Colonial Fantasies

Abstract

This article explores exotic and orientalized motifs in the Swedish illustrated press at the end of the nineteenth century. I argue that one way to be part of the European colonial project was to engage in colonial practices, and among these were the mass production of exotic and Oriental motifs through the illustrated press that became prevalent throughout Scandinavia. Furthermore, I describe how illustrations were part of a broader media landscape in late nineteenth-century Sweden than previously perceived. To understand its relevance today I discuss briefly how Swedish artists have been engaged with colonial and exotic motifs. The article concludes that the various colonial visual media cultures have a long tradition in Swedish media culture which still engage questions of race and representation.

KEYWORDS:

• Sweden
• illustrated mass press
• nineteenth century
• exotic and orientalized motifs
• colonial visual culture
• race

Introduction

In 1890, the Oriental Maze Salon in Stockholm opened its doors to the public—the press was delighted (Figure 1).¹ The various wax tableaux on display spoke of a different, exotic world. The papers described how the exhibition cajoled the visitor into feeling, seeing, and experiencing the ‘real Orient.’ The Swedish public could enter on a cold, winter day and be transported into an Oriental fantasy then return to the bustling snow-covered streets of Stockholm.² However, the Oriental Maze Salons were mostly seen in the bigger cities like the capital or towns like Gothenburg. But it was not the only event for the audience to ‘see and experience the Orient’. Exotic motifs were part of a wide media leisure culture and among those were the illustrated press which was distributed all over Sweden.³ The article will illuminate exotic and Orientalized motifs in the illustrated press with particular attention paid to what occurred in Sweden at the end of the nineteenth century.⁴ This is a visual media culture historical study, and my contribution will foremost be to illuminate how the nineteenth century colonial visual cultures were reproduced in Sweden. The aim is to describe and analyse the illustrations in the press and discuss how these should be seen in larger framework in which the art salons and other media cultures were of importance.

FIGURE 1 The Oriental Maze Salon mirror labyrinth at Hamngatan 18B, Stockholm, 1890. Courtesy of Stockholm City Museum, Stockholm. Photo: Frans G Klemming

I am interested in the development of ‘latent colonialism’, to paraphrase literary historian Susanne Zantop’s idea, as a general urge for colonial possession, rather than ‘manifest colonialism’ aimed at a specific object.⁵ Zantop’s study of Germany’s colonial legacy and imagination analysed how a German national identity was formulated. Through readings of historical, anthropological, literary, and popular texts, Zantop has investigated imaginary colonial encounters of ‘Germans’ with ‘natives’ in late-eighteenth- and early-nineteenth-century literature. Zantop has displayed how these colonial fantasies acted as a base for actual colonial ventures in Africa, South America, and the Pacific. Zantop’s notion of colonial fantasies and colonial imaginations is vital for this article’s understanding of a nation’s urge to be part of colonial endeavours without any significant overseas colonies. Sweden sold its colony Saint Barthlemy (in the north-eastern Caribbean) to France in 1878 and had no other overseas colonies in the late nineteenth century. Zantop explains how colonial fantasies offered an arena for creating an imaginary community and constructing a national identity in opposition to the perceived racial, sexual, ethnic, or national characteristics of their others both outside and inside Germany, Europeans, and non-Europeans alike. Nonetheless, in juxtaposition to German colonial fantasies, which developed into a colonial reality, the Swedish overseas colonial fantasies continued imagined. Therefore, the numerous mediated representations of the colonial world, which could be found in the late nineteenth century, are interesting and yield questions about the presence of colonial cultures in Sweden both in the past and in our own time.

For that reason, I will briefly highlight the contemporary debate provoked by artists problematizing colonial history. There is a long tradition of staging the exotic and the Oriental in Europe and in Scandinavia that can be linked to colonial practices.⁶ In the twenty-first century, several Swedish artists problematized the notion of representing ‘the Other’ and colonial narratives.⁷ For example, in 2016, the Swedish artist Makode Linde added fuel to an already heated debate on race and colonial memory with his exhibition at Kulturhuset in Stockholm.⁸ The controversy began well before the exhibition opened with the title itself. Linde made the decision to name it ‘The return of the N-King,’ a direct reference to the children’s book Pippi Longstocking (1945) by Swedish author Astrid Lindgren.⁹ In 2021, artist Salad Hilowle investigated, in his exhibition Vanus Labor, Black representation in Swedish visual media culture. Hilowle continued the debate on the current state of remembering colonial entanglements and Swedish participation in colonial practices, which have often been seen as either too small to be of significance or non-existent.¹⁰

The idea that racism, exoticism, and colonial practices are absent in Sweden is quite a remarkable phenomenon and one that has been explored for a long time by Scandinavian scholars of the humanities.¹¹ Literary historian Lars Jensen points to the notion that there is an assumption that Sweden and Scandinavia were never part of the colonial world, rather, outside of it.¹² However, this interpretation of Sweden's past is both troubling and wrong. As I have shown in my previous research, colonialism was very much a part of common media culture in Sweden in the final decades of the nineteenth century and the existence of the Oriental Maze Salons is one example of this.¹³ I argue that one of the main contributors to perpetuating ideas on race, exoticism and colonial narratives was the illustrated press. I make the case that one intention of the illustrated press was to ‘educate’ the public as to how one should look at or see ‘the other’ and by extension, to understand one’s own role in the European colonial project with its mission to civilize and in which a shared community was created.¹⁴ It is also important to consider the colonial behaviours exhibited within Sweden itself towards, for example, the Sámi people which is crucial to understanding Sweden’s colonial heritage.¹⁵

The illustrated press presented numerous theories on physiognomy and the interconnected fields of anthropology and race science in articles as well as, for example, in reports from the colonial world, news stories and anecdotes.¹⁶ This way of seeing demanded a straightforward narrative and a clear set of guidelines pertaining to the image to ensure that the audience not misunderstand the core message. For example, the many depictions of everyday life in the Orient which lined the pages of the illustrated press, stimulated a desire for a civilization process in the colonies—the colonized population was portrayed as ‘unintelligent,’ ‘lazy’ and ‘in need of civilizing.’¹⁷ However, seeing based on race was not exclusively an issue for the illustrated mass press. The article will outline how illustrations were part of a broader media landscape in late nineteenth-century Sweden than previously perceived.

Patriotic Cultivation: New Guidelines for the Illustrated Press

Press historian Birgit Petersson has claimed that three points can be made about the Swedish press at the turn of the nineteenth century. Firstly, the introduction of the mass production of inexpensive print material, a mass production of papers seeking to influence political opinions, and finally, a mass production of religious media.¹⁸ The illustrated family magazine was not, however, seen as a Scandinavian invention or even new in the 1880s.¹⁹ What distinguished the illustrated press from the 1860s and 1870s was, for example, that the predecessor Svenska Familj-Journalen was a monthly magazine and a rather expensive one. This all changed when family magazines became much more affordable weekly publications.²⁰

In the first issue of the Swedish illustrated paper Ny Illustrerad Tidning in 1880, an appendix was attached with new guidelines for the weekly magazine distributed on Saturdays. The paper was established in 1865 and succeeded Illustrerad Tidning (I.T.).²¹ It was the Illustrated London News though, that had the greatest influence on the magazine.²² These new directives for Ny Illustrerad Tidning not only claimed that illustrations were crucial but that the very existence of the paper was irreplaceable. The aim for the new magazine was clear from the start, it was to serve as an ‘illustrative vessel’ [Sw. illustrerande organ] that depicted both historical and contemporary events, highlighted prominent men and women, and portrayed the arts at home and abroad.²³ The focus was primarily on illustrations and the editorial staff considered the emphasis on Swedish artists—Gustaf Cederström, Carl Gustaf Hellkvist, Carl Larsson, Jenny Nyström and Mårten Eskil Winge, just to mention a few—to be of great significance. The quarter-folio sized paper included illustrations that utilized techniques such as woodcut, xylography, phototype and zincography.²⁴

The editorial board decided that the newspaper needed a firm structure so in the appendix the subscriber could read about the new features. Advertising was to be limited to two sections per issue. Moreover, the paper would concentrate on publishing essays, poems, plays and original translations from foreign authors. A fair amount of emphasis was put on reviews of music, literature, opera, and the visual arts, as well as reports on contemporary political events. Apart from these topics, the paper also included short stories, statistics, chess games, proverbs, letters of correspondence, telegrams, and feuilletons.²⁵ The editorial board was proud to present a brand-new paper that consisted of eight pages, and in one year, they pointed out, nearly 300 xylographs were published. The cost for an annual subscription was 12 Swedish kronor, 7 kronor for six months, and 25 öre for a single issue. The magazine was distributed across the entire country, with post offices, newsstands and bookshops distributing the paper from north to south. Residents of Stockholm were offered free delivery.²⁶

The appendix of Ny Illustrerad Tidning illuminates how the editorial staff had to renegotiate the way advertisements, texts and illustrations were presented and perceived. The need to provide an explanation to readers, I would claim, also demonstrates how the mass media felt it necessary to inform and direct the public as to how one should ‘read’ and ‘see’ these new settings. There were two additional modifications the editors desired. One was an effort to introduce more Finnish authors to their subscribers.²⁷ This was perhaps an attempt to attract a wider Finnish audience. At the time Finland lacked the equivalent of a Ny Illustrerad Tidning. Secondly, the overall aim of the paper was to promote and educate the public to cultivate patriotism. [Sw. fosterländsk odling].²⁸ I would argue that this cultivation of patriotism illuminated the key objective of the magazine and other family-oriented magazines; it implied that the paper had educational ambitions, something quite the opposite of the previous magazines where educational aspects was subordinate to entertainment value.

In Nordisk familjebok [Nordic Family Encyclopedia] (1887), the magazine was described as serving to ‘highlight the most extraordinary events as well as to take subscribers to new aesthetic heights.’²⁹ Therefore, Ny Illustrerad Tidning will be of crucial significance in investigating how visual representations of colonial experiences were displayed and given meaning. The aim of directing the subscriber to ‘a higher aesthetic standard’ was directly taken into consideration in the illustrations. Aesthetic standards followed the rigorous conventions of classical traditions of the time. Academic painting styles still followed a strict hierarchy at the end of the nineteenth century: biblical and historical painting followed portraiture, landscape and still life. Realism was dominant in both the arts and literature, although this was also becoming a point of contention.

Another prominent illustrated family magazine at the time was the Danish, more widely known Illustreret Familj-Journal, started by Carl Aller in Copenhagen in 1877.³⁰ The Swedish edition was called Illustrerad Familj-Journal and subsequently changed its name to Allers Illustrerad Familj-Journal when it was moved to Helsingborg in 1894. Its mission included both entertainment and pedagogical elements. The dominant visual themes were landscapes and animals; genre motifs, such as family life and the representation of children; religious motifs (especially in the Christmas and Easter issues); mythology, both from Antique and Norse literature; and portraits of famous and anonymous people.

The family-oriented magazine had recurring sections: novels and short stories; poems; accounts from everyday life and nature; illustrations without text; and the last page was dedicated to crosswords, riddles, and humour. As it was meant to appeal to the whole family, more serious reports on the latest in science and society were mixed in with reports of contemporary events. Illustrerad Familj-Journal also had educational ambitions for their readers and a desire to cultivate patriotism. Thus, the owner-editors of the nineteenth century press seemed to feel the need to explicitly clarify their motives and ambitions for their readers. Illustrated newspapers like Illustrated London News took their role seriously and considered their periodicals to have significant influence on modern society. So too did the Scandinavian illustrated press.³¹ As visionaries, editors were aware of the historical role their publications were playing and spoke openly of their importance in statements describing their magazines’ ambitions.

The illustrated newspapers surveyed here belong to what historian Michèle Martin has defined as ‘the second generation of illustrated press’.³² The first generation began in 1832 with Charles Knight's Penny Magazine. The Penny Magazine was not a newspaper—it was, to some extent, inspired by encyclopedism, and its content was often comprised of ‘useful knowledge,’ namely, information that aimed at educating the public.³³ This type of magazine was often referred to as picturesque because it offered images of art or scenery. The aim was to vulgarize various aspects of the arts and sciences to educate but not to ‘disseminate information.’³⁴ There were many reasons for the delay of the arrival of the first illustrated papers in Great Britain and the emergence of similar papers in other European cities and in North America. First, success required a minimum number of people that could read the language of any published paper. Also important was the existence of freedom of speech and the easy dissemination of information. The outcome of the paper also involved a certain level of literacy among the people where it was distributed. Literacy rates in Scandinavia were relatively high in comparison to other European cities and the press industry was growing rapidly. Equally crucial was the expansion of the post and railway systems as well as the financial and technical ability to scale up production processes in the areas of drawing, engraving, printing.³⁵

Nevertheless, these magazines, with their large circulations, should by no means be seen as the democratization of the press.³⁶ On the contrary, all these papers were owned and edited by members of the middle class. The message was coming from the top down, and the working class had little to do with its content. Apart from the above factors, the illustrated magazine should be, as previously noted, considered a commercial product simply adapting to the market to attract more readers. At the same time, journalists were developing a new understanding of what was worthy of coverage.³⁷ News, whether illustrated or in print, became an instrument of competition instead of one of knowledge.³⁸ Hence, what became important was not what the public should know, but what it wanted to know. This tendency became the rule beginning in the early 1840s. The owner-editor's intentions were expressed in the introductory editorial of the first issue. It served to inform and, to some degree, educate the public, but first and foremost, to give readers what they were presumed to want as evidenced in the appendix of Ny Illustrerad Tidning in 1880. Based on this assumption, what readers were interested in was not simply to read stories from the colonial world but to see them as well.

Exotic and Orientalized Motifs in the Illustrated Press

Almost all the images in the illustrated press were accompanied by an explanatory note. On only rare occasions did magazines publish images without supplementary descriptions. The attached text specifically explained what the reader was viewing and, more importantly, how he or she was to interpret the image within the context. This could also be seen in the different policies that the illustrated press was giving. The cultivation of patriotism was supported by a combination of words and images, the images deemed in need of explanation should they risk being misinterpreted. The cultivation of patriotism took form in articles about Swedish art, culture, traditions, and history. Swedish authors, scientists, politicians, and royalty were given in-depth coverage. In the second half of the nineteenth century, for example, lengthier articles about Adolf Nordenskiöld, botanist Carl Linnaeus and opera singer Jenny Lind were common. Some of these celebrities were frequent subjects. However, I would argue, besides the more obvious Sweden-related subjects, the cultivation of patriotism was also included in articles that juxtaposed the European way of life with that of the colonial world and its various visual representations.

The Orientalist art genre was a dominant theme and appeared monthly. It served to illuminate the assumptions of the Middle East as well as to firmly differentiate it from the European and Scandinavian way of living. Orientalist art was a genre of painting pioneered by French artists, but further developed by those from Britain and several other European countries. These painters were occupied mainly with Middle Eastern and North African subjects. Orientalist art contained several themes, among the more popular being biblical narratives, harems, battle scenes and everyday life motifs. These motifs did not necessarily deal with contemporary political events per se, but it could be argued, were highly political in and of themselves, in a manner like that which historian Michéle Martin has proposed.³⁹ Accordingly, the illustrated press constructed the idea of nationhood and good citizenship by publishing images that pretended to be apolitical. To paraphrase Martin, ‘although they were highly political, they were stripped of all signs of politics.’⁴⁰ The pictures were meant to level the class effect while strengthening the cultural aspect. At the same time, these strategies of publication were also simply part of a wider marketing tactic.

The art salons of Europe flourished with Orientalist paintings, a popular motif for the art market. Artists such as Eugéne Delacroix, Jean Léon Gérôme and John Fredrick Lewis became well known when their paintings were reproduced via illustrations in the illustrated press and other ephemeral items. Art historians have, moreover, discussed Orientalist art as it relates to imperial ideology and to varying degrees analysed the relationship to the Orientalist discourse of literary historian Edward W. Said.⁴¹ Art historian Linda Nochlin has specifically discussed the various deficiencies in defining Orientalist painting: first there is the absence of history, secondly, the absence of the Europeans, and thirdly, the apparent absence of art. ⁴² The latter, Nochlin states, has to do with the artist's approach to realism. As Leo Bersani noted, ‘The seriousness of realist art is based on the absence of any reminder of the fact that it is really a question of art’.⁴³ The fourth characteristic that Nochlin observes is the absence of work and industry. ‘The Orientalist artist tries to conceal his [her] art, insisting on a plethora of details which authenticate the total visual field as a simple, artless reflection of a supposed Oriental reality’.⁴⁴

The examples below illuminate two motifs from Orientalist quotidian life: an image with an explanatory text and one without an attached narrative, something, in fact, quite uncommon. It is important to highlight that the illustrations demanded a different way of understanding images. The last picture without explanatory text was, one might presume, left to the observer to interpret.

‘En skola i Tunis’ [A School in Tunis] based on a drawing by German painter E. Beringer published in Ny Illustrerad Tidning (1880) was the quintessential Orientalist motif, popular in the salons and as an illustration in family-oriented magazines (Figure 2). The illustration depicts a closed dark room with only one small, barred window. The young students are on the floor and so is their teacher. The teacher is holding a long stick, and the students are sitting silently and listening to their teacher. One student stands behind the group. The rug, which the teacher sits on, and a pillar divides the room into two separate spheres. The attached explanatory text claimed that ‘we,’ those of us who were accustomed to light, spacious classrooms with neat sets of desks in good order, would be interested in the direct comparison with that of a school in the ‘Orient.’ The report continued, highlighting the fact that small children might feel the use of the stick by the teacher, visible in the illustration itself. Furthermore, the school in the ‘Orient’ was said to resemble that of an older country school where the teacher dictated and ‘the small students’ repeated the words of their instructor. The adjoining text is an explicit commentary on the way of life in the Orient, implying that ‘knowledge’ was static and old-fashioned. The subscriber presented with these images along with the visual and textual reinforcements one could assume had the ability to compare these with the European way of life. Modernity was the key word in the narrative, and the reader would easily recognize where to place themselves in relation to the above image and narrative—namely, in close connection to modern Europe and modern knowledge.

FIGURE 2 ‘En skola i Tunis’ [A School in Tunis] based on a drawing by German painter E. Beringer published in Ny Illustrerad Tidning (1880). Courtesy of National Library, Stockholm

The other example, from an another issue, ‘Orientalisk rättskipning. Efter en tafla av T. Moragan’ [Oriental Justice. Based on a painting by T. Moragan] (Figure 3) (1889) was published without accompanying text. The illustration of a court scene was particularly detailed. In it there is a group of elderly men—the members of the court—sitting on a carpet contemplating a prisoner who is seen chained and half naked. In the foreground the reader can see two other men—guards on horses—which in turn gaze out from the picture frame. In the background there is a large gathering of both men and women. To place the court outside may have served to reinforce the notion that the Orient was underdeveloped and, typical of the European perspective of the time, justice in the Orient was portrayed as both cruel and uncivilized.

FIGURE 3 ‘Orientalisk rättskipning. Efter en tafla av T. Moragan’ [Oriental Justice. Based on a painting by T. Moragan] published in Ny Illustrerad Tidning (1889). Courtesy of National Library, Stockholm

The architecture was precise and detailed, in line with Orientalist painting and realist tradition. Art historian Linda Nochlin has highlighted the claim of authenticity and the photographic approach, which itself was a strategy to hide the fact that the artists were elaborating on made-up events.⁴⁵ Time stands still in Orientalist paintings and in the example above, but this is true of all imagery deemed ‘picturesque,’ to quote Nochlin, including nineteenth century representations of peasants in France itself.⁴⁶ It is unclear what historical era the above image was set in nor whether it was contemporary. The Middle East was depicted in this manner regardless of period. Important to notice is that static figures and decayed buildings were also a common feature of pastoral paintings of the idealized classical world and then suggested the cradle of the Western civilization, but Nochlin implies that the interpretation was quite different when it concerned the Middle East. What distinguishes Orientalist painting, and which in this case have been reproduced as an illustration in the mass press, is that ‘Orientalist painting depicts a world of timeless customs and rituals, untouched by the historical processes that were drastically altering Western society at the time’.⁴⁷ The architecture has also been discussed as a moral setting—the buildings torn, old and decaying, imply that they did not have control and needed civilizing and of modernizing—an architecture moralisée.⁴⁸

The title Oriental Justice and the motif of the illustration communicates to the viewer that there was no structure, no court hall, no lawyers, and no legal documents on display. ‘Oriental justice’ is portrayed as something that is carried out in the public square and pertaining to older traditions. Regardless of whether the observer interpreted the image as contemporary or ancient, Oriental justice communicated that it was far from the Western legal process and, therefore, uncivilized. In both illustrations the absence of a European presence was evident, though assumed to be that of the observer's perspective. An apparent absence of work and industry (modernity) could also be examined, as both images display older traditions.

Imperial historian John M. MacKenzie’s work has re-evaluated Edward W. Said’s approach and suggests that Western art received genuine inspiration from the East, and that the Western approach has been much more ambiguous and interactive than Said or Linda Nochlin has acknowledged.⁴⁹ In short, MacKenzie asserts that the Orient has proven to be an inspiration to the European arts, even though it was constructed during the imperial period. Contrary to Nochlin’s analysis of French Orientalist painters like Jean Louis Gérôme, MacKenzie has suggested that the images were idealized depictions of the Middle East. For example, a decaying building might represent restoration ambitions.⁵⁰ MacKenzie also emphasizes that Nochlin’s examination of French Orientalist painters is relevant only to a smaller number of works and should not be seen as valid for all Orientalist art, something with which I agree entirely. To refer to the Orient in nostalgic and idealized terms could also simply imply that it belonged to the past. There were several articles and illustrations depicting, for example, ancient India and Egypt, both admired for their history. Yet when it came to contemporary events the reports were unanimous—the civilizing mission was inevitable, and their cultures were considered on the verge of extinction.⁵¹

It is clear from the above examples from the illustrated press that they were meant to provoke comparison with the observer's own country, which was assumed to be Europe. This meant that it was crucial the reader be engaged to visualize the ‘missing image.’ The Oriental commonplace life motif served to urge the reader into visualizing his or her own position, but it also encouraged the viewer to compare, control and conclude their own image narrative with or without the attached explanation. Observational behaviours like those of the exhibition hall were found in the illustrated press—the different categorizing, evaluating, and determining of its place in the racial hierarchy and pertinence to the European colonial project and mission to civilize. Thus, I would argue that the Orientalist everyday life motifs were there for the onlooker to compare these with their own place in the world, as the above text image notes.

Moreover, some of the illustrations that depicted ancient times included such terminology in the title of the work. For example, the illustration ‘En Egyptisk dams toalett under den XIX: de Dynastien (1450–1200 f. Kr.), [An Egyptian Lady’s Beauty Parlor during the XIX Dynasty (1450–1200 AD] (1889) (Figure 4) portrays a lady in her room with her maids. The three women in the picture are all shown in profile—their noses, large eyes and small mouths are accentuated. They have black straight hair and wear lavishly decorated clothing and jewelry. This illustration was said to appeal to female readers. The accompanying explanatory text states that it was very authentic—this was not an illustration of the imagination. On the contrary, the artist was said to have consulted contemporary documents and famous scientists for its accuracy.⁵²

FIGURE 4 ‘En Egyptisk dams toalett under den XIX: de Dynastien (1450–1200 f. Kr.)’ [An Egyptian Lady’s Beauty Parlor during the XIX Dynasty (1450–1200 AD] published in Ny Illustrerad Tidning (1889). Courtesy of National Library, Stockholm

In these images, the depiction of ancient times in Egypt was meant to reinforce the old history which was seen as part of Europe's distant past and long-gone civilization. I would argue that MacKenzie’s argument about the idealization of the Orient should be taken in consideration and especially his idea about restoration ambitions. The knowledge of the connections between Egyptian and Greek ancient history became more apparent during the second half of the nineteenth century. Of course, meeting points had existed before the nineteenth century, a result of the long history of mercantile, diplomatic, and artistic relations. But during the nineteenth century, archaeological and historical excavations of the older Orient took place on a much greater scale. Images from ancient places were reproduced in various media and depictions by British, French, and German artists, as well as Scandinavian painters, began shortly thereafter to appear in the Scandinavian illustrated press, in ephemeral creations, at wax museums and exhibition halls.⁵³ Large compilations were translated into the Scandinavian languages and the new scientific approaches became familiar to a wider audience.⁵⁴ Most of the Scandinavian painters did not travel far—some of them reached southern Spain—but a few ventured to North Africa and beyond.⁵⁵ Those who travelled as well as those who stayed put were dependent on literary sources for their works and these were generally fictional ones for example Lord Byron’s The Giaour (1813).⁵⁶ When the novel One Thousand and One Nights popularly known as The Arabian Nights was republished in the late nineteenth century it helped spread the vogue for exoticism.

Depictions of biblical motifs in Orientalized style were also an interrelated aspect. The Swedish artist Julius Kronberg excelled in this genre and the Egyptian motifs. These were popularized and the frequent subjects of family magazines and ephemeral items. For example, Kronberg’s David and Saul' was published in Ny Illustrerad Tidning in 1885 and on view in Stockholm at Arvsfurstens Palats the same year. King Oscar, I inaugurated the exhibition, part of a fundraising effort to support the Stockholm College. The board chose ten masterpieces and Kronberg’s Orientalized motif received the most attention. The exhibition room was filled with Orientalized artefacts and carpets and the exotic decor was very appreciated by both the press and the audience.⁵⁷ Oriental everyday life motifs were plentiful in other visual media as well, as in the magazine När och fjärran that included reports from Egypt, Morocco, and Algeria. Travel journals, novels and non-fiction were often illustrated with Orientalist motifs. And Jordens länder, a popular textbook introduced the reader to foreign countries including a great many illustrations. Exhibitions at the National Art Gallery and smaller venues included Orientalist art in their repertoire, and this became even more common from the 1880s and onwards.⁵⁸ In 1866 The Swedish Association for Art displayed the Swedish artist Henric Ankarcrona’s ‘Karavan i öknen’ [Caravan in the desert] and in 1879 Ankarcrona showed ‘Attack på fyrkant—beduiner anfallla suavbataljon’ [Attack at the Square—Bedouins Attacking the Suav Battalion]. In 1883 ‘Badet i Alhambra’ [The Bath in Alhambra] by Frans Wilhelm Odelmark was exhibited. In the same year, art patron Theodore Blanch opened the art gallery at The Royal Garden in Stockholm. One of the first pieces to be on display there was Julius Kronberg’s ‘Kleopatra’ [Cleopatra]. Kronberg’s painting had received critical acclaim at its exhibition in Copenhagen the previous year and drew plenty of attention in Stockholm as well. But it was not only these exhibitions. The more well-known events such as the celebrated exhibition Från Seines strand in 1883 included Orientalist paintings in their repertoire too. These various representations of Orientalist art contributed to, as art historian Reina Lewis claimed, the spreading of ideas about what the Orient was like. ⁵⁹ Furthermore, these images came to reinforce these notions for a wider audience, not just in the art salons but as reproduced images in the illustrated press by European and Scandinavian artists.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the mass production and circulation of exotic and Oriental motifs in the illustrated press and Oriental imagery in art created visual strategies that separated ‘the other’ into a strict racial hierarchy and visualize the European colonial project or mission to civilize. Sweden did not have a large colonial enterprise outside its borders. Nevertheless, it was keen to participate in the race for new territory. One way to be part of the European colonial project was to engage in colonial practices, and among these were the mass production of exotic and Oriental motifs through the illustrated press that became prevalent throughout Scandinavia.

However, important to notice is the difference between the main imperial powers since the concept of empire was a national project rather than an ‘European’ project.⁶⁰ In the case of Sweden it was rather contributing to a transnational European imperial project due to its lack of overseas colonies. This should be understood in relation to ‘latent colonialism’ to use Zantop’s concept, as a general urge for colonial possession, rather than ‘manifest colonialism’ targeted at a specific object.⁶¹

Let us revisit contemporary debate on colonial entanglements by Swedish artists. For example, in Makode Linde’s exhibition the white visitors were asked to wear paper bags over their heads, forced to view the exhibition only through small peepholes. In contrast to the Oriental Maze Salon where Scandinavians were meant to transport themselves into a fantasy world simulating the authentic. To be looked at something you are not and to elevate the issues of racism, colonial narratives and representation is evidence of a Sweden that is coming to terms with its colonial past. The illustrated press as discussed in this article was only one of the many visual media that shaped and transformed colonial narratives, representation, and race in Sweden in the latter part of the nineteenth century. These ideas are still very pertinent to contemporary Sweden.

Disclosure Statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1 Vägvisare genom Orientaliska irrgångs-salongen, 18–19.

2 Ibid., 12. For further reading see: Sandberg, Living Pictures, Missing Persons, 136–44. Björk, Bilden av Orienten, 412–17.

3 Björk, Bilden av Orienten, 9–17.

4 I would like to take the opportunity to thank my peer reviewers for their readings and comments that improved this article.

5 Zantop, Colonial Fantasies: Conquest, Family, and Nation, 2.

6 Bancel et al., Human Zoos: Science and Spectacle, 23–25.

7 For an introduction to the concept of the Other and postcolonial theory see: Loomba, Colonialism/Postcolonialism, 1–94, 71. For further reading on postcolonial history see: Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought, pp. 3–72. Spivak, A Critique of Postcolonial Reason, 198–312.

8 Rubin, “Makode Linde på Kulturhuset.” www.kulturhusetstadsteatern.se/KonstDesign/Evenemang/2016/Makode-Linde/, accessed 12 January 2023.

9 See for example the debate unfolds in Nils Forsberg, “Makode Lindes konst upphäver hierarkier”. Rebecka Lundberg, “Konst är ingen frizon för rasism”. See also the previous debate of Makode Linde’s work in Luke Harding, “Swedish Minister Denies Claims.”

10 https://konstakademien.se/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/saladhilowle_vanuslabor.pdf, accessed 12 January 2023.

11 There have been different groups working on “Scandinavian colonialism” issues. Initially in Denmark 2009, historian Lars Jensen’s project “The Nordic colonial mind” highlighted issues of colonialism. In Sweden, GlobArch (Researching Scandinavian colonialism and the rise of a global world in the early modern period) by scholars such as Jonas M. Nordin. Further reading about Scandinavian colonialism see: Fur, “Colonialism and Swedish history,” 18–37. Keskinen et al., “Introduction: Postcolonialism and the Nordic Models,” 1–2. Palmgren, “The Nordic Colonial Mind,” 35.

12 Loftsdóttir and Jensen, Whiteness and Postcolonialism in the Nordic Region, 1. The conception of “belonging to the European colonial project” in the nineteenth century and its twenty-first century understanding is vastly different. In contemporary nineteenth-century empirical material the notions of engaging in colonial politics are visible. However, in twenty-first-century historical writing, the European countries are seen in their own “National narratives” as exceptional (except Great Britain and France), and their history elaborates on the notion of either having too “few” colonies to be relevant or that the colonies were lost in the nineteenth century and therefore not “important enough” to study.

13 Bharathi Larsson, Colonizing Fever: Race and Media Cultures in the Late Nineteenth-Century Sweden, 189–90.

14 Bharathi Larsson, Colonizing Fever: Race and Media Cultures, 13–14.

15 For further reading about Sámi and Swedish colonial practices see: Sörlin, Framtidslandet: Debatten om Norrland, Lindmark, Education, and Colonialism: Swedish Schooling Projects. Burnett Andersson, “Selling the Sami: Nordic Stereotypes,” 171–96.

16 Hällgren, Skåda all världens uselhet, 23–5.

17 Larsson, Colonizing Fever: Race and Media Cultures, 154–9.

18 Petersson, Den svenska pressens historia, 338.

19 Ibid., 338.

20 Gustafsson and Rydén, A History of the Press in Sweden, 12.

21 Ivar Haeggström became the owner in 1880. In the first year the paper was edited by K. Wetterhof, and between 1866 and 1879 by Harald Wieselgren. Between 1880 and 1883, Ernst Beckman edited it. However, in 1880–1881 Beckman collaborated with Miss Vult von Steijern. 1883–1886 by D. Weber and in 1887 Olof Granberg was the editor. Westrin, Nordisk familjebok, 215.

22 In 1842, only a few years after the beginning of photography, the first picture magazine was established with the London Illustrated News.

23 “Appendix.” Ny Illustrerad Tidning 1880:1.

24 Next to the head office, a xylographic studio was set up, and the British engraver E. Skill and the French artist J. Regnier worked for the paper.

25 “Appendix.” Ny Illustrerad Tidning 1880:1.

26 Ibid.

27 Ibid.

28 Ibid.

29 Nordisk familjebok, 1800-tals utgåva 11, 1549.

30 Petersson, Den svenska pressens historia, 323–5.

31 Martin, Images at War. Illustrated Periodicals, 19–20.

32 Ibid., 12.

33 Ibid., 12.

34 Ibid., 13.

35 Ibid., 13–14.

36 Ibid., 15–16.

37 Jarlbrink, Det våras för journalisten, 121–42.

38 Martin, Images at War. Illustrated Periodicals, 19.

39 Ibid., 50.

40 Ibid., 50.

41 Said, Orientalism, 31–92.

42 Nochlin, ”The Imaginary Orient,” 119–31, 186–91.

43 Ibid., 122.

44 Ibid., 125.

45 Ibid., 119–31, 186–91.

46 Ibid., 122.

47 Ibid., 122.

48 Ibid., 123.

49 MacKenzie, Orientalism: History, Theory and the Arts, 60.

50 Ibid.

51 Björk, Bilden av Orienten: Exotism i 1800-talets svenska visuella kultur, 223.

52 Another display of Egyptian history through orientalist art was seen in the front cover of Illustrerad Familj-Journal from 1887.

53 Björk, Bilden av Orienten: Exotism, 160–74.

54 For example, the excavations and the rich artifacts brought back by Napoleon in 1798 spurred a greater interest in Egyptian history. In 1827, the Louvre exhibited an Egyptian collection to the public. Vivant Denon’s two volume Voyage dans la basse et la haut Egypt (1802), included images from all the known sites at the time from the ancient world, and became a standard for anyone who was interested in Egypt's ancient history.

55 Björk, Bilden av Orienten: Exotism i 1800-talets svenska visuella kultur, 23–6, 60–8.

56 Other examples are Thomas Moore’s Indian romance Lala Rookh (1817), Gustave Flaubert’s Salammbô (1862) Théophile Gautier’s Le Roman de la Momie (1858) and Victor Hugo’s Les Orientales (1829).

57 Görts, Julius Kronberg. Hans konst och konstnärskap 1875–1889.

58 For further reading on orientalist art in Scandinavia see for example: Björk, Bilden av Orienten: Exotism i 1800-talets, 154–349 and Oxfeldt, Nordic Orientalism: Paris, 22–55. On the subject of “oriental” influences in Swedish literature, see: Landmark, Vi civilisationens ljusbärare.

59 Lewis, Gendering Orientalism: Race, femininity, and Representation, 1.

60 Berger and Miller, Nationalizing Empires, 3–5.

61 Zantop, Colonial Fantasies: Conquest, Family, and Nation, 2.