Core Forest

While Iceland today appears a treeless, barren land, this was not always the case. It is supposed that nearly a fourth of the island was forest before the arrival of the Vikings in the 9th century, who quickly cut down the trees to make room for their settlements and use the wood as building materials. By the staggering rate of deforestation, Iceland became deprived of its woodlands within a few short centuries.
The consequences of Iceland’s deforestation continue to be apparent with regular soil erosion, flooding, and the challenge of raising livestock. Cover greenery has been vanishing in numerous parts of the land due to volcanic ash, climate change, and human activity. Most of the island lacks tall vegetation. Despite the efforts to replant the forests lost to the early settlers, only a handful of projects have yielded noticeable results. In 1952, government efforts to restore the lost forests turned to the outskirts of Akureyri and planted the first trees of what has become the Kjarnaskógur. Today these woodlands cover nearly 900 hectares and are still growing, with the intent of encircling the entirety of the municipality.
In the summer of 2022, I completed an eight-week artist residency at the Akureyri Art Museum where I lived and worked as a temporary Icelandic resident. Drawing inspiration from the woodlands and surrounding landscape, I completed a body of work which explores the influence of afforestation on distance perception and landscape identity. Completed paintings, displayed in a solo exhibition at Deiglan Gallery (Akureyri) depict the dependent relationship between people and their environment through a developed understanding of landscape identity components. As I continue this body of work in the following months, I will incorporate more of the personal, existential, spatial and cultural perspectives on Icelandic landscape that I have observed during my residence.

The first things you see of Iceland, when you descend through the cloud layer, are the sand, the mountains, and nothing in between.
For an island with so much recorded history it is remarkably unsettled. Most of the land is untouched, because it cannot be tamed, you cannot live past these small, huddled areas around the coastline. Everywhere you look you’re reminded of the power of nature. Here you don’t fight it, you accommodate it.
It’s difficult to believe that once nearly a fourth of this island was forest. The early settlers had cut it down for building materials, the livestock ate away at the underbrush until there was nothing left. Then pair that with the harsh weather conditions, volcanic ash, erosion, flooding and it becomes a barren treeless landscape that pushes life into these small pockets where it can survive.
Although several attempts have been made to replant around over past centuries, it’s only recently that there have been significant results. In the 1950’s, government efforts turned to Akureyri, the capital of the north. 70 years later, the project continues as the most frequently visited woodlands in Iceland which they named Kjarnaskogur.
The forest was planted in the outskirts of the town, today it’s within reasonable walking distance, but even with the proximity you can see a clear divide between people and nature.
The first impression I had when I came here wasn’t of the trees themselves but of the view of development this forest provided. Here there is such a distinct separation between wilderness and civilization and the trees, most of which have been intentionally planted, are somewhere along that very thin borderline.
The most fascinating thing here is that there is no middle ground, you have foreground and background, but so much empty space in between that there’s nothing to grasp onto. It’s a very unsettling feeling. Iceland has some of the most fascinating landscapes in the world and it’s not just because of the abundance of mountains, glaciers, volcanos, waterfalls- anything you could imagine, it’s the proximity of those phenomenal, sublime things in nature. Because of that absence of middle ground that land feature still has an impact on the viewer from 20 km away. Of course when you’re used to perceiving distance this way it’s nothing but from an outsider’s perspective it really is incredible.
Trees are a necessity, they are the foundation for where we can build shelter and grow our crops and sustain ourselves. Without that, you have what we see today- reliance on imports, people flocking to the capital for work instead of evenly settling around the island. I saw that firsthand while living here to create this body of work. It all comes together and makes perfect sense of why things are the way that they are. You can’t look at a topic like afforestation without considering the bigger picture because there are so many contributing factors.
It is so difficult to reverse something hundreds of years in the making, but it is possible. They say that 100 years ago people here couldn’t imagine a tree growing in the town, and now it’s possible. In Akureyri there’s an atmosphere of hope to finally restore what was lost and a prospect of a new opportunity.