Icebergs for Breakfast

Icebergs for Breakfast

iceberg Ilulissat

Icebergs seen on route to Ilulissat, Greenland

I went to sleep on Saturday to the announcement of crossing the Arctic circle.

I woke on Sunday to breakfast with icebergs.

Yes I finally made it to Greenland and boarded the local ferry bound north to Ilulissat. To travel without moving, watching the shadows of water play across the cabin wall, rocked to sleep in the bright light of a summer’s night.

I hadn’t realised how much I needed to rest until I actually finished the last of my three artist residencies and took time to refill my cup. Mentally and physically I was exhausted, my body knew what it needed. So I travelled while I slept, waiting for a reset.

Everything has a season. There is a time to plant, and nourish and harvest then there is a time to be fallow. Too many times we rush through life, forgetting that to be fallow, to be empty is necessary. That’s the time in farming where the land is nourished by the sun and rain, a time to be fertilised, to have nothing asked of it except to be.

Many artists say they get burnt out. You feel empty and drained and feel there is nothing left to make. Yet burnt out has a negative connotation. What if you reframe it to say I am empty and need time for resting, recouping, revitalising. To not be afraid of emptiness, or fear that you can never create again.

Future proofing your arts practice means acknowledging the seasons – inspiration, creation, resolution, rest and repeat. Having a daily practice means that you always keep your hand in even when you are empty. These are the daily marks that mean nothing to anyone except yourself. The routine of nourishment in small bites that will sustain you until you feel ready to be back in the studio again.

Time is what you need. It is a gift to give yourself. Trust the process of creation and be ready for the future.

So this blog is coming to you Sunday afternoon Greenland time, in a hotel overlooking the icebergs in Ilulissat. Tomorrow I go for a walk around the town to learn its history and then a night (not dark) trip in a boat mixing it up with the icebergs in Disko Bay.

I think my last artwork I made in Iceland was a precursor to what I will see tomorrow. I’m glad I am rested and ready for this next adventure.

Detail of the last artwork I made in Iceland, 2022.

The front line

The front line

Rainstones

Rainstones