Always standing out was Ingolf Gabold in his black clothes and hat as he sauntered through the village. He was one of those people that oozed charisma by breathing.
A bookstore owner friend had introduced me to him and his lovely wife Kikka, a doctor. She usually dressed in white.
The first couple of years they rented a house belonging to another Danish director across the street from me. Our street was just about a small-car wide with 300 to 400-year old houses on both sides. At the time most of the residents were Catalan or French and not too happy about the foreigners that took over the village. Ingolf and Kikke threw a street party and changed the ambiance of the street forever. Neighbors started talking to me and often asked when Ingolf would be back. They brought their daughters with whom become friends.
Later Ingolf and Kikke rented a house that I had once owned and was then owned by another Danish producer. There were so many lovely apèros on the rooftop of the house that included French and Danish treats, often champagne and local wine.
Most of their friends were from the entertainment industry. They welcomed me and in deference to me spoke English and/or French so I wouldn't be left out.
English was the language Ingolf and I used. We discussed my writing, his writing. He read my books. I couldn't read his writing in Danish.
He convinced me to go to Iceland where he'd done a lot of filming and why. He was right.
We talked about his children and my daughter, who had chatted with him in German. No subject was off limits.
I learned his theories on drama, which he taught to others in the industry. What I didn't know was that he was knighted by the Danish Prince. For all his talent and accomplishments, he could be humble, almost as if he were surprised by his talent and success. He was an Emmy winner. Anglophones will know him for the series Killer, which was adapted for American television and Borgen, about a Danish woman prime minister, which became a popular Netflix series. He never bragged. To anyone who met him, he was a man in black hat.
Easter, Christmas, summer, autumn we would hope Ingolf and Kikke would be visiting.
After retirement Ingolf and Kikke spent more time in the studio they had found to rent long term. Whenever we saw them walking down the street on their first day back, it was a call for celebration. Our last evening together was for a dinner together in November. Two other neighbors joined us and it was, as always a wonderful evening.
Ingolf was born in Germany during WWII. He told me his mother moved to Denmark and warned him not to speak German. After his parents divorced he saw little of his father.
A graduate of the Danish Royal Academy of Music, he was known as a composer and for his music.
A week ago, an Irish neighbor sent me a video of Ingolf, who was at a dinner that she had when we were in Switzerland so we missed it. He sang Opera.
He died 1May at age 83. Today during the marché as we sat at the tables behind l'Hostalet. People who knew him, talked about him with a mixture of sadness, memories, and the pleasure he brought us.
In this blog, which is not an obituary but is a personal reflection of what he meant to me. There is a heaviness, I feel that I will never again know the pleasure of walking by L'Hostalet and he will motion me over and we will talk as we share a glass of wine. We will never again share a meal. I'll never again have a new channel in my mind opened by what he has said.
I was happy to hear that Kikke, his adored wife of over 40 years, is planning to come to the village the summer with the children.
Thank you for enriching my life, friend.
To read some of the press coverage of the death of this remarkable man, of remarkable talent and who led a remarkable life there are :
- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJM75yy_aXA (French)
- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=at_9xLCnDjw (English)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment