BLURRING THE LINES
BLURRING THE LINES

Þórsteinn Sigurðsson

Container Society

EDITION

2018

school

Ljósmyndaskólinn – School of Photography
Reykjavík, Iceland

 

For many years now, the habitable shipping containers on Grandi in Reykjavik have been of interest to me. I had learned that the people living there led a rather unusual lifestyle.
This caught my attention as I am quite interested in the groups that live on the fringes of society. It took me a number of visits before I managed to gather up the courage to actually introduce myself to the reclusive group of people that resided there.
The containers are resources for homeless people and those battling addiction. They are run by the municipal government of Reykjavik but have for the most part been kept out of the public eye since they were set up as housing resources.
In the fall of 2017, I knocked on the door. The man who answered was Ólafur Kristjánsson, or Óli. After only a few minutes of conversation, I had taken the first portrait. I told him that this was the beginning of something big. He simply smiled and humored me. I returned the following day, but Óli wasn’t home. However, the doors on the container next to his were open. Inside was Guðmundur Jónsson, or Gummi. He invited me in, and for the next few hours, we talked about everything under the sun.

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Þórsteinn Sigurðsson

Container Society

EDITION

2018

school

Ljósmyndaskólinn – School of Photography
Reykjavík, Iceland

 

For many years now, the habitable shipping containers on Grandi in Reykjavik have been of interest to me. I had learned that the people living there led a rather unusual lifestyle.
This caught my attention as I am quite interested in the groups that live on the fringes of society. It took me a number of visits before I managed to gather up the courage to actually introduce myself to the reclusive group of people that resided there.
The containers are resources for homeless people and those battling addiction. They are run by the municipal government of Reykjavik but have for the most part been kept out of the public eye since they were set up as housing resources.
In the fall of 2017, I knocked on the door. The man who answered was Ólafur Kristjánsson, or Óli. After only a few minutes of conversation, I had taken the first portrait. I told him that this was the beginning of something big. He simply smiled and humored me. I returned the following day, but Óli wasn’t home. However, the doors on the container next to his were open. Inside was Guðmundur Jónsson, or Gummi. He invited me in, and for the next few hours, we talked about everything under the sun.

← Previous Talent

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