Dear Viveka,

To hear the music on my computer I need to have it on a quite high level because of the strong sound of the wind finding its way through the narrow space between the windowsill and the wall. The sea outside my window has turned dark and violent. It's rather powerful. Seeing this huge mass of water makes me realize how isolated we are on this island. There's nowhere else to go. No borders to walk over.

But I walked the streets again today. This time I had company with one of the other guest artists. It's interesting to follow someone else's pace and impulses too. It changes the experience. Especially when it's someone you don't know yet. One concrete result of this was the fact that we visited two churches in town. Normally I'm not so drawn to those places, but in someone's company it's ok. In the first church there was a man playing the big organ. The sound was filling every inch of the space, layering up to a big mass of sound waves. It's really a strange instrument (apparently the world's biggest). This one looked like something out of the movie Star Wars. Like a steel vehicle ready to take off into the sky. The architecture of the whole church followed the shape of the organ, or the other way around, down to the details of the church benches.

The strongest experience was though in the other church. In this one, in contrast to the first one, there were no tourists. The big heavy door was to our surprise open and led to a small hallway. When entering the main church hall we were met by a strong light from the sun through the coloured windows. A woman was kneeling in the first bench row, bowing her head in prayer. On the raised area near the altar another woman dressed in traditional nun clothes was sweeping the floor. Slowly and methodically, back and forth. We took a seat in one of the back rows. The atmosphere was quite condense, and my focus couldn't let go of that woman cleaning the floor. The setting was perfect with the dramatic light through the red and purple glass, red carpet on the floor under the altar, big flowers in vases on the sides framing the stage. Because it definitely felt like she was on a stage and that I was witnessing a performance. It might have been because of all the strong references to performances in the past involving cleaning floors or streets. It might have been the light, her clothes, the careful and concentrated way she was moving in, the raised floor in front of rows of benches. Or it might have been the fact that I've for this period in Iceland decided to reflect on where and when art is. In the end it doesn't matter. The 15 minutes performance I experienced in that church was better than many others I've seen in more traditional and intentional art contexts.

I hope everything is good with you and that life in Helsinki is treating you well!

Love,
Johanna