When, in 1914, the Stockholm council committee announced a competition to design a new burial site, architects Gunnar Asplund and Sigurd Lewerentz left nothing to chance. Their proposal, entitled ‘Tallum’, was meticulously considered; out of the 53 submitted, only Asplund and Lewerentz had understood what the politicians, headed by councillor Yngve Larsson, truly wanted. The brief – revolutionary at the time – had been oddly specific: nothing pompous, no mausoleums or manifestations of the rich and powerful, but something more modest, where nature dominates. The winning design was built in Enskede, a suburb just south of the capital; Skogskyrkogården, meaning the woodland cemetery, is still visionary today.
Documentary film director Ulf von Strauss lives a stone’s throw away, and his fascination with the place started with daily strolls there – a strategy to help him come to grips with his own fear of death. ‘What struck me [on these walks],’ he says, ‘was this feeling of how death becomes [a natural] part of life.’ This sense of a cycle was very much intentional: the architects wanted to evoke the full spectrum of experience – life and death, hope and sorrow, light and darkness, nature and architecture – all in one place.
The site, a former gravel pit overgrown with pine trees, is run by the city of Stockholm and is open to any religious – or non – believers. The tombstones, nearly all of the same measurements, are tucked away under the tall pine trees along Sju brunnars väg, or the Path of Seven Wells, that stretches from the site’s elm-lined Meditation Grove, or Almhöjden, all the way to the Chapel of Resurrection (Återuppståndelsens kapell). Each chapel was designed individually so that they would each have their own distinct atmosphere; leading artists of the time were commissioned to work on both the interiors and exteriors. Every detail was considered, from the curved benches designed to mimic an embrace, to the exterior staircase leading to the meditation grove, which follows the shape of the hill. The higher one gets, the lower the steps become, thus making it less arduous to reach the very top: a metaphor for easing the burden of grief.
The more he explored the complex, the more curious Ulf became about the story behind the place. This resulted in countless hours of reading and researching at the Museum of Architecture (today Arkdes) and 6 years of filming the daily life of the staff on the burial site, from the gravediggers and undertakers to the head of the crematorium. Later, his interest in the two young architects that dreamed up the cemetery led to a second film, The Architects Behind the Woodland Cemetery, about their friendship – and the tragedy that unfolded during their work on Skogskyrkogården.
Work on the site didn’t start on the site until 1917, and hard financial times meant Asplund and Lewerentz had to go back to the drawing board and re-evaluate certain choices. ‘The two architects divided the workload; Asplund took on the task of designing the first chapel, the Woodland Chapel, Skogskapellet, while Lewerentz focused on the landscape, letting nature guide him,’ explains Ulf.
By 1920, Skogskapellet stood ready, inspired by Liselund castle, which Asplund had seen while on his honeymoon in Denmark; Lewerentz, meanwhile, took cues from Caspar David Friedrich’s Neoclassical paintings with the elm grove and its surroundings, which were eventually completed in 1935. However, Stockholm grew quickly during those early years of construction and the need for another chapel soon became urgent. It was while working on the Chapel of Resurrection, finished in 1925, that Lewerentz found himself removed from the project. While Asplund was precise and methodical, Lewerentz was an uncompromising artist and, when new ideas struck, kept changing plan in the middle of construction, exceeding the budget dramatically. Yngve Larsson had had enough – but made Asplund deliver the news to his friend and colleague.
‘The correspondence was heartbreaking to read,’ says Ulf. ‘Lewerentz was hurt and angry, while Asplund was desperate – both feeling desperate to have lost his partner and friend, but also to complete the monumental task they had started.’ The two parted ways and Lewerentz withdrew from the field of architecture, turning instead to the design of everyday objects such as locks, hooks and turnstiles.
Asplund continued to honour his commitment to the project, and in the spring of 1940, more than 20 years after construction began, the group of buildings known as Skogskrematoriet, or the Forest Crematorium – with the chapels of Faith (Tron), Hope (Hoppets) and the Holy Cross (Heliga korset) – was officially inaugurated with Prince Eugene, Larsson and Asplund all present.
Asplund and Lewerentz would never meet again. The former was struck by a heart attack only a few months later and died, aged 55. ‘He pushed himself towards his own death,’ says Ulf. ‘He was aware of his existing heart condition, but ignored it. His devoted mindset made him continue.’ Gunnar Asplund is buried outside Skogskreamatoriet, laid to rest in the place he helped to create. As for Sigurd Lewerentz, the spurned architect returned to Skogskyrkogården 20 years later to complete the project he had started, thereafter finishing work on the grove. He died in 1975, at the age of 90, as a world-renowned architect.
‘This is not only burial site; the rich wildlife here is just as important,’ says Annelie Sjöström, communications manager at Skogskyrkogården. The pines were planted in the 19th century, which makes some of them about 200 years old. ‘Each and every one is carefully cared for to last as long as possible,’ she explains. Some are removed due to age and diseases and replaced with new pines with seeds taken from the best cones, all in order to keep the forest dense and healthy. ‘There are newts living in the lily pond,’ Sjöström adds. Hares, deer, foxes and squirrels are common sights around the cemetery, and an increasing number of ornithologists have started to visit the area to spot nesting merlins, ravens, sparrowhawks and grebes. There are also beehives to be found on the premises.
Skogskyrkogården leaves nobody untouched. In 1994, Unesco designated it a World Heritage site, an unusual decision considering that it is still a fully functioning cemetery and only just over 100 years old. The crematorium is closing for major refurbishment work before 2024 is up and a new ash grove even opened in the spring of this year – clearly there are no plans to slow the cycle of transformation any time soon. Before we part ways, Anneli tells me, ‘We’re open to everyone and we will aways be open – Skogskyrkogården will never become a museum.’
For more information, visit skogskyrkogarden.stockholm
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