Iceland review - 2016, Blaðsíða 52

50 ICELAND REVIEW
WORLD OF ITS OWN
Þórir wanted to have some of the houses
in the village rebuilt as an education
center and artist residencies. Although his
dream was not realized, artists have long
been drawn to Viðey. US sculptor and
video artist Richard Serra put up his out-
door artwork, ‘Milestones,’ on the island
for the 1990 Reykjavík Arts Festival.
The nine pairs of columnar basalt pillars
‘frame’ certain landmarks and destina-
tions, including Hallgrímskirkja church
and Snæfellsjökull glacier.
In 2007, Japanese artist Yoko Ono
unveiled her Imagine Peace Tower on
Viðey, dedicated to the memory of her
late husband John Lennon. The word
‘peace’ is carved into the stone monu-
ment in 24 different languages. From
Lennon’s birthday on October 9 to the
day of his death on December 8—and
select other dates—it projects a beam of
light into the sky.
The sun shines brightly as we board the
ferry. Volunteers are busy scraping weeds
from between the tile stones of the path
to the pier. Þórir and I head out for the
five-minute ride across the Viðeyjarsund
channel to Skarfabakki, where a cliff
called Köllunarklettur (‘Shouting Cliff’)
used to stand. “This is where people
called for the ferry. In good weather, the
calls could be heard on the island. In bad
weather, people would pace back and
forth, and the islanders would know to
send the ferry over,” Þórir informs me.
Today, people visit Viðey for leisure,
including an increasing number of tour-
ists. The ferry sails daily to the island
from two locations in Reykjavík in the
summer and on weekends in winter.
Imagining people pacing back and forth
on the shore, shouting to have a boat
bring them to old Skúli’s ‘palace,’ I take
a look back at the island. It’s part of
Reykjavík, yet a world of its own. u
H I S T O R Y
Source:
• Líndal, Páll. Reykjavík:
Sögustaður við Sund. Vol. 3. Örn
og Örlygur. Reykjavík, 1988.
Ragnhildur explains that her parents
moved to the island because there was
no other option. “There was a lack of
land. On Viðey there was available hous-
ing and enough work.” However, this
changed when the fish industry went
south. “People lost their jobs and start-
ed moving away. But it was a friendly
community; people were kind to the
kids and helped each other out.” In
Ragnhildur’s house, a family of six lived
upstairs and her family shared its living
quarters with an older woman—who
was like a grandmother to the kids—and
her grown daughter. “I didn’t sense it as
a child, but life was hard. Everyone was
poor,” she says. Being the fourth of seven
siblings, Ragnhildur had to help out with
the chores and watch the younger ones.
But life was also fun. In the 1930s, about
seven of the 13 children in the village’s
school were Ragnhildur’s age, and they
were all friends. “I had a very good
childhood. I was carefree as a child. We
played kýló and yfir [ball games] outside
every evening.”
In August 1933, US aviator Charles
Lindbergh and his wife Anne landed
their seaplane near the Viðey village and
they ended up staying with a local couple.
“I ran up a hill to watch the plane land,”
remembers Ragnhildur. The children
loved it when Danish ocean patrol vessel
Hvidbjørnen docked at Viðey. “They had
sweets. Always handing us caramels. And
fruits. My brother came home with pears
and told my mother: ‘If I had one wish,
it would be to own a pear tree.’ It was
also the first time I watched a movie. But
when I boarded the ship I saw guns cov-
ering the walls and I was so scared that
they would shoot us all that afterwards I
couldn’t remember what the movie was
about.” Ragnhildur also clearly recalls
when Iceland was occupied by the allied
forces during World War II, on May 10,
1940. “My mom had recently given birth
to my youngest brother and had to go to
Reykjavík—to the doctor, probably—and
I was babysitting, of course. When she
returned, she told us that the country was
occupied.” Ragnhildur’s father followed
the world news on the radio, and the kids
weren’t supposed to make a sound. The
war made a deep impact on her. “Once,
a German plane flew over Viðey and the
allies shot at it. I was so scared that I
shivered all over.” The war brought busi-
ness for her father, though. “He acquired
a little rowboat, and my brother and I
rowed across to Gufunes with eggs for
the soldiers, who had a camp there.”
Farming gradualy became more of a
hassle, and in 1943, when Ragnhildur
was 15, her family had no choice but
to leave the island. “It was a relief. Life
there had become too difficult,” she
says. Farming was nevertheless prac-
ticed at Viðeyjarbúið until 1970. The
island remained in private hands until
the Icelandic state, and later the City of
Reykjavík, acquired it in 1986. A small
part of it is still owned by the Stephensen
family.
Yoko Ono’s Imagine Peace Tower. The Icelandic word for ‘peace’ is friður, which comes
from the Old Norse verb frjá and means ‘to love,’ Þórir explains. “So, you can’t have peace
without love.” The English word ‘friend’ derives from that same verb.