Farmstead II

I want to show you a series of images that celebrate the simple Icelandic farm - a 'two fingers up' at Epic Iceland, Its all got so very boring, so derivative so quickly... If I see another river delta from the air I think I will go mad.

Icelandic farms have fascinated me for a few years now. They are usually remotely located, simply designed, orderly, tidy and above all colourful. The Icelandic farmer seems to have access to a lot of fabulous pastel shades when chosing paint - I wonder, do they actually think about colour before painting their farm buildings? Do they? 

'Aron my son, I have got it - I know, let's paint the barn off white, the roof apple green, with battleship grey and sandstone doors.... what do you say?' 

Who thinks these colour schemes up? Is it just a collision of spare paint, applied without any consideration, or are crucial artisitc decisions made? Do they paint, stand back, reconsider? Do they repaint if it fails? What about fading? As you can see, I have many questions.

What calls me over is the use of simple construction techniques, economical in design, with space and balance. Windows and doors seem so well considered. Triangles, rectangles, squares and soft colours. Basic materials, wood and corrugated metal roofing, cob walls... then there's the pathetic wooden gates, 2x4 and a hammer... Let's add some apple green haybales, pink hay bales not miss shapen black ovals we get here in England.  They arent just thrown on the ground, left in the field all year. Everything seems beatifully arranged, so orchestrated - even the tractors are parked with thought. Do you think they have been waiting for someone to notice? 

Dust the farm with a little iceing sugar and from a distance they look like marzipan cakes toppers. Add a mid tone grey, a winter sky, or those deep snowstorm blues and the complementary colours become so very special. I don't know of any other place where farms look are so beautiful.

I want to be a winter farmer. I want to love my animals, feed them, keep them safe, drive my tractor, blow warm breath into my woollen gloves, tie the gate, chop wood, light the open fire, get the kettle on, smile at Mrs Farmer, eat stew, feel content, feel happy and live quietly, without technology, without this laptop.  

I want this all to remain a mystery, a beautiful dream, an escape.