Árbæjarsafn - Group exhibition

" The wind howls, 

It beckons inside. 

The past invites you, but it does not know you 

Framed on the walls, pictures of people and places you have come to know. 

In your heart, this is home. 

But the mind thinks otherwise. 

Towering trees, their branches swaying in the breeze,

Large fields of gold, and crosses replacing skyscrapers, reaching for the stars.

Oh yes, this is familiar. 

But it isn’t home. 

Is there something beyond the frame?

Or is there only more field?

You try to recall distant memories

But the picture you’ve painted is blank. 

These memories are no more than waves of nostalgia, 

For a better time that never was. 

Yes, you remember the smell well. 

And the warmth of the sun. 

But those crosses never embraced you 

Not like the icy mountains did. 

And never did the golden fields tickle your skin,

The way the northern winds did.

The memory of your motherland remains,

But your fatherland calls. 

And you will always answer. 

Always."

Text from exhibition

What is home?

this question i had been wrestling with for many years. of course, i have lived in Iceland all my life. i know my hometown so well, and the people who live there only have to know my mother's name to know who i am.

but i was not born here. neither were my parents. 

yet, Iceland runs in my blood, through my veins. its water nurtures me, unlike the gold fields of the polish countryside. i am an immigrant, it is an undeniable part of my identity, and yet i struggle with the idea of discerning where i belong. 

in my many years of living, I've been told many times i do not belong here, by a vocal, yet small group of people. these sentiments have made me think about my country of origin, and what my body goes through emotionally when i am there. 

these drawings are small-scale recreations of photographs taken in rural Poland, driving through villages with towering churches and crosses, observing intently the very different architecture than what i am used to. these drawings were hung inside one of Árbæjarsafn's buildings, a very Nordic build in contrast with the ones displayed in the drawings. it is meant to create a sort of chasm between the two, a struggle to decipher which place i should call home.