Siri Baggerman

Utrecht / Giron Kiruna, 26 juni 2024

Det är första gången vi träffar Siri, men det känns som om vi har känt henne länge när vi får följa med till uppväxten i familjens prunkande trädgård i Tiel i Nederländerna, och till hennes barndoms somrar i Bađatluokta Sæterjord i Sápmi, där hennes mamma kommer ifrån. Att det är en skärm och en halv kontinent mellan oss den dagen vi pratar spelar ingen roll. Det är lätt att höra att familjen betyder mycket för Siri. Som vuxen åker hon fortfarande norrut på somrarna, nu i husbil med sin egen familj. Efter att ha avslutat konstutbildningen i Utrecht i början av 2000-talet lät hon penseln vila i många år och ägnade sin tid åt videoverk. När hennes mamma gick bort närmare 20 år senare lyfte hon upp penseln igen vilket förde med sig porträtt av kustsamiskt liv, kollektiva minnen och storblomstrande mönster.

Jag hittade en gammal svartvit bild på min mormor. Liksom de andra bilderna togs den i snön, och någon höll ett får eller en hund. De var bönder, så de hade sina boskap nära. Min mormor satt där i snön med hunden, hon bar en fin pyjamas med blommönster som såg kinesisk ut. Livet är hårt, speciellt då, det är ett mirakel att bönderna överlevde. Jag tror att hon måste ha känt sig som en prinsessa bara genom att bära den där pyjamasen, som var en enorm kontrast till utmaningarna hon hade att förhålla sig till. Hon blev änka ganska tidigt, så hon var ensam och tog hand om fem ungar och gården. Det gjorde mig så glad att se denna mjuka sida, något riktigt vackert som bara var för henne. Det blev en inspiration i mitt måleri, och eftersom det var en svartvit bild kunde jag bestämma alla färger, så de blev ganska färgstarka.

Samtalet presenteras i sin helhet nedan på originalspråket engelska.

It is the first time we meet Siri, but it feels as if we have known her for a long time as we get to hear about her upbringing in Tiel in the Netherlands, with her family's wild garden, and her childhood summers at Bađatluokta Sæterjord in Sápmi, where her mother is from. The fact that there is a screen and half a continent between us on the day that we meet does not matter. It is obvious that family means a lot to Siri. As an adult she still travels north in the summers, now in a camper van with her own family. After finishing her artistic education in Utrecht in the beginning of the 2000s, she put her brush to rest for many years while she spent her time on video work. When her mother passed away, however, the brush appeared again and brought with it portraits of Sea Sami life, collective memories and large floral patterns.

Siri: Hi! Nice seeing you.

Ellen: Hi! Nice seeing you, too. You are a Sami person living in Utrecht, and you grew up not far away from there, in Tiel. In what way is Sami life a part of your life in the Netherlands?

Siri: I guess we were the only household in Tiel with a huge reindeer hide on the wall when I grew up. My mother was from Sæterjord near Kokelv and she moved to the Netherlands when she was around 25 years old, but she kept in close contact with her family and roots. It was a normal part of my life, I didn’t really think about it as anything else. We had a lot of family from Sápmi visiting us in Tiel and we spent whole summers in Sæterjord. Then my mother passed away in 2016 and me and my sister were, in a sense, cut off from a really big part of our lives. I wouldn’t phone my uncles or aunt just to have a chat, so I felt that I needed to have my own connection to the Sami side of my family. My aunt and nephew are both a part of SDS (Sámi Dáiddačehpiid Searvi – Sami Artist Union) and they encouraged me to join the union. That’s what I did and it felt really good.

Maria: The Netherlands are a big contrast to the northern part of Sápmi. Even the “natural” environment is a built environment. How did your mother like living in the Netherlands?

Siri: I have come to see that both my mother and I had thoughts of what nature should look like. Here in the Netherlands we have small gardens, very strictly landscaped and with hardly any plants in them We didn’t get it right. The neighbors were talking about my mothers crazy, wild garden, and she appeared in a local newspaper because she apparently didn’t take enough care of it. She missed home a lot. In the beginning my parents didn’t have a phone, so it was really hard for her. But she also told me that walking home from school as a child she would sink into the snow, that would reach her up to her chest, and she would be cursing and swearing and saying that when she grew up she would move to a place where there would never be snow. Well, she succeeded in that, but I don’t think she ever fully integrated here. I think she always longed to go back north, but her kids were here and it would be better for us to stay to finish school. When 9/11 happened she said “We are now moving back, we are going to be safe up north!”. Then she was afraid to miss out. She was afraid that we would pop out babies as soon as she had one foot out of the country. So she stayed with us. She turned out to live longer here than she ever did up north.

Ellen: What do you miss most about Sápmi?

Siri: People’s way of being. There is a certain peace, with people just being. And, of course, nature. That is obvious, we don’t have that here. When you are surrounded by nature there is a certain calmness. Here on the other hand, everything has to happen fast and quick. I have been working in a school in Kokelv in Sápmi, and the first week is a challenge because I am in a hasty mode. When I get in to a calmer way of being I can see much more clearly how we are chasing this invisible time. That is really a big cultural difference.

Ellen: When was the last time you were in Sápmi?

Siri: It was two years ago, then I was in Tromsø and Kokelv. We have been driving our camper van around a lot in the region. When you are traveling with your family it is a bit easier to do so with your own mobile home. You know, you can’t just meet one uncle, you have to meet them all. You are expected to visit everybody, so you are touring from Alta to Karasjok to Hammerfest and of course Kokelv. And staying. And eating. You know how family is up in the north.

Ellen: It sounds quite nice to have that connection.

Siri: Yeah! We were planning to go this year, but I got sick, so we couldn’t go. Next year we will go.

Ellen: And then you are a painter. Have you studied painting?

Siri: Yes, my nephew Andreas Holtung and I went together to art school here in Utrecht. I studied painting, but during the last year of education I wanted to switch to video, but was told that I wasn’t allowed to because I would be throwing away four years of work. After art school, however, I have been doing a lot of video work. I have been assisting the Finnish artist Pilvi Takala, filming a lot for her since I felt done with painting after I had graduated. Right before corona I got offered a studio space. And then my mother died. Suddenly my life was filled with empty spaces and there was so much I had to paint. The first few weeks I was going crazy, I was painting day and night. 20 years of built up visions had to be put down on the canvas. It was intense, but it felt really good to be back in the old school again.

Ellen: In many of your paintings we can see large floral patterns. Why have you chosen those patterns?

Siri: There exists a beautiful contrast in Sápmi: the stillness of the land, as well as so much blossoming. A vibrant group of young Sami people are today fighting for rights and nature, so there is an exciting blooming of things. It really gives me hope. Also, global warming is coming, so there are different layers in these paintings. But it basically started when I found an old black and white picture of my grandmother. Like other old photographs of my family it was taken in the snow, and someone would be holding a sheep or a dog. They were farmers, so they had their stock close to them. My grandmother was sitting there in the snow with the dog, and she was wearing this delicate pajamas with a floral print that looked Chinese. Life is hard, especially back then, it’s a miracle that the farmers survived. She must have felt like a princess wearing that pajamas, since it was a huge contrast to what she was dealing with in her daily life. She became a widow quite early, so she was taking care of five kids and the farm all alone. It made me so happy to see her having this softness, something really pretty just for her. It became an inspiration for my painting, and because it was a black and white image I could decide all the colors, so they became pretty bright.

Maria: In one of your paintings there is a person poking a reindeer with a stick. Many of us have childhood memories of poking roadkills with a stick, because you knew you couldn’t touch it with your hands. I see many layers in this painting when talking to you, that connects to your background and your relationship to Sápmi. To be close and still far away at the same time. There are a lot of Sami artists that, like you, are not living and working in Sápmi but still contributes to the richness of the art community.

Siri: I have always felt like an outsider here in the Netherlands, but I feel the same in Sápmi, since I stand with one foot in each one of these cultures. I have been trying to put that feeling into the artworks. I am there but not fully, and it can be uneasy. I am an uptight Utrecht lady but I grew up in Sápmi, so if someone has to poke the reindeer, it is going to be me. In SDS, half of the people grew up in the south of Norway., I just moved a little bit more south – or at least my mother did. It is a hard topic, there are many sides to it.

Ellen: Did your mother share a lot of her memories and stories from her time in Sápmi?

Siri: My mother was a real storyteller and she often had us sitting down to share her stories. It is a precious thing that she had the chance to pass down all of her stories to us. When my mother died her brother and sister came to the Netherlands. It was really nice to have elders here to share stories and memories with. The puzzle of my mother’s memories combined with my own will always be incomplete because sometimes it feels like my memory is constructed of a bit of cliché and a collection of memories from others mixed together with my own. It is a patchwork. But maybe that is how a collective memory works, that we mix things together.

Ellen: What is your inspiration?

Siri: I’m inspired by my family. I have been going through all the photo albums from my mother’s childhood, and I find it totally abnormal that half of me is from this part of the world. It is such a special community, so different, and there is little known about here in the Netherlands. When my mother passed away I was afraid that it would be gone. All of a sudden it felt like a paradise bird almost flying away, I had to grab it.