I landed in Copenhagen yesterday morning for a short visit. I’m heading to Italy early on Friday morning, where I have an academic conference and a residency and will be squeezing in some time for my first vacation since the pandemic began. Did I need a raincoat for just three days in Denmark? I wagered no, and instead brought only a light Zegna jacket I claimed in 2008. I could never have afforded such a jacket back then, and still can’t; it belonged to an ex of my girlfriend at the time.

I came to Copenhagen to meet up with my partner, who just finished a month long ceramics residency here. So earlier today we went to visit Freetown Christiania along with two of her fellow ceramics artists from Montreal.

Christiania is an intentional community and commune in Copenhagen which has been occupied as an autonomous community since 1971, consisting of the former military barracks of Bådsmandsstræde and parts of the city ramparts. It was used an execution grounds until 1950, after which point it was abandoned, falling into disrepair. In 1971 inhabitants first claimed parts of the area to create a playground for their children. Just three weeks later Christiania was declared open by Jacob Ludvigsen, a journalist influenced by the Dutch anarchist hippie Provo movement. Ludvigsen was just shy of 24 years old at the time, but already well-known as a journalist, publishing the alt weekly Hovedbladet from 1970-72. The year before the founding of the Freetown of Christiania, he had helped found Thylejren, a farmer’s commune built on land originally purchased to hold a music festival inspired by the Isle of Wight festival and Woodstock. Both Thylejren and Christiania are essentially anarchist and have just a few simple rules: No weapons, no hard drugs, no violence, no cars, no theft, etc. Christiania became well-known for its “Pusher Street” and the prevalence of the sale of cannabis. That’s certainly how Christiania first came to my attention.

That brings me to another rule in Christiania: no photos. The locals don’t want to be documented. Fair enough. But of course my first thought was, well, there shouldn’t be any problem making audio recordings, right? And there wasn’t, but unfortunately we hadn’t paid close attention to the weather forecast, and so were caught rather unprepared when the light drizzle escalated into a full-fledged downpour. We took refuge in a vegetation-covered hut just in time to avoid a hailstorm! Nonetheless we quickly became completely soaked through, and we stayed sheltered in that hut much longer than we anticipated. I ended up ringing out my jacket so much that some stitching in the shoulder gave out. It’s finally time to retire Michael’s jacket. So in honor of all those years with this garment, here is a mini-soundscape documenting its last day of service.

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Tracks 01 and 03 are binaural recordings.

Headphone listening recommended