The boy Johannes Kjarval built himself a shelter out of these rocks while minding sheep.
And he kept an eye on more than sheep, out there in Borgarfjörður Eystri. Trolls, for instance.
So was Iceland’s great painter created. Here’s a painting of Esja, across from Reykjavik, showing what he learned out there as a boy in the East.
There are many roots to modernism. This is one of the most integrative.
Yesterday I showed an image of a couple of puffin philosophers in Borgarfjörður Eystri. Now a glimpse of some of their concerns. Because puffins erode their hillsides (and have to move on), the community has laid down netting to prevent them from digging just a wee bit too much. The result is a near perfect mathematical placement, likely related to the reach of a human’s arms.
A puffin could complain, but the alternative is to be gobbled up by invasive minks, also brought by humans. The project is financed by people donating to this benevolent intervention. Not that that will stop the puffins from deliberating over it for years, of course.
Like any other Icelandic fishing people, really.
Just follow the trail to Kjarval’s shepherding hut. He’ll be waiting.
Bring an appropriate gift.
There’s the pretty one.
And across the street, the rusty one. All the fish are gone. Beautiful, though.
With ruins in the foreground.
And weird driftwood art.
Neither is Iceland, though. That’s something the Icelanders keep to themselves. What they present to you in its place are charms and gestures.
You know, stuff you remember from the world.