Monday 24 February 2014

Mul-Åland Drive


Between the mainlands of Sweden and Finland lies the Åland Islands. Before christmas I cascaded through the plane-bus-bus-ferry cleansing ritual that Åland guides you through before arriving upon her shores.

I spent a few days in this wonderful place. Philosophically and geo-politically, opportunities to ponder the relationship of 'belonging' and 'independence' arose and I lost them all under the rug of my yawn and some belly scratching. 



You see, when you arrive in the upper hemisphere during the winter solstice, your orientation is gently disintegrated.

The sun takes a relaxed attitude to rising. Here it is kissing the horizon yet you're facing neither east or west. It's midday. Your nose is pointing south and your stomach is anticipating breakfast and supper all at once.

My colleague and host heard it resembled the setting of David Lynch's 'Twin Peaks' and I think it does, albeit without peaks - Åland is insistently flat.



This serene and beautiful pancake is built on pinkish-red granite, quietude, armies of trees and the possibility of infinite reflection.


Wait, infinite reflection?! Bah, we unloaded it into wheelbarrows and built a fire to watch it burn deeply through the night (it really did burn a long time. Infinite reflection is a tenacious fuel).

In the morning (and in the fantasy of my mind) I tried to engage my host in a bike race which he reacted to by barely acknowledging me and casually accelerating off. 

Non-chalant overtaking



Photo shoot for 'Rapid Yee-ha Pedal Monthly'

As I snapped out of my fantasy, I noted my host is setting up an impressive studio on Åland - a printing press. It is a project 'in process' as he takes on the stewardship of some industrial printing presses. I am not posting any photos of the studio space (it's not finished!) but we did have some fun making postcards with the little hand-press.   




Brace yourself, I will momentarily enter a hippy state.

There's a poetic bond between being on an island and making postcards. This isn't an ethereal assertion. The desire to communicate is funnelled through a self-reflection (which ultimately proved inexhaustible by fire) offered by the island.

The postcard seems the right format. Concise in its volume and therefore perfect for the distilled pondering gathered on bike rides or from gazing on the shoreline, squinting at the fuzzed out sun, still wondering if it's breakfast or supper time.   





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