Produced after having visited and stayed in this cabin on the end of a long road in 2019– the accompanying journal describes:

“The first flight from cosmopolitan Oslo to Bodø runs directly north, tracing a delicate finger up the vertebrae of Norway. Swapping the jet engines for propellers in a small 20-seat plane, you glide up the runway and past the Norwegian and NATO F-16 dugouts, hop into the air for a brief 15 minute view of turquoise water speckled with single rocks carrying single hytte (or cabins), and touch down in the hamlet of Leknes at what could be confused for a petrol station with a long driveway. Stop by the Rema1000, find kinnikibrød, summer strawberries, and cheese, head south on the E10 and turn right twice at Gravdal. As you bump along Sundsveien (The Road of the Sound), the ground to your left rises at increasingly impossible angles; to your right: the nordic sea, filling a fjord, an Orca breaching in an attempt to add to the Arctic horizon.

First the pavement leaves you, then the gravel, and with it most of everything you’ve known or worried about before. The peaks pierce through and lift the weight off my brow as they rise. At the very end of this road is a gate; the owner of this threshold has lived here for generations immemorial, and texted instructions on how to open it. Beyond lay simply the rock wall of Skottinden, a small and bare red cabin with one bed, one wood stove, and one window to look out of and see jellies quietly bobbing in the surf as it clacks against the black granite shore. Here, I finally found the end of the world.” 

Made on Lettra paper with Swiss Caran’d’Asche Pablo pigment pencils, this drawing will probably last longer than me.