There is a place rooted deep in my memory. I lived there when I was a child. It was a small village in the far west of Iceland that sits on the divide between the mountain and the ocean. I vaguely remember growing up there. I lived in a blue house with a white roof and large windows. It had a yard that stretched all around the house and there was a hill in the back where I would slide down in the snow during winter with my brother and sister. I remember the pier where I would often go with my father to fish. I remember running around the beach and hearing the sound of the ocean waves breaking whilst I wrote my name in the sand with my fingers. The ocean was always close. It is the sound of my childhood.

Melted is based upon this memory of growing up near the ocean. Capsulating the texture of the black sand by transforming it into a strong material without adhesives.

Black sand

Rúna Thors