The Baer show, heading home...

I'm sitting in a flat in Reykjavik on Thursday evening, June 27, after a lengthy bus trip from the north. I left Baer late this morning...the first of the five artists-in-residence to leave.  Not a badge I wear by choice, but a necessary distinction, as my flight for home leaves tomorrow at 5:25pm, and coordinating all of the bus trips (2-3, depending) to make it to the Keflavik airport from Baer on Friday allowed no room for error. I decided  it would be more prudent to leave a day early, plant myself in Reykjavik for the evening, and head out the next day with plenty of extra space-time.

The downside, of course:  I left Baer today.  Reluctantly.  While the prospect of heading home to see the people (and three-legged dog) I miss is an exciting one, I leave behind a place, and group, responsible for an experience unlike any I have had.  More about that in a bit.

Last night we showed our work, together, at an Open House/reception...the culmination of the month's art-making efforts.  These shows are held at Baer at the end of each residency month, and are well-attended by so many in the area.  Last night was no different.  Lots of people came to the Art Center to view our work, placed and hung in both our studio spaces as well as the large barn gallery at the end of the building.  The work looked great, and this was our first, and only, opportunity to see it all together in one  sequence of spaces.  now it all travels...to Germany, Denmark, and three separate locations in the US (maybe more!)

We spent the day preparing, and the evening socializing...and then celebrating.  We met some great people, both from the area( farm families, fishing families, friends of friends of friends) as well as a few artists-in-residence at other programs nearby (yes, for a sparsely populated part of a sparsely populated country, there are four artist residency programs within an hour or so...none as good as Baer, of course:)).

It was an evening of good conversation, new friendships, and great feedback.  A warm collective to end our month.  After the throngs departed, the core group- we five artists, the folks who work at Baer, and Steinunn and her husband- all sat down for a few hours of wine and wind-down.  I hit the bed at...I don't know...3am?  Still light out, of course...

The crew around 11 or 12 midnight:

 This morning was melancholic: packing, goodbyes, final look-rounds at the wonder of the area.  A heavy morning wind, accompanied by drama-laden skies, gave me quite a stage for goodbyes.  As is often the case with meaningful experiences, there is a potent mix of sadness and joy upon leaving it.  That's today's theme.  I feel it, as I sit in Reykjavik.  I know we, the artists and Steinunn, will stay in touch.  I will also be seeing Steinunn in October when she comes to Boston for a conference.  And, I intend to return: to Iceland, and to Baer.  It's now, in some tiny but significant way, in my blood.

I've now caught the artist residency bug.

More, please.

Baer no.4

Baer no.4
2013
oil on canvas
8x8"

edge of the farm- Baer

edge of the farm- Baer
2013
charcoal on paper
30x53"
(plus detail)

show going up, trip winding down...

It's Tuesday, June 25, 10:00 am.  As the end of my month-long residency here at Baer draws near, our group of five artists are preparing to hang a show of our work in the gallery area of the studio building.  This Open House show takes place tomorrow night from 8-10pm., and Steinunn has listed the event in a local publication, and posted announcements in the area.  Each Baer residency group shows their work in this fashion, and these events have caught on quite well, so we are all looking forward to meeting more neighbors, friends and visitors in the area.

With the show looming, I am on a final push to finish a larger-scale drawing in time to hang my work.  I'll work on it through today, and cross my fingers that I can get it to a resolved state by tomorrow morning.  This may be the one time where the midnight sun, and the sleepless nights it facilitates for me, may work to my advantage.  It won't be the first time I've stumbled into my studio at 3am to draw, paint...or just stare at my work.

I cannot begin to describe this experience...so I'm reluctant to even make an attempt.  This is the first artist residency I've ever done...but after this, I'm hooked.  I want more.  I've been warned by the other four resident artists- all veterans of residency grants- that this particular one has set the bar quite high...it's been one of the best each has ever experienced.  They've cautioned me to not expect them all to be like this!  But, I don't care.  The time and space to work, in a unique environment- away from the familiar...that's what I've loved the most.  Posh, rustic, large, small...bring them on.  I've loved how this experience has changed the way I see, and think...and that can happen when you can focus, uninterrupted with no distractions, on your work.  I crave more.  My work demands it, I think.  Where to next...?

Our final group excursion: We spent Sunday morning on a boat, touring the local coastline.  A beautiful day.  We were able to see the Art Center and this entire now-familiar-to-us area from a different perspective. The epic nature of the space, and the islands just off the coast, came into clearer view from this vantage point.  And, basalt rock formations abound.

We spent some time circling the small, isolated islands off the coast...including Drangey Island, a favorite for birds in the area.  So much so that one side (the northern side) is bleached with white- specks of white as well as large swaths of whitewashed rock. The specks are birds...the whitewash: bird poo.

Upon our return swing back to the Harbor in Hofsos, we encountered what we had hoped to see, but can be fleeting to the eye: whales.  In the distance at first, then alongside our boat for a brief moment.  

I was even able to grab a few seconds of video during our whale encounters:

A truly wonderous experience.

But enough of this.  I have a drawing to attack...

work-in-progress: edge of the farm- Baer

work-in-progress
edge of the farm- Baer
2013
charcoal on paper
30x53"

gesture in a midnight sun/isolate

gesture in a midnight sun/isolate
2013
charcoal on paper with tissue
18x30"

road to Holar

road to Holar
2013
oil on canvas
35.5x35.5"

(plus studio view and two details)

work-in-progress: road to Holar

work-in-progress:
Road to Holar
2013
oil on canvas
35.5x35.5"

work-in-progress: Reykjavik

work-in-progress:
Reykjavik
2013
oil, tissue on four panels
8x33.5"

The downside of this trip...

I've now been at my artist residency at Baer Art Center, in northern Iceland, since June 3.  It has held more wonder for me, in every conceivable category, than I could ever have anticipated...and I anticipated a lot.  The landscape, the light, the people (the director and those who work here, the locals, the other artists), the uninterrupted work time, the general inspiration...it changes someone, in small ways that begin to add up.  I am so very lucky to have been offered this opportunity.

All of that said, there is one drawback, one area of continual battle, that I've faced since my arrival: the ability to sleep.  It is midnight sun season here, and we're approaching the longest day of the year, on Friday.   On a day with clear sunny weather, the light shines for almost 24 hours straight.  We've been blessed with clear, dry weather on most days thus far, and that translates into sleepless nights as my body and mind fruitlessly attempt to understand that, hey, it's nighttime.  The windows are equipped with black-out shades, and they work pretty well.  However, a bit of light still sneaks past on all edges of the shades, illuminating the room just enough to confuse my mind, and my sleep patterns.  An overcast day/night is a bit darker, and a bit easier, but with the clear weather we've had, most nights have been a sleep struggle.

 an evening view.

No huge surprise, I suppose: coming from solid dark at night to virtual round-the-clock sun will mess anyone up, at least a bit.  I never anticipated, though, the limited amounts of sleep my body is allowing here.  I have been averaging about 4 hours per night, and much of that is restless.  Fortunately, I am so taken with everything- sights, sounds, the work I'm doing- that my waking hours seem less fatigue-filled than I would have thought them to be under these conditions.  My studio is connected to my bedroom, so I stumble out of bed and into work...sometimes at 3am.  The line between work time and sleep time is heavily blurred.

So, it continues.  Today is overcast, so I'm hopeful that tonight might be one of the easier nights.  We'll see.  However, I predict I may continue with sleep struggle for the duration.  I can handle it...small price to pay for  being here, truly.

I may, however, sleep for a week straight when I return.

Baer no.3

Baer no.3
2013
oil on canvas
12x12"

work-in-progress

work-in-progress
oil on canvas
15.5x24"

itchy horses on the farm

gesture in a midnight sun no.4

gesture in a midnight sun no.4
2013
charcoal on paper
12x12"

Some additional thoughts about Iceland

some further observations about Iceland...

1. People native to Iceland seem a good deal thinner, or more well-proportioned, than those in the US. I realize one can say this about many countries in the world... I guess Iceland is one of them. Diet, exercise...? Seafood is a staple in their cuisine.
2. Icelanders celebrate their Independence today (Mon the 17th) with a national holiday. The country became fully independent from Denmark in 1944. Everything is closed. 
3. The architecture in Iceland takes a bit of getting used to, if coming from the US. very utilitarian, fact-based. Not much flourish...but designed to withstand the weather conditions of the country. Upon first encounter, it can feel a little cold.
4. Oh, this midnight sun...a clear evening sky can keep me up much of the night with its bright light- even with block-out shades drawn. Not sure if this is due to the light seeping in from the edges, or the rhythms of my body/mind. Probably both.

the evening sky- about 11pm. This is the darkest it ever gets right now.

5. The Icelandic language is beautiful to hear, and difficult to read. Listening to children speak in this country is a joy.
6. Some people in this country drive really, really fast. Dangerously so. Down rural roads. A universal problem.
7. Iceland, at least the northern areas, will absolutely NOT give tree lovers any kind of fix for their addiction. Saw trees yesterday, during travels in the region, for the first time in over a week. Stunning lack-of-tree landscape, though.
8. Iceland nationally regulates first names for children. There are many to choose from, but if you would like to give your child a name not included on the list, you must seek approval. The last names for most here, of course, indicate gender and father's name (male last names begin with father's first name and end in -sson, females follow the same structure and end in -ittor...there are, of course, plenty of exceptions, but this is what one will most commonly find).
9. There is a belief in this country, held my a very small percentage of the population, that Iceland is inhabited by "hidden people", a group of people who live out-of-sight of normal humans. They have special powers, have light emanating from their skin, and are pretty good-looking overall.
10. The water here, out of the tap, is so, so good.

Sunday Travels: Grafarkirkja, Holar and Glaumbaer

Today, Sunday June 16 (Happy Father's Day, Dad!...), brought perfect weather for an excursion: a cloudless sky, warm temps with a slight, cool breeze at our backs, and crisp colors in the landscape.  We started our day at a small chapel not far from the Art Center.  Grafarkirkja was built in the 17th century, and is a good example of the use of turf/sod as a building material. An alternative to hard-to-find lumber, and providing superior insulating and cooling properties, turf was commonly used to build structures in previous periods of Icelandic history, before international trade allowed for access to other materials.  The distinctive grass and sod rooftops, along with stacks of turf layered to build walls, are some of the hallmarks of turf houses.  The studio building at the Art Center was built with a turf roof, and although you will not find many current homes and structures in Iceland utilizing this technique, it is beginning to make a comeback.

The chapel is small, and that really understates it.  In the photo below, you can get a sense of scale as Andi, another artist-in-residence at Baer, enters the front door.

Inside, small pews front a tiny altar.  The church is still in use today, although primarily for special events, and the interior has been renovated with the times to allow for continuing worship activities.

Not the best choice for church if you're tall.

On the exterior of the chapel, you can see the stacked layers of sod that make up the outside walls.  These sections were stacked here like pancakes, one atop another; generally, you find sod walls in more of a herringbone pattern, which offers greater strength to the structure (you'll see an example later in this post).

This was a beautiful, if somewhat compact, church... sitting in the middle of a field, bordered by mountains.  Very peaceful.

We left Grafarkirkja and headed further southeast, to a tiny village called Holar.  An old community, it dates back nine centuries and is home to a cathedral (again somewhat small in stature) and Holar University College, a research and teaching center specializing in horse-breeding and -training, aquaculture, and tourism.  The small village is also the site of a printing press and farmhouse dating back to approximately 1530; these remains cover the ruins of an even older farmhouse from the 12th century.  This area has been the site of an archaeological excavation, unearthing valuable evidence of the printing press activity; it holds great historical significance, as it was the first press in the world to print a Bible in Icelandic.

The cathedral, although small, is quite beautiful.

We visited midday, as they were preparing for a concert to be held later in the afternoon. A great place to hear music- someone was playing the organ as we watched, and it had such a sweet sound.

Lunchtime came upon us, and we had a delicious meal in the University Center: arctic char, gold potatoes, salad greens, and spicy tomato soup.  The seafood in Iceland is, quite simply, some of the freshest I have ever tasted.  All local.  Never in my life have I taken so many pictures of meals...but I'm compelled to do so in this country, as it's all so memorable.

Our wandering in Holar after lunch brought us to another turf house: Nyibaer dates back to the mid-19th century, and was still in use as an active home until 1945. With this structure, one sees an excellent example of the herringbone-style placement of the sod sections, making up the outer walls.

We left Holar early in the afternoon, and made our way west to Glaumbaer Farm, another turf home...this one considered to have been a large manor by comparison to many.  The techniques for building with turf varied between different areas in Iceland; in some, walls were often constructed with a combination of rocks and turf. At Glaumbaer, most of the building structure was almost exclusively turf. This farm dates to the 18th and 19th century, depending on which section you consider.

Glaumbaer consists of many small connected rooms and buildings, ranging from smithy areas to bedrooms and pantries.  From the outside, it looks like separate sections, but most are combined with passageways and room combinations.  

 The interior rooms each have their own unique character.  This front room is the only one in the complex with any color on the walls.  The remaining are either natural wood, or exposed sod.  The floors are made of dirt.

The passageways are cramped...not a good living situation for anyone with claustrophobia.

There are a number of bedrooms, each with a few beds.  These beds are not only short, but narrow as well. However, each slept two people on average.  There could be upwards of 22 people living in this complex at any given time.

The farm is well-stocked with artifacts relating to everyday living during the 18th and 19th centuries.  Food and water barrels and cabinets, sewing tools, recreational items (such as ice skates made of bone)...even a kit for blood-letting, a common health practice in those days.

Glaumbaer is a vivid example of turf-house living, with all of its challenges.  But, what a view in the front yard:

We ended our time at Glaumbaer with a stop at the coffeehouse on the property grounds.  Here, I tasted what I sadly suspect I won't be able to find to any comparable quality in the US: skyrcake, a cheesecake-style dessert made from skyr, a cultured dairy product native to Iceland, similar to yogurt, but way, way better.  Skyr is kind of like a strained yogurt, with a consistency not unlike greek-style yogurt, but smoother. It has been a staple of Icelandic cuisine for over a thousand years. It is traditionally served cold, with a topping of sugar and cream.  However, today I tried a taste of it in this popular dessert form.  Heaven.  I understand skyr is available in the states, most readily at Whole Foods, but I'll have to confirm it for myself when I return home.  I'm a big convert.

Just before we left Glaumbaer, I had a quick chat with a few new friends. These guys were hanging out near the walkway, cooling their thick-coated bodies in some dirt.  Sleepy and lazy cuddle time.