When a ship goes by

With this project, I wanted to understand how I could relate to a foreigner town and community through my own familiar routes. My aim was to look for the "familiar" in a unknown town but I found myself, alone, fragile, confident, running to the sea, barefoot on the ice.

On January 16th I arrived in Kristiansund for an art residency where I aimed to follow my childhood and teenage hood familiar routes in an unknown town. I wanted to understand how I could connect to a foreigner town and community through my own familiar paths. My starting point was to be my home, a little cabin at the sea.

On the 17th I started my journeys in the town.

I followed familiar routes, paths that I knew well in my hometown, that I did so many times over the years. They took me to school or to see my friends or to swimming training. But this time, I wasn’t in my hometown, I was in an unknown cold Norwegian town, where I knew no one.

I am an observer, but I never gave my journeys much attention, it was a repetitive, constant motion, that I took for granted.

In Kristiansund these same paths were completely strange and I was also a stranger. I took notice of everything that was around, even the silence. I stopped to stare at the different colours of the light and the hard surface of the trees. I paid attention to the whistle of the wind and to the conversations in a language I didn’t understand. In some routes I barely saw anyone and it gave me the chance to fully reflect on what I was seeing. Sometimes the white landscape set me in a nostalgic state, but some conversations made me hopeful.

I felt observed and self conscious most of the time.

I got mixed feelings about what I was doing and what I wanted to see. Going home wasn’t going home but it was something safe, I could look at the sea from any window, I could close my eyes and listen to the waves. Also, my things were there, it helped giving me a sense of belonging.

As the days got bigger, I started dreading the time, my paths seemed repetitive and I barely knew anyone. I wasn’t lonely, but I was longing for change.

I ended up in a state of paradoxical boredom and awe. I disregarded my routes. I focused on the experience of the experience of finding oneself. Sometimes I tried breaking the lethargy, other times I explored it - I made myself go deeper into it.

It was about finding home abroad, but I found myself, alone, fragile, strong, confident, running to the cold sea, barefoot on the ice.

On the last night, the forecast predicted that northern lights would be seen so I stayed awake watching the sky feast. Some hours later, I locked the door of the fishing cabin I had lived in and left Kristiansund. It was the 20th of February.