Settling into Skagaströnd (Week 1)

My home for the next two months (September and October) was only 30 minutes north of the guesthouse we'd been staying in for a couple of nights, so we arrived in plenty of time after buying more grocery supplies in Blönduós on the way through. I have to add though, buying so many groceries in advance is quite unnecessary, as Skagaströnd's supermarket is incredible for such a tiny town - plenty of fresh foods and pantry items, plus some...albeit at a price. Everything in Iceland is expensive.

Skagaströnd is a small, country town (with a population of less than 500) - very much like small, country towns in Australia except it has a well-stocked supermarket and a very flash looking bank/post office operating limited hours. It sits between a mountain (Spákonufell) and the sea (the bay of Húnaflói). Oh, and it's lush green.

On the short road leading into Skagaströnd, paddocks carve up the land between Spákonufell and the town limits, dotted with plastic-wrapped silage and sheep behind barbed wire fences and 'cocky's gates'. The skies rotate through a range of clear blues to white and grey - occasionally tagged by a half rainbow in the distance, and the wind blows more often than not. Even when the sun is out, the wind can be piercing.


Spákonufell

Cam drove back to Reykjavik for the flight home after dropping me at the residency house on Fellsbraut (the road leading into town), where I was met by one of the residency co-directors. I'm sharing with five other artists on the upper two floors of the house. Most of the others came in later in the afternoon on the shuttle bus from Reykjavik via Blönduós, so I was lucky to have been given a great room in the house - on the top floor with a big window facing the bay. Two diamond-shaped viewing windows either side of the big window, provide a view over the town and the water from bed. It's a big room, with a comfortable sitting chair and stool facing the window to the west, and a bathroom at the end of the short hall, overlooking Spákonufell to the east.



Our share house with a church next door, a mountain at the back, and a 2-minute walk to the studio


The view from my bedroom window

I made comment to a friend before I left home that after two months I may be a bit sick of myself, referencing wearing the same clothes repeatedly for the time I'm here (I brought more tech than clothing). In truth, I quite enjoy my own company but living and working alongside others for two months is quite an intense experience when you're not used to it. The house and studio space is big, and after a week it's evident everyone keeps different schedules...and there's plenty of wide, open space within walking distance for me to lose myself in. So far, I'm finding early mornings aren't exactly busy in the studio.

Meet and greets

One of the reasons artists do residencies is to learn and be creatively stimulated. Working alongside others, allows you to see your work through a new lens - familiar with the creative process and the road artists pave for themselves, but with a different set of life experiences by which to interpret it. Most of us have now met in one way or another, but it'll be exciting to hear the artist talks scheduled for next week and to see works taking shape as we experience our surroundings in different ways. Some seem to be focussed on work they've brought with them, some are just waiting to see what comes to them, others (me included) are already out gathering new material.

When you bring together artists from Australia, the US, Canada, Ireland, Peru, Brazil, Germany, Spain and beyond, good things are sure to happen. It's a studio and house full of accents and best of all - stories. Interestingly, I'm told my stories are the hardest to understand because of my accent. I think it's my turn of phrase more than anything - terms like "grog" and "muster" have come up this week, instead of "alcohol" and "roundup". I was told by the lovely, knowledgeable co-director and ex-Kiwi, Kerryn, that Aussies have, in the past, even taken to renaming the nearby town of Sauðárkrókur, "Sodacrack". I get that. But nothing, nothing, could be harder to understand or pronounce than Icelandic.

Getting out into the cold

One of the biggest differences being here is the cold. The range since I arrived has been about 4 - 11 degrees. It's only cold outside though, and more so because of the wind. When the sun shines and it isn't windy, it's quite pleasant. Yet, us out-of-towners seem to rug up with jumpers, scarves, beanies, windproof coats and waterproof boots while the local teen population walks around in leggings and t-shirts. Inside, you walk into a sauna...oh, and there is one of those in our upstairs bathroom too, which has already had a workout. Not this little black duck. I don't do heat. With geothermal water heating the house and studio, it's on all the time with windows and doors shut. I've been waking in the middle of the night under the mandatory doona with no top sheet (a thing right across the Nordic countries), sweating in my t-shirt. And it's nothing to walk around the house in bare feet, which I'd never do at home in these temperatures. I'm writing this blog inside 'the freezer' - space inside the studio now used for projections and dark 'things', that was once the big freezer when the building was a fish factory. The heating is obviously not as high in here.



Rugged up on the pebbly beach in the harbour across from the studio (long shed in the background)

My first Icelandic hair cut

As someone who has sported a very short hairstyle for the past five years, I'm used to having a trim every four weeks without fail. In anticipation of not getting to a hairdresser for two months, I've been growing out my super short style for the past nine months under the guidance of my special Sophie. However, it's still at that nasty in-between stage, so I was excited to find out there was a hairdresser in Skagaströnd who is open by appointment. I found her on Facebook, messaged her and voila! I'm now sporting my new 'very Icelandic' haircut (so Kerryn tells me). The cutting process is certainly a bit different to home, and everyone had taken their shoes off at the front door (as is the custom), which made tip-toeing through the hair on the floor a tricky manoeuvre. Still, I'll go again before my time is up here. You can never have enough arctic wind whistling up the back of your neck. And as you know, the hairdresser is often the best place to find out about stuff around town. I learnt the Red Cross doesn't open here unless they're doing a clothing drive, it may not snow until January (sad face), and the closest cinema is in Sauðárkrókur.

The magic of a wet weekend

The end of the week wrapped up with a meeting amongst several of us offering our skills and expertise to the local community and school for workshops; a walk along the sea cliffs known by the locals as the Höfði in search of a dead raven that we never saw again after the first sighting, but where Debbi (from New York) and I got a great view over the town; a chat with the horses at the end of my road; some progress on editing my virtual reality video recordings and soundscapes; and the best bit - a wet Saturday. It rained all day. I hadn't experienced that for some time. I stayed in the house to work on some video editing, watching the rain from my bedroom window. I even had a long afternoon nap as I listened to the rain pattering on my window. Bliss.

The view over town from the cairn between the walking trails on the Höfði


These guys are either standoffish when you approach, or like this one, wanting a better sniff.

Busy week ahead

After a Sunday in the studio to catch up on things at home (this is where the Wifi is), finish some writing, play with some more VR and prepare for my artist talk for tomorrow, we'll slide into Monday and a busy week. This week's schedule includes a visit to the famous Museum of Prophecies, right next door to the studio, that tells the story of Þórdís the fortune-teller - the first-named inhabitant of Skagaströnd who lived there in the late 10th century. There could also be a group excursion to Sauðárkrókur to buy some grog, see some VR in the museums there, and hopefully next weekend a visit to a local réttir, the annual autumn sheep and horse muster that is really just one big excuse for a party with the locals. Sometime in between, there could be some artmaking. I'm also trying to psych up to hire a car for a drive up into the mountain to find Hrafndalur (Raven Valley) - a perfect spot for some drone action. It doesn't look too far and I can surely manage right lane driving over a short distance...just don't ask my family!