The day I left Oslo we went to Vigeland's Park. I was eager to go, of course, though somewhat bitter at such a blatant display of my tourist-ism (my aunt tried for 15 minutes to get me to go stand by a guard at the palace for a picture, but I do have my dignity, after all). We had a short time in Oslo that day, and I had allotted a strict and relatively short time period for the park. I regretted this the moment I arrived.

There is no purer form of art than to capture the emotion, the beauty, and the pain of every single feeling that might ripple through our existence in 192 granite and bronze sculptures. The architectural design of the land and the pathways were breathtaking, but I was withered to tears as I gazed at some of the statues before me.



A man clutching a woman in a steeping gaze, an elderly woman cradling a man, women with their children, men with men, relationships and friendships drawn up in simple lines upon the cold stone. The day was gray; rain fell down on me, I was touched and inspired. How better to express the complexity of our natures than with brutal, perfected simplicity?

Gustav Vigeland, the sculptor of all artwork in the park and designer of the grounds, displays such understanding of the human enigma. One of my favorite pieces, with man and woman touching foreheads together, made me cry. I stood there, thankful for my huge aviator sunglasses, staring at the sight, tears streaming down my face. Children run up and down the steps, laughing as the mount the sculptures, sitting in the laps of the stone men, cheerfully patting their heads and chuckling together; there are no guards to prevent you from touching the statues, it is permitted. I enjoyed this; one of the most beautiful parts of the experience was witnessing the interaction that was encouraged.

The metaphors implied are insightful, from "The Wheel of Life" to "The Monolith", to the fountain, interaction is encouraged past the visit to the park; Vigeland clearly hoped to leave a lasting impression on all those who happened upon his artwork.

And that, my dear reader, is exactly what he did.

"I was a sculptor before I was born. I was driven and lashed onward by powerful forces outside myself. There was no other path, and no matter how hard I might have tried to find one, I would have been forced back again."





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