Dolla (Ild/Fire), 32.25 min (2021)
In the Northern summer, it’s not dark. It´s light at night and the birds are singing.
The damp night air covers everything with a thin layer of dew, including my audio recorder lying on a patch of moss with the microphones facing the flames of the fire.
I am lying on the old sleeping pad in my mother’s hiking jacket from the early 2000s. My fire is not big. My hands are forming a dome above the flames and I let the smoke gather in it.
Then, – I let it out.
Fire is a strange thing. When I lit it, it already exists. Fire is there like a potential within all things, just waiting for me to put the elements in the right order for it.
At first, there is only birch bark and the smell of bog between my fingers, before the flaming tongues of fire suddenly appear out of every inch of the flammable matter.
They move back and forth, taking over and then letting go. The flames eat up, disappear, change, and become anew.
A sneeze from the ocean, from the ashes, from mythology, spreads across the wood and covers it with its entire being.
(Dolla was originally a commission for Seyðisfjörður Community Radio on Iceland)
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