A Journey Through Silence
A visual exploration of modern day sadness; through the never ending roads and ever changing landscapes of Iceland.
I had romanticized Iceland for the longest of time - We land in June, the height of summer, promises of midnight sun and wildlife encounters. Infinite daylight and warm weather, like releasing a sigh held through winter apnoea.
It dawns on me on the third day. A feeling I can only describe as stillness. Yet, it felt uncomfortable because it reflected the emptiness I feel within, blankets me like the fog that covers most of this island. I realise, silence here is loud.
As I journeyed through this immensity, this vastness, this silence I realise it is not a country I am capturing but rather a feeling.
In this universe we are infinitely small. Feelings will come and feelings will go. The mountains will still stand, the water will still flow, and nature, well, it doesn't owe us anything.
These pictures have everything to do with Iceland. These pictures have nothing to do with Iceland.
It dawns on me on the third day. A feeling I can only describe as stillness. Yet, it felt uncomfortable because it reflected the emptiness I feel within, blankets me like the fog that covers most of this island. I realise, silence here is loud.
The first few days are spent driving for hours unaffected by the mayhem of humanity, starting to doubt that there even is humanity. The winding roads take us through lunar landscape, buildings are fast replaced by mountains of moss and hardened lava. Mile after mile of ever changing landscapes. I am hypnotised by the world around me. I spend hours trying to understand the feeling here, like pressing fingers against tender skin, in search of a bruise.
This is an invitation to pause and look inwards.
Who are you when nobody is there to see you?
What feelings have you silenced with the noise of everyday life?
Is nature holding your hand, calling you home?
