Where the Body Becomes Water

A visual meditation on bodies in water, where identity loosens, drifts, and re-forms. The series explores moments suspended between belonging and transformation, letting the self blur into landscape and return changed.

This series follows the quiet arc of a body moving through water, observing how identity shifts when held by a force that is older, colder, and more constant than memory. Water has no fixed shape, yet it shapes everything it touches. In Iceland, where I live, water is not only a landscape- it is origin, temperature, mood, history, and a kind of unspoken language. I wanted to explore what happens when a person enters this element not as a visitor, but as someone willing to be changed.

The story begins with suspension: a body floating alone, neither awake nor asleep, as if waiting for permission to cross a threshold. As the water draws closer, the body bends, circles spread, and identity starts to loosen. A figure standing on a tidal rock appears like a guardian of an older understanding- a reminder that before names and roles, identity was shaped by rituals of place and weather.

In pairs or alone, the bodies in the water begin to mirror, dissolve, and reassemble. Some moments are gentle, wrapped in fabric or breath. Others are raw and physical, like the force of a wave overtaking a chest, or the cold river pulling the spine downward. From above, a body on a sea-worn rock becomes almost indistinguishable from the shore itself, as if returning to a source it once knew.

This story is not about heroism or overcoming. It is about listening- to water, to vulnerability, to the state of becoming that exists between loss and emergence. Each photograph holds a different stage of that passage: hesitation, surrender, fragmentation, and eventual stillness.

In the end, the body does not leave the water unchanged. It becomes quieter, softer, more open- shaped not by certainty, but by the fluid, shifting place where identity is allowed to move.