Long before it was long ago.
Pálshús. Ólafsfjörður. Iceland
This is some vague connection to a story I heard, from my grandmother. Just like when the horizon becomes cloudy and you can't tell the difference between sky and ocean. I fall back in time, the images appear in my head. There she is serving them pancakes freshly baked, rolled up, sugared on a plate. Just before reaching the pier, the ship was stopped in the harbor and the customs officers came on board to check and inspect. Have a coffee and a pancake.
On board 2025, photographic print on aluminium.
I don't get seasick, I feel a little like I have some fisherman blood running through me, a feeling of pride rushes over me. As if the ocean and I have made a pact. The ocean is a second home, a floating mother.
There is a circle, there is a triangle, and there is a square.
The space that lies between me and you is abstract. Just like playing with the basic shapes in an abstract image structure. The English word for geometry comes from the ancient Greek word γεωμετρία; geo- "earth", -metron "measurement") This could be some kind of geometric relationship, an earthly relationship. The symbol of the lifebuoy is put in context with the ideas of the perfect form. We need form, a framework to put things in context and connect.
Related. 2025. Sculpture. Plastic, paint, rope and iron.
Guides 2023, silkscreen print. Edition 21/21
And then there, yes there they fly out of the frame. The work is called Guides and they show us the way, at sea the story of the bird has been the story of the protector. I have been told that finding a feather on the road is a good sign, a feather is often a message from beyond. I have been playing with putting the feather in my palm and letting the wind take it, taking a deep breath in - then out, together.
Help. 2025. Feathers, iron, metal frame.
Text by Eva Ísleifs
Photos of the exhibition by Sigrún Gyða Sveinsdóttir