Akseli Gallen-Kallela’s Kalevala Paintings (1890s)

Greece has its Ili­ad and Odyssey, Italy its Aeneid, Por­tu­gal its Lusi­ads, Ice­land its Eddas, Ger­many its Nibelun­gen­lied, Britain its Beowulf and Le Morte d’Arthur, and India its Mahabara­ta and Ramayana. I am talk­ing of course about nation­al folk-epics, those lit­er­ary mas­ter­pieces that were orig­i­nal­ly an oral canon of folk-sto­ries per­co­lat­ed down through the mists of time and lat­er writ­ten down and inte­grat­ed into the world­view of its peo­ple.

Well, Finland’s was the epic poet­ry col­lec­tion known as the Kale­vala, which was devel­oped quite late — dur­ing the 19th cen­tu­ry — but still from ancient tra­di­tion­al folk-tales. The Kale­vala was an inte­gral part of the Finns’ nation­al awak­en­ing in the era of the Grand Duchy of Fin­land when they were under the yoke of the Russ­ian empire, and it was instru­men­tal in the devel­op­ment of the Finnish nation­al iden­ti­ty, ulti­mate­ly lead­ing to inde­pen­dence from Rus­sia in 1917.

This nation­al awak­en­ing coin­cid­ed with the so-called Gold­en Age of Finnish Art rough­ly span­ning the peri­od 1880 to 1910. The Kale­vala pro­vid­ed the artis­tic inspi­ra­tion for numer­ous themes at the time in lit­er­a­ture (J. L. Runeberg’s The Tales of Ensign Stål; Alek­sis Kivi’s The Sev­en Broth­ers), music (Jean Sibelius), archi­tec­ture (Eliel Saari­nen), and of course the visu­al arts, the most notable of which were pro­vid­ed by one Akseli Gallen-Kallela.

Born Axél Walde­mar Gal­lén in Pori, Fin­land, to a Swedish-speak­ing fam­i­ly (he Finni­cised his name in 1907), Gallen-Kallela first attend­ed draw­ing class­es at the Finnish Art Soci­ety before study­ing at the Académie Julian in Paris. He mar­ried Mary Slöör in 1890 and on their hon­ey­moon to East Kare­lia, he start­ed col­lect­ing mate­r­i­al for his depic­tions of the Kale­vala. He would soon be inex­tri­ca­bly linked with the inde­pen­dence move­ment as he pro­duced his scenes from the old sto­ries.

The most exten­sive paint­ings that Gallen-Kallela made of the Kale­vala were his fres­coes, orig­i­nal­ly for the Finnish Pavil­ion at the Expo­si­tion Uni­verselle in Paris in 1900, but paint­ed again in 1928 in the lob­by of the Nation­al Muse­um of Fin­land in Helsin­ki where they can be seen to this day. How­ev­er, many stand­alone works exist too; here’s a flavour of his art, though if you want to know what they depict you’ll have to read the Kale­vala!

Alek­si Gallen-Kallela

L M Montgomery’s Anne Of Green Gables (1908)

Ah, the book­shelf in our class­room dur­ing my lat­er years at pri­ma­ry school, I remem­ber it well. Replete with titles and illus­trat­ed cov­ers promis­ing tales for chil­dren of adven­ture and der­ring-do in exot­ic lands: Robin­son Cru­soe, King Solomon’s Mines, Trea­sure Island. It had all the girls’ clas­sics, too: Black Beau­ty, Lit­tle Women, What Katy Did, Hei­di, and Anne of Green Gables. Of course, I nev­er read any of the lat­ter books…until recent­ly, that is, when I final­ly read L M Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables, hav­ing been inspired to do so by watch­ing Netflix’s excel­lent Cana­di­an TV adap­ta­tion, Anne with an E (2017).

The nov­el was pub­lished in 1908 by Cana­di­an author L M Mont­gomery (Lucy Maud Mont­gomery 1874–1942). Set in the late 19ᵗʰ cen­tu­ry, it recounts the adven­tures of 11-year-old orphan girl Anne Shirley sent by mis­take to two mid­dle-aged sib­lings, Matthew and Mar­il­la Cuth­bert, who run their farm in the close-knit com­mu­ni­ty of Avon­lea in Prince Edward Island, Cana­da. They had planned to adopt a boy who could help them with the farm work and so when Anne arrives, their first instinct is to send her straight back. How­ev­er, her exu­ber­ant plead­ing per­suades them to keep her for a tri­al peri­od and soon her per­son­al­i­ty wins them over.

Amy­beth McNul­ty as Anne Shirley in “Anne with an E”

Anne is talk­a­tive to the extreme, huge­ly imag­i­na­tive, dra­mat­ic, an extrac­tor of joy from life wher­ev­er it may exist, and a touch­stone of youth­ful ide­al­ism, if a lit­tle prone to defen­sive­ness over her red hair, freck­les and pale com­plex­ion. She is also insis­tent that her name should always be spelt with an “e” at the end, hence the title of the TV adap­ta­tion. In this she was played impec­ca­bly by Amy­beth McNul­ty, the more so now that I have read the book and see how accu­rate­ly she nailed the char­ac­ter. The whole series turned out to be a large­ly faith­ful ren­der­ing of the book and cer­tain­ly it was a heart-warm­ing depic­tion of a sim­ple turn-of-the-cen­tu­ry lifestyle in rur­al Cana­da, well wroth the watch.

Since its pub­li­ca­tion, Anne of Green Gables has sold more than 50 mil­lion copies — that’s actu­al­ly not far behind J K Rowling’s Har­ry Pot­ter books albeit hav­ing had a cen­tu­ry longer to sell copies! And it has that acco­lade for good rea­son, so who knows, I may even have to delve into Black Beau­ty or Hei­di next?

Anne of Green Gables, 1st edi­tion book cov­er
L M Mont­gomery