It's nice to see a visibly happy woman in place of the tortured artist accused of eating her shirt during an on-set showdown while filming of "Dancer in the Dark." In the same way that being a mother is simply part of who she is (her son, Sindri, is 15), Björk's art is always at the forefront of her mind. With this album, though, she let go of a self-imposed avoidance of pop perfection: "I was always trying to do pop music that was more truthful, and this was the first time that I actually wanted to escape."

Björk likens the process of making Vespertine to creating a mosaic. Following the huge instrumentation of Homogenic and the found-sound bombast of the "Dancer in the Dark" soundtrack, Selmasongs, it seemed logical to put her ear to the ground and listen to the sounds of silence. Collaborating with Matmos, she recorded everything from fingers being snapped to a rhythmically shuffled deck of cards. Once these sound libraries existed, songs could be built on the spot. "A lot of my work is about craftsmanship," she explains. "Spending so much time in studios, it's like solving little riddles that aren't necessarily autobiographical or emotional."

This was the first time Björk relied on a computer as her main recording tool. There has always been an easy ebb and flow between technology and nature in her music and visual expression, but she says it wasn't until she was interested in sealing herself in that hermetic world that she could make it come alive.

Technological craftsmanship notwithstanding, Björk's primary realm remains that of the emotions. Concerned with personal politics, she strives for bravery and generosity, believing that such stances can affect the whole world. Vespertine offers hope and encouragement. On "It's Not Up to You," she takes a Buddhist perspective and offers counsel: "If you wake up and your day feels broken/ Just lean into the crack ... notice how it sparkles down there."