Faces of the North

Ragnar Axelsson

It was 1988. I was at Gjogur point in the Strandir district on a news job when I met Axel Thorarensen, who was heading out in his rowboat. Under a fine drizzle, Axel sat in his boat waiting for a thermos of coffee. Faithful Týri followed his master right up to the boat, But — afraid of the sea — was reluctant to come aboard. The dog’s expression matched his master’s somehow, and when he looked away or shut his eyes, I snuck a few photos of him …