Nes Artist Residency - Skagaströnd, Iceland.

Support Structure Study 1

Over the past year working in the props industry I have often pondered with fellow workers over the mass of supportive non-objects that get made and used. By non-objects, I mean the all the things that get used to aid us in producing the art work/prop/product, whether its handmade or shop bought.

Endless jigs, trestles, make shift working booths, formers, tables, racks, trays, clamps, straps, strops, ropes…. the list goes on and on.

All of these objects are imperative to the production of the final work, but hold little or no value. They are the understated, sometimes unrecognisable,  manifestation of process. The energy lies in their form to help us create.

Since arriving in Iceland I have noticed how important support structures are in a land where the weather is so volatile. There are endless triangles. The shape of strength. Its in the architecture, in the fences, on the roads… Initially I thought perhaps there was something more to this than its structural qualities, but after some research, other than a possible tenuous link to the fishing industry, it is solely for its resistance to the weather.

Iceland has a mere 320,000 people living in it. The population of Edinburgh, in a country the size of England means community is essential and strong. Its no joke when they say Iceland is a country governed by its weather with one main circular road with gravel tracks as b roads, no motorways and no trains. The countries meteorological website is practically a religion. It seems only fitting to begin this body of work in a place where the role of the ‘support’ is so vivid.

Day one

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.


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.