It’s 4:30 am and I am drinking out of my touristy Iceland mug attempting to reap the benefits of jet-lag by getting to work on this post. If you didn’t know, I had a good run with blogging a few years ago and at one point writing a post was a simple task. Today, my writing skills are incredibly rusty and I am struggling to put into words my experience in Iceland and my short time as a NES Artist in Residence. (Leave in the comment section below if you’d like me to tell you more about my decision to do a residency and what one entails.)
There is so much I could say about this country, but for the sake of post-length I will leave this entry to how Iceland moved me. Have you ever walked through a “haunted house” or a ghost town? Even just an old home with a cold draft and a cool muffled light dancing through the window panes? That is what Iceland as a country feels like all the time. I don’t mean scary, although my drive to the airport with rain, 30 mph winds, and one lane roads was pretty terrifying. What I mean to describe is the stillness and the emptiness, but most importantly that underlying energy of every being and life-form that existed in that space before. To me, that is Iceland. You can feel her age and her indestructibility. She is almost another presence unto her own. Her rocks, winds, seas and grasses follow you around like a ghost. The countryside, in particular, is timeless. There are so few touches of modernity across the Northwest that it is as though you are walking alongside vikings or 19th century farmers, or maybe just the sheep who were present for both.
So isn’t it perfect that the artist who is most inspired by timelessness and the past partakes in an artist residency that places her in a land that embodies both? I hope the answer is obvious. Now, how to translate all of this into art... More on that to come :).