Attuning Tools, Materials and Muscles

An incredible project of reconstructing a Viking ship is taking place in Tønsberg at the moment (see http://www.osebergvikingskip.no/eng/) and is expected to take another autumn, winter and spring. The original ship called Oseberg, made by Vikings around the year 820, and later berried in Tønsberg area, is today exhibited at the Viking museum in Oslo.

The same ship has been reconstructed before, but this time not only the ship is being copied, but the entire process of building it. The building process is shaped by knowledge about Vikings’ tools and techniques; knowledge about wood’s diverse qualities, as well as how it might have been affected by climate during the centuries of growing; knowledge about the ship’s lines, curves, joints, surface; hydrodynamic, waterproof and other qualities, and much more. In short, the reconstruction of the full size replica is a huge multidisciplinary project that calls on complex combinations of knowledge and expertise. Additionally, local knowledge is constantly being produces in here-and-now situations where physical work challenges craft-men and volunteers to master the tools and approach the materials (wood, iron or wool) in contextually appropriate manners. This means that they have to pay close attention to the exact qualities of the wood piece they have in hand, they have to adjust their movements according to the material, tool and muscles in their bodies… and to accomplish some kind of harmony between embodied knowledge, reflection and imagination in order to solve emerging problems - for instance: how to change axe’s angles when cutting across a 70 cm thick oak.

I am telling this from my personal experience. Usually I use saw to cut wood, but Vikings did not have saws. Cutting wood "the Viking-way" seemed easy when we were shown how to do it; doing it oneself was a quite different experience – I am sure it was also different experience for each of us (my three 13 years old companions and me) who volunteered that day.


I experienced how important it was to keep changing the angle of the blade in order to make a “V”-like shape (or rather “U”-shape, as learned through experience) through the wood; I experienced how loose I should hold around the handle in order to prevent hurting my wrists; which back muscles to engage; in which position to drop the axe; how to slide my hands along the handle in order to control to blade’s direction; how to find the right rhythm to provide the best efficiency, and so on… Each of the boys seemed to explore their own cutting technique, for instance banding and straitening knees in order to canalise power from feet up to the axe’s blade. They generally gave the most they had, claiming that they were not tired, but the following days, I’ve heard, the experience left some noticeable traces in their bodies – nothing permanent, but something to help them remember.

If cutting with an axe was our daily occupation, as it was for many Vikings, we would have to listen to our bodies much better – we would have to learn how to attune the bodies, tools and materials as perfectly as possibly. We would have to learn much, much more…

Objects' Affordances

With wide number of qualities, objects around us afford us with different possibilities. Some objects are designed to function in specific ways (like chairs or cars), while natural objects and materials do not have any pre-assigned meanings – it is up to each of us to interpret possibilities embedded in their forms.

Qualities of an object can remind us of something else, thus, as well-behaving adults we would seldom wear a bucket. To be able to see possibilities in objects that already have preserved pre-assigned functions one needs to release imagination – and have self-confidence.

Some objects, textures or shapes remind us of something we’ve earlier experienced. See for instance how 13-year old William found similarities between a round shape of a branch and a glass: He grasped the possibility in the material, imagined its possible function and carved a glass-holder. See also how he used old pants to make back-support on the chair he designed and crafted by himself.

Intersubjectivity of Grief

Intersubjectivity is an ability to “attune” to others, to communicate without words. Stern (2003) says that intersubjectivity develops from the earliest interactions between an infant and an adult when they share attention, intentions and emotional conditions. This means that babies can communicate long before they can talk – but it can also mean that ability to intersubjectively connect with others is integrated in each of us, though we might not be aware of it.

During my interactions with 3-5 years old children it became so obvious for me how intuitive and embodied communication between us was, and how easily young children sensed my feelings and attitudes.

After the terror on July 22nd, people in Norway started to gather in different ways, with and without flowers, candles and torches. Such gatherings were different from any other contexts we’ve experienced. I wonder how we knew how to behave in appropriate ways?

Once about 300 of us gathered in a theatre, we could observe a woman, hand in hand with a young man, entering the stage. When they stopped, she spoke to us while he remained silent - with grief on his face. They walked again towards a table with candles. We could now imagine what was going to happen, still none conducted us to rise simultaneously n the moment the candles were lightened; None told us to stand there in complete silence - but we all did. There were no prescriptions to follow – it was amazing how we attuned to each other’s movements, invisible gestures, breath, gaze… as if we were fishes in a stream. I don’t know how fishes do it, but I experienced intensive attention of all of my senses – I felt like a huge satellite dish antenna seeking to capture some signs from the surroundings, and my actions emerged from the inside before I had time to reflect about them - I was not thinking through verbal means of thinking, but through my body.

I guess we are all able to “match other people’s moods and emotions because of our ability to ‘read’ the form, the vitality, and the intensity of their movements” (Herskind, 2008, p. 280). However, when emotions are strong and shared, when the participants are attentive and the reason for their gathering exactly the urge to share with each other’s, our apparently hidden intersubjective abilities can surprise us with their intensity.

Herskind, M. (2008). Movement analysis and identification of learning processes. In T. Schilhab, M. Juelskjær & T. Moser (Eds.), Leraning bodies (pp. 269-283). Copenhagen: Danmarks Pædagogiske Universitetsforlag.
Stern, D. N. (2003). Spebarnets intersubjective verden [The Interpersonal World of the Infant] (Ø. Randers-Pehrson, Trans.). Oslo: Gyldendah Akademisk.

The images show a sea of flowers in Oslo and a gathering of 10 000 people in Tønsberg.

The Point of No Return

The thesis was finished on Sunday morning, the last day of my three-year long full-time study. It was printed late in the evening, copied five times on Monday morning and personally delivered to my advisor Martina Keitsch in Oslo in the noon. I suppose that three of the examples are on their way to committee members: Marte Gulliksen, Michael Parsons and Halina Dunin-Woyseth. How it goes from here, is not up to me any longer…

The thesis has been titled “Negotiating Grasp: Embodied Experience with Three-dimensional Materials and the Negotiation of Meaning in Early Childhood Education”. An article based on the thesis has been published in the digital journal FORMakademisk. The article presents a few examples of children’s interactions with 3D-materials and suggests that children’s creative ideas come from interactions between their past and present experiences.