Valhalla: on the edge in Iceland Steve Christer
r eykjavík is a pleasant city, about 120,000, yet with all the functions and amenities required to fulfil its capital status.The relative wealth of the country has enabled it to offer these services with a quality and abundance only achieved by much larger cities. However outside of the chaotically quaint centre the reality of explosive growth is revealed in the sprawling suburbs and industrial districts. A buoyant economy and cheap plentiful land has fuelled a building boom that reeks of opportu- nity and expedience with only a cursory nod to the surrounding ring of mountains. Environmentally conscious thinking is advertised by four- wheel drive jeeps racing past the hydrogen gas station. Thankfully Reykjavík is small. Houses, sheds and fast food outlets disap- pear as the road from the city rises slowly, heading inland. Initially the land is green with occasional trees and great white shrink-wrapped fodder bales.The largest buildings are greenhouses run on geothermal heat and hydroelectric light.The road continues upwards in a series of short rises, and with each rise the surface of the earth is stripped back a bit more, vegetation clustering around waterlogged marshlands with swans moving serenely between the reeds. Rocks break the surface, lichen and moss relieve the withered grass.The horizon is snow-capped. After only half an hour of driving, a long lake-filled valley is revealed at a turn in the road. It was created in prehistory as the North American
and European tectonic plates violently separated.Without trees or man-made objects it is scaleless and its colour appears unnatural in its pristine naturalness. It has a majestic quality that did not escape the first settlers of the island as they established the world’s first parliament here over a millennium ago. Our generation will hopefully respond by registering it as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The road dips onto the upper shelf of the valley and the lake falls from view. A rough track cuts across the fragile land leading to a place where the earth appears to crack open, where huge blocks of lava rock are torn and skewed.This is the rift valley’s edge and the track lurches down towards the lakeshore. Here the slanting, broken basalt is covered in a thin carpet of mosses, lichens and gnarled birch interspersed by the most beautiful tiny flowers set in a 360º panorama. So close to the modern comforts of Reykjavik yet secluded and in contact with the very essence of nature, this is an extraordinary site for a vacation residence. Yet this very beauty is the greatest architectural challenge — creating a place without destroying the place. Perhaps the strongest metaphor for our approach is how when a stone is thrown in the lake the multitude ripples enlarge and then gradually subside to reveal the reflection of the glacier again.
On Site review 11
52
Spring 2004
Architecture of the Circumpolar Region
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