Inviting place into art making

Van Randall

This field school for Concordia students is meant to have a feel of an artist residency but it being a university course open to all educational levels we are tasked with reflecting upon the phenomenon of “artist as tourist”.

Prior to the trip to Iceland, we reflected together on what it means to be an artist in a time of environmental degradation and climate change by humans. Although tourism may provide an economic boost, it is often perspective which treats the natural world as backdrops for human experience rather inviting care and concern for the local cultures and ecological which make the place worth visiting in order to remain self-sustaining.

As artists who are working from a place-based lens, I found we take direction from the subject and materials of the place we work. For example, a place-based practice might look like, as we learned in the workshop on natural dying and spinning, making pigments from sustainably foraged plants or buying wool from the local farmer to spin. 

When foraging for plants we chose plants which are invasive such as the Alaskan Lupin here in Iceland and follow a 10% responsible foraging rule. Lupins brought a nice blue-green, Northern Dock = highlighter yellow and Rhubarb mustard yellow. All which we modified with iron and soda for different variations. See colors below.

In the final work for the IFS, I was thinking about how I could make a map which reflected the feeling of a place which would grow out of my experiences here. In my Geography course this past fall I learned about “story maps” and other alternative kinds of map-making often taken up by artists interested in the power of the map. I knew I wanted to make this map out of a spotted brown and white sheep wool, from Nova Scotia when I helped assist a farmer on shearing day.

While in Akureyri for an afternoon ( the most far northern city in Iceland), I found a book called: The Viking Discovery of North America by Anna Yates. It is a rigourous but non-academic style text whose subtitle I prefer: “The Story of Leifur Eiriksson and Vinland the Good”. I found another book, The Norse Atlantic Saga by Gwyn Jones, an older, heftier text, which I bought for the cool map illustrations, let’s be real. ( See below as part of art installation, in the dye shed.)

The former text inspired my final work here in Iceland and the ease of using the Felt Loom at the textile lab. The felt loom is a large diameter of 60 inches which is good news, since working the sample I found it is hard to keep the project small……. Once you pass the wool through several times the work has a tendency to grow and grow and suck up more and more wool. Thankfully earlier that day, I visited the wool washery in town, and asked what they were planning to do with the wool discarded on the floor which had already been washed. It was wool that had been felted and stuck on the rolls so its destiny was garbage! This additional bagful of brown wool made it possible for me to enjoy creative freedom with the size of the piece, balancing out the white and black Icelandic wool I had copious amounts of from a local sheep farmer and spinning instructor- extraordinaire, Johanna.

What started out as a modest half circle, grew into a giant Icelandic sheep horn! Another surprise was how well this shape wrapped around my body.

Textiles are beautiful as well as offering other potentials a soft, gentle and flexible and protective medium. An oil painting wouldn’t keep you warm in Iceland, unless you set fire to it and that’s only a temporary solution, not a sustainable one.

Final Exhibition Piece “In Search of Vinland” Vanessa Randall

Where is Blönduós?

At about 65° 40′ 0″ N, 20° 18′ 0″ W, Blönduós is a small town in Northwest Iceland where the Textílmiðstöð Íslands – Icelandic Textile Center ( 65.6623273, -20.2933079 ) is situated by the Blanda River and just below the Arctic Circle, which is at 66 degrees north.

First “night” in Blönduós, looking over the river to the old town.

These are references which may help us orient ourselves in space, but do not give us much a sense of place. As artists, we tend to care more about what it is like to experience a place – what a space feels like and what is meaningful or special about it.

Before I had arrived to Blönduós on June 1st, 2024, I had seen pictures of the Textile Center and views of the surrounding area. These were photographs likely taken by past participants in the field school and by our program leader Kathleen who first visited Blönduós in 2016 and fell in love with the place. These fragments of landscape, architecture and sky certainly played on my imagination of what the place might feel like or be like to live in for a month. I arrived at the bus stop at the gas station in the higher part of the town and a new sense of the place formed immediately by the shockingly beautiful mountainous surroundings and view of the sparkling ocean.

Not to mention how the weather quickly changed my sense of place in the first week of settling in. Uncharacteristic for June, we experienced snowfall coupled with heavy periods of rain and winds. The birds sheltered themselves in the bay in front of our residence, and we sheltered inside over our tapestry looms. Overnight, the surrounding mountains changed from a blueish-green dotted with crevasses of stubborn snow to alpine snowy peaks. Once this strange weather system passed, the skies cleared once more, and the hills were alive with “the sound of music” =========== or in this case the sounds of spinning, workshops, knit festivities and birdlife returning in full force!

Spinning workshop with Johanna

More on the process of art making in Blönduós in a later post :).

Vanessa, aka “Van”