Hawaiian Shirts, Pink Flamingos and, Above All, Kindness

As some of you have probably noticed, I have published several enjoyable stories from my three-week stay in Kragerø, Norway, in June, both in English and Norwegian. But I’m not finished yet.

I also met a painter who outdid me both in good humour and in his choice of shirt: Thomas Bakkerud.

We met at an outdoor café gathering organised by gallery owner and organiser Eyolf Soot, who had invited a journalist to write about an exhibition we were going to take part in together on Jomfruland, an island facing the open sea just outside Kragerø.
It was the perfect setting. The sun was shining, the beer was cold, and the three of us being interviewed hit it off so well that we even received applause from the neighbouring tables. A group of delightful ladies from the Oslo area seemed particularly entertained by the whole performance.

The good-humoured journalist soon gave up trying to write down anything sensible. But Eyolf Soot, the driving force behind it all, had already managed to tell her that works by the famous Norwegian artist Pushwagner would be offered at very favourable prices and that the three of us had some great things to show as well.

In the middle of all this commotion, Thomas and I quickly discovered that we shared the same taste in Hawaiian shirts. If I understood him correctly, he had one at home covered in pink flamingos, birds I am so fond of that they have even found their way into my own collection of images.

Meeting Thomas gave my stay in Kragerø another lift. First, because a man I had never met before so readily embraced both me and my art. And then because of the kindness he showed me during some very long days when I was volunteering at the gallery and taking part in a “Meet the Artist” event during our joint exhibition.

I sold a print on the opening day, and Thomas sold a large painting a few days later, but there were very few visitors to Jomfruland during that period. Several hours could pass between visitors. Thomas, who was unable to be there himself during the week of the exhibition, kept in touch through Messenger, and one day I received this message:

Thomas: Any sales?

Me: No, only on the first day.

Thomas: Okay, anyone coming in?

Me: Very few. You could almost say no one. It has been a very meditative experience so far.

Thomas: I’ll buy the picture with the pink flamingos that you showed me on your phone on the ferry, even though it isn’t in the exhibition. And you can buy yourself a couple of beers at Haga Café today, tomorrow and Saturday. I’m transferring €100 now as “waiting-for-an-audience money.” You’ve earned it!

Me: ❤️

Thomas: Breaking News: €100 transferred.

Me: Fantastic. Then there’ll be beer and a little food in the open air.

Thomas: Food? Just transferred another €99. You deserve more than just mackerel from a tube, my friend!

Me: Then I can keep both my spirits and my weight up. Brilliant. This will go down in history as the gallery attendant who never gave up, thanks to a man with a flamingo shirt. ❤️

After that, I refused to accept payment for the flamingo print, and Thomas responded by ordering another print from my online gallery. The fact that I sold a couple more prints right at the end of the exhibition was another reason to smile.

My highly improvised journey from the Philippines via Bangkok to Kragerø and Jomfruland could easily have turned into quite an ordeal for a 79-year-old man like me, travelling alone and lugging around a large package of aluminium prints. But old friends gave me wonderful support, and I made a new one who now has flamingos both on his shirt and framed behind glass on his wall.

A heartfelt thank you to Thomas and everyone else in Kragerø who was there for me when I suddenly reappeared from the past — and not least to Eyolf Soot, who invited me to Galleri Jomfruland. 🙂