How to prepare for a creative residency in a remote place

Creative residency preparation begins long before we arrive. When the destination is wild, remote and shaped by the elements, the way we prepare becomes part of the creative process itself. During my summer residency at Arctic Canvas in West Iceland, creative residency preparation was central to ensuring I could create from a place of presence. I thought it would be insightful to share the practical, emotional and creative planning that allowed the experience to unfold with ease, rooted in intention, connection and spaciousness.

Clarifying creative purpose before travelling

Everyone will have a different way of approaching a creative residency or artistic retreat. For me, I had a clear intention of why I was heading to Iceland and some key projects to focus on during my time at Arctic Canvas. My vision was twofold. Firstly, I wanted to create work in response to the coastline surrounding Arctic Canvas. Forming the centre piece that wove together the storytelling for my then upcoming Sjórinn Talar – The Sea Speaks exhibition for Whales of Iceland. I needed to finalise all of the exhibition elements ahead of installing and opening around 10 days into my residency. And secondly, I wanted to create a collection of images about the experience of staying at Arctic Canvas. To share the story of the residency and co-creating in deep connection with earth, sea and sky.

Having this clarity shaped the entire process of creative residency preparation. It informed what I packed, the materials I designed and the boundaries I set around my time. This kind of intention acts like a quiet north star. Guiding how we enter the residency and how we collaborate with place.

Designing an exhibition that could travel

Creative residency preparation often includes planning how work will be shared afterwards. For this residency, the exhibition itself needed to be fully portable. I designed every element around what I could safely carry in hand luggage from my base in the UK to Iceland. Fourteen by 12” x 8” fine art prints became the foundation because they travelled easily and allowed me to protect the integrity of the work. I printed with D Studio on Hahnemühle Bamboo, and their mounting meant the pieces were exhibition ready as soon as I arrived. Keeping all essential exhibition items in carry-on created a sense of ease. It meant that nothing crucial could be lost, delayed or damaged en route. Preserving the spaciousness of the residency to be more on the creation side once I reached Iceland.

Preparing written materials and story elements

Exhibitions rely on narrative as much as imagery. Creative residency preparation included designing all supporting text in advance. A2 posters were the largest size I could roll into a travel tube. As well as two lightweight easels offering a simple way to present the story behind the work. Working with the amazing team at Whales of Iceland to ensure that the exhibition honoured both English and Icelandic language, with the team translating my stories. So that the exhibition Sjórinn Talar – The Sea Speaks, spoke in my native language and the mother tongue of where it would be shared. This was all designed ahead of time, with the logistics of transporting it woven into that. This pre-planning allowed me to focus on creating new work rather than troubleshooting logistics. Having the narrative framework ready meant the residency could be lived rather than rushed.

Sourcing materials locally to reduce weight

Some materials for the exhibition could not travel easily. As part of my creative residency preparation, I created two lists: items to travel with and items to source on arrival. When I landed, I went straight to Húsasmiðjan in Grafarholt for thin plywood boards, spray mount and MDF to create the Ghost Fluke. This list ensured I arrived with everything required to build the exhibition and was safe in the knowledge the items I’d need could be sourced with ease in Iceland. It integrated local Icelandic businesses into the process. And since the materials for the ghost fluke (more on that here) were sourced locally, it felt connected to the land that inspired the work.

Preparing our inner landscape for remote immersion

It is easy to create to-do lists for the practical elements of a creative residency but I also put thought into more intangible things too. Remote places ask something of us energetically, emotionally and creatively. Before travelling, I spent time journalling, clarifying boundaries, intentions and the rhythm I hoped to work with. Remote spaces can hold great expansiveness but can also feel stretching without preparation. I wanted to protect this sanctuary that was so deeply anticipated and longed for. By tending to the inner landscape beforehand, I felt grounded. Open to surrender to the landscape, the tides and the creative flow with calm and a readied presence.

These prompts helped me root into intention, protect the sanctuary of the residency and arrive with a presence that felt grounded, curious and ready to collaborate with the landscape.

1. What creative longing is calling me into this residency. What part of my practice feels ready to unfurl in this landscape?
2. How do I imagine connecting with the land each day? What small rituals could help me arrive fully into the rhythm of this place?
3. How do I feel about creating this space to immerse in creativity. What rises in me when I pause to reflect on this?
4. How can I listen to the landscape and the elements with presence? Allowing the alchemy of the moment to shape the creative flow?
5. What boundaries support my energy and help me stay anchored while working in remote and expansive environments?
6. What am I ready to release before I travel so I can meet the residency with spaciousness and clarity?
7. How do I want to feel in my body while I create here. What practices help me return to that feeling when I drift?
8. What daily rituals could help me tune into the abundance and never ending daylight of this season?
9. What questions am I carrying into this experience. How can I stay open to the answers arriving through earth, sea or sky?
10. How can I create in collaboration with nature letting curiosity, guide my work?

Letting the land shape the creative process

One of my deep loves of spending time in Iceland is the surrender that this wild edge demands. I fully trust in the alchemy of the moment. All that we need will come into being and it is in these liminal spaces where we meet thresholds. Moments we could never anticipate that shape us and our work in the most profound ways.

Even the most thorough creative residency preparation must leave room for the unexpected. Iceland’s coastline is forever in motion, shaped by lava flows, tides, element and time. Earlier posts in this series explore how arrival at Arctic Canvas opened a new rhythm and how the Ghost Fluke story revealed the coastline’s influence on creative flow. Preparing well meant being able to surrender to these movements. When storms came, I retreated inside or felt that wild call to embrace things and be shaped by the elements. Light erupting across the landscape, my heart raced as I chased it, distilling it into photos. When the ocean called, I listened, gazed, allowed my mind to wander. Creative residency preparation is not about controlling the experience. It is about creating the conditions for spaciousness so the land can lead.

Connecting preparation to wider creative systems

The residency connected back to a wider ecosystem in my practice. I work from a living spreadsheet as I pack for all of my adventures. This is malleable, evolving in response to each trip. It contains kit notes, clothing tips and lessons from years of photographing in wild places. You can download my guide on packing for adventures here.

Creative residency preparation is an act of devotion. It protects the romance and wonder of creating in remote places and allows us to enter the residency with presence, groundedness and clarity. When we prepare with intention, we create the spaciousness needed to collaborate with the land and let the work emerge in its own time. Creative residency preparation becomes part of the creative practice itself. It invites us to slow down, listen deeply and live inside the story we are there to create.