Brev

Astrup, Nikolai til Kinck, Hans E.
1920-01-31

Transkripsjon:

Tor Martin Leknes

Side

  • 1,
  • 2,
  • 3,
  • 4,
  • 5,
  • 6,
  • 7,
  • 8,
  • 9,
  • 10,
  • 11,
  • 12,
  • 13
Transkripsjon
Oversettelse

Brev

Astrup, Nikolai til Kinck, Hans E.
1920-01-31
Brevs.189-66496, Nasjonalbiblioteket

13 sider

Transkripsjon: Tor Martin Leknes

Transkripsjon

Sandal i Söndfjord

[ 31 – I – 20 ]

Kjære Kinck!

Ja dú maa virkelig úndskylde,

at jeg sendte dig noget saadant

skrap til júl, – men jeg har

været saa elendig nú et aars

tid at jeg stadig har troet 

det snart var forbi med 

mig, – og da har jeg altid

kommet i hú mine löfter

og min gjæld, – og da særlig

alt hvad jeg skylder dig. 

Jeg forsögte derfor i höst at

faa trykt noget til dig, men

manglede godt papir, (som

ikke er at opdrive for tiden).

Særlig farvetrykket blev

II

derfor ikke godt, og jeg har 

angret paa, at jeg sendte det,

(nú da jeg er lidt bedre og

har haab om kanske at 

gjöre bedre ting), – jeg vil

derfor bede dig om at faa

bytte det med et bedre "tryk",

naar vi engang træffes, og jeg

kunde ha flere tryk af

samme træsnit, som dú da

kúnde vælge mellem. Jeg

har saa mange plader til 

et saadant tryk, at jeg næsten

maa "træne" mig paa daar-

lige tryk först, förend jeg 

nöiagtig húsker farven paa

de forskjellige plader og ende-

lig faar en god tryk i stand. 

III

Det "moderne træsnit" bör 

forresten udvikle sig i en lidt

anden retning end mine

har gjort; – jeg er misfor-

nöiet med alt det gamle,

jeg har produceret paa det

omraade, – jeg har bedre ting

i arbeide, – (hvis de da 

overhovedet blir færdige), – og

naar jeg ikke sendte dig noget

af andre bedre farve træsnit

först, – saa var det, fordi dú

selv nævnte "Soleie-natten".

Jeg tog da den först, og jeg haaber

efterhaanden at faa sende dig

flere af mine farvetryk, hvis 

dú bryder dig om det og vil

IIII

spendere "væggeplads" til

dem; – dú kan jo ogsaa bare

lade dem ligge i en mappe.

Nú kan dú jo se paa mine

træsnit hos frú Höst, ogsaa

give mig et par ord, om hvilke

dú helst vil ha först, – jeg

har ogsaa et par stykker,

som fru Höst ikke har, og

som jeg skal sende dig, – jeg vil

betragte det som en stor ære,

at have en komplet samling

hos dig af mine træsnit, – men

da búrde jeg lidt efter hvert

lægge tilside "heldige" tryk, – da

jeg helst bare vilde ha gode

tryk i din samling; – men det 

er næsten saa, at jo mere úmag

man gjör sig med at "lave" en

V

god "tryk" desto slettere blir

den. Det var i allefald tilfældet

med den, jeg sendte; – men det

var papiret væsentlig skyld i,

det, da det formelig slog "búk-

ler", – (dette vil kanske ophæves

lidt, hvis det kommer únder press

 – i glas og ramme). Ja jeg vilde 

jo gjerne ogsaa faaet anledning at

faa træsnittene indrammet til

dig, men da jeg ikke vidste, om dú 

vilde ha dem paa væggen, – og

særlig da jeg tænkte paa et even-

túelt bytte af "Soleienatten", saa

sendte jeg dem bare paa karton;

din smag med hensyn til rammer 

var det jo ikke sikkert, jeg kunde

træffe; – jeg liker bedst smale lister

i matt gúld (patineret), eller sort –

(til farvetræsnit) til "sort og hvidt"-

VI

træsnit passer bedst svagt bei-

sede birketrærammer (ikke blanke).

Jeg vilde jo saa gjerne ogsaa

faaet malt dig et billede, som 

dú kúnde like, – men jeg er saa

misfornöiet med mig selv for

tiden (jeg befinder mig i "stöbeskeen"

for tiden – for at brúge et dúnkelt

billede fra Ibsen). Jeg búrde jo

længst været i udlandet nú

men saa mange ting har sat sig

i veien – særlig sygdommen, som har

forværret sig meget siden jeg havde 

den "spanske". Jeg har tænkt paa

Spanien först og fremst; – dine "Span-

ske höstdögn" har fristet mig, – jeg 

ser paa min kjære Agave (det 

eneste som vil trives inde i mit hús), –

jeg ser paa dens <salte> grönhed, som

den staar der og drömmer i lampe-

VII

lyset mod de svarte vindúsrúter

og stormnatten udenfor; den dröm-

mer vist ogsaa om sit "födeland"

Spanien, – og jeg tænker paa de

Agave-hækkene (giærdene), som dú

taler om, – og jeg úndres paa om de

har den samme mystiske grönne

farve, som min Agave, – eller om

denne har faaet sin farve af syk

údlængsel ligesom Rævebjælden

i skogtykningen. – Ja jeg længes nú

virkelig bort fra vestlandet – dette

evigt súre og regnende klima – her

blir jo værre for hvert aar. Nú

i höst havde vi 9 úker regn uten 

stands, – og i vinter har der

neppe været {…} en dag uten vind. –

Stormen trænger ind alle steder og

"river" mine torvlag af og reiser

med alle Engels bötter og klær og

vor lille datter Kari holder paa

VIII

at blaase paa vandet, hver gang

hún skal gaa den fjerdings vei,

som hún har til skolen, – veien

er nemlig belagt med is, som

skraaner ned mod vandet, – stormen

bærer nemlig "raaket" fra vandet

langt op over bakkerne, hvor det

fryser fast paa alt, som det

træffer; trærenes grener hænger

túnge af istapper, – det er som da

man i gamle dage stöpte lys her

og dyppede traaden i den smeltede

talg og de vokste i tykkelse for

hver neddypping. – Jeg begynder

at hate denne forbandede fjeld-

bygd, hvor jeg er grodd fast, – selv

min lille gaard, som jeg har været

saa glad i, holder paa at tape sig

i mine öine; – det er nú haren

IX

mest skyld i; thi den har gang

paa gang spist op mine æpletrær,

og jeg har taalmodig plantet igjen

(over 300 trær), og nú havde jeg berget

dem saa langt, at de var begyndt at

bære frugt, – den ældste gutten vor

"Arnold Böcklin" – havde slig glæde

af dem, – og saa kommer det

svinet haren igjen nú i vinter

og spiser op hvert eneste træ

omtrent – (et par ved húsene staar

igjen). Det er det tristeste syn jeg

veed, – alle disse bengúle skeletter

som staar igjen op over bakkerne.

Man kunde graate af ærgrelse,

naar man tænker paa alt det

stræv, og all den kjærlighed man

har ofret paa disse trær – like fra

podningen, til – dannelsen af de

vakre kroner, og den stadige beskjæ-

X

ring og gjödsling, – samt alt det

stræv jeg har havt med at gjærde

den úde – den djævelske haren. 

Stormen har ogsaa knækket min

præktige hægg, som var min

stolthed, da den var en af de störste

hægger i bygden og altid den förste,

som blomstrede om vaaren i hele

bygden. Nú önsker jeg bare at

stormen maa knække flagstangen,

saa ödelæggelsen kan blive fuld-

stændig. Der er snart bare den lille

"gotten" (som vesle Turid kalder

"grotten" for) og stenbordet igjen.

Ja det var altsaa Spanien, jeg

tænkte paa; – havde jeg bare 

reist did i fjor, förend den spanske

valutta gik saa op; – för krigen

var en pesetas værd 56-60 öre,

XI

nú er den oficielle kurs Kr. 1,04

og den er stadig stigende; – i banker-

ne faar man neppe kjöbe pesetas

únder Kr. 1,05-1,10; – man vil

altsaa tabe næsten halvdelen

af sine penge ved at reise til

Spanien nú. I Paris fryser

man og kommer ingen vei for

tog standsning overalt i Frankrike.

I Italien skal være fremmed-

fiendtlig for tiden, – og i Tysk-

land risikerer man at miste

alle sine kontanter ved stats-ban-

kerotten, som man stadig venter

paa. I England slipper man

ikke ind úden en útallighed af 

papirer og erklæringer baade om ligt

og úligt, – særlig maa man have

rigtig patente lúnger, – jeg slap

med nöd gjennem naaleöiet,

XII

da jeg var der i 1908, – (jeg foregav at

være bleven sterkt forkjölet únderveis)

Ja nok om alt dette, dú skjönner, 

hvad alt dette mit sludder

sigter imod, – jeg vilde altsaa

gjerne spörge dig tilraads om,

hvor dú tror, jeg búrde havne

forelöbig; – klimatet spiller jo

en stor rolle nú i min elendighed,

– saa Spanien skúlde jo passe bedst,

ogsaa af den grúnd, – bare valuttaen

der vilde gaa lidt ned i forhold til –

til norske penge.

Jeg tænker at tage Engel og Eirik

med, – han er endnú "saugeban".

Ja saa maa dú undskylde, at jeg har

plaget dig. Med de bedste hilsener

fra Engel og mig din hengivne

                           Nikolai Astrúp

(Undskyld skriften 

blækket har vist frosset)

Konvolutt, framside:

Til 

       Forfatteren

Hr. Hans E. Kinck

Bestúm

Kristiania

Oversettelse

                     Sandal in Söndfjord

[ 31 – I – 20 ]

Dear Kinck!

Well you must really pardon

me for sending you such

rubbish for Christmas, – but I have

been so wretched for about a year

now that I have constantly thought

that my time was soon 

up, – and then I would always

remember my promises

and my debts, – and in particular

everything that I owe you.

I therefore attempted, this autumn, to

print something for you, but 

lacked good paper, (which

is hard to find these days).

Therefore the quality of the colour print

                    II

was especially poor, and I have

regretted that I sent it,

(now that I am a little better and

hope that I can perhaps

make something better), – I would

therefore beg you to let me

exchange it for a better "print",

when we meet again, and I 

might have several prints of

the same woodcut, which you could 

then choose from. I

have so many blocks for 

such a print, that I can 

almost "practise" on po-

or prints first, before I

remember exactly the colour of

the different blocks and can

finally produce a good print.

                 III

The "modern woodcut" should 

moreover develop in a somewhat

different direction than mine

has; – I am dissatis-

fied with all the old things

I have produced in that

field, – I have better things

in progress, – (if they

ever get finished), – and

when I did not send you any

of the other better colour woodcuts

first, – it was because you

yourself mentioned "Marigold night".

So I took them first, and I hope to 

eventually send you

more of my colour prints, if you

are interested and will

              IIII

sacrifice "wall space" for

them; – you may also just

let them remain in a portfolio.

You can see my

woodcuts at Mme Höst’s, and then

send me a message specifying which

you would prefer to have first, – I

also have a couple,

that Mme Höst does not have, and

that I will send you, – I would

consider it a great honour,

to have a complete collection

of my woodcuts in your possession, – but

then I should little by little

lay aside "fortunate" prints, – as

I would preferably only have good

prints in your collection; – yet it

is almost as though, the more one 

strives to "create" a 

                    V

good "print" the poorer it

becomes. That was at least the case

with the one that I sent; – but it

was the paper that was mostly to blame,

it, as it virtually developed "bul-

ges", – (this will perhaps diminish

a little, if it is put under pressure

– in a glass and frame). Indeed I would

also like to have the chance to

have the woodcuts framed for

you, but as I did not know if you

wished to have them on the wall, – and

in particular when I thought of even-

tually replacing "Marigold night"

I sent them on cardboard only;

I was not sure whether I could

guess your taste when it comes to 

frames – I prefer narrow mouldings

in matte gold (patinated), or black –

(for the colour woodcuts) for "black and white"-

                   VI

woodcuts, light beige birch 

frames (not glossy) are best suited.

I would so much like to

paint a picture for you, that

you might appreciate, – but I am so

dissatisfied with myself at 

present (I find myself "in the crucible"

at the moment – to use an obscure

metaphor from Ibsen). I should have

been abroad long ago by now

but so many things have come in 

the way – especially illness, which has

become much worse since I had

the "Spanish flu". I have thought first and

foremost about Spain; – your "Span-

ske höstdögn" [travelogue about a trip to Spain] has intrigued me, – I 

look at my dear Agave (the 

only one that thrives inside my house), –

I look at its <salty> greenness, as

it stands there dreaming in the light

                   VII

of the lamp, against the black window panes

and the stormy night outside; it dreams

perhaps of its "birthplace"

Spain, – and I think of the 

Agave hedges (the fences), that you

speak of, – and I wonder if they

have the same mysterious green

colour, as my Agave, – or whether

this one has got its colour from being sick 

with longing like the Foxglove

in a thicket in the forest. – Well I myself

long to get away from West Norway – the

eternally dank and rainy climate here

becomes worse by the year. This

autumn we had 9 weeks of rain without

a break, – and this winter there has 

hardly been {…} a day without wind. –

The storm penetrates into everything and

"rips" my layers of turf and absconds

with Engel’s buckets and clothes and

our little daughter Kari is nearly

                VIII

swept into the lake, every time

she walks the two-and-half-miles,

that she takes to school, – the

road is covered with ice, you see, and

slopes down to the lake, – the storm

carries "spray" from the lake

far up the slopes, where it

freezes onto everything that it

comes into contact with; the branches of the trees hang

heavy with icicles, – it reminds one of

the old days when one made candles by

dipping a string in the melted

wax, which grew in width with 

each new dipping. – I am beginning 

to hate this damned mountain

village, where I have taken root, – even

my little farm, which I have been

so fond of, has begun to deteriorate

in my view; – the hare is mostly

           IX

to blame for it; for it has over and

over again eaten my apple trees,

and I have patiently planted anew

(over 300 trees). And I had rescued

them for so long, that they had begun to

bear fruit, – our oldest son

"Arnold Böcklin" – derived such pleasure

from them, – and then that swine

the hare returns again this winter

and eats up nearly every last 

tree – (a few remain standing by

the cabins). It is the saddest sight I

know, – all those bone-yellow skeletons

left standing on the hills.

One could weep from exasperation,

when one thinks about all the

effort, and all the love one 

has invested in these trees – from the

grafting, to the emergence of the

beautiful crowns, and the constant prun-

                   X

ing and fertilising, – in addition to all the

work building a fence to keep 

them out – those diabolical hares. 

The storm has also destroyed my

magnificent bird cherry, which was my

pride and joy, since it was one of the biggest

bird cherries in the village and always the first

in the entire village to blossom in 

the spring. Now all I want is for the

storm to break the flagpole,

so the destruction can be com-

plete. Soon all that will be left is the little

"gotto" (as little Turid calls

"the grotto") and the stone slab table.

Well it was Spain I was

thinking about; – if only I had

gone there last year, before the Spanish

currency increased in value; – before the war

one pesetas was worth 56-60 öre [centesimal subdivision for Norwegian krones],

                XI

now the official rate of exchange is 1.04 Kroner

and it is still increasing; – in the banks

one will hardly be able to buy pesetas

for less than 1.05-1.10 Kroner; – one would

lose almost half

of one’s money by travelling to

Spain now. In Paris one

freezes and cannot get anywhere due

to the trains stopping all over France.

I Italy is supposed to be inhospitable towards

foreigners at the moment, – and in Ger-

many one risks losing 

all one’s cash due to the national 

bankruptcy, that is continuously threatening

to happen. One is not allowed into England

without reams of 

documents and declarations about one thing

and another, – in particular one must have

truly exceptional lungs – I only just passed

through the eye of the needle,

                              XII

when I was there in 1908, – (I pretended that I

had come down with a bad cold en route).

Well enough of all this, you understand,

what all of this rubbish of mine

is aiming at, – I would very

much like to ask your advice about,

where you think I should go

temporarily; – climate is an important

consideration now in all my wretchedness,

– so Spain should be the best alternative,

also for that reason, – if only the currency

there would decrease somewhat in relation to – 

to Norwegian currency.

I plan to take Engel and Eirik

with me, – he is still a "suckling".

Well you must pardon me, for 

bothering you. With best wishes

from Engel and myself Your devoted

                                        Nikolai Astrúp

(Pardon the handwriting

the ink seems to have frozen)

Envelope, front:

To

       The Author

Mr. Hans E. Kinck

                 Bestúm

                 Kristiania [Oslo]