The title of this post is what a Faroese friend, one of the teachers at last week’s Outer Island English Retreat, exclaimed upon seeing the green blob on the piece of paper on my studio table.
I hadn’t meant the green blob to be Fugloy, though by this point I was pretty sure it was an island. The green blob had begun life as a ghost image from another piece of paper that I had applied too much grey and green gouache to. The white boat shapes had shown up just an hour or so before my visitor came by.
I worked on the image more today. I don’t know that it is finished, but I am done working on it for now. Working on it has been yet another trip through “Why the heck would anyone do this artist thing?”. For almost the entirety of working on this piece, I did not know what I was making, let alone why I was making it. No one asked me to make it, and I had no idea if anyone would look at it, let alone like it in some way. To work on the image at all, I had to shove these questions to one side of my brain, while still keeping enough of my logical brain turned on to create something besides random marks and splatters. If I worry about what I am making, and why I am making it, and what it means, while I am in the middle of making, then I would never make anything at all.
One thing just followed another, and it was only the shape resonating with someone that kept the piece growing into something besides a green blob. It is not quite the shape of Fugloy, but it is remarkable close. Fish (herring, in this case) seemed important, and the boats were something I wanted to draw more of. I wasn’t sure what to put on the island. At the point I left off last night, the association with Fugloy was getting in the way of deciding what to do with the drawing. Then, as I was waking up this morning, I realized that a giant Faroese house, with a turf roof, would work just fine.
I still don’t know what it means, other than “I went on a trip to the Faroe Islands.” But maybe it isn’t my job to figure out what it means.