Photographing Reykjavik: Rainbows, Basalt, and a City Built for the Camera

Reykjavik surprised me. I’d come to Iceland chasing waterfalls and glaciers, but the capital turned out to be its own kind of photographic playground — a city of candy-colored rooftops, one unmistakable spire, and a concert hall that behaves less like a building and more like a living kaleidoscope. If you only have a day to wander with a camera, here’s where I’d send you.

Hallgrímskirkja: The Church You Can’t Miss (And Shouldn’t Try To)

No matter where you are in Reykjavik, Hallgrímskirkja finds you. Its 73-meter tower rises above the rooftops from almost every angle, and honestly, that’s by design. Iceland’s state architect, Guðjón Samúelsson, drew the church in 1937, wanting a building that could only exist here—one that echoed the hexagonal basalt columns found at places like Svartifoss and the black sand beaches along the coast. Look at the facade, and you can see it immediately: the ribbed concrete columns fan outward from the central tower exactly like cooling lava does in nature.

Construction didn’t come easy. Work began in 1945, and the church wasn’t fully consecrated until 1986—a 41-year build that outlived its architect, who died in 1950 before seeing it finished. That patience shows in the details, especially inside, where soaring Gothic-arched ceilings and tall blue-tinted windows funnel light down the nave in a way that feels almost otherworldly. I spent a good chunk of my day just standing in that long, vaulted side corridor, watching how the light shifted along the stone with every step.

Climbing the tower is non-negotiable, in my opinion. The elevator ride up rewards you with a sweeping, rooftop-level view of the entire city — Reykjavik’s colorful houses laid out like a quilt, the harbor and Harpa glinting in the distance, and the sea stretching out beyond it all. It’s the kind of shot that makes you understand the whole city’s layout in a single frame.

Skólavörðustígur: The Rainbow Street

Right at the foot of the church runs Skólavörðustígur, better known to photographers as simply the “rainbow street.” A wide painted rainbow runs down the middle of the road, leading your eye straight up the hill to Hallgrímskirkja’s spire framed perfectly at the end. It’s a genuinely iconic shot, and one of those rare tourist spots that’s just as fun to photograph in golden evening light as it is in the flat gray of an overcast afternoon — the colors practically pop out of the pavement either way. The street itself is lined with shops, cafes, and street art, so it’s worth slowing down here rather than just grabbing the one obligatory photo and moving on.

Harpa: A Building Made of Northern Lights

If Hallgrímskirkja is Reykjavik’s soul, Harpa is its shimmer. This concert hall and conference center sits right on the harbor, and it might be the single most photogenic interior I’ve ever wandered through — I genuinely could have spent an entire day inside just chasing geometric patterns of light and shadow.

Harpa’s story starts in the mid-2000s, when Danish firm Henning Larsen Architects won the commission, teaming up with Icelandic-Danish artist Ólafur Elíasson to design its facade. Construction began in January 2007 — just months before Iceland’s economy collapsed in the global financial crisis — which stalled the project for years before it finally opened in 2011. The name means “harp” in Icelandic, chosen from more than 4,000 public submissions, and it is also the old word for early spring, a fitting symbol of brighter days after the crash.

What makes the building so mesmerizing is its facade: thousands of individually shaped, colored glass panels arranged in a honeycomb-like pattern Elíasson called the “quasi brick,” directly inspired by Iceland’s basalt column formations. No two panels are quite the same, and the whole structure shifts color and mood depending on the light, the weather, or simply where you’re standing. Step inside and the effect multiplies — hexagonal steel framing crisscrosses overhead, throwing blue and gold reflections across the floor, while the wall of windows frames the harbor and the boats bobbing just outside. It’s no surprise Harpa won the EU’s Mies van der Rohe Prize for contemporary architecture in 2013. Every angle inside offers a completely different composition, and I’d genuinely recommend wandering the foyer with your camera and letting the architecture do the work.

The Sun Voyager

Down along the waterfront, not far from Harpa, stands the Sun Voyager — a sleek stainless steel sculpture shaped like a ship’s skeleton, with long, upswept lines that catch the light beautifully at sunrise and sunset. It’s meant to represent a dream boat, an ode to the sun, and it photographs like pure poetry when the sky behind it turns gold or fades into that deep post-sunset blue. If you’re chasing golden hour anywhere in the city, this is the spot.

Just Wander: The Colorful Houses of Reykjavik

Honestly, some of my favorite shots of the day weren’t at any “named” landmark at all — they came from simply wandering the residential streets. Reykjavik’s houses are a patchwork of corrugated metal siding painted in candy colors: lime green, bubblegum pink, mustard yellow, fire-engine red, deep teal. Turn down almost any side street, and you’ll find another unexpected combination glowing under the pale Icelandic sky. Cafés like Babalú add their own eccentric charm to the mix, with murals, flags, and rooftop flamingos piled onto an already-colorful building. There’s no itinerary needed here — just good light, comfortable shoes, and a willingness to get a little lost.

Final Thoughts

I went into Reykjavik expecting a stopover between the “real” Icelandic scenery, and left with a full memory card of city photographs I hadn’t planned for at all. Between Hallgrímskirkja’s basalt-inspired spire, Harpa’s ever-shifting glass, the rainbow street tying them together, and the quiet joy of colorful houses around every corner, Reykjavik turned out to be one of the most rewarding places I photographed on the entire trip. If you’re a photographer heading to Iceland, don’t treat the capital as a formality — give it a full day.

Leave a comment