Apologies | JRAW collaboration | Extension of Shadows

Ah, faithful and curious.
Greatest and sincere apologies for absentia.
Iceland proved its magic and I have many full tapes bound for editing for prove it.
A week in Berlin, basically resting and eating currywurst on the way to Art Basel.
Updates coming soon!
xx

The Buddy System: part 2- Rock Stars.

From farming villages to jubillant choirs, these fine friends and sisters sang ancient work songs for my camera a cappella.
Bravo, elder denizens of Saudarkrokur and Skagafjord!

The Buddy System

Environmental Influences: This is Where I Live Until Friday morning

The work I'm making here is temporally filed under The Kindred Heirs. Huge realization that the odd medley of Elderly Choir Solos, Horsehair Crowns and The Theatre of the Familiar fine pencil drawing share a vulnerable fortitude that reflects the Icelanders and my current emotional status. Kizmet.

NES Art Residency Open Studios | Skagastrond, ICELAND

Come by tomorrow if you're in the neighborhood. Har Har Har

Insert Yourself HERE.

What To Do When S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) Sets In?

Why, have a pub quiz, of course! At the Kantrybaer!
This local legend is Iceland most northern and, yup, ONLY, Country & Western bar, run by the Icelandic Cowboy,
Hallbjon Hartasson, is also THE (only) place to go in Skagastrond. Only open one night a week, except in high season (1/2 summer), I went in hopes of catching a glimpse of the cowboy himself, but I was told that he is "aging" and rarely frequents the bar, although he lives right across the street with a giant satellite dish! The closest I came was a picture of him hugging Dolly Parton on the wall, which I meditated on when the frustration of trying to do a pub quiz in Icelandic proved to be too much, even if it WAS presided over by the mayor. I teamed up with Bekke, the former headmaster of the school, and his wife Signy, and helped them win with some random naturalia and Steinbeck trivia that I didn't even know I possessed. The prize? A 12 pack of Carlsberg, woo hoo!

5 am view out my window. Bummed out.

Saudarkrøkur or Bust

The 5 ladies of our humble house- Sissu, Ashley, Adriane, Catalin and myself, a veritable smorgasbord of Iceland, Brooklyn and Deutschland ventured into an oncoming blizzard to take in the sights. We sought out a fish skin/sheepskin warehouse that makes its krona exporting dyed wolf fish skins to Italy, no doubt. I had ambitions to buy a cheap fuzzy wumfy thing to bring home, but all the sheep, horse skins, seal, reindeer, fox, etc. hides started to really give me the willies, so I relented to accepting some white horse hair "on the house" for my projects and we all called it a day.The way home proved challenging with visibility only 10 meters in front of the car. Sissu powered us through it with her special CRV designed so she can drive it with her hands (she is in a wheelchair and an amazing lady to boot). Nice, a spring blizzard! Just what I was hoping for after Norway, MORE SNOW. Aaarrrrrrrgggggggggh.

New Studio Space = old fish plant

Open house potluck. My chips and salsa shrank humbly in the presence of fish casserole, fresh German bread, and 3 versions of hummus. They don't mess around when it comes to chow downs.

Underneath the looming formality of the ranges, lay diminishing gravesites, churches of utmost simplicity, and the junkyard, which the townsfolk were generous enough to open up to all the artists to freely scavenge from any and all of its decomposing fish nets, 1980 vehicular roulette or rotting ram horns.

This is MY turf...har har har

B.L.E.A.K.N.E.S.S.

A lot of whys are being answered about Iceland.
WHY every man woman and child is tough as nails.
WHY the population is low.
WHY they do alot of knitting in the endless winters.
WHY many families have 5 to 12 children (see above).
WHY all the houses are the brightest hues possible.
WHY everyone you've heard of from Iceland lives somewhere else.
WHY they endure all of this, still pride themselves on everything and refuse to give in.

Åsgeir | Master Viking Carver

Uh, how could I not screech to a halt and do a 180 on the Ring Road, night falling, to rub my eyes and make sure. Yup, that WAS a giant half carved Viking head with a stopper in it (to add oil, so the wood doesn't crack!). 20 minutes later found me in the fine company of Asgeir, who carves endless Viking scenarios and sells them out of the N1 gas station. He regaled me with many tales of Grettir the Strong, played some acoustic guitar and showed off the paintings of his dead father that graced all the paperback editions of Iceland's own Nobel winner, Halldor Kiljan Laxness. Chainsaw carving is alive and kicking in the land of the sagas and I left with the meager purchase of a tiny carved Schnapps goblet, it's base the original bark, like the goblet emerged from within the wooden spirit.

+++The Drive North to SKAGASTROND+++

And thus I began the latest chapter of the journey, to head north on the Ring Road in my little grey Chevy rental that could, up to the fishing village of Skagastrond, population 500, where my next residency awaits. The vistas and weather changes dramatically and include curious ponies, hidden heathen chrome compasses, treacherous one lane bridges, the longest natural tunnel I have ever driven (15-20 minutes at top speed??) and vast idylls.

(((BLAA LONID)))

Celebrate the primeval and the surreal of everyday Iceland.
First stop, the silicon mud and turquoise-white steaming international waters of the infamous Blue Lagoon.
Next stop, dropping Abigail at the tiny Keflavik airport and bumping into David Lynch (!) on the way out, who was on her plane.

Borg Blowout: Last Chance for Lux

After our stunning experience at the 101, we were loathe to leave, but spent the last evening sampling Hotel Borg, an Art Deco historical leftover that had a somewhat stale feel, despite shiny elevators, cocktails and demure posing in the Tower room, a duplex room in our suite that possessed an uncanny 360 view of the city!