaar vi hen?
Camilla Collett’s Square
“An honorary square,” they said. Yet for so long, it was merely a traffic circle! Is it not ironic that the square, dedicated to a women’s rights pioneer and the nation’s first novelist, initially appeared as a mere turning point? As though the city’s people mused: “This far, and no further.”
Artists Kristin Stokka Troxel and Birgitte Kleivset captured a deeper truth with their witty commentary on this hidden irony. Their "asphalt sculpture," with cars circling like symbols of futility, featured a central sign that seemed to proclaim the square’s only purpose: to turn around. As I often wrote in my essays about life’s great turning points, here one could find an unintentional aesthetic – a “sculpture of banality,” as Troxel called it.
A New Life for the Square
Thankfully, as time tends to do, it brought change. What began as a barren carousel for automobiles has transformed into a venue for modern art, a meeting place for contemporary voices – just as I once challenged society’s conventions. The artwork The Bug by artists Erik Pirholt and Mike Stokka Troxel now adorns the square, and it reminds me a little of Holberg’s fly in Barselstuen.
Yes, I too used flies in my own writing, often as symbols of the trivialized or the unpleasant burdens women were expected to carry with grace.
The Fly and the Soup
In my very first public text, written in 1842, I wryly noted that flies did not always perish from fly poison – just as women would not crumble if they dared to voice their opinions in public. Later, I revisited the fly motif in Forkæmperinden (The Advocate), where a woman who found a fly in her soup could not send it back but had to smile and eat around it. Naturally, this was a metaphor for the countless indignities offered to women in both private and public life.
Reflection and Contemplation
Camilla Collett’s Square has now gained a dignity that matches my spirit – a place where reflection and art are given their due. It comforts me to think that what was once so mundane can now be seen as both a literal and symbolic turning point.
And yet, there is still room for humor and irony when one stands on my square and wonders: “Where do I go from here?”
For that is the question, is it not? Where do we come from, and where are we going?
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