Nes Artist Residency - Skagaströnd, Iceland.
Support Structure
During my time working in the props industry, I often found myself discussing with colleagues the vast number of supportive non-objects that are made and used throughout the creative process. By non-objects, I mean all the things that enable us to produce the artwork, prop, or product, whether handmade or bought off the shelf.
Endless jigs, trestles, makeshift working booths, formers, tables, racks, trays, clamps, straps, strops, and ropes; the list goes on and on.
These objects are essential to the creation of the final work, yet they often hold little or no value in themselves. They are the understated, and sometimes unrecognised, manifestations of process. Their significance lies not in what they are, but in what they allow us to make.
Arriving in Iceland, I was struck by how visible support structures are within a landscape shaped by extreme and unpredictable weather. Everywhere there were triangles, the shape of strength and stability. In the architecture, the fences, the road infrastructure, and the countless interventions that enable people to live and move through such a demanding environment, support was made tangible.
With a population of just 320,000 people spread across a country roughly the size of England, community is not simply desirable in Iceland; it is essential. The country is often described as being governed by its weather. A single ring road connects much of the nation, with gravel tracks branching off into more remote areas. There are no motorways and no trains. The national meteorological service functions as a lifeline, helping communities navigate rapidly changing conditions. It felt fitting to begin this body of work in a place where the role of support, whether structural, social, or environmental, is so clearly visible.
During my residency in Iceland, I documented my experience through a series of daily installations: three-dimensional drawings created from found materials gathered on long walks around the fishing peninsula of Skagaströnd. These ephemeral works were accompanied by handwritten reflections and observations, scribbled while wandering the landscape.
Together, the installations and writings became a way of exploring themes of support, structure, weather, and place. Rooted in the rhythms of walking and attentive observation, they formed an evolving dialogue with the landscape, revealing the subtle relationships between environment, human experience, and the systems, both visible and unseen, that sustain us.
Beginning
I sat on the verge of panic
as the silence wrapped itself around my chest.
This is what I’ve been primed for,
with that Suffolk root
but nothing could prepare me for the muted,
thick timelessness of northern Iceland.
The sky changed its colours as quickly as a newborn breaths.
Read more at https://voidbeforecreation-blog.tumblr.com
slinking around me,
seeping in like a narcotic.
Inky tones and fifty types of snow,
joined unceremoniously in a dance with the wind.
My every move dictated in the breath of this isle.
Thank goodness for snow boots.
Wind-proofing myth
You can indulge in as much wind-proofing as you like.
It won’t really help.
It won’t stop you from getting blown into the sea, and
it won’t stop the wind from fully fucking you while you try to engage in the simplest of tasks.
Nes Artist residency - Skagaströnd, Iceland.
