Podcast Episode 4 – Tim Hinman

We had a conversation with Tim Hinman when he was here a few weeks ago. We talked about the good conversation, about the difference between conversation and interview and then we heard some good stories.



A diary from inside the Elton John

birdsIn the beginning of each new week we publish a story about the week that just passed at the LungA School. It is written from the inside and can be about anything. That’s all. This is the sixth chapter:


I am walking on the asphalt road up the mountain towards the city of Egilsstaðir. I am not going all the way to the town, only a couple of kilometres up the mountain to look at the Gufufoss waterfall. I have wanted to do that since I arrived here 50 days ago.

As I walk cars and trucks are whizzing past me in each direction at regular intervals. To my left the river is raging more than usually because of the snow that fell the day before and now is melting, running down the mountainsides. The wind is blowing into my ears, and I start to freeze my hands. I put them to my mouth and blow air into them.

Then I begin to sing an Elton John-song:

Mars ain’t the kind of place

To raise your kids

In fact, it’s cold as hell

The song is called Rocket Man. And for no particular reason I replace Mars with Seyðisfjörður inside my head and think the lyrics suit pretty great this day, while I put my pale hands into the pockets of my red jacket.

It annoys me, that I can’t remember any more lines from the song, because I want to see if the rest of the song also fits with Seyðisfjörður, and I decide to look it up, when I get home.

But it strikes me:

– This is the first time in more than 14 hours I have said anything.

The reason for that is that today is the Day of Silence.

14 hours earlier we all sat in the kitchen of our home and one after one we put our voices into a glass jar. When the jar passed me I put two fingers into my mouth and pulled out the voice as if it was a little hair stuck on my tongue.

Others screamed their voices into the jar so intensely that the glass was misty on the inside when the top was fastened.

But we did not only loose our voices, we were also encouraged to be as much alone as possible, not to use computers, telephones or do anything else to escape the silence and the time alone. And we should use that time to think. Sit and think. Be alone.

I looked around the room at all the silent students while thinking, that they would have no problem being on their own and keeping silent.

– It is just 24 hours, it is nothing, I thought and went to bed.

As soon as I woke up the next day I realize that the Day of Silence has been given the wrong name.

The ticks from the wall clock are louder and more irritating than all other days. Suddenly I look towards the ceiling in surprise as what seems to be a herd of reindeer runs wild on the first floor. Cutlery tapping into a white porcelain plate. And then the pipes in the common showers starts to growl again and again. And again.

– What’s up with all the showering today, I think before I start my hike towards the waterfall.

After an hour I reach it. The water pours out over the dark rocks and together with the cold a web of ice is created behind the falling water. I listen to the waterfall’s rumble sounding like something coming from the depth of a throat.

As I stand there, in what reminds me of one big Anselm Kiefer painting, I begin to think about the difference between sounds and noise. Is there any difference? And if so, is it whether or not it is a human creation or a creation of the nature?

So, when the sheep, an animal, is bleating, it is a sound, a naturally created element, while the “sound” the bell around its neck makes when the sheep is moving is noise, because the bell is created and placed around the neck by humans. Or put in an other way – the water in a waterfall is creating sound, while the water coming out of a showerhead slamming against a naked body and a tile floor is noise.

– Was there even any noise before the humans popped up on earth, created the word and began to arrange the world, I think before my cold hands grabs me by the collar and pulls me back into reality and I begin my descend.

I get home and it turns night. I go to the kitchen were everyone is sitting once again. They are talking, and it is as though they are all talking more loudly and passionately than they did before losing their voices. They seem really happy, almost ecstatic, as if they had been blind for years and then suddenly got the sight back.

I have no idea about what they been during the whole day, I haven’t seen them.

But one tells that he couldn’t take the isolation and took out his computer during the day, another talked like usually, one had to sell a car and talked, while someone went to the post office with a note, that said she was not allowed to use her voice today, but she would really like some stamps. And I also get the explanation to why I could hear the tubes of the showers so often – people simply took several showers to feel something against their bodies since it was also prohibited to have physical contact.

I try to understand the importance of physical versus verbal communication but all the sudden words in the room makes me dizzy. So I walk back to my room. There I come to think of the Elton John-song again where I open my computer and find the lyrics for it. Four lines hold my attention afterwards:


I miss the earth so much

I miss my wife

It’s lonely out in space

On such a timeless flight

As I sit there I can’t decide whether or not I think those lines fits with my idea of Seyðisfjörður. And I am not even married. But I know that it can get lonely out in space.


Programme of the week


Week Seven:

We have now catched our breaths, we have been silent for 24 hours, made our own faces in plaster casts, and we are now back in Seyðisfjörður after three amazing days at the Skalanes farm sited at the very end of the fiord. Back and ready for another exciting week, which also is the first week of the last half of the LungA School’s Fall 2014 program.

Here follows an short except of the myriad of things happening in this festival-like seventh week:

We are going to go to the little island in the fiord, we don’t know how but we are going to get there. Then we are going to meet the Wizard of LungA, we will have a creative writing workshop with the Finish poet Minerva Pietilä and we will swim in the fiord. But we will also learn how to enter a room, how to use your voice in a choir, read out stories aloud, visite the Technical Museum, participate in a Russian film night and of course have time to work on our own projects in the studio if we like.

And every day we have the possibility to go into the infinite learning cave and learn. About surrealism, rock ‘n’ roll, cosmos, man and modernity and magic and mysticism.

We think that this is going to be a really good week.

Podcast episode 3 – Lotte Rose

Just as we announced that Lotte Rose and Daniel Grossman will be back to teach in the spring, we are also happy to be able to give you this episode of the podcast series. We had a conversation with Lotte when she was here a couple of weeks ago and we talked about almost everything.



SPRING 2015 – Workshop w. Lotte Rose and Daniel Grossman


Intuition over Intention / Purpose over Goal

We are very, very happy to be able to welcome back Lotte Rose Kjær Skau and Daniel Grossman in the spring program of 2015. They were here recently and held an amazing workshop that both we and the students will remember.

Lotte and Daniel both holds an MA in Sound Art, but sound is just one of the mediums they use in their work. However, here at LungA they will not teach any specific medium, but rather they will introduce the students to the artistic process and they will work from the idea of ‘Intuition over Intention / Purpose over Goal’. They will challenge them to break out of their patterns and create freely, get into the state of making, using a range of tricks, tools, rules, obstacles.

This is a week of letting the process take over and guide you in directions that your conscious mind could never have showed you. An exploration of your inner drive through creation.


You can read more about the whole spring program HERE


A diary from inside the light

ninaorangeIn the beginning of each new week we publish a story about the week that just passed at the LungA School. It is written from the inside and can be about anything. That’s all. This is the fifth chapter:


I wake up and lift the curtain a bit to look out the window. Outside it is just as dark as when I went to sleep. I wonder if I woke up to early and look at my telephone to see what time it is. 06.30 – just like every other morning.

So I drag on some clothes, put my blue swimming trunks inside my white towel, throw it over my shoulder and walk to the swimming hall surrounded by the heavy darkness.

Inside, the bright blue colour from the bottom of the swimming pool lights everything up and when I break the surface of the water I forget that it is still dark outside.

But the instant I leave the swimming hall an hour later, I am once again reminded of the time of the day. It is morning, it is cold and it is still dark.

– And it will stay dark and only get darker, while I am here, I say to myself as I walk back to eat breakfast with the smell of chlorine on my skin.

In the candle-lit kitchen people slowly starts to show up as the hand of the clock passes the number 8. Suddenly the room is full of more than 20 people. That’s about one third more from the usual number of people at the school’s breakfast tables. But we have extra company this week. Besides three workshop holders we also have five students and one teacher from the Danish Folk High School Krabbesholm living and working with us.

For a moment I step inside my own head. From there I look around the kitchen, where people are sitting, eating, talking and drinking. I start to think about how much the energy and the synergy in a group of people can change, when someone new is added to the group. Of course the level of sound increases as more voices are added to the mix, and the amount of activities going on is naturally also getting bigger as there are more brains to think and more hands to lift.

But people’s position and role within the group also change. Some people start to talk to new people, and take a break from the old ones. Some people move around in the imaginary hierarchy, some talk more at gatherings and some talk less than they usually do. Some disappear into a shadow, others start shining with a new glow. Maybe the reason is just as simple as the fact that some like a lot of people and some really don’t. No matter what, everything changes.

Then I come to think of how cut off from everything we are out here, how far we have moved away from the rest of the world in just five weeks. And how that world suddenly comes thundering like a tidal wave, when someone from the outside enters into the bubble we have created in this little town. It is a tidal wave that will leave everything in a different condition, when it pulls back and disappears after the week is over and the amount of people at the LungA School again is back at normal.

But these guests have brought something with them from the outside. Something that is slowly saying farewell for a period here below the mountains, I think and look out the window, where the morning darkness has disappeared for now.

They brought the light.


Two of the workshop holders have brought it with them from London and is using it in a workshop called ‘Glowing Bodies’. And the timing could not be better as the days are crumbling and vanishing with a only more rapid pace.

They have brought materials that can mirror light, reflect light and project light and with them they are going to design and create costumes that can play together with different sources of light in performances at their exhibition. It is on Friday.

And we get to Friday.

I sit in the dark and suddenly a sharp light is turned on and someone is lying inside a plastic bag and is projected up on a big white screen. Then someone inside the bag starts to move, and slowly she escapes the plastic bag like a foetus escapes it’s mother and this whole conception is projected as shadows on that big white, bright screen.

The foetus disappears and a recorded story of a guy who hung himself is coming out the speakers. The story ends and then a new shadow in a self-made costume is dancing slowly inside a big, orange circle of warm light.

After more sound and vision we all get up from our seats and walk outside, where we can ascertain that the darkness has return. In that darkness I see a silver mushroom. When I direct the light of my torch towards it, it starts to glow. Then it starts to move, dangling slowly from side to side.

I stand there in the darkness and look at this silver mushroom swaying by the water and I smile over the crazy scenario and I get proud and puzzled by how much these students can create, how brave these young humans are and how far they can go in only five days.

And while still smiling, I remind myself that no matter how dark it is, there is always a light, and it never goes out. You just have to use your torch to find it.