Reykjavík Grapevine - 14.08.2015, Blaðsíða 34

“We’ve seen in this
town that if that we
rely on one indus-
try, and it falls, then
everything else
collapses on its ass.
We want to demon-
strate an alternative
way to create a sus-
tainable, blossoming
society, with enjoy-
able jobs in a healthy
work environment.”
PLEASED TO MEAT YOU!
Sköpunarmiðstöðin (the HERE Creative
Centre, in English) has an intriguing story.
Like many of Iceland's remote coastal
settlements, Stöðvarfjörður was once a
prosperous fishing town with a factory
to process the catch. But when the com-
pany behind the factory decided to move
their operation elsewhere in 2005, it took
30 jobs with it. It was a hammer blow to a
town of 250 people, and with no obvious
replacement in sight, depopulation began
as people left to seek jobs elsewhere.
Over the following years, the factory
itself sat empty, slowly falling into a state
of disrepair. By 2011, the local council had
deemed the building unsafe, and started
forming plans to tear it down. But a small
group of locals envisioned a different path
for the 2800 square metre space. "We
came up with an alternative plan to re-
invent the building as a creative centre,"
says Rósa, a local artist and a key figure
in the regeneration project. "We formed a
nonprofit co-op association that managed
to buy the house at auction for 101,000
ISK."
Extreme volunteerism
Rósa is one member of the lively and
engaging core team of creative people
in various disciplines who've dedicated
themselves since then to the development
of the centre. Two others are Una Björk,
a colourfully dressed, e-cig-huffing Ice-
lander who's been visiting the town since
she was 17, and Vinny, a chirpy Irish mu-
sician and sound engineer who came on
board to build a state-of-the-art recording
studio in the factory.
We meet the three in the centre’s
homely concert venue, still festooned with
flags and lanterns from the recent Pólar
Festival. "When we got the building in July
2011, it was in a horrible state," says Rósa,
looking around the cosy space. "The roof
was leaking, there was no electricity, and
it was full of mess from the factory days.
We’ve been reconstructing it for a long
time. We're just a few volunteers with not
much money."
As we walk around the factory, the
scale and ambition of the project soon
becomes apparent. The spaces are clean,
bright and dry, far from the dripping,
murky halls I'd imagined. We wander
through a well-stocked
tool room, print and
metal workshops, a craft
shop selling locally made
objects, a wood work-
shop, and a cavernous
storage space that’s a
treasure of mismatched
furniture, industrial
shelving, lamps, trolleys,
and all kinds of useful
ephemera.
“You learn how to be
an expert on all kinds of
things," laughs Una. "I
never thought in my life
that one day I’d be say-
ing: ‘Yes, you know, I’m
very well informed about
air conditioning systems
and plumbing.’ But now we’re climbing the
last little mountain—fire hoses, things like
that—and then we can start to open up all
this potential.”
Grand designs
That potential includes a wide range of
endeavours, from the centre’s already up-
and-running artist residencies, to work-
shops for school groups, retraining for
the long-term unemployed, art and music
events for the local community, and creat-
ing jobs by putting the facilities to work.
"It's not just about art here," says Una.
"We want to demonstrate that creative en-
deavours can resurrect a society, through
many small things, instead of one big one.
We’ve seen in this town that if that we rely
on one industry, and it falls, then every-
thing else collapses on its ass. We want to
demonstrate an alternative way to create a
sustainable, blossoming
society, with enjoyable
jobs in a healthy work
environment.”
One example is a
small business based
in the wood workshop,
turning out handmade
toys that are sold all
around Iceland. “The toy
factory could potentially
create two jobs,” says
Una. “Every single job
is huge in a town of this
size. And then there’s our
ceramics studio, which
could create one or two
more. The recording stu-
dio could create another.
And there’s so much
more...”
The three get excited as they anima-
tedly discuss how the facilities can work in
harmony, enabling ambitious large-scale
projects to unfold. “You can come here
with an idea, and complete it, from A-Z,”
says Una. “If you come to record music,
you can also screen—print your t-shirts,
album artwork and posters, and walk out
with everything you need, all made under
one roof. We’ll provide the facilities—the
best you can get—and the people who
come here can do anything they want to
in this house.”
Jumping off the cliff
We finish our tour of the factory in the
custom-built Studio Silo. The isolation
booths are ready to have their chunks of
sound-proof glass installed to create line-
of-sight windows across the control room,
which will be packed with vintage record-
ing equipment. Vinny explains how they’ve
been working with a veteran studio de-
signer, who agreed to donate his time and
expertise to the project, coaching them
through the building process over Skype.
I express amazement at what the
group and their community of volunteers
have managed to accomplish with such
slender means. "For me, this is a new
kind of business thinking,” says Rósa. “It
can be very hard to persuade people of
what is possible. The idea of just starting
something is difficult to explain—the idea
of adapting, improvising, collaborating to
make it all happen.”
"People sometimes ask us how we
did this,” continues Una, “and where we
got all the funding. But I tell them, some-
times you just have to start something. For
example, we started this with a Karolina
Fund campaign to raise 500,000 ISK—but
what you stand inside of now is worth four
times that much. We just started this, and
put out a lot of energy, and then it comes
back in the shape of all these amazing
people who are helping us. That's how this
whole house is. We just had to jump off
the cliff!"
34 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 12 — 2015CULTURE
Being HERE
In East Iceland, three people are
harnessing the arts to fight for
the life of their town
Words John Rogers
Photos John Rogers
As the road winds its way around one particularly dramat-
ic section of the Eastfjords towards the remote village of
Stöðvarfjörður, one building leaps out from across the nar-
row fjörd. On the shoreline, just metres from the choppy
sea, sits a hulking industrial structure that's covered in a
variety of bright, eye-catching murals. At the top of the
building, four bright orange letters spell out a single defiant,
affirming word: HERE.
Flights provided by AirIceland:
www.airiceland.is
Car provided by Hertz:
www.hertz.is
Accommodation provided by Berunes:
www.berunes.is.