A Flashy Fiasco & A Shiny Civic Space

The salvaged, rebuilt Vasa, which sank in 1628.

 Hello again, Blogonauts!

(A quick reminder: To see a photo in more detail, clicking or tapping on it will enlarge it.) 

Today I ventured to visit one of the most remarkable museums I've ever seen. It is entirely devoted to the enormous sailing ship, the Vasa, which 20 minutes into its maiden voyage in 1628, sank to the bottom of Stockholm's harbor.

More on the sinking & salvage in a moment. First, take a look at this ship! Even from afar, it stands out as an impressive 4-story-high behemoth.

But this is not just one of thousands of ships destined for Davy Jones locker. No, this vessel was a massive, royally commissioned work of both warfare and art. And thanks to the silt that covered most of it on the bottom of Stockholm's harbor, 98% of the Vasa, including most of its ornate carvings, survived through the centuries and is now on display.

The stern carvings on the Vasa

 

The Swedish Royal Coat of Arms on the stern of the Vasa

Carved animal heads decorated the cannon ports.

Further carvings along the side of the ship

A pouncing lion decorated the prow of the ship.

To quote an infomercial, "But wait! There's more!"

Not only were these details carved into the Vasa's structure. They were PAINTED with bright and fleshy pigments! The museum contained various examples of how the ship would have looked as it left on its first voyage: 

A replica (1/10 of the original's size) showing the paint as it would have been in 1628.

 

Painted replicas of details from Vasa's stern

A painted replica of the pouncing lion on the ship's prow

The ship's sinking, subsequent salvage, and current restoration are tales all their own. 

King Gustav Augustus wanted to have an impressive warship to help him police the Baltic Sea. The Dutch were known for their boat building skills, so he commissioned someone he thought was a reputable builder from the Netherlands.

But the architect was more scholarly endowed than practically experienced. And contrary to modern techniques, ships' architects in the 17th century generally made NO drawings. They simply wrote down measurements, and supervised to ensure the building was going as planned.

So with these limitations, the design proved to be fatally flawed. The Vasa was top-heavy due to insufficient width and weight held in the bottom of the boat to help hold it upright. (The design actually left no room even to add more weight once they realized this was a problem.)

On August 10, 1628, the Vasa launched from the ship building lot, cheered on by crowds and setting its cannons roaring to celebrate its passage. The wind was light, so the spartan crew had most of the sails unfurled.

Then, as the ship passed a gap between a pair of the islands, a stiff southerly breeze swept across the eastward sailing boat. This caused the Vasa to tilt to one side, tipping until the still-open cannon ports dropped below the surface. The ship began to take on water, and within 20 minutes of its launch, it had sunk to the bottom in 30 meters (100 feet) of water.

The ship was so large that its 3 masts still poked above the surface of the water. Holding onto those masts allowed most of the crew to survive. But the protruding masts blocked access to the Stockholm harbor, so soon the harbor masters cut the masts to restore ship traffic to Stockholm.

And until the 1950s it was just another tale of maritime woe. After a few centuries, the Vasa's exact location became a mystery. 

But a determined archaeologist named Anders Franzén set about looking to capture wood samples from bottom of the sea where the Vasa was said to have sunk. And by thunder, he found it!

Then in 1961, using a boatload of cables and a pair of barges, a salvage crew lifted the Vasa up and discovered much of it was still intact. Subsequent exploration around the bottom found most of the boards and material that the initial salvage left behind.

Reassembly worked much as it would if you pieced together a jigsaw puzzle. (That's assuming you like jigsaw puzzles. I would probably have given up, but they persevered.)

And as the documentary film I saw in the museum put it, if the Vasa hadn't sunk when & where it did, we would not have it to admire today. So the Gustav Augustus' disappointing debacle is our museum piece today.

So...after revisiting the Renaissance, I then trammed across town to tour the more modern Stockholm City Hall. Its claim to international fame is that here is where the Nobel Prize banquet is held each December 10 after the awards are handed out.

 

Stockholm's City Hall, completed in 1923.

The building has some classical elements, but it is only only about a century old. The interior houses both office space, a council chamber where Stockholm's 101 legislators meet once every two weeks, and a couple of impressive banquet halls.

The Blue Hall (which isn't really blue) where the Nobel banquet is held.

You may have seen the Blue Hall on television when the Nobel Prize banquet is held here. The photo fails to indicate the minute details in brickwork, column capitals, and various fixtures about the room.
 

The City Council Chamber

The most impressive room is the Golden Hall, which is bedazzled with mosaics. The golden walls are a combination of real gold leaf, combined with pieces of glass that carry the gold color to the viewer's eye. And during the Nobel Prize Banquet, the Golden Hall is turned into a dance floor.

The depiction of Stockholm as a female figure graces the front of the Golden Hall

 

 

 

A Roman character (just so you could see better the mosaic work)

The mosaic at the rear of the Golden Hall.

Finally, we'll wrap up today's posting with some photos of Stockholm's outstanding architecture.

The Nordic Museum

The central post office, gorgeous piece of Art Nouveau architecture

 

A photo of the skyline across the water, taken from the City Hall's lawn

That's just a sampler of my satisfying Stockholm Sunday! 

I'm grateful for ALL the comments (either sent by email just to me, or left at the bottom of each entry for everyone to read). And remember to identify yourself either by name or a discernible sobriquet. 

Blog to you later!

Larry