Dear Becky,

I returned to Iceland tonight. I pulled my suitcase through a dark snow-filled Reykjavik longing for my bed, or actually any bed. I had looked forward to my return (knowing that it's only for three more weeks made the goodbye in Sweden easier). When getting on the bus in Göteborg I noticed a guy already sitting down. He was wearing this traditional Icelandic knitted sweater, light grey with the specific pattern around the neck in a darker nuance. He got a call on his phone and just as I had guessed – he answered in Icelandic. I find it quite interesting that the Icelanders are actually wearing something that are so connected to their country and that is, in a way so touristic. It's like a national costume, but a costume that's worn in everyday life. Later, on the plain I listened to a radio program about architecture called Fasad (Facade). A friend of mine recommended it after seeing one of my installations. The episode I was listening to was fittingly called “Förklädnader” (disguises or costumes). In one part of the program the host talks about the house of the Swedish author Selma Lagerlöf. Selma was the first woman and the first Swede to get the Nobel price in literature. For money she earned from her books she was able to buy back her childhood home Mårbacka (which had been sold when she was young, during bad financial times), which she transformed into a mansion – a house all dressed up in a man's costume. Selma lived with two other women, they were friends, colleagues and lovers. When she died, all her letters were donated to the royal library in Stockholm with the restriction that they would be made public 50 years after her death. Her personal letters and thus her personal life were in accordance to her wishes open to the public in 1990. She must be one of our most famous lesbians, I mean she's even on one of our bills. And even though her love life was already known before, it was really made public through her letters. Through the communication, written words on paper, between two people. Like the words I'm writing to you now. My letters will probably not be as fantastic or revealing, and I will not become a famous lesbian, living with a man and all, but I believe that almost any letter becomes quite special these days, since they are so rare. Using this medium is almost like cheating, it's too simple. But I like it, it seems to make people happy to find a personal letter among the invoices and ads that are normally filling the mailbox. And I like how you, the one I'm writing to slips into my mind and existence for a while. You become my company and the one I talk to. You are present here with me in this moment.

And when you read this I will, along with my studio, Reykjavik, Iceland, Selma, the guy in the knitted sweater and the Nobel price, occupy a space within you for a while. Thus twisting the notion of time and space.

Thank you for your company!

Love,
Johanna