Our Sun is a complicated mechanism, made up of three basic layers moving in opposition to each other. The frictions and pressures of being a star lead to all sorts of interesting quirks of physics, one of which is sunspots. These dark scabs on the surface of the star are actually regions in the gassy surface that are so cold that no light is emitted. The spots help to emit flares of fire off the surface of the Sun, known as CMEs (coronal mass ejections), and the CMEs get caught in the solar wind that radiates out from the Sun into space. The wind takes a few days to reach Earth, and zips by at speeds too complicated to explain, let alone imagine. Electrons spat out by the Sun hit the Earth and swirl above the poles like giant whirlpools. The energy caused by the twisting electrons creates the northern lights, huge curtains of glittery shimmer that can only be seen properly at extreme latitudes. Since 2002, I've been traveling to the Arctic Circle to capture the phenomenon.

Every road in Iceland leads to Nature. In winter, caked in ice without guardrails, the roads can be difficult. Add 70mph winds and blinding snow, and the roads can turn lethal. But they are nearly always stunningly beautiful, and the trick is to take them as they allow you to do so. Patience is key to feeling the pulse and tide of the land; I have driven in Iceland in a rush, chasing photographs, and missed everything the country has to offer. Slow, beautiful, patient, the road is its own trip.

A tiny town on the edge of the world, I first visited it in 2002. It is miles from any other town, and as desolate and beautiful a place as there is on Earth where you can still use a telephone and sleep in a comfy bed. It's where I do most of my auorora borealis shooting, perfect for the night darkness and protected bay. The hotel, run by Eva and Asi with their dog Tina, is basically my family home. Djupavik is one of my most favorite places on the planet. I am not sure I have ever felt more comfortable anywhere else. The pictures in this gallery show mthe snall group of buildings in winter, as well as the storage vats of the old herring factory which gives the town its peculiar ambience. Along with a wrecked ship pulled up on shore, the factory gives Djupavik a set Hollywood would kill for.

They're a very cool vibe, at least in rehearsal and in studio, where I get the honor of producing a new song called 'Shovel Me,' which is part White Stripes and part Zach Condon's Beirut. They're a continuous teasing, flirting, laughing crew, and the energy cures my various anxieties. In fact, the next day after these shots, I tell Ingo Juliusson that a good idea would be to get this band's sound mixed into a concert of 10 songs about murder and money, with Guns of Brixton and Floyd's money foremost in mind, with Marley's I Shot the Sheriff leaping into my head as I say it. A cover CD, and a ready-made show to match the country's sense of theft and victimization. Stay tuned, there is some hustling to be done!