The two artists share some material sensibilities, frequently using flax, indigo, and beeswax in their artwork. Both see papermaking as fundamental to their process, but not as an end in itself. Despite similarities, each brings a different emphasis to her art. Gudmundsdottir deals with landscape, the human figure, and regeneration in nature. She attributes this to living in a coastal village near the Arctic Circle amidst water and mountains. There, human life is experienced within the cycles of nature. Hark's concerns include interior space and she refers to walls, wallpaper, curtains, and quilts. Through layering, peeling away, marking and stitching, her work suggests human presence and the passage of time. Gudmundsdottir and Hark entered the project with no pre-conceived plans. They had two weeks together to create a wall piece for display alongside the paper studio at MCBA. Given the time limits, they felt they needed to jump in and trust that ideas and solutions would emerge along the way. To begin, they drove northwest into farm country, toward Hark's hometown. This gave Gudmundsdottir an opportunity to place herself in this new environment. It was springtime, the face of the land was changing. Gudmundsdottir and Hark found inspiration in the expansive rural fields. They started talking about sense of place and decided to create a piece about landscape. They also discussed ground rules for their collaboration, and agreed to approach the work as equals in decision making with a willingness to compromise. They would be frank with each other and not worry about being polite. They agreed that the process was more important than the final product. And so they entered the studio. After beating pulp, they set up several vats each of flax and abaca pulp. To some they added sand, black earth, yellow ochre, or clay. Not knowing yet what form their wall piece would take, the artists decided to make 4" square papers which could be assembled in a myriad of ways. Taping off molds, they formed over two thousand sheets, four to six at a time. After couching, they pressed the papers and air dried them. Next, Gudmundsdottir and Hark set about the long task of working back into the papers. They brushed some with beeswax or linseed oil and then ironed them, which increased their translucency and sheen. Others they dipped in indigo or scraped with sandpaper. After they treated all the papers, the artists painted a 54" x 230" charcoal grey rectangle on the wall to serve as the foundation for their piece. Then, moving across in vertical columns, they nailed papers to the rectangle, usually three layers deep. They achieved a three-dimensional surface by driving nails in at different depths and spacing the papers accordingly. Beginning at opposite ends and working toward the center, they occasionally traded sides. They consulted each other, especially when changing color. Watching them one night, I saw their camaraderie. I also noticed subtle differences in their approaches: Gudmundsdottir nailed papers with more precision, Hark with more looseness. The two styles mix together well in the piece. The finished work, called FIELD, is a quiet, expansive piece that evokes a field, plowed and fallow in springtime. It also suggests the land's surrounding influences: the dark blue opacity and the reflective translucency found in both sky and water. The piece's rippling surface and the layers of cockled papers with irregular deckle edges create rich texture and movement. The papers in FIELD look tough and gutsy. Some are dark and gritty, as if lifted directly from the earth. Others resemble scraped hide or fish skins. The nails, with their flat metal surface, add a staccato punctuation to the weathered-looking papers. Two boxes covered with black cloth and lined with aerial landscape images stand on pedestals which flank the wall piece. Made by bookbinder and conservator Denny Ruud for the installation, each contains a few stacks of Gudmundsdottir's and Hark's leftover papers, tied into bundles. The boxes will be used to house and transport all the papers when FIELD is dismantled. Both Gudmundsdottir and Hark came to see the collaboration at MCBA as part of a longer conversation that they intend to continue. In addition, both found their jointly-created papers beautiful and exciting, and want to experiment further with them. They decided that after FIELD had been exhibited at MCBA, Hark would ship the piece to Iceland for display there. After that, Gudmundsdottir would keep half the papers and return the rest to Hark. Each artist would use her papers to create a new piece that addresses a more personal sense of place. Then the two plan to come together again, to display their new pieces side by side. Both artists express enthusiasm for having had the opportunity to work together and encourage others to do likewise. They see collaboration as a way to challenge and stretch oneself and to open up to new ideas and methods of making art. It can also create closer dialogue and help develop mutual support and community. Hark stresses the element of risk in collaboration: you never know how it will go and there will always be elements you cannot predict. She says that FIELD is unlike either artist's individual work. Gudmundsdottir and Hark agree that they have been influenced by each other and that this will affect their art in the future. Hark acknowledges some limitations to the project. She realizes she needs time alone in the studio for her work to get really "juicy" and start coming together. So, she looks forward to being alone with her half of the papers. Nevertheless, Hark finds collaborative opportunities highly valuable for challenging and stimulating artists, and for clarifying values. For Gudmundsdottir, the experience provided an opportunity to meet and forge connections with Hark and other midwestern United States paper and book artists. Gudmundsdottir values international collaboration. She mentions a traditional saying in Iceland: "Nobody is a man except with a man." It is important to see oneself as part of a greater community. As inhabitants of an island country with a population of only a quarter of a million, she says Icelanders cannot afford to be isolated. But she considers international collaboration equally important for large countries like the United States. As the world shrinks, it is vital for everyone to strive to see how the rest of the world lives. Working like this offers a way of looking beyond one's borders. The project, in Gudmundsdottir's words, allowed "fresh winds to blow." She and Hark will carry that freshness with them, back into their art and their communities. And their conversation will continue