Imagine Peace Tower

Listen first. Out here on Viðey, the wind comes off the water in long, steady pushes. It carries the smell of salt, wet grass and cold stone. Across the bay, the lights of Reykjavík sit low along the shore. And in front of you is a white stone circle on a grassy rise. On the right nights, a column of light climbs out of it, straight up into the dark.

This is the Imagine Peace Tower. The Japanese-born artist Yoko Ono conceived it as a memorial to her late husband, John Lennon, the songwriter of the Beatles. The name comes from his song Imagine, which asks the listener to picture a world without war. The tower is not a building you can climb. It is a beam of light, and the stone base is its only solid part.

The work was unveiled on 9 October 2007. That date was chosen with care. It would have been John Lennon's 67th birthday. Since then, the light has been switched on each year on his birthday. It then shines every night until 8 December, the date of his death in New York in 1980. So the season of light runs between a birth and a loss.

The tower also returns at other moments of the year. It is usually lit for a week around the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. It also shines on New Year's Eve, and for a short period around the spring equinox in March. The exact schedule can shift, so check before you plan a night visit around it.

Now look closely at the base. It is shaped like a wishing well, a round structure of white stone. Around its sides, the words Imagine Peace are carved in 24 languages. Walk slowly around the circle and read them. Some scripts you will know. Others may be completely new to you. Visitors often try to find their own language first... and then stop to look at all the others.

Here is a detail many people miss. The well is not only a symbol. It holds wishes. For years, Yoko Ono has run an art project called Wish Tree, where people write a wish on a small tag and tie it to a tree. Hundreds of thousands of those written wishes, collected from many countries, are stored inside this monument. So under the light, there is a quiet archive of private hopes.

The light itself comes from a ring of powerful searchlights set inside the base. Mirrors and prisms direct their beams upward and join them into a single column. On a clear night, it seems to rise without end. On a cloudy night, it hits the low cloud and spreads into a pale glow. Both versions are worth seeing. The weather changes the artwork every evening.

The second surprise is the power source. Iceland produces most of its electricity from renewable sources, including geothermal energy — heat from deep inside the earth. The tower draws on that local supply. Ono chose Iceland partly for this reason. A beam of peace powered by the warmth of the volcanic island under your feet is part of the idea.

The island around you has its own long story. Viðey sits just off the Reykjavík shore, a short ferry ride from the harbour. In the medieval period, it was home to a monastery. Later, in the eighteenth century, the official Skúli Magnússon built a stone residence here. That house, Viðeyjarstofa, still stands near the ferry landing. It is one of the oldest stone buildings in Iceland.

Viðey also holds another major artwork. On the western part of the island, the American sculptor Richard Serra placed a series of tall basalt columns, called Áfangar. They stand in pairs across the open grassland. If you have time on a daylight visit, walk out to them. Together with the tower, they make this small, quiet island an open-air gallery of land, sea and sky.

There is no village here today, and that silence is part of the experience. In summer, you may hear seabirds over the grass and the shoreline. In the dark season, when the tower is lit, the island feels empty and wide. The ferry crossings for the lighting season are often timed for evening visitors. Dress for wind and cold, even when the city felt mild.

You do not have to stand on Viðey to see the light. From many points along the Reykjavík waterfront, the beam is visible across the bay. People stop on the shore path and look up. Some photograph it above the water. Others just watch it for a moment and walk on. In this way, the tower belongs to the whole city each autumn, not only to those who make the crossing.

The opening ceremony each October is usually a quiet event, with music and a short moment when the light comes on. Yoko Ono has attended many of these lightings herself. Her message has stayed simple across the years. She has asked people to think of peace as something they can picture first, and then work toward. The tower is meant to be that picture.

Before you leave, stand still for one more minute. Look at the white stone, the carved words, the dark water beyond. If the beam is on, follow it upward until your eyes lose it in the sky. Then turn and look back at the city lights. As you walk toward the ferry, notice how often you want to turn around... and look at the light one more time.