Every summer, a small group of fencers gathers somewhere in Sweden. Training stretches into the evening before giving way to dinner, a glass of wine or beer, and conversations that continue long after the plates have been cleared. The following morning, those same conversations find their way back onto the training floor, only now with swords in hand.
That is Solstinget.
It is a small seminar, deliberately so, but it was never created simply to be a smaller version of something else. It set out to answer a different question altogether.
Building HEMA
Over the years, HEMA has come to revolve increasingly around tournaments, ratings and online culture. That development did not happen by itself. I was deeply involved in building much of the infrastructure that helped shape modern HEMA. I founded Swordfish, which grew into one of the world’s largest events. I founded GHFS and served as its head instructor for many years; I wrote, debated, organised, taught internationally and helped shape the kind of HEMA that, despite its chaotic nature, increasingly follows familiar patterns.
But that was never the goal.
Swordfish was founded on the idea of experimentation, of constantly asking what could be done better, not of becoming an authority. GHFS became what it was because we opened our doors, sparred with anyone willing to fence, exchanged ideas freely and learned from others. Progress came from curiosity rather than certainty.
Many of the things we built have since taken on lives of their own. International events became larger. Ruleset formats became established. Online discussion developed its own culture. All of that has helped HEMA grow, and rightly so. Those developments connected clubs across borders, raised standards and made it possible for thousands of people to discover historical fencing.
Yet they also changed how many of us experienced HEMA. Too much emphasis has been put on the most negative aspects of those things. At least, that’s how I feel about it.
Too much energy is spent on divisive online chatter. Too much focus on ratings. Too much focus on participant numbers. And too little time on actual conversations, real fencing culture, personal development, and improving teaching.
But not everything valuable happens in front of an audience. Not everything important can be measured by medals or rankings. Some of the best ideas begin around a dinner table.
Building Where You Stand
The first Solstinget took place in 2021 after Covid restrictions had begun to ease. The idea itself, however, was older. For years, much of our effort had gone into building something international. Looking back, it became increasingly obvious that there was another kind of work worth doing as well.
You cannot spend your entire life trying to change the whole world. At some point you have to build where you stand.
That meant creating the kind of environment we ourselves wanted to spend time in, together with people who genuinely wanted to be there. Not because everyone would agree, or because everyone fenced the same way, but because they shared a curiosity and a willingness to exchange ideas and wanted to meet up in that shared spirit.
Originally, Solstinget was also intended as a gathering for the different St Mark Guilds. Instead, something unexpected happened. People began travelling from across the world. One year we were fourteen people representing nine different nations. Europe, North America, Asia and Australia, all gathering in a small Swedish event that had never tried to become an international happening in the first place.
That remains one of the most rewarding aspects of Solstinget.
A Different Type of Format
Large events and small seminars do different things. A large event brings together hundreds of people and therefore also has to attract well-known instructors, larger audiences and increasingly polished presentations. A competition at such an event is measured in how well it’s presented and live streamed.
A small event offers something different. There is time. Time to follow an idea further. Time to question an interpretation. Time to fence with everyone present. Time for conversations that continue from breakfast to the training hall and back again over dinner. There is something happening through this that I really appreciate. Somewhere in that process, fencing becomes the centre again.
Every year we experiment with different formats. Continuous fencing has become one of my personal favourites. Group combat has become a tradition in its own right. Prize Plays have introduced ceremony and tradition into the weekend, reminding us that fencing has always been more than technical exercises. Gradings allow us to examine not only technical ability but also understanding and development.
We have a wide mix of practitioners, often with experience from other martial arts as well. Sometimes they teach workshops. Sometimes they simply fence, train and discuss with us. HEMA has always borrowed ideas from wherever good ideas can be found, and it would be strange to stop doing so now.
Not every idea survives. That is perfectly acceptable. Experimentation is not about being right. It is about discovering what is worth keeping.
And since HEMA is still a young martial art, it should continue to evolve. That is much easier to do in a smaller event with a select few people.
Beyond the Training Hall
If Solstinget has a centre, it is probably not the training itself. It is everything around it. The meals. The evenings. The conversations. Over the years there have been countless homemade meatballs, freshly baked bread, pickled herring, strawberries, spiced aquavit and locally brewed beer. The first Solstinget took place around Midsummer, and the table looked very much as a Swedish Midsummer table should.
For many of our international guests, it was their first real experience of Sweden. That has always mattered.
When Swordfish was held in Mölndal, many visitors saw little beyond a sports hall and a hotel. Solstinget became an opportunity to show something different. The Swedish countryside. The archipelago. A farm by a lake. Local traditions. The places where people actually live.
The location is never just a backdrop, it’s a part of the event itself. That too is worth something.
The Rhythm of Transmission
Training takes place, then everyone sits down together. A discussion begins over dinner. Somebody fetches a sword to illustrate a point. Someone else disagrees. Another person remembers a passage from a manuscript. The following morning the discussion continues, only now through fencing.
That rhythm is difficult to create in a conventional workshop where you change training partners and the context is larger. It brings a deepening of the content that we train together, a longer story where we explore together.
After Solstinget, some participants remain for the St Mark Summer Academy, organised by Axel at his family farm outside Mora. If Solstinget slows the pace, Summer Academy slows it even further. People live together for the better part of a week. They train several times each day. Meals are shared. Freshly baked buns appear from the neighbour’s kitchen. Children run around the farm. There are old timber buildings, fields, animals and the forests of Dalarna surrounding everything.
I can’t think of anything like this having been done before in HEMA. Not like this.
Create more events like Solstinget
Solstinget has become exactly what we hoped it would be.
Not just because of the workshops, although they are always excellent. Not because of the experiments, although they are at the very core of what we do. And not because people travel from across the world to attend, although that continues to surprise us. It has succeeded because people leave with new friendships, new ideas and, perhaps most importantly, renewed enthusiasm for historical fencing.
That is remarkably easy to lose sight of.
The internet has its own pace. Tournaments have theirs. Social media rewards certainty, strong opinions and quick conclusions. But real learning rarely works that way, it takes time and it requires trust. It depends on people being willing to exchange ideas openly, challenge one another and occasionally discover that they were wrong.
Small events done right provide room for that.
For a few days each summer, fencing once again becomes what first drew many of us to HEMA: curious people gathering to train, exchange ideas and enjoy each other’s company.
