In the beginning the idea was to make something from nothing, in a neutral and unknown place. Collect images and sounds instead of producing them. The camera, the microphone and the mini-amplifier: tools that take away and then give back. We defined a rule: the sound shouldn’t illustrate the image and the image shouldn’t absorb the sound. Less than a hundred kilometres from Reykjavik we found Strokkur. A scar on the Earth that insists in not healing, gushing from the depths. We came closer. For three days we saw and heard the internal dynamics of the crevice: the boiling water that spat out every seven minutes and the thermal shock, given the eighteen degrees below zero of the atmosphere. The film was already there, the music too. Underneath the blizzard, the soaked amplifier was out of tune and produced strange noises. The camera was almost blown away with the wind gusts. Batteries did not resist the cold and died every fifteen minutes. We ran for shelter carrying the gear on our backs. Reload. Reheat. Start all over again. “Strokkur” is above all a document. A log of an observation-dialogue, of what was left.
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