Sá veldur sem á heldur.

Late last night I used chance operations to order the sections of the book, 1–39.

If it’s a book. This morning, the printer told me that he made a dummy book and has doubts about the binding. I don’t know what he means, but I’m picking the dummy up later today and I’ll take a look.

If it’s not a perfect-bound book, I might create a set of 530 unbound cards instead. Each card would contain an image or text, and could be shuffled, dealt, spread, read. I love this idea of a reader-determined reading. Like tarot.

The cards could be wrapped simply in paper and I could hand-write a title right on top.

Earlier this week Steindór walked into the studio and was telling me about the town’s future, its quest for new resources, and wrote down a saying in my sketchbook: sá veldur sem á heldor. He translates it as “the one who holds it is the one who is responsible.” A lovely idea about a book—the reader is responsible. The reader holds it and the reader creates the order, makes a structure, interprets, reads, brings associations and dreams, gives meaning.

Orvar. Depths. Take three, three cards. 1815. Bank sea hermit. The box is a battery. Quota. Light. Fiskisúpa. Island. Einbúi. Sá veldur sem á heldur. ________. Yeah, we are just. Earth. Just in front of me. Mayor. Boat. Mirror. Town. Water. Back to God’s Country. We have our families. Scientist. Fuel. We have our connections. Those transparencies. 1964. Horse. Strong. Old Friendship ties. Þórdís. Self. 530. There’s one bird. Mountain. Rabbarbarabaka. Grandfather.

Is this the title of the work?

Or, sá veldur sem á heldor.

Or—530.

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