 Why do all my trolls look like this? Long noses, scraggie hair and beards, sharp teeth, sometimes with shrubbery and even trees growing on them. Every Norwegian viewer recognizes that these are not merely my trolls, they are Norwegian trolls. This video isn't meant to be an extensive dive into the history of trolls and Norwegian fairytales, but there are rather a quick and personal introduction to some of the things that may often be taken for granted by men in Norwegians, but may be completely unknown to outsiders, hopefully adding some details lesser known to all. If I get something wrong, then please comment under the video and say what it was and, you know, I read all my comments. And while you're at it, please like and subscribe. Now let's begin. Growing up in Norway, I could have gotten sick of trolls. Happy grinning trolls greeted tourists to my city while the school system sucked the joy out of any folktale it pushed at us. And the constant re-broadcasts of old and terribly slow film versions of the classic stories were venerated beyond any qualities they might have had. Even the movies of Ivo Caprino that so many Norwegians adore and that legend has it inspired George Lucas' pod racer scene in Star Wars Defant Menace lost their charms to me. But I was lucky enough to have parents who read Osburtian Moose fairytale collections for me long before I started becoming overexposed to it and grandparents who had grown up with oral stories of their own. So I knew there lay something darker and more exciting underneath and that darkness was most present in the illustrations for the books, particularly the drawings of Theodor Kittelsen and Erik Vannschott. And these were the trolls I imagined in the woods and mountains where I dreamed my days away. Fairytales were a part of building a Norwegian identity. Norway was under the rule of Denmark from 1380 to 1814 with some brief lapses and then from 1814 to 1905 we were under Swedish rule. Urban and literary Norwegians wrote in Danish and looked towards Europe. Fairytales however was a rural art form spoken in coarse Norwegian dialects often almost unintelligible for someone speaking practically Danish. So in the 19th century Norway was yearning for sovereignty. Peter Christen Osburtian began collecting fairytales around the country in the 1830s, inspired by the brothers Grimm in Germany and soon he was joined by Jörgen Moe. But as with the Grimm brothers their goal was not just to collect and study the fairytales but also to present them to a new urban audience specifically for children. Many of the old tales had to be reworked, rewritten and censored to fit the new and metropolitan Norwegian identity. And even things we consider dark and morbid today often are sterile versions of the old tales. A famously censored Norwegian tale tells of a princess so quick-witted that the king offers her hand to anyone who can get the last word in with her. Despite threats of torture if they fail, three brothers want to try and the youngest brother finds all sorts of items on his way. Like a dead magpie, an old shoe and a goat's horn. Meeting the princess, the eldest brother's mumble, gee it's hot in here. And she replies it's hotter in the fireplace. Then the mere sight of the red hot torture devices silences them, but the youngest brother answers that he can cook his magpie there. And to all the princess' objections he presents an item he can stuff and squeeze the magpie with until finally the princess has no answer. None of this ever made sense to me, but in the original ending the princess says the one thing you don't expect the princess to say. She says it's hotter up my ass. Which makes every successive item the hero aims to stuff up there even more hilarious. Not all the fairy tales were censored for royal anal japery. Some tales were censored for loot jokes, others for being almost pornographic. Some were given happy endings or got their blood and guts toned down. Some were changed for stylistic purposes and some were barely changed at all. But in an age of Disney and Nintendo, even the family friendly versions of these old tales seem refreshingly fortright. In the 19th century Danish was a soul-written language in Norway, but the oral stories Ospergen and Mu collected were in strange dialects from the mountains and fjords and they had to make them understandable for their intended audience. Reformation of the Norwegian language was a hot topic of the age, with some wanting to stay close to Danish and others building a new written language from the multitude of rural dialects. Ospergen and Mu's stories becoming a huge success, using it down to earth slightly Norwegianified Danish, had a big effect on this language debate. The books became the granddaddy of Norwegian fairytale collections and was embraced by the urban literary scene, including Henrik Ibsen with his folktale inspired Per Gunt and Edvard Grieg's monumental music for it that gave us the Hall of the Mountain King. The next step was to release an illustrated version of the tales and Ospergen set a couple of young artists to the task. Otto Sinding and Erik Varenschol did art for the first Ospergen and Mu illustrated folktale collections in 1879. Sinding was the more established of the two while Varenschol was in his mid-20s and while some of Sinding's drawings were darkly magical, his trolls today seemed sorely lacking. At a time there existed no rules for how to draw trolls and even though some of the fairytales described them with huge noses and eyes, Sinding's drawings seemed much more like normal giants. But Erik Varenschol's drawing to the boys who met the trolls in Heddal Woods is as far as I can find the first drawing that hints at modern Norwegian trolls. The tale tells of an encounter with three trolls who share one eye between them and Varenschol's drawings of them holding up their one eye, leading each other through the woods is haunting, with gruesome gnarled faces and long huge noses and energetic black inclines. This was a taste of trolls to come. For the second illustrated fairytale compilation in 1882, Ospergen was so pleased with Varenschol's art that he offered him the whole book and Varenschol brought on Teodor Kittelsen one of many times he championed his younger friend. When worries came up that Kittelsen's art was too scary, Varenschol insisted that Kittelsen could give something to the fairytales that no one else could. They had become friends while studying art in Germany. Varenschol was from a well-to-do family and his brilliant technique made him an early success, while Kittelsen came from more meager means. His hometown chipped in to pay for his art education, but every part of his art career was a struggle. And while Kittelsen's early illustrations stayed very close to Varenschol's style, they had a weird dark and funny tone that was unique to him, because Varenschol had been right. It was this style that would define Norwegian trolls forever. Fairytales seemed to be just one of many successful artistic ventures for Varenschol, while for Kittelsen it was his calling. And if the Danish publishers disagreed, then Varenschol said, What do men who grew up in the streets of Copenhagen or on flat islands know about trolls? But while Varenschol enjoyed considerable success, Kittelsen never really broke through. His financials were a mess, and he was considered something of a stranger to the art world. He wrote poetry and short illustrated books and continued producing and reproducing his fairytale imagery. When he died, presumably from undiagnosed multiple sclerosis, Kittelsen was still relatively obscure and underappreciated, while Varenschol was an established name. And now, a hundred years later, the tables have turned, and Kittelsen is a household name, while Varenschol is relatively obscure and underappreciated. Growing up, it was Varenschol's work that appealed more to me than Kittelsen, as through the mists of history I saw him as the underdog, and I was fascinated by his technique. But without a doubt, it was Kittelsen's iconic trolls that became a part of the Norwegian identity, and that you find in tourist baubles and stamps all over the land. With hindsight, I have to admit that my own art has more of the weirdness of Kittelsen than the precision of Varenschol. But together they created the look of trolls, making motifs that Jung Bauer, the father of the Swedish trolls, would take further in his own style. And Bauer is a key influence on Brian Froud, whose work on the movie The Dark Crystal has influenced countless of artists today working in animation, movies and video games. Danish woodcarver Thomas Dum would likely have been aware of the Norwegian trolls when he created the Good Luck Trolls in the 1950s, spawning the hellishly neon-coloured troll infestation on key rings and cinemas worldwide. Kittelsen also has a darker legacy than his fairytale work. Svarit de Doen, his book about the plague personified as Pesta, is his darkest and perhaps best book, depicting the plague as a cold-faced old hag with a broom and a rake. When she uses the rake, some of your farm might survive, but when she uses the broom, all are swept away. Kittelsen made the book in an age of new scientific insights on infectious diseases, while cholera swept the world. The black metal scene in the early 90s embraced this book. Saturikon's debut record had art by the today legendary Balgent tattoo artist Janke Vise Hansen, but inside was Kittelsen's Pesta Kommer, which they also used as cover for their re-release. Bursum, the one-man band of murderer, turned neo-nazi conspiracy theory geek Varg Vikernes, also started with art by Vise Hansen, but then used Kittelsen for his albums Vis Lysetados and Philosophem. Thus letting Kittelsen reach legions of black-clad fans outside Norway. And so the legacy of Kittelsen and Wadenshawl is still living through new generations of artists. French artist David Thierry is, in my opinion, one of their most direct artistic descendants. With one foot in Kittelsen's art and one in Jungbauer's art, and his soul fully immersed in black metal, his extremely exquisite pencils lend a beautiful sorrow to his trolls. Since 1989 his art has been featured on the covers of bands like Behemoth, Primordial, Mortis and Ishan. And while his trolls are monumental, I'd like to point to his work on Ishan's EP called Telemarik, an homage to the part of Norway that gave birth to Ishan and to Emperor. With his Telemarik art, David displays an immaculate sensitivity to the landscapes of Norway, where just like in some of Kittelsen or Nikolai Astrup's work, the trolls are unseen but still present. To me, there's no greater tribute than that. The fairy tales collected by Osbyrnshun and Mu became a part of our Norwegian identity from our independence in 1905 to this very day, with names from folk stories used for everything from oil platforms to government declarations. Wadenshawl and Kittelsen's art gave us the first true images of the trolls, and with the release of movies such as Trollhunters and Troll, both highly recommended movies, they are experiencing a well-deserved resurgence. Personally, I can see them in every piece of folklore art I do, so much so that when I did my retelling of the fairy tale Fölgesvennen, the traveling companion, I had to consciously avoid opening my Osbyrnshun and Mu book in fear of being too influenced by their art. Still, their presence is felt in every brushstroke. Thank you, Erik Wadenshawl and Theodor Kittelsen. There's so many details about Kittelsen and Wadenshawl and the fairy tales that had to be left out, both out of my ignorance and for brevity's sake. And while Osbyrnshun and Mu and Kittelsen and Wadenshawl helped shape the Norwegian identity, there were many people who were left out of this identity. And even with so much that's been lost to time, there's a treasure trove of Sami tales left, that perhaps never have gotten quite the same visual identity. Not to mention the tales of the Jewish and Travellers and Finnish and other minorities that also were and are a part of this country, yet are kept hidden from our public consciousness. But this will have to wait for another video. There's always more research to do. The music for this video is Leibried's fantastic soundtrack that he made for my retelling of Fölgesvennen. I'm so incredibly happy with how the music turned out and I can't thank him enough. My retelling of Fölgesvennen, The Travelling Companion, was made for the exhibition Sölvpustet, Oseana, Kunst and Kulturcenter, where it's exhibited together with works by Kittelsen, Wadenshawl, Jund Bauer, and other giants of old like Ise Dahl, Nikolaj Astrup and Peter Balka. Contemporary artists like Sværre Målling, Tom Kosmo, Rina C. Lindgren and Vanna Bolles and video game art by even Mel Amundsen, Gregor Shurutkovsky, local studios, rain games and d-pad studios, and international heavy hitters like the art from Assassin's Creed Valhalla, God of War Ragnarok and Horizon Zero Dawn. It's a true honor to be exhibited in such company. The exhibition is open until the 13th of August 2023 at Oseana in Ouseiro for 45 minutes outside of Bergen, Bergen. The art for Fölgesvennen as well as all my trolls will of course be released for free use under a creative commons attribution license. That means you can download the art, use it as you please, change it, distribute it and even sell it as long as you credit me as artist. As I said before, like and subscribe and comment if you liked the video as well. And if you haven't yet, do check out my retelling of Fölgesvennen, The Traveling Companion, which is up here or up here, it's somewhere on your screen. Thank you and goodbye.