In terms of geology, Iceland is a very young continent, only eight million years old – a teenager, so to speak, and still a little green behind the ears. You can see this in the iridescent moist green moss on the flanks of the volcanoes. Far up in the North Atlantic, Iceland lies halfway between Greenland and Norway. The island sits on the undersea ring of fire. An unimaginably large force that causes the earth plates of Eurasia and America to drift apart here. The movement of the continental plates creates deep fissures from north to south, running lengthwise through Iceland and constantly widening. To this day, the continental plates of America and Eurasia are steadily moving away from each other; they once met underground. However, it was not plating tectonics, but the unimaginable fiery forces of the earth, deep inside at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, that caused Iceland to emerge as a purely volcanic island 10 to 20 million years ago. It was not until the 10th century that the first daring settlers from Norway arrived on the inhospitable island. They were farmers, fishermen and seafarers at the same time. They were led by the rebellious and courageous Leifur Eiríksson, they wanted to escape the servitude of the feudal lord, the »fair-haired« King Olaf. The risky crossing in open sailing boats was braved by 400 families. They founded a new society on Iceland, with new rules and already the beginnings of co-determination. The (early) Viking parliament, called the »Althing«, first met in Thingvellir, 40 kilometres east of Reykjavík, in 930. The legendary place, sung about in sagas, is located in today’s Thingvellir National Park. Autumn makes the bright colours of the short Nordic summer seem warmer. Temperatures soon drop below freezing at night. Winter can come at any time and cover the pastures of sheep, cows and horses with snow. The hay is quickly brought into the barns with tractors to have enough winter fodder for the animals during the seven, sometimes eight months of winter. I listen spellbound to the beating of the wings of the big, wild Nordic swans. It is reminiscent of the squeaking of badly lubricated wheels. The swans have left their breeding grounds in the north of Iceland. They fly to the south coast during the nights, they have to cross over the huge glaciers, volcanoes and boulder deserts inland, where they find nothing to eat. In this very moment, the loudly vocal birds pass close to me and sound their bright trumpet. To these cries of »where are you?« the answer rings out from the open beaks and long stretched necks of a group of resting swans. For the photographs of this archaic landscape, I change the human perspective and slip into the role of the bird. In Iceland, I don’t get on a plane as usual, here I let my drone explore the surroundings, following the course of barely touched river landscapes with the eye of the camera. But what do I actually want to say, apart from beautiful pictures, of a unique landscape? The things I see are difficult to describe in words. It is shapes and colours, a kind of artistic watercolour landscape, the earth, the black sand, always different colours and shapes. The element of water is seen here and now in a small section differently than usual, and once recomposed. What I particularly love as a photographer and birdwatcher is the bird’s eye view. Usually slightly tilted forward, this reveals details of the landscape without missing its enormous vastness and grandeur. What is new in Iceland for me is the vertical view downwards. The pictorial result is surprising at first sight, enigmatic and without perspective. Distance and expanse disappear almost completely from the image, the world shrinks and becomes endless at the same time. The result is a two-dimensional »close-up« that seems to have been taken from another planet. GEOGRAPHY AUTUMN FROM ABOVE 38
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