This post is scheduled to be published at the precise time of our plane departure.
Good bye Iceland!
Things we left behind (in our favourite places).
Friday, June 19, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Five Best Things
In a spirit of saying good byes, here is a small list of my absolute favourite things in Iceland:
1. Best Icelandic Surprise - locally produced delicious Orange Peels in Dark Chocolate. Original taste and good packaging make them a very nice small gift. You can buy them in Vínberið at Laugavegi 43. The vitrine on the right from a cashier register also deserves the attention of any chocolate connoisseur.
2. Best Secret Garden – a garden of the Parliament House – peaceful, beautiful and isn't frequented by spooky characters.
3. Best Cobblers – Garðastræti 13. If you dare to wear any remotely decent shoes in Reykjavik you have to know this place.
4. Best Place to Relax with a Book - The Reykjavik City Library,Tryggvagötu 15. Good selection of books and magazines, including children ones; internet access and plenty cozy corners.
5. Most Helpful and Knowledgeable Staff - hands down Reykjavik Art Museum (Hafnarhús and Kjarvalsstaðir locations) Ask a question and they shower you with priceless information.
1. Best Icelandic Surprise - locally produced delicious Orange Peels in Dark Chocolate. Original taste and good packaging make them a very nice small gift. You can buy them in Vínberið at Laugavegi 43. The vitrine on the right from a cashier register also deserves the attention of any chocolate connoisseur.
2. Best Secret Garden – a garden of the Parliament House – peaceful, beautiful and isn't frequented by spooky characters.
3. Best Cobblers – Garðastræti 13. If you dare to wear any remotely decent shoes in Reykjavik you have to know this place.
4. Best Place to Relax with a Book - The Reykjavik City Library,Tryggvagötu 15. Good selection of books and magazines, including children ones; internet access and plenty cozy corners.
5. Most Helpful and Knowledgeable Staff - hands down Reykjavik Art Museum (Hafnarhús and Kjarvalsstaðir locations) Ask a question and they shower you with priceless information.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
National Day
National Day is Icelandic Independence Day, which is celebrated on the 17th of June. There are a lot of festivities going on:a parade,balloons,music,fireworks,crowded streets and plenty of food.
Below are some photos from today.
Below are some photos from today.
On Mediocrity
In one of the blogs I have discovered recently, the entry was devoted to the subject of mediocrity. The author quoted an excerpt from an article where the answer to the question why today there are no great artists such as Constable, Tchaikovsky, Wordsworth, etc., was,"Simple. In their day talent was rewarded above mediocrity, whereas today the exact opposite is true. Why would anyone dedicate a lifetime to perfecting a skill if they can get £1m for not making their bed?" (The author referred to the 1999 work of Tracey Emin “My bed”)
It is a common misconception that modern times cannot produce lions equal to Molière, Byron, Tolstoy, Da Vinci, Gauguin to name a few. In truth contemporaries simply cannot accurately assess the greatness or mediocrity of the artists of their own epoch. Only time can show who will remain standing and who will disappear into the mist of oblivion.
The standards for art have been lowered, there’s no argument about that. New technologies make it possible to produce interesting work without laboring intensely. Often young artists do cut corners and eagerly dive into the world of readymades, but those who devote their life to art are bound to dig deeper and work on their skills, otherwise there is no progress.
The lowering of standards for art has its upside though; it forces people to form their own opinions, view art differently, more freely, without boundaries of what should/shouldn’t appeal to the public. In short, it makes a viewer/reader/listener responsible for forming his own taste. Perhaps the question should not be how much skill was involved in producing something, but how much this piece moves a viewer.
Everyone’s imagination is piqued by different sorts of experiences; what is considered mediocre for one can be an eye opener for another. As long as a person can explain his opinion and doesn’t flatly dismiss the views of others, there is always an opportunity to learn something new.
It is a common misconception that modern times cannot produce lions equal to Molière, Byron, Tolstoy, Da Vinci, Gauguin to name a few. In truth contemporaries simply cannot accurately assess the greatness or mediocrity of the artists of their own epoch. Only time can show who will remain standing and who will disappear into the mist of oblivion.
The standards for art have been lowered, there’s no argument about that. New technologies make it possible to produce interesting work without laboring intensely. Often young artists do cut corners and eagerly dive into the world of readymades, but those who devote their life to art are bound to dig deeper and work on their skills, otherwise there is no progress.
The lowering of standards for art has its upside though; it forces people to form their own opinions, view art differently, more freely, without boundaries of what should/shouldn’t appeal to the public. In short, it makes a viewer/reader/listener responsible for forming his own taste. Perhaps the question should not be how much skill was involved in producing something, but how much this piece moves a viewer.
Everyone’s imagination is piqued by different sorts of experiences; what is considered mediocre for one can be an eye opener for another. As long as a person can explain his opinion and doesn’t flatly dismiss the views of others, there is always an opportunity to learn something new.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Last Days
Our pack out was finished on Friday - the house stands stark empty: white walls and wooden furniture. Windows stripped of curtains flooded rooms with light, echo travels from room to room following our steps. Sudden abundance of uncluttered space is liberating and symbolic to our current state: all ends are tied, all chores are done, there is nothing but our desires to guide us through the last days here.
Today at the evening when the brooding clouds left, we went for a walk. As usual, the kids wanted to go towards the sea. As always, strolling along the shore of Hafnarfjörður and passing by the place where Herjólfsgata merges with Vesturgata we wondered why seagulls always congregated there. In a loosely circular pattern they sway on the waves there day after day, rain or shine. Sometimes they sit calmly, sometimes viciously active. There must be some undercurrent there or some invisible source of food, but we will never know for sure, it will remain our unsolved mystery.
Today at the evening when the brooding clouds left, we went for a walk. As usual, the kids wanted to go towards the sea. As always, strolling along the shore of Hafnarfjörður and passing by the place where Herjólfsgata merges with Vesturgata we wondered why seagulls always congregated there. In a loosely circular pattern they sway on the waves there day after day, rain or shine. Sometimes they sit calmly, sometimes viciously active. There must be some undercurrent there or some invisible source of food, but we will never know for sure, it will remain our unsolved mystery.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
On the Bus
On the bus from the downtown to Hafnarfjörður I sat near a young teen. All black outfit adorned with skulls and holes, sweet face where roundness of the cheeks hadn't been replaced yet by angles and hard lines.
He stared at the window, I - at people. Either out of boredom or anxiety he brought his right hand to his mouth and mindlessly started to bite his nails. Automatically, I snapped, "Stop it. Right now!" He jerked his hand from his face, casted me a "what the f-ck" glance and glued himself to the window.
For the remaining 15 minutes of the road his hands laid still in his lap.
He stared at the window, I - at people. Either out of boredom or anxiety he brought his right hand to his mouth and mindlessly started to bite his nails. Automatically, I snapped, "Stop it. Right now!" He jerked his hand from his face, casted me a "what the f-ck" glance and glued himself to the window.
For the remaining 15 minutes of the road his hands laid still in his lap.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Nature
Look at these darlings, aren't they cute? They are the very first new ducklings that I have spotted at our stream. Summer is really here!
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