Resilience, a self-help buzzword, a quality needed to weather the social, political, and medical dramas experienced over the last two years. The quality aligns with a Nordic import – sisu. “This ancient Finnish word describes an attitude of courage, resilience, grit, tenacity and perseverance. This key psychological competence enables extraordinary action in times of adversity,” explains author Joanna Nylund in her book Sisu: The Art of Finnish Courage, describing it as a visceral force, the idea of boldness and strength that can be applied to all areas of life – from wellbeing to work and relationships. Sisu won’t give you the same warm, cosy feelings as hygge, or the organisational benefits of Swedish death cleaning, but it will give you a deep sense of fulfillment, and joy in the knowledge that you’re in control of your life and you decide your own fate. “To have sisu confers a further dimension of doing so with honesty, integrity and humility.”
I couldn’t help but draw the parallels between this trend and a new exhibition opening at the V&A Museum. “Beatrix Potter: Drawn to Nature” – a collaboration between the V&A and the National Trust – explores the life story of the much-loved children’s author-illustrator (1866–1943). Famous for her enduring tales and animal characters, including The Tale of Benjamin Bunny and The Tale of Peter Rabbit, she wrote 28 books in total, in which her precisely observed hypernaturalism was often underpinned with a sense of insecurity and peril. These “little books”, as Potter called them, with their bright, detailed watercolour illustrations, speak of the fears that children have. Children are powerless in a world full of grown-ups, some of whom might be benevolent Mrs Tiggy-Winkles, but some of whom are bound to be the more malign Samuel Whiskerses or Mr Tods. Other critics have gone further, sensing, for instance, in Potter’s original illustration for 1905’s The Tale of Jemima Puddle- Duck, the encounter between the gentleman fox and Jemima Puddle-Duck is infused with sexual threat.
Not only did Potter write tales modelled on her own pets – she had a whole menagerie from mice to bats and hedgehogs to butterflies – but she was also interested in fungi and became an accomplished scientific illustrator. She wrote “On the Germination of the Spores of Agaricineae” proposing her own theory for how fungi spores reproduced. The paper was presented on Potter’s behalf by the Assistant Director of Kew Gardens at a meeting of the Linnean Society on April 1, 1897. Potter was unable to attend because at that time women were not allowed at meetings of the all-male Linnean Society even if their work was deemed good enough to be presented. During this time, Potter kept a journal in which she jotted down her private thoughts in a secret code, so difficult it was not cracked until 1958 by Leslie Linder, who could be described as a super fan, and amassed a large collection of Potter artefacts.
No wonder Potter wrote in code – she had much to rile against. She spent much of her young adulthood caring for ageing parents (her mother seems to have been especially difficult and demanding) who seem to have been snobbish and cold, although this doesn’t explain much since it was a default parenting mode for many Edwardians. They disapproved of her relationship with her publisher Norman Warne who sadly died of leukemia a few weeks after their engagement. This prompted a brave move to the Lake District and the acquisition of Hill Top farm, bought with the royalties from her little books. The countryside provided solace from her grief, (as Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience”) and Potter learned the techniques of fell farming, raising livestock including pigs, cows, chickens and Herwick sheep which she bred. She would eventually marry her solicitor William Heelis at the age of 47, who helped manage her farming portfolio.
When she died in 1943 at the age of 77, Potter left 14 farms and 4,000 acres of land in the Lake District to the National Trust, ensuring the beloved landscape that inspired her work would be preserved. She had fulfilled her desire to do something useful with her life and challenged others to think not only about preservation but of a whole regional ecology and farming culture. Potter demonstrated sisu-like modesty about her success. “If I have done anything, even a little, to help small children enjoy honest, simple pleasures, I have done a bit of good.”
Beatrix Potter: Drawn to Nature is at the V&A Museum London, from February 12–September 25; www.vam.ac.uk.
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