As Liz said, "It's fine eating the same thing each day but we are!"
Until we were treated to an Icelandic tradition, baking hverabrauð underground in a geothermal area. Kristveig, one of the directors of Gullkistan's artist residency demonstrated the making and baking of hverabrauð, a rich brown rye bread made with "lyftiduft", the Icelandic word for baking powder that sounds like "lifting up". Once the batter was made, it was spooned into greased containers of what was around, a milk carton and a bacardi can. They were sealed well with cellophane, plastic wrap and tape, then taken to the lakeside where we dug two holes and buried each. The following day, after 24 hours of cooking, we unearthed, unwrapped and enjoyed a feast of hverabrauð and butter with smoke salmon and trout.
Laugarvatn, hver, apamensskubragur, Natturulaekningafelags, Nupsstadarskógar, lygirimur, malfræði, æfingar, Hvitarvatn, skaldagemlur, gjola, hrassviðri, hnukapeyr, Eyvindartunga, hvasst, padsujoar, hlytt, hlyr, hnjukur, höfði, hraun, farviðri, andvari, heidskir, Bardarlaug, Snæfellsjökull, læknir, logfræthingur, kjuklingur, hunangsflugan, þingvallavatn......... I could go on.
Yes, overwhelmed with odd combinations of letters from an English speaker perspective, letter combinations like: "hv", "hn", "gj", "tn", "hl", "hnj", "gja", "jao", "hr"
Found a way to start connecting to the Icelandic language by looking and writing their place names. I was advised before I left that their place names often give clues to the landscape of the place. For example, "vatn" of Laugarvatn means "lake" and Laugarvatn is located on a lake. "Vik" of Reykjavik means "bay" on which it is situated. "Foss" of Selfoss means waterfall and "jökull" of Skálafellsjökull means glacier. A start, anyway.
While I looked and recorded more Icelandic place names, Liz had another approach! Check out this utube site: Learning Icelandic Pronunciation
I have arrived. Iceland feels like New Zealand, another island with volcanoes, changeable weather, expansive landscape and skies. I am living in a small resort town called Laugarvatn, which means "bathing lake". No soaking experiences yet but plan to visit a hot springs soon! I have settled into an apartment in town, sharing facilities with Elizabeth Sher, an artist from Berkeley, Ca. We have a view of the lake and Mt. Hekla, an active volcano with its last eruption in Feb of 2000. Apparently there have been signs that it is close to a new eruption.
My studio is located at the Eyvindartunga farm, about a mile away. We walk there daily. Yesterday, I began my tracking project. Before I left Ca, I purchased a Garmin GPSmap 62, thinking that this might be a way to incorporate walking into my artistic practice. Yesterday, I tracked my first walk, documenting a tour around Laugarvatn, between the town and Eyvindartunga farm and then around the farm. I plan to continue tracking my walks, collecting their shapes for my artwork. Must wait to see how they will be used? And I still have some figuring out to do. Thought we were residing in the southwest part of Iceland but gps is locating me in the northeast. Notice the pink dot on map. Where am I?
I leave on June 19th for the Gullkistan artist residency in Iceland. Lots to do as I collect supplies, make piles and muse on possibilities for work while there. The residency is located in Laugarvatn, a small school village 90 km east of Reykjavik. It is an agricultural area, close to some of the most popular tourist sites of Iceland and close to the highlands. The village of Laugarvatn has 250 inhabitants, one childrens' school, kindergarten, high school, and the department of athletic pedagogics of the University of Iceland. I've been told that there is one outdoor swimming pool and a good sports facilities inside and outside. There is a grocery shop, Lindin restaurant and summer hotels in the schools. The closest town is Selfoss, 45 km south of Laugarvatn. Around Laugarvatn, there are farms and many summerhouses.
Check in periodically, as I will use this blog to record my experiences there.
The Cover Cuts series reflect an interest in the changing role of the book as digital delivery systems become the dominant mode of transmitting knowledge and information. I construct primarily with old book covers; and occasionally, like the wind, other materials enter the work. I translate these remains into constructions using the process of "cutting" as a way to reference the changing role of the traditional book structure. More iterations can be seen on my website.
I am attracted to the worn and weathered. So when I find an object with markings of use, I often pick it up and take it home. My studio is filled with these artifacts, and each one once had a life of its own. I love to look closely at their markings and patterns which often offer clues to a life of a particular action or way. In this sense an artifact is a manifestation of a process shaped by it own history.
Artifacts often enter into my work. For the last few years, I have collected old hard covered books. My studio is filled with piles of their extracted covers, often arranged by color.
Recently I have revisited an old favorite, some rusty bedsprings that I discovered years ago in our barn. I incorporated them in an installation at SMOVA (the former Sonoma Museum of Visual Art) back in the year 2000. The space in which I installed the piece was a hallway with doors and rather than fight what was there, named the installation "oR x do x Or".
When I took it down, I installed it on my property, next to a spring which was our water source. There the installation weathered with the wind, rain and sun, and finally fell apart. Three years ago, I moved to higher ground in Sebastopol and took the rusty bedsprings with me. Recently, they have become a focus for new work (a story for another time).
Artifacts are a source material that begin a process. When one enters my studio, I look at it. I can't recall who said "the thing seen is the thing seen" but this phrase, every time I read it, has a way of stopping me and reminds me to spend some time to look and contemplate what is before me. What is its "thingness"? What is its shape? How was it made? What is its condition? What did it go through before it arrived here? How can its history inform my process of working? And finally how can this object of the past move me to the present and forward to the future? No answers, just passing thoughts. And somehow these thoughts engage me to begin a process of working.
Back to the Bedsprings:
A rectilinear grid with coils protruding from its base and like an artifact, is also a source.
"Bed" from the root, "bhedh" means to dig. "Springs" from "spergh" means to move, hasten, leap; it also means to sprinkle and scatter. Not only does this artifact define itself; it also offers a clue. "Dig to move". Look to a source for a direction or way. So where does one look?
"Bed" is a charged word full of associations: sleep, rest, dreams, relationships, birth, death, desires, geology, gardening, base of a body of water, foundation, support, a press.
"Springs" too, has many associations: water, action, shift, release, emerge, season, wires and coils.
And with rust describing them, other associations arise: memory, ancestry, passing time, aging, a museum, an era, an atmosphere and environment.
Many associations suggest many possibilities. Does it matter where or how I begin? Probably not. No matter where I start, I hope to release the object from its charge of associations. And with it will come a renewal, I hope.
The last few shows that I have posted have come about due to work that I created for the In Material exhibit at Quicksilver Mine Co in Forestville, California last year. The exhibit featured my work and the work of two other artists, Susan Field and Elizabeth Sher. We explored materiality through various materials and mediums including stones, book remnants, digital technology and algae. The e-book documents the exhibit. Take a look.
You can also find a review of this exhibit on the blog of Satri Pencak, an independent curator in Sonoma County.
