Fish Have No Feet

While reading Jón Kalman Stefánsson’s novel Fish Have No Feet, which in part takes place in Keflavík, it occurred to me that I never posted my photos from 2017 from there. The book begins with the motto Keflavík does not exist.


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Well, most visitors who come by plane will know that it does in fact exist, and those who are forced to stay near the airport either because they arrive late or because they have to leave early, get a chance to visit. That this is an Icelandic city becomes instantly clear. It presents itself with openness and laconic clarity and always a bit more dedication than strictly necessary.

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The main source of income is documented for eternity,

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the love-hate relationship to the former US army base sublimated in an elegant sculpture,

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the local cave repurposed as the lair of a giantess with a golden heart,

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and comfort is offered to the tired (gigantic?) visitor with a wink.

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Is it ironic that even the scaffoldings are adorned with an extra touch? I don’t think so. In a country where impermanence due to the forces of nature is everywhere, building something requires an extraordinary belief in the ultimate possibility of permanence.

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