Movement

A mother and her daughter exit a gate on a rainy May day at Óðinn's preschool, Grænaborg. He graduated yesterday in an official ceremony, complete with being called up to receive a diploma and rose, and to shake hands with the wonderful people who have been caring for him daytimes for the past four years. They're like family, and the safety and security of such a small school will be much missed.

But we grow and get older and change happens in our lives whether we like it or not. For a kid who just turned six this transition - from a cozy preschool campus to Austurbæjarskóli with its rich 82-year history, hundreds of students (many with families who have recently immigrated here) and geothermally-heated indoor swimming pool - is a huge deal. Never mind that the two schools are less than quarter mile apart, on either side of Hallgrímskirkja. This is as dramatic as an intercontinental relocation!

His father and I considered private schools, but ultimately I'm really glad that our boy will be attending an urban campus only yards away from our home, that encourages multicultural education without that drive to total assimilation into Icelandic society that has been such pressing and often destructive force here. (I often tell people that even though I am a 'pure-bred' I still choose to speak Business American on the phone when dealing with companies or banks or anything money related -- basically when people only hear me with my accent I seem to get much worse service! If I show up in person, though, and speak my Icelandic [which is admittedly a totally unique language ;] all is fine: I look Icelandic [whatever that means these days!] and am forgiven my less-than-perfect conjugations. *Not cool!*)

When Iceland opened itself up in the 80's to becoming an active part of the global capitalist conversation, allowing an influx of foreign goods and services to dilute the cultural 'purity' and isolationism of the previous centuries, it effectively gave up the ability to control the rampant growth and often destructive effects of consumerism. The foreign-born talent and labor that has followed in the wake of globalization, and especially the children of these immigrants, simply cannot be denied the same opportunities and rights as the 'pure-breds' whose ancestors have clung to this lava rock for over a millennia now.  A human is a human is a human, and we're all in this Life on Earth thing together. I'm happy that Óðinn will continue to get the chance to meet kids from all over the world at school, and grow from that experience : )

Have you tried Dynamic Viewing yet? Five new views in all. Use the blue tab at the top of the view page to check them all out.

Shoes

GUEST PHOTOGRAPHER: Leifur Þór Þorvaldsson*

Leifur writes: In a secret location on the in the middle of nowhere, these shoes have been lying for decades undisturbed. One can only imagine how it came about that they ended up there.

Leifur, who describes himself as an Icelandic theater maker, graduated with a BA in Theory and Practice from the theatre department of the Iceland Academy of the Arts in 2009. His graduation work, Endurrómun, was staged at Borgaleikhúsið, The Reykjavík City Theatre, last January and was then nominated for a Gríman, the Icelandic answer to the Tony Award. He is now working in the development stages of a new project currently set for production next year. This photo is a sweet example of his obvious visual talents.

During research on the Icelandic theater scene years ago, I discovered that it is amazingly robust for such a small nation. Though there are always grumblings (and rightly so) about reduced funding for the arts, and though the large national and city theaters have a serious corner on the market (here is a statement on that fact by the Association of Independent Theatres in Iceland) theater, as a direct progeny of the storytelling and rímur culture that kept the Icelandic national identity intact during the very difficult middle ages, is alive and strong.

For a bit of extra reading about Icelandic theater, here is a piece on Icelandic theater I wrote for the Reykjavík Grapevine in 2004 (which was, unfortunately, poorly edited and titled before it went to print. Sigh.)

*the letter 'Þ' in Leifur's middle and last names is pronounced 'Th,' so the English spelling of his name is Leifur Thor Thorvaldsson.

Graze

GUEST PHOTOGRAPHER: Aaron Young

Aaron writes: This picture was taken within 24 hours of arriving in Iceland, the first of three planned days. I was on my way to see the famous geysers and majestic waterfalls, stopped to have a look at the ponies, enamored by their natural dressage. Two of them came to greet me, flirted a bit and continued grazing. So inspired by these creatures, their air and their view, I have now been in Iceland for a month.

I cancelled my trips to Holland and Paris, scribbled two little movies and sent requests back to Los Angeles for funding with love. Frankly, colleagues were highly concerned. They only knew a smattering of Iceland, but enough to talk me out of the first film due to impetuosity and lighting conditions. And then, the very next night, a full moon lit up the streets of Reykjavik to absolute perfection. My colleagues then deferred to my discretion, which is staying in Iceland until the essence of Her beautiful people are expressed for the cinema.

(Aaron is currently waiting on film funds, while trying to bottle and export magical Iceland air).

Thank you, Aaron, for this graceful image!

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Regarding Wikileaks and its strong connection to Iceland, The Reykjavik Grapevine currently leads the local pack with current details on the situation. And here is a good read from September on local MP Birgitta Jónsdóttir's relationship to Wikileaks and Julian Assange himself. (For the more daring, here's a link to Birgitta's appearance on Red Ice Radio.)

Day After

I suppose I can't let Reykjavik's annual Iceland Airwaves music festival weekend pass by without posting something about it. I only saw one act this year, at the Mál og Menning bookstore on Laugavegur this afternoon, and I don't even know who it was. Some swell female crooner and a couple of jazzy backup guys (Babar maybe?). The fesitval was sold out this year again and my father said yesterday that the main shooping street, Laugavegur, was swarming with foreign accents and people hauling music equipment around. That's the cool thing about this festival: Reykjavik becomes, for one weekend, a very international place, just like a tiny San Francisco or like a small slice of London, or New York. And this year the organizers tackled the overcrowded venue issue by holding free concerts all over town, like the one I witnessed at the bookstore today. They get a big plus for that!

This still life is one I happened across this morning, the day after the last big concert night of the festival. A broken beer bottle, a lighter, an empty cig box, stubs, a half-full ashtray and a copy of yesterday's Grapevine festival guide all grace the scene, a fine memorial to last night's downtown action.