The town that keeps a square of sunlight
Rjukan is a Norwegian town of about three thousand people, at the bottom of a steep valley. For roughly half the year, the sun never reaches its streets. In January it burns on the mountain above the square, close enough to feel personal. “It is very close, but you can't touch it,” says the artist Martin Andersen.
In 1913, a bookkeeper named Oscar Kittelsen wrote to the local paper with an idea: rotatable mirrors on the valley wall, to “collect the sunlight and then spread it like a headlamp beam over the town and its merry inhabitants.” The technology of the time said no. So in 1928 the town built a cable car instead, the Krossobanen, Northern Europe's first aerial tramway, a gift from Norsk Hydro: a way to ride up out of the shadow, to the sun.
Then it waited a century. In 2013, three computer-controlled mirrors went up on the mountainside, 450 meters above the square, seventeen square meters each, to lay a golden ellipse of sunlight about 600 square meters across the town: nearly full strength, about two hours a day in January, carried down from the ridge.
Every March since 1925, the town keeps a sun festival: Solfesten. There's a Sun Prince, and a Sun Child; the Sun Child is the baby born closest to March 12.
What stays with me: a bookkeeper who had no way to build his idea and wrote it down anyway, and a town that lost half its light and went up the mountain to get some back.
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