Brass, water, steam.
TUKKON in the Icelandic highlands. No studio, just the place.
No set, no artificial light. Just the piece, the warm water and the steam rising from the ground. Metal, shown where nature is at its roughest.
The last stretch on foot. Snow on the slopes, wind, a narrow path. The piece is carried.
Highlands · Getting there
Here the ground breathes. Steam rises from the rock, the river is warm, the air heavy with sulphur.
TUKKON on the stones, washed by the river. The brass reflects water and sky. With every hour the light on its surface changes.
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From the valley up onto the ice. Warm metal against cold white.
On the last night, the northern lights above the camp. TUKKON stays outside, still until morning.
TUKKON is back in the workshop. The traces of the journey have remained, as part of its surface.
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