Finishing date: October 2024. Photographed by Natalia Salazar and Dagmar Egelkraut in October 2024.
Residuals / 3 years later (written in October 2024)
Three years ago, I defended my PhD thesis. At my defense party, I received gifts. Collectively, from my colleagues and some friends: gift certificates for clay and whisky themed activities – and, with what was left from the collected money, Natalia had made a huge bouquet of wool peonies (i.e. balls of yarn). Unfortunately, no one seemed to have photographed the gorgeous bouquet, so you’ll just have to imagine it!
It took a lot of musing, sketching, swatch-making and unraveling, but finally, in October 2024, I completed the transformation of the yarn bouquet into a Norwegian lusekofte-inspired cardigan.
I call it: My transition cardigan.
Yarn, gifted to me to celebrate the completion of my PhD, from colleagues at Stockholm Resilience Centre (and Natalia).
Designed during my move from PhD student in Stockholm to postdoc in Bergen.
The front opening stabilized with hand-woven ribbon, a technique I taught myself while stuck at home after my appendicitis surgery my first November in Bergen.
Six beautifully crafted traditional Norwegian hook-and-eye-clasps bought in a handicraft store in Bergen. The seventh, top clasp recovered from my grandma Lilian’s button collection, for an eclectic twist – and also, because I dedicated my PhD thesis to both of my grandmas, teachers-of-knitting, lovers-of-flowers-and-design.
I already love wearing it.
More residuals / 3 years later (written in October 2024)
It took so much of me, finishing.
I’ve now completed the transition cardigan, made from the defense gift bouquet of wool – but I do not fully remember receiving the bouquet. I remember a party, there was a video with a lot of people wearing mittens, lovely speeches that I could not feel – and then mine, a mess. Not prepared, because my scattered mind would not allow me to sit down and write it.
It makes me sad, now. I like writing speeches. And I would have liked to tell my supervisors Lisen and Albert how much I had appreciated working with them. Instead: An incoherent meandering of words.
I did not have the presence of mind to be reasonable. There had been a pandemic, we had forgotten how we used to do things in the PhD group, in community. I organized so much myself, baking cakes, inventing cocktails. The way I remember it: not having time to talk to any guest, because I was always on my way to fix the next thing.
There are photographs of me smiling, singing in the kitchen, but I don’t remember it.
I printed thank-you-cards that I was going to send to everyone who contributed to my gifts – but it never happened. It was winter and then I moved to Bergen and suddenly it felt like too much time had passed.
It is strange, how we can push ourselves. And how long it can take to understand that pushing ourselves is what we did. Body and mind, completely out of sync.
Recently, some colleagues here read my thesis, as inspiration for their own upcoming endeavors. Text message received after reading my kappa: “I found my holy grail!” – not because that’s how exceptional it is, but because it is hard to figure out how to do an interdisciplinary PhD at a disciplinary department. We need examples to learn from. My thesis: An example. Despite how I feel about it.
Today in an email, I was asked if I wanted to be co-author on a paper, because she thinks I’m an “expert and thought leader” on the topic they want to write about. I know her, but still. The idea that my thoughts could be leading anything.
Maybe I’ll send those thank-you-cards, now. As a check-in. “Thank you for being there during my PhD journey. I survived. And I’m still here”
Katja Malmborg 