Blink and you’ll miss it

Iceland.

Never has the essence of a country so closely resembled the way in which I see the world.

Never has a world been so surreally beautiful, unexpectedly shimmering with promises both freely given and expertly hidden.

Never have my experiences in a country been so appropriate to the ethos of photography itself, where images are missed or created in the blink of an eye.

And no, never ever have I been driving through a seemingly endless, flat black landscape so out of this world, so lunar with nothing to be seen as far as the eye can see…until you blink.

Just once, one split second blink and snap, there’s a moss covered, vivid green two metre tall boulder floating past you. No approach, no appearing over the horizon, no warning.

Just one blink.

The world has changed – it is green, it is soft, it is round, it is tall. It is no longer flat, no longer black, no longer empty.

Blink.

Gone.

The world is flat, black, lava and the road is long straight and endless. Once again.

Blink.

Still flat, still black.

Iceland.

How many other unrelated, unexpected worlds have come and gone unnoticed, between the blinks? What works of art have been missed? What alternate universes have slipped, there and back, through the fabric of time and space, in the blink of an eye?

Iceland.

Where memories live on and grow with a joyful, fearless poetic license, long after you have left.