Between Continents · Blue Hour

The same evening at Þingvellir, the same single exposure — printed as a nocturne. In the blue hour the rift wall and the boulders sink into one deep indigo, and the only bright notes left are the fall of Öxarárfoss and the river threading between the stones.

A faint band of rose lingers on the horizon where the sun went down. Everything else is held in the cold blue that settles over Icelandic valleys in early autumn, when the nights have just begun to return.

It is the darkest work in the collection — made for a dim room, where it slowly reveals itself.