Iceland, 2022

Two years after I was diagnosed with severe Postpartum Depression, I felt utterly deprived of Nature.

I found it difficult to connect with it, as if someone – or something – had unplugged me from my own roots. I was left almost untouchable, unreachable, and my heart was in grief after the loss of my former relationship with the natural world.

I began to seek relief in people and the urban, plunging myself into the realm of the rushed streets, coffee shops and never-ending amounts of work. When I would leave the city, I would no longer feel joy in the quietness of the countryside, the mountains or the sea. What would excite me before was now tasteless. I missed my connection with the sun, the earth, the wind. I missed the way they would engage me with a part of myself I thought I had lost forever.

And then I decided to leave.

I found it easy to choose Iceland. I always imagined I would find a different kind of landscape there – one of primordiality, rawness, otherworldliness. A scenery that would release the wildest emotions inside me and would make me live fear and anxiety, awe and gratitude at the same time.
I wanted to express all of this novelty of feelings through photography and performance, so I chose to imagine the connection with nature through wool threads that would tie me to natural elements, such as ice, stones or sand.

Throughout my journey, I experienced 70km/h winds, negative temperatures, and the stares of the tourist crowds who would often stop and take pictures of me. I stood before craters, waterfalls and the ocean and never was I afraid. I felt life pouring through my veins, into my brains, as if someone – or something – was plugging me back to my spirit.

In Iceland, I blended with Nature and I became part of it. I was not merely a human, I was a bearer of Life. I was rewired.