Om projektet
Målet med mit projekt. ´Fortællinger fra det gule hus´ er at finansiere publiceringen af mit manuskript, der handler om Grønland.
Hello all.
This projects intention is to raise money to cover the expenses of publishing my book about Greenland. Every cent being raised will be spend entirely on publishing the book.
I am a Dane who was born in Nuuk, Greenland's capital in 1965. But one who grew up in Denmark.
Here is my story. I was married. I lived with my wife in Copenhagen, but choose to get divorced. Shortly after our divorce I moved to Greenland. In Greenland I spent some months under the same roof as my biological father, whom I had never met and then traveled to East Greenland, where I worked as a copywriter while I wrote the second half of the book I started of in Nuuk.
I spent two years in Greenland.
My project is artistic - not avant-garde but something as traditional as a fictional book about Greenland.
The book is structured as a mosaic of texts, which together form a coherent understanding of contemporary Greenland. The book consists of essays, diary notes, short stories and poems. ( Besides this I have also written songs and music about Greenland, and taken a lot of photos which I give out as rewards to sponsors)
The book is inevitable also about my life, but is substantially an attempt to get under the skin of Greenland.
Major parts of the novel is available on my blogs.
Please look elsewhere on this project´s pages for hyper links.
I thank you and hope that you will support this literary project that means a lot to me, and whose content I think is of interest to others than me.
Yours
Henrik Pötzsch
Below is a sample from the book (translated from Danish to English)
A poem called:
Greenland
Greenland is not a geographical place but a state of mind. Not an earlobe that freezes to pieces in front of an Arctic disco where people stand close together in order to keep warm, not a piece of raw seal meat on your tongue.
There is no map of Greenland. It is and has never been anything more than an adventurous idea of eternal glaciers, a myth. No one walking on thin ice, no split eyebrows.
Greenland is not a geographic place. There is nothing. No Bob Marley, no Pink Floyd, no Status Quo concert in Qaqortoq in 1978. No television, no "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind", no moon full fat cheesy yellow and round dangling over the hills, no small towns where the heartily promises around Christmas is far bigger than the budget can afford because it is the children's season .
No astronauts in space suits floating in a gravity-free space, no Santa, no whole-hearted attempt to assemble an incoherent whole, no women who take their best clothes and dance the polka with their men because it is Christmas, no sentimental soul asking for a guitar and its got to be quick because a particular Creedence Clearwater number pops up in the fingers.
No arctic summer where vegetation comes to life by the touch of light.
None of this is Greenland.
Greenland does not exist.
Grønland
Grønland er ikke et geografisk sted, men en sindstilstand. Ikke en øreflip der fryser i stykker foran et arktisk diskotek hvor man står tæt sammen for at holde varmen, ikke et stykke råt sælkød.
Der findes intet kort over Grønland. Det er og har aldrig været andet end en eventyrlig tanke om evige gletschere. En romantisk íde uden magt. Her er ingen som falder på is og flækker øjenbryn. Ingen som drikker og falder i søvn i snedriver.
Grønland er ikke et geografisk men et mytisk sted. Her er ingenting. Ingen Bob Marley, ingen Pink Floyd, ingen Status Quo koncert i Qaqortoq i 1978. Intet fjernsyn, ingen "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" ingen måne fuldfed osteagtig gul og rund tæt nedover fjeldet, ingen byer der flæsker sig i december og lover mere end budgettet kan holde, fordi det er børnenes årstid.
Ingen astronauter i rumdragter der svæver i et tyngdefrit rum, ingen julemand, ingen havis der hvid og uundgåelig driver ind i fjordene som en korkprop der sættes i en flaske, ingen helhjertede forsøg på at samle et forfrossent usammenhængende hele, ingen kvinder der tager deres bedste tøj på og danser polka med deres mænd fordi det er jul, ingen der nostalgisk spørger om de må låne ens guitar fordi et bestemt Creedence Clearwater nummer dukker op i deres fingre. Ingen arktisk sommer hvor vegetationen vækkes til live af lyset.
Intet af alt det er Grønland.
Grønland findes ikke. 
