Reykjavík Grapevine - 01.06.2018, Side 58

It’s a surprising sight, after driving
the snowed-in mountain passes and
grey, rocky coastline of the southern
Westfjords, to round a tight corner
on an obscure coastal dirt road and
see a vast pink sand beach sprawl-
ing towards the horizon. Violent blue
waves race far up onto the sand as the
tide comes in, causing a fog of spray
to hang over the snow-streaked ex-
panse; in the distance, a hulking flat-
topped mountain emerges from the
fog. Across the fjord, vast glacial val-
leys appear and disappear behind fast
moving clouds and bands of rain, each
one cradling a band of mist. I open the
car window, stunned by the raw and
vivid view, and taste sea salt on my
lips. The Westfjords, even after plenty
of exploration, never cease to amaze.
The dirt track in question is Route
619, an unserviced 25km track that
runs from the tiny town of Bildudalur
to the remote and mostly unpopulated
valley of Selárdalur. It’s an obscure
spot that wouldn’t usually be much of
a destination—the road is rough, and
although the nature is spectacular,
there are many more accessible places
to see it. But at the end of the road
is a true Icelandic oddity: Listasafn
Samúel Jónssonar, or The Samúel
Jónsson Museum.
Westfjordian lions
Samúel Jónsson (1884-1969) was a
farmer who spent his life working at
the Brautarholt farm in Selárdalur.
Upon his retirement, he started creat-
ing art, having never trained or estab-
lished an artistic practise previously.
His collection of paintings and
sculptures developed and grew over
the years as he enthusiastically set
about this new task. Samúel’s ambi-
tion seemed to know no bounds. After
he designed an altarpiece that was
rejected by the church at Selárdalur,
he simply built a church of his own
to house it; his sculptures of people
and wildlife mushroomed around his
home to include a fountain surround-
ed by colourful, cartoonish lions. The
house itself also later received a co-
lourful makeover, and Samúel picked
up a nickname: “Listamaðurinn með
barnshjartað,” or “The artist with a
child’s heart.”
Slipping into disrepair
After his death, the artist’s farmstead
started to deteriorate. Selárdalur is
lashed by unforgiving Arctic weather
in the winter, and without Samúel’s
presence, the sculptures became worn
to the point at which it seemed they
might disintegrate. The fountain
stopped working, and the house and
church slipped into disrepair.
So it was that in 1998, a company
was started to protect and preserve
his oeuvre. A film about Samúel’s
life and work was released in 1999,
which brought some new attention
to the crumbling museum, and in the
Spring of 2004, restoration work be-
gan. A German sculptor named Ger-
hard König led the restoration work,
supervising teams of volunteers over
several summers to renovate the
buildings and restore the sculptures
to their former glory.
Powerfully pure
The cluster of buildings that make up
the museum are a striking sight as we
roll around the final bend and arrive
at Selárdalur. They stand perched in
a field near the ocean, a spot of co-
lour amongst the rough, rolling farm-
land and vast mountains. Although
it’s May, Iceland is still struggling to
make the transition from Winter into
Spring. We pull up and walk over the
farm, and the icy grass crunches be-
neath our boots. I pause for a moment
to take in the view: there isn’t another
soul in sight, the air is crisp and cold,
and the surrounding natural environ-
ment feels powerfully pure.
The church door is left on the latch.
Much of Samúel’s work has been re-
moved for safe keeping, but there are
waterproofed prints of his paintings
on the walls. There are several photo-
graphs of Samúel at work, and a couple
of architectural maquettes—grand
visions that were never realised, per-
haps.
Theatrical timing
The sculptures themselves stand
clustered behind the colourful mu-
seum building, which is locked for the
Winter. The lion fountain is turned
off, but a plastic pipe coils away to-
“A break in the
clouds occurs
with theatrical
timing, casting a
shadow over the
sculpture’s face.”
Travel
Distance from
Reykjavík:
401 km
Car provided by:
gocarrental.is
Accommodation
provided by:
fosshotel.is
How to get there:
Drive Route One
North, Then Routes
60, 62, 63 & 619
50The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 09 — 2018
The Artist With A
Child's Heart
A road trip to the strange and beautiful Samúel Jónsson Museum
Words: John Rogers Photos: Timothée Lambrecq
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