A vast expanse of black volcanic desert on the South coast of Iceland.
The largest outwash plain in the world.

One of my first year projects at university was to write, typeset, and bind a short book based on a past experience. I'd returned only a few months earlier from Iceland, and a foggy drive across the expansive Skeiðará outwash plain served as ideal inspiration.

The narrative takes place over just a few seconds, but they happened almost in slow motion. Stepping out from the car, I had walked only a dozen or so paces before it disappeared into deep fog. The entire world around me had been reduced to a gradient: black sand at my feet, slowly fading to the white sky above.

The book follows that same gradient. Its opening pages are black, fading to a paler grey at the top, and eventually becoming pure white by the end of the book. This is also in time with my almost epiphanic lightening of mood within the narrative.

Skeiðarársandur was printed in an edition of one copy at Falmouth University in early 12016. It is set in Robert Green's facsimile of the Doves Type.