A taste of Arvid Kristoffersen’s artwork at the Troll Lounge

Clay County Histories

Markus Krueger | Program Director HCSCC

I recently became obsessed with trolls. Yeah, I admit it, the obsession was sparked by the unveiling of Danish artist Thomas Dambo’s six massive wooden troll sculptures around Detroit Lakes this summer. Like everybody else, I trekked through forests and meadows searching for trolls. Dambo’s trolls are the trolls of fairy tales: ancient, giant, lovably ugly, magical creatures of nature. I love eve-rything about them.
In the mid-1800s, friends Peter Asbjornsen and Jorgen Moe travelled throughout Norway collecting folklore and fairy tales, inspired by the work of German brothers Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm. Every child in Scandinavia knows Asbjornsen and Moe just like every American kid knows Mother Goose and Walt Disney. The English-speaking world’s concept of trolls mostly comes from translations of Asbjornsen and Moe’s Norwegian stories. You know the Three Billy Goats Gruff, don’t you? That was them.
I’ve seen the Sistine Chapel, but I prefer the Troll Lounge at Fargo’s Sons of Norway Lodge. Fifty years ago in 1974, Norwegian-American artist Arvid Kristoffersen depicted ugly, silly, magical, an-cient forest trolls on their way to a troll party in a 96-foot-long painted mural that includes 22 wood carvings and a short story booklet by the bar. Arvid began with the world of Asbjornsen and Moe, but he used his imagination to create a new troll fairy tale all his own.
Fairy tale trolls are safe monsters, and it is fun to play with monsters. The Count on Sesame Street and Count Chocula are fun and safe versions of the blood-sucking undead vampires of Eastern Eu-ropean legend. The difference between monsters of fairy tales and monsters of legend is that leg-ends are stories that people think maybe – just maybe – might be true.
Trolls of legend (or trolls for grownups) have always lurked in the forests of Scandinavia. They are the “hidden folk” who want to take you. Forest trolls so big you don’t notice them except out of the corner of your eye. Shapeshifting Nokken lure you into lakes and rivers. If a beautiful girl invites you to follow her into the woods, check to make sure she doesn’t have a cow’s tail, because she may well be a Hulder. Like the devil, trolls are drawn to bad behavior and are thus, ironically, enforcers of good behavior. Stay inside at night or the trolls will snatch you. Don’t follow strangers into the woods. Don’t skip church or they’ll come for you.
Just like children, adults like to feel scared and safe at the same time, so our monsters of legend act according to strict rules. If we follow those rules, we will not be their victims. Keep garlic around and don’t invite suspected vampires into your house. Lock your doors during a full moon. Don’t mess with Ouija boards. The formulaic rules that dictate who dies in horror movies reassure us that we won’t be victims if we follow proper behavior. Don’t go into that basement alone. Don’t park your car in the woods to smooch your sweetie.
I am ready for Halloween season, to indulge in stories that modulate between safely spooky and legitimately frightening. Children will dress up in cartoon green Frankenstein masks, a fairy tale version of a 200-year-old story about a reanimated corpse. And grownups will wonder what really happened in Salem, Massachusetts, back in 1692.