Laura Skehan Tecnica: Photo Anno: 2021 Dimensione: 70 x 50 cm Descrizione:refers to the chemical reaction through which salts of sulfuric acid form. The photograph was taken at Seltún, a geothermal area on the Reykjanes Peninsula in southwest Iceland. It’s an extraordinary landscape of vividly coloured, bubbling mud pools—where the air is thick with the sharp scent of sulfur. The palette of the terrain ranges from rich browns and fiery oranges to greens, silvers, and blues.Historically, Seltún was mined for sulfur from the 13th to the 19th century. In more recent decades, attempts at experimental drilling caused violent explosions and the formation of large geothermal vents, ultimately destroying much of the manmade infrastructure.

Laura Skehan Tecnica: Photo Anno: 2021 Dimensione: 60 x 90 cm Descrizione: was taken near Seltún in southwest Iceland—a fleeting moment of golden silence at a hot spring along the Seljalandsá River. These geothermal waters, rich in dissolved minerals, echo the primordial springs that once played a vital role in the chemical reactions that gave rise to life on Earth. As steam drifted upward in the evening light, the ancient and the ephemeral seemed to converge. I found myself imagining that pivotal moment before life began. Then, suddenly, a bus full of visitors arrived to explore the Seltún area.

Laura Skehan Tecnica: Photo Anno: 2021 Dimensione: 60 x 90 cm Descrizione: was captured during my first visit to Reynisfjara Beach in Iceland—a striking volcanic black sand beach known for its powerful, unpredictable waves. Tourists often underestimate its force, with the heavy, coarse sand and surging Atlantic currents pulling unsuspecting visitors into the sea. The landscape is extraordinary: the ocean's raw energy, framed by towering basalt formations, transforms the beach into a kind of natural amphitheatre. My attention was drawn to the rock face—those undulating basalt columns, reminiscent of the Giant’s Causeway back home. I found myself wondering what stories these rocks had borne witness to: the tragedies, both human and more-than-human; the ever-shifting landscape; the stream of transient visitors arriving at Iceland’s southern coast. What impact does that leave behind? The scene offered a quiet but forceful reminder that both the sea and the earth demand respect.I spent a long time there in the freezing air, observing how others moved through the space, how they responded to the intensity of the environment—the charged encounters between humans, the ocean, and the basalt. While the work documents the intricate textures and geological history of this place, I also think of it as a portrait: the rock, ever still, quietly watching the drama unfold.