Month: June 2026

Blönduós kitties

This past month, as I’ve been triangulating between the studio, the grocery store and the pool, I’ve pet a lot of cats. I like to imagine stories about their lives. Here are some things I made up about them.*

Loki 

Black fur, purple collar, most popular girl on Árbraut. 

Named after the god of mischief in Norse mythology, Loki keeps herself busy as an acrobat with a traveling circus. Currently on her summer holiday, she still performs the occasional trick and can always entertain a crowd. She’s often spotted on house roofs, drinking rain water out of their gutters. 

Rusty

White fur with gray spots & stripes, squinty eyes, lap sitter. 

Rusty likes to roll around in the dirt. Some of us hated when the town workers were using the backhoe to plow through the walking path along the river. Rusty loved it because it meant there was all sorts of fresh and soft dirt for her to roll around in. Sometimes she goes down to the river bank to roll in the black sand, but it doesn’t stick to her fur as much as the other dirt, so she only does that occasionally. 

Casper

Long black fur, impeccable taste, connoisseur of fine art. 

Casper wandered into our exhibition on Saturday with one goal: to find an artist worth representing. Being an art dealer in a small town is hard. And it’s not made easier by being a cat. No one takes him seriously until the claws come out. Alas, in yet another example of this, everything at the show was hung too high on the wall for him to see it. He’ll be writing Concordia a strongly worded letter on cat accessibility. Me-ow. 

Tangerine

Long ginger fur, alluring, mysterious. 

Tangerine is a bad boy. Under his fur, he has a growing collection of patchwork tattoos. He owns a motorcycle, but he can’t drive it yet because he doesn’t have his license. He drinks Gull beer and is in a long distance relationship with a cat in Reykjavik. 

Tuxedo Tony

Black and white fur, keeps his cards close. 

Tuxedo Tony, also known as Cow Cat, is an undercover spy with several aliases. Although we still don’t know who sent him or why, we know his mission involves monitoring our cohort on the Textile Center grounds. Tuxedo Tony prowls around, watching us, hiding in tall grass, and retreating into the shadows when seen. Suspicions are growing that Tony was responsible for the disappearance of the House 35 bird. Maybe it knew too much…

Itsy bitsy 

Brown and gray tabby, large in spirit, small in size. 

Itsy bitsy is the youngest of the Blönduós cats, making her the rambunctious wild card of the group. Having been spotted on both sides of the river, it’s unclear where she actually hails from. She can’t be tied down. She likes giving kisses. She has a loud meow.

*Loki and Casper are the only cats whose name I actually know. I made the other names up. Mwah to all the Blönduós kitties! 

Shan

I am lying outside house 35. The wind is blowing the grass. It is tickling my face and arms. My body is heavy. The grass is curling around me. I am in an embrace. I hear Andre in a whisper talking on the phone somewhere nearby. His voice travels on the wind and starts to blend with its howl.

I am lying in a crack in the grass, reading a book Lucy lent me, called “North Woods” by Daniel Mason. The first chapter is about two lovers who are running away together from their religious and orthodox village. A woman is narrating; she is describing the environment in an almost holy way, as if it’s her first time opening her eyes to nature’s beauty.

June 17^th, 2026

Today we went on an adventure around Blönduós to help Rowan with some filming. It felt like a little scavenger hunt where we tried to discover new locations and secrets that the landscape was hiding from us. We trudged along up and down the sides of cliffs. All following one another one by one, or else someone might fall off the edge. It felt like we were Snow White’s twelve dwarfs, happily off to work in the mines. Lying in the grass, Rowan shot some film of me. The ocean and sky blended into each other with only lupins to distinguish them. More than just filming, it was super fun to hang out, play, explore and joke all together.

June 26^th, 2026

Yesterday, it was dark and cloudy, and I was feeling a little stifled, so I decided I needed to go for a walk. I hiked the whole trail along the beach, only stopping to talk to the farmer for a second before continuing the walk. On the way back, I decided to walk along the pier, as it’s something I have never done, even though I have passed by it a million times on my way to the beach. It was kinda eerie that there weren’t any boats at all and the whole pier looked like it hadn’t been used in many years. Why does Blönduós not have any boats? It is on the sea. All of a sudden, the sun lit up the pier and the hill right beside it. It felt like I was the only person on the planet, and the sun was shining directly on me. In this moment, I felt so extremely connected to this landscape that we had spent nearly a month living and working in. The corrosive rusting on the pier lit up just like the orange moss growing and taking over the rocks by the beach.

Byebye

-Annabel

My last post was more poetic and odd, so this one is to balance it out (more literal and normal). I have always been quite nervous with horses. I did not grow up with them around, they are really big, have big teeth, big mouth. The horses here are a bit smaller, but I still feel confident that something extremely awful could happen to me if I were to cross one of these petite powerhouses. When we went to Jona’s farm, I was picturing the horses either in their little fenced-off zone or in the stable, but Jona had such a strong relationship with them that she was comfortable with them all roaming around loose in the barn. This is when I experienced a sort of trial by fire, where I swear those horses could feel my nerves and chose to encircle me. I felt re-baptized by the Icelandic horses.

The following photos are from a few Horse Walks—walking around and looking at horses, and some from Jona’s barn.

Pulling over head

Warm sweaters, coat jackets, hats

Left empty hangers.

Slowly, raindrops line our clothes

Shimmer on our hair.

We leave footprints through black sand

Warp over long grass

Making our way into town

Hearing our laughter.

Weaving through the festival,

Translating wishes

Attempting to speak, and joke,

Now reaching my lips, rhubarb.

Andre Bastian Ibarguengoitia

Before my mom left Iceland she said to me in Greek “tα μάτια σου τέσσερα/ δεκατέσσερα” (ta matia sou tessera/dekatessera). Its direct translation is “your fourteen eyes” or “your four eyes”, but is another way of saying keep your eyes peeled/be careful. This was a new phrase to me, I had not heard her use this one before, but it kept rolling around in my head—not in the way of feeling in danger, but more wanting to use these fourteen eyes to take in my surroundings. The big sky, the sea, the hills, mountains, horses, I want to see it all, but my two eyes feel insufficient to take it in. Nervous to sleep and close my blinds, it feels like I’m shutting out the sky. It will keep changing, clouds moving, sun hovering. Like someone is putting on a performance, and I’m falling asleep in the middle of it. I will probably cry a lot when I leave. I know it’s the same sky, but here it always feels like it’s staring back at me. The veil feeling thin, I can almost see behind, but the fog rolls in and hides what it wants from you. Shannon’s weiner dog tattoo matches the one that is on the fridge, and I really like that. There are a lot of things here that I really like and want to see, but for now, I will close my two eyes, wishing there were 14 of them, and go to sleep.

A small sidequest that I took on in our last few days was trying to develop a roll of b&w film using bladderwrack seaweed from the nearby beach! This was a recipe I had researched before leaving for iceland, so I brought the soda ash and vitamin c, but was able to scavenge for seaweed and saltwater. I will attach the link to the original website and photographer that developed this technique, but for now, here is what I did:

1. Collect a handful of fresh bladderwrack seaweed – about 150g.
2. Boil 500ml of hot water, pour onto the seaweed and leave overnight.
3. In a separate jug, mix 50g of soda crystals with 150ml water and dissolve completely.
4. In the jug with dissolved soda crystals, mix 12g vitamin C with the dissolved soda crystal solution and dissolve completely.
5. Add around 150ml of your seaweed “brew”.
6. Heat to 26-30 degrees. You can do this by putting the jug of seaweed developer into a larger jug of hot water.
7. Pour the developer into your developing tank. Invert the tank every 2 minutes for 60 minutes. You can also stand develop for the full hour but this may create bromide drag.
8. Wash for 2 minutes.
9. Salt has a dissolving limit of 359g per litre. So for a 35mm film you could mix the following solution. 150g salt with 500ml water. You will then need to leave the film in the salt water for 24 hours.
10. Wash for 10 minutes, and hang to dry.

The original link: https://www.alternativephotography.com/seaweed-developer-film/

My results! I don’t know how much playing with these variables would affect the photos in different ways so I wanted to be as methodical with this first attempt as possible. I am pretty happy with how they turned out!

We presented our work on June 27, 2026 from 11:00 to 17:00 at Hillebrandtshús in Blönduos. The venue beautifully suited our month-long exploration in textile art installations. The Rhubarb Festival next door was an ideal companion event to invite the community to participate in our exhibition. Coffee and snacks were laid out. Kathleen introduced the artists talks at midday and each artist spoke about their art and process. Here are some reflections from the Iceland Field School 2026 – Tog & Pel.

Kathleen I must say I’m really impressed by this exhibition. I love seeing the variety of work, the abundance of work, how hard everybody has been producing so many different things that reflect their own lives, own experiences and their connections with Iceland. It’s thrilling.

Tog & þel is what makes the wool of Icelandic sheep unique.

The fibres of tog are long, relatively coarse and strong  — water repellent and protective.

& The fibres of þel are short, fine and soft — fluffy to trap lots of warm air within.

In the heart of the Kvennaskólinn, under the tutelage of history,

By the shores of the River Blanda’s estuary,

Infused with the sounds of the surf, the wind and the migrating birds,

An interdisciplinary group of Canadian students is woven together: wool, wonder and wild plants.

Sixteen artists translate impressions of local landscape and ecology, culture and tradition, in a call-and-response with the living land, sea and sky.

Blönduós has welcomed us.  We have walked and foraged her shores and hills with awe and gratitude. We have filmed, photographed and felted.  We have sewn, painted, swum and steamed.  

Our diverse disciplines — geography, anthropology, ceramics, fibre arts, film production and art education — have converged.  We have learned from one another, from our teachers at the Icelandic Textile Center, and from the contrasts contained within the materials unique to this place: tog and þel, black sand and white agate, fire and ice.

Thank you for having us

Takk fyrir okkur

Andre Bastian Ibarguengoitia, Lucy Carver-Brennan, Shan Collar, Elizabeth Dovolis, Annabel Durr, Melanie Garcia, Ariana G. Hipsagh, Hannah Jakob, Zoé Lapostolle, Keyiana Marques, Rowan McKellar, Shannon Pot, Genevieve Prefontaine, Émilie Valiquette, Ginger Weissdown, Jennifer Wiebe

Field School Leader: Dr. Kathleen Vaughan

Instructors in Iceland: 

Jóhanna Erla Pálmadóttir/Spinning

Ragnheiður Björk Þórsdóttir/Weaving and Tapestry

Þorgerður Hlöðversdóttir/Natural Dye Methods

Sarah Finkle and Alissa Estivariz/Bio Materials

tog & þel

Tog & þel er það sem gerir ull íslensku sauðkindarinnar einstaka. Þræðir torgsins eru langir, tiltölulega grófir og sterkir — hrinda frá sér vatni og eru verndandi & þræðir Þelsins  eru stuttir fíngerðir og mjúkir — dúnmjúkir til að fanga gnægð hlýs lofts.

Í hjarta Kvennaskólans, undir handleiðslu sögunnar, Við strendur óss Blöndu, undir áhrifum frá hljómum brimsins, vindsins og farfuglanna, fléttast saman þverfaglegur hópur kanadískra nemenda: ull, undur og villtar jurtir.

Sextán listamenn túlka hughrif af landslagi staðarins, vistkerfi, menningu og hefðir, í kalli sem bergmálar lifandi land, haf og himinn.

Blönduós hefur tekið vel á móti okkur. Við höfum gengið um strendur staðarins, hæðir og leitað fanga úr náttúrunni af lotningu og þakklæti. Við höfum kvikmyndað, ljósmyndað og þæft. Við höfum saumað, málað, synt og farið í gufu. Fjölbreyttar fræðigreinar okkar — landafræði, mannfræði, keramík, textíllist, kvikmyndagerð og listkennsla — hafa runnið saman í eitt. Við höfum lært hvert af öðru, af kennurum okkar hjá Textílmiðstöð Íslands, og af þeim andstæðum sem búa í efniviðnum sem er einstakur fyrir þennan stað: togi og þeli, svörtum sandi og hvítum agat steinum, eldi og ís.

Takk fyrir okkur

Andre Bastian Ibarguengoitia, Lucy Carver-Brennan, Shan Collar, Elizabeth Dovolis, Annabel Durr, Melanie Garcia, Ariana G. Hipsagh, Hannah Jakob, Zoé Lapostolle, Keyiana Marques, Rowan McKellar, Shannon Pot, Genevieve Prefontaine, Émilie Valiquette, Ginger Weissdown, Jennifer Wiebe

Námstjóri vettvangsnáms: Dr. Kathleen Vaughan

Leiðbeinendur á Íslandi: 

Jóhanna Erla Pálmadóttir/Spinning

Ragnheiður Björk Þórsdóttir/Weaving and Tapestry

Þorgerður Hlöðversdóttir/Natural Dye Methods

Sarah Finkle and Alissa Estivariz/Bio Materials

Curatorial Statement: Geneviève Préfontaine & Jennifer Wiebe, with Icelandic translation (Gemini) edited by Elsa Arnardóttir

Poster design: Hannah Jakob & Keyiana Marques

It is Saturday morning, June 27, 2026—stardate -296514.21588026395, our exhibition is today! The marking of this month of learning together in Blönduós cannot possibly be contained—our memories and photographs already refracting facets of crystal images (Deleuze, 1989) of this time. Installation preview here, with gratitude for this time, this place, these generous and creative souls.

References

Deleuze, G. (1989). Cinema 2: The time-image (H. Tomlinson & R. Galeta, Trans.). University of Minnesota Press.

Long before I arrived at the Icelandic Textile Centre in Blönduós, I had a plan. I intended to observe the local mosses and flora, using wool and felting techniques to create botanical illustrations.
The plants here are as exceptional as I expected, and they truly are a perfect match for the fiber. The issue is that I have found a new obsession—a completely different muse.
I have fallen in love with the rocks. The beaches here are dominated by igneous lava rocks in beautiful shades of grey and black. Tucked inside them are agates, which form underground within the air pockets of ancient lava flows. Over time, water deposits silica into these pockets, creating opaque, glass-like structures. As the softer surrounding host rock erodes away, the resilient agate is left behind.
I began by painting these beach stones using watercolor and gouache on paper, but I kept searching for a way to weave wool into the process. Just yesterday, I tried felting dimensional stones and placing them directly onto the painted surfaces.
The result is awesome! Layering these felted wool rocks onto the flat paintings creates a multimedia piece with a really compelling depth, as seen in the attached image. With one week left before our final exhibition, I am eager to see where this momentum takes me.

I have been really attentive to the colors of the landscape and the colors of my newfound memories, in my focus on natural dyeing. I got really inspired by the lines of connection that formed in my mind between the colors of the sky and those coming from the ground.

I was lucky enough to be awake at night in moments when the sky donned hues that brought tears to my eyes. Being very connected to the night sky at home, the midnight sun is bringing a whole new perspective to my connection to it. I realized that I don’t need to see the stars to feel small under them.

My impression of this experience is very colorful on all fronts.

The landscapes, the striking pink-orange skies, purple lupins dancing with the wind alongside yellow marsh marigolds or dandelions. A rainbow crossing a sky split between pink and blue.

The classes, the wool, the textiles. A joyous multicolored sprawl of wool skeins on the table, waiting to be picked to be used in our tapestries. The skeins drying on the wall still dripping cochineal purples and lupin leaves, yellow after the natural dye workshop.

The very bright yellow shirt that Vika, from Reykjavik, was wearing when she taught me to knit. She was proud to say that she knitted with multiple types of yarn, because “there are no rules for knitting”.

The butter yellow of the Ömmukaffi, and its very charismatic owner, who serves delicious rhubarb waffles with a smile.

The blue of the pool on a sunny day, doing laps to start the day.

The green of the tall grasses we sat in to weave, to snack, to gaze out at the sea.

The red roofs. House 35 and the happy, creative impromptu meetings we have every night in the living room. The now familiar and comforting assortments of crafts living on the table.

All of that a very vibrant rainbow of creative moments with peers, new skills, breathtaking views, and new connections.

Émilie Valiquette