Monthly Archive for January, 2009

Crystal Palace

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 31, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 1 Comment
The ice walls and floor of Crystal Palace

The ice walls and floor of Crystal Palace

Day 9; January 31, 2009; Vesleskaervet, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica
Average Daily Temperature: 14.36˚ F
Average Daily Wind Speed: 20.36 mph
Feels Like: -16.18˚ F

The day came on with force, due to my finally managing a good night’s rest, and while I was seeking my morning coffee, I made arrangement’s with Richard Duncan, the SANAE team 47 overwintering mechanic, to teach me how to ride a skimobile. We scheduled the lesson for 3pm, which gave me some time to write and email before lunch.

Richard was a fantastic instructor, and in no time I was whizzing around in front of the station, practicing turns and getting used to the hard steering. Its actually quite fun (for those of you who know me and my love for vehicular speed, you will not be surprised) and it was a big joy to know that I now have a bit of autonomy. There are strict rules about where and in what manner one can leave the base, but, weather permitting, ITASC crew members are allowed to go back and forth to ICEPAC, and since we have our own skimobile, I ran up to grab Alfons and take my first drive down to ICEPAC and meet up with Thomas and Firstborn.

When we arrived back at SANAE, Ross asked if we wanted to join him on an expedition to the “wind scoop.” I had been told to never refuse the opportunity to go to the wind scoop if it arose, and so I accepted, my hopes full of expectation from all that I had heard about this place.

Our journey was not without a mission. Apparently a few years ago, while workers atop our nunatak were installing some electrical equipment, one of the blue plastic pipes that they use to insulate the wiring blew off the mountain, and crashed onto the rocks below, shattering the frozen plastic into thousands of pieces and scattering them into the environment. Other expeditions over the years had collected pieces from this unfortunate event, and we were going there to contribute to these efforts.

Joining Ross, Thomas, Alfons and me, was Lorena Collares, an Oceanographer from the Fundicao Universidad de Rio Grande in Brazil, and my roommate here, Carol Jacobs, who is the SANAE Environmental Officer. We took three skidoos, and rode off down the sloping ice fields, and around to the bottom, easterly side of the nunatak. The journey only took about 15 to 20 minutes, but it felt like we had traveled through time to another world.

Scale takes on a different feel in Antarctica, because the subtlety of the hues, and the gentle angle of the snowy landscape distorts distance and height in ways that are surprising. My sense of visual certainty has had to completely readjust, and I find myself looking at the world as if for the first time, like a newborn who’s eyes are trying to make sense of light traveling through space. Looking out at the sun’s setting rays across the misty snowscape, allowing for the mysterious way nature is here, I felt a deep calm wash over me. True beauty has a way of taking precedence over all other senses, and while the evening’s cold wind continued to pursue any possible opening in my gear, I found that even the coldness was perfect.

Climbing up a mountain in the snow was a bit like jogging in the sand—one step up includes some sliding backward. Steadily, we made our way, traversing my first cravasse (a very baby one, just two feet wide, but you still must have your wits about you), and marveling at the shapes ice makes when carved by the wind. Water is water, whether it is frozen or not. Ice mountains look like huge waves, and the surface close up reminds one of the choppy veneer of a lake on a stormy day.

All around me, 150 foot ice and snow walls stood, making the wondrous enclosure that people here call the Crystal Palace. A palace, indeed! The smooth, luminous structure is awesome, and in awe, I began the hunt for foreign cerulean shards.

My ice ax was quite handy, not only in stabilizing my ascent, but also in digging out the plastic artifacts I was finding. Some had burrowed too deep below the ice’s surface, and were unattainable. But you could still see them clearly, their intense blueness reflecting back up through the ice. There they lie, forever; the disruptive effects of our presence in this land. Some of those plastic shards will never be recovered, and over the millennia will instead make there way deep into the belly of the frozen Antarctic ecosystem. The dichotomy of wanting to be here and fearing our presence’s effects, persists in my mind.

Having collected a pound or two more of the wayward plastic, we began our descent. This turned into quite a lot of fun. The ice floor, where it meets the ice walls, creates a sort of slide, and so we all dropped onto our backsides and glided down the natural flow. Laughing and full with adventure, we rode back to SANAE for a hot tea.

Living on Ice

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 30, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 4 Comments
SANAE Station, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica

SANAE Station, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica

Day 8; January 30, 2009; Vesleskaervet, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica
Average Daily Temperature: 15.26˚ F
Average Daily Wind Speed: 22.82 mph
Feels Like: -18.97˚ F

My first day at SANAE felt a bit like the first day of school. The splendid, albeit institutional, accommodations coupled with the rules and safety regulations orientation had me oscillating between the pure excitement of being were I was, and the childhood irrational fear that that arose when the first school bus of the year peaked around the bend. But the mood of the base, and of the fantastic people who live and work here, was quite jovial, welcoming, and intimate. With only 80 people on the base, it was hard to feel like an outsider for very long.

The base is run on cooperation and collaboration—it wouldn’t function otherwise. We all have cleaning duties to help distribute the general workload of running such an immense undertaking in the middle of the lonely continent. Upon waking, I made my way down to the dining room for breakfast. Ross Hofmeyr, the Base Commander for the 2008 season, which is just coming to an end, very apologetically said that he was putting me on the morning’s schedule for what’s known as “skivvies,” and my task was to clean the dining room throughout the day’s meals. Having only had 5 hours sleep after the long day of travel, I was a bit downhearted to take on a project. Yet, there is really nothing like cleaning to make you feel like you are a part of a place. Thus, as I set about straightening cereal boxes and learning the particular ways to wash dishes and floors in an environment that requires conservation of water and reduction of waste, I felt myself settling in to my curious new home on the ice.

Water consumption and waste production are very serious matters in Antarctica. The Antarctic Treaty has very strict rules as to how to exist sustainably in this environment with as little contamination as possible. Absolutely everything you bring to the continent must come back out with you. This includes all trash, food scraps, and even human excrement. Grey and black water are processed here in the waste facility in the lower level, and undergo normal treatment before they are stored in large containers that are marked “Return to South Africa”. They will be dragged by tractor to the coast, loaded onto the ship there in late February, and brought back to South Africa for final disposal.

Water here is melted from the snow around the base by a smelting machine that people here call “the smelly.” Everyone must volunteer their time to shovel snow into the hole at the top of the machine, as this can only be done manually. Our sole source of water is through this process, so if winds are high and conditions make it difficult to accomplish this task, then we go on high water alert, and no unnecessary water consumption is allowed. In normal water availability, showers are still limited to every other day, and laundry requires sign up days in advance, and is limited to 4 people twice a week.

The base itself is a three-segment structure, denoted by the letters A, B and C , all of which are connected by indoor links. Sleeping quarters are upstairs in the A and B blocks, and science labs and research offices are on the main floor below. C block is mostly the utility rooms, the generators, and at the far end is the helicopter pad. But there is also a library, a pool hall, a bar, a sauna, a media room, a gym, and, of course, wireless internet throughout the base. Homemade meals (although all are fashioned from frozen or canned foods) are served 3 times a day, but then there is also “pie” at 10:30am (always fresh made!) and “tea” at 4pm. For those who think I’m roughing it, I must confess that as long as I’m up here at the main base, I cannot claim anything of the sort. Our mobile base, however, will not be so well endowed with amenities.

The first order of business after my cleaning stint was setting up our offices. A long 24 foot desk built into the wall would be long enough to accommodate all four of us ITASC crew. As I started pulling out my almost 80 pounds of electronic gear, I was stopped suddenly by the view out my two windows. I have the far corner of the building, and so I see both the easterly and southerly directions.

Realizing that I was never going to get used to the breathtaking landscape, I just sat a while and watched as the wind carried the top layer of unconfined snow up the long incline. Things that happen here seem to be somehow imbued with a sense of infinity. The longer you watch, the deeper into time you go.

ICEPAC, our mobile field base

ICEPAC, our mobile field base

In the afternoon we all four piled onto a skidoo and headed to ICEPAC, our mobile base 1 kilometer away down the gently down-sloping ice field behind SANAE base. Firstborn, with the generous help of many people from the base, had already erected the geodesic structure and the tarps and initial insulation were intact. The design is incredible—the slightly oblong shape, and the manner in which it is secured under the snow and ice below, keeps it completely steady and stable. The black outer layer and even the first layers of insulation keep it substantially warmer than the outside air.

We checked the wind generator and the solar panels, as well as the weather station, and then tried out our fancy ice saws. Amazed at how easily they slice through the packed snow and ice, we cut the first few blocks in only a couple of minutes—we would be able to construct an igloo in no time at all! After picking the igloo site, which would become the outhouse for our mobile base, we laid down the first two slabs and then promptly sat down on the ice to have a beer.

The interesting thing about drinking a beer outdoors in the Antarctic is that the longer it takes you to drink it, the colder it gets. As with anything here, if it is exposed to the open air, it drops in temperature rapidly. At first we had put them in the snow to try to chill them, but even after 30 minutes they were still only just slightly cooler than room temperature—because the snow actually insulates the bottle.

Hurrying back to SANAE to catch the end of dinner, and then back to our office to catch up on emails, I prepared for what would be my first art-making in Antarctica. At this time of year here, the sun descends toward the southern horizon at around midnight and then rises again shortly thereafter. Tonight was the last night that it didn’t actually fall below the horizon, so I wanted to document the light in eight directions: north, south, east, west, northeast, northwest, southeast, southwest. The light would be slightly different in intensity and color depending on what direction I faced, and I wanted to capture the full surround of this phenomena.

To accomplish this piece, I decided to shoot it from the rooftop of the SANAE base, where I would have the best 360-degree view of the horizon. The panorama was remarkable up there, and the clouds and snow mist in the distance created an incredible array of warm sunset colors, mostly in the pink hues, although I did see a bit of subtle lavender and hot orange as well. The snow seems to soak up the hues, and in fact requires that I reconsider something I said in my very first blog, when I was imagining coming to Antarctica. I said that my mind was abound with all the possible permutations of white. Yet now that I’m here experiencing the light as it changes minute by minute, I realize that I’ve, in fact, seen almost no white in Antarctica. Every surface of snow and ice is suffused with the ambient colors of the sun’s rays refract through the air particulate and ice crystals—everything white, holds light.

***

Encountering the Sublime

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 29, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 3 Comments
The Sun shining through blowing ice crystals as our airplane landed at SANAE Station

The Sun shining through blowing ice crystals as our airplane landed at SANAE Station

Day 7; January 29, 2009; Vesleskaervet, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica
Average Daily Temperature: 15.3˚ F
Average Daily Wind Speed: 22.82 mph
Feels Like: -18.97˚ F

Yesterday morning, I awoke to a wild wind and intense anticipation. After a quick shower, I put on the first layers of gear, looked over the rest of my bags, making sure all was accounted for. My phone rang, and Thomas said the flight was confirmed and he’d be over straight away. Just enough time for a quick coffee, checkout, and then off we went to fetch Alfons and head to the airport.

The flight departed from the Cape Town International Airport, and the television monitors listing departures did in fact say “Antarctica” and indicated we would be departing from Gate B1. Although procedures seemed predictable, we were far from being a normal flight. With hand-written tickets we were ushered by the staff of ALCI (Antarctic Logistics Centre International), a Russian operated organization, straight through passport control, quick security, and then off to our gate.

The Ilyushin 75-TD converted Russian cargo plane was remarkable. A projection screen hung at the front displaying our flight information, normal airline seats were bolted to the floor to create a cabin-like feel, but then all around were the signs that this was not a luxury aircraft, but a rugged work-horse meant for utility.

Exposed pipes and insulation, wires and cables, and the Russian text hand painted on various instruments all combined to make one feel that we were in some sort of a time capsule. In an effort to make the space feel more habitable, huge flags from many of the countries who do heavy research in Antarctica and are members of the Treaty, lined the walls, bringing bright color and and a sense of unity.

The flight to Antarctica, despite some of my fears of turbulence, was in fact smoother than my flight to Cape Town. And the crew and staff of ALCI were masters of making our journey more comfortable. Sandwiches, coffee, snacks, juices, fresh fruit and chocolates were served throughout the flight, the beautiful nature programs by David Attenborough were projected onto the screen. Best of all, we were allowed to go down and up to the two flight decks at the cockpit (the second lower deck had window views below the aircraft, so you could see directly downward).

Arriving 6 hours later at NOVO Base, I stepped off the airplane and put my feet onto the ice of Antarctica. Words do little to express the exhilaration I felt. After four years of hard work and pushing steadily uphill to get the project even this far, sometimes against severe obstacles, my heart soared with a sense of accomplishment and gratitude. This beautiful vast frozen landscape is indeed the one I’ve been dreaming about. I fell immediately in love with Antarctica—in a strange sense, it felt like home.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were spent base-hopping in order to reach our ultimate destination, SANAE Station. From NOVO we were flown in a smaller aircraft to Neumeyer, which took about two hours. The flight was intensely gorgeous, and became even more so the closer we got to the German Base, which is right off the coast. From the plane, I could see huge icebergs floating close to shore, some of them the size of lower Manhattan.

We also passed over the second largest glacier in the southern hemisphere, called Jutulstraumen, which feeds the Fimbul Ice Shelf (120 miles long and 60 miles wide). The landscape changes discernibly when you fly over a glacier, and the world below looks unlike anything I have ever seen in a photo. The vast ice field suddenly seems to push upwards, bulging slightly, and is marked with rhythmic striations, geometric cuts, shimmering patterning, and a sense of enormity (both in surface area and in depth) that matches the Grand Canyon, or even deep space.

The only natural reaction I could manage when I saw this glacier was to cry. Nothing had ever seemed so beautiful, so powerful, so rare. Completely taken over by the emotion of the moment, I could not help but feel again the sense of urgency I’ve had from the first moments of initiating this project all those moons ago. How can I bring this back—this deep connection, this incredible nature, this extraordinary continent? How can we protect this unparalleled place?

At Neumeyer, we had some time to explore the base while they unloaded crates and passengers and refueled the plane. There is a new structure being built at Neumeyer, because the old one, which sits far below the ice’s surface, is sinking farther into the glacier it rests within as the ice moves out toward the sea. Descending into the base, you can literally feel the weight of the ice around you, the solid mass providing insulation and protection from the cold and wind.

Just a short walk from the entrance to the base is an artwork by German artist, Lutz Fritsch. The piece, titled “Bibliothek im Eis” (Library in the Ice) is a wonderful and surprising work. While the library itself is functional, in the sense that it has books, and provides a space to read them, the installation is in fact far more than what you see initially. The piece is a tangible experience of solitude, time and isolation.

As we took to the air again, heading now to our ultimate destination, I could not help reflect on how humans have attempted to normalize our being here, in spite of the starkly inhospitable environs. Looking at all we must do in order to survive in Antarctica, the question lingers: should we be here at all?

Our arrival at SANAE was an initiation into the extreme weather that is possible here. Just as we began to approach the base, a massive wind storm blew in, and I could see the snow blowing quickly at about a foot off the ground, floating over the landscape like river water over rocks. The runway had been cleared that morning, awaiting our flight, but the wind had been coming from a different direction then. The pilot tried to land four times, and had to ascend each time at the last minute for fear that the strong winds blowing at the plane sideways would tip the wings as he attempted to touch the ground.

In the end, the pilot had to land without a runway, making his own in order to accommodate the fast changing winds. We touched ground, slid on the plane’s skis until finally coming to a halt. The warm light from the low sun shown through the whirling snow, and the world outside looked like thick luminosity.

The cold does indeed follow the wind, and descending from the plane, I found myself putting on the remainder of my gear. I could hardly see anything in front of me, except refracting light bouncing off the blowing, airborne ice crystals. With visibility closing in rapidly, and the base still a kilometer’s drive away, efforts were made to quickly load the sleds which were attached to skimobiles, and go. The wind was painfully biting as we raced up to the station to beat what would be white out conditions in mere minutes.

Entering the base, the warmth of the inside immediately won out over the cold, and as I took off the 40 or so pounds of gear I had on, I began to realize that the SANAE station was designed to bring comfort to an otherwise uninhabitable environment. Anchored to the top of a gorgeous rock mountain, with shear cliffs that fall into the snowy landscape 600 feet below, and look out across a pristine landscape of ice fields and mountains, the bulbous and colorful structure feels a bit like a space station. Lacking almost no amenity, it is indeed a welcome respite after a long journey, and the forbidding weather outside.

***

Wonderstruck

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 28, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 12 Comments

Day 6; January 28, 2009; Flight to SANAE Station, Vesleskaervet, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica
Average Daily Temperature: 19.4˚ F
Average Daily Wind Speed: 26.17 mph
Feels Like: -19.85˚ F

Today, I do not have words.
I must show you…

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***

Due Course

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 27, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 1 Comment
From left: Erika, George, Piet, Xolile, Alfie, Diago, and Thomas at Sets and Devices, where the ITASC mobile base structures were fabricated

From left: Erika, George, Piet, Xolile, Alfie, Diago, and Thomas at Sets and Devices, where ITASC's mobile base structures were fabricated

Day 5; January 27, 2009; Cape Town, South Africa

We continue to happily endure the seemingly never ending process of preparations, and spent the day getting extra tripod plates, DV tapes, a wind jammer for the microphone, s-rings, distilled water for our backup-power fuel cell, emergency blankets, signaling mirrors, a sound card for Ntsikelelo, and other random pieces of the equipment puzzle.

Early in the day we stopped by Bobby De Beer’s warehouse where much of the ITASC’s mobile base was constructed, and met many of the people who built the three structures.

At the end of the day, worn out from all the to and fro, Thomas dropped me off at my hotel, and I took a long and much needed nap before the evening’s events.

We were to be interviewed at 8pm by Caitlin Ross who is a writer for the West Cape News Agency, and would be gathering at Alfons’ hotel for a drink and conversation.  We chatted with Caitlin for an hour or so about our expedition and projects. Near the end of the interview, as the clock stuck 9pm, we interrupted the meeting in order to call ALCI to hear the latest on our flight details and to see if we would be leaving tomorrow at 10pm as originally hoped.

To our surprise, they changed the flight schedule again, but this time not to delay it—we were told that the flight would leave the next morning for sure at 9:30am. The anticipation and excitement was palpable—finally, we would fly in!

After a quick bon voyage dinner of burgers and champagne with some friends of Thomas’ I went back to my hotel to pack everything up and rest before the newness of everything the morrow would bring.

***

Solar Eclipse

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 26, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 0 Comments
Sunrise over Cape Town just before the eclipse

Sunrise over Cape Town just before the eclipse

Day 4; January 26, 2009; Cape Town, South Africa

Dawn seemed to arrive too quickly, and while I was excited for the morning’s events, I awoke somewhat reluctantly to meet the day.

Today was the New Moon, and also an Annular Eclipse of the Sun, which was partially visible from Cape Town.  I had brought film with me to document this eclipse for a Light Recording installation I want to create. Having never recorded a solar eclipse before, I was eager to stand witness as the moon traversed in front of the sun, which it would do just after it had risen above the horizon.

Thomas had arranged for me to spend the morning at Bobby and Lorna’s house, which has a great view of the morning sun being up the mountain a bit, in order to record the event. Their idyllic garden, terraced with succulents and rocks, was the perfect studio for the morning’s work.

It is such a stunning event to watch an eclipse. A wonderful reminder of the fact that humanity stands upon an incredible planet, and exists amidst a brilliant system of other celestial phenomena. We are so lucky to be on Earth—what a rare and spectacular view of the Universe we have!

After I completed the recordings, Thomas and I went to pick up Alfons, who had spent the morning writing at his hotel, and we darted off to our Flight Briefing with ALCI (Antarctic Logistics Centre International), the company that would be flying us to Antarctica tomorrow. However, upon arrival, we learned that our flight was in fact delayed.

Originally, we were supposed to leave on the 27th, but then they changed it to leave a day early on 26th, which forced us to change our outbound flights to Cape Town. The day before I left for Cape Town, ALCI switched it back again to the 27th. So, hearing of the now 3rd change, we were all a bit frustrated, but when we learned why they had, we became intrigued.

Apparently there have been huge blizzards and really bad weather in Antarctica, and everyone we spoke with, at ALCI and at SANAP said the same thing: it has been the worst weather they’ve seen in Antarctica for 8 years!

So, patiently we must wait for a window of clear weather to land—they told us today that they would try to fly out on the evening of the 28th, but that it was tentative, and that we might not end up leaving until the 30th. They must be completely sure they can land the airplane; otherwise they risk having to turn around mid-flight and fly us back to Cape Town. The plan was to call in to their office at 9pm tomorrow night, and confirm the schedule.

We spent the rest of the afternoon joking about whether we were actually going to get to the Antarctic continent or not, whilst finishing up the shopping for the remaining items needed for our expedition.

***

Meeting the team

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 25, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 1 Comment
From the left: Alfons Hug, Thomas Mulcaire, Ben Opperman, Erika Blumenfeld, Bobby De Beer

From the left: Alfons Hug, Thomas Mulcaire, Ben Opperman, Erika Blumenfeld, Bobby De Beer

Day 3; January 25, 2009; Cape Town, South Africa

The morning started with a bit of a technological jam—my cell phone, which I use as my alarm, didn’t adjust to local South African time from Amsterdam, and was off by an hour.  So, as I was just sitting down to breakfast and coffee at 8am

From the left: Alfons Hug, Thomas Mulcaire, Ben Opperman, Erika Blumenfeld, Bobby De Beer at the Hermanus Magnetic Observatory

thinking I had a nice leisurely hour to awaken to the day, Thomas walked in to fetch me.  As it was in fact 9am, and we had to leave at once to pick up Alfons and head to SANAP for our gear fitting, I gulped down what I could in a few minutes, and off we went.

Cape Town is a beautiful city—remarkably so.  Table Mountain is stunning, and is a strong architectural backdrop to the soft historic lines and colors of the mostly Dutch-inspired buildings. As it is summer, everything is in bloom, and so color abounds. Opposite the mountains is the vast sea, which is a mixture of the Atlantic and the Indian Oceans. Alfons is awaiting us, and jumps in the car as soon as we pull up to his hotel. He is immediately friendly and we begin chatting at once, asking about Lunation 1011, one of my video works, and The Polar Project. Our destination is right on the wharf, so the quick drive from Alfons’ hotel and their offices was gorgeous.

Once inside the SANAP offices, Alfons was first to receive gear to try on, followed by me, and then Thomas. The process was quite humorous, as we all got in and out of clothing that was too large or too small, and all of it utterly absurd for the summer weather here in Cape Town. But you had to try on all three of the layers at once, with the boots and the hats, to make absolutely sure that all was the right fit.  Zaid Watson, who is in charge of this department at SANAP and generously agreed to come in on a Sunday to outfit us, was exceedingly patient and helpful. Even so, my outer gear is simply too big for me, owing to the fact that I think a “small” is meant for an average-sized male.  But in the end it works well enough, and in fact, it is the only option.

The fitting took us three hours, and we each walked out with three large duffel bags filled with everything we would need to stay warm and safe in sub-zero temperatures. Our 9 bags hardly fit in our little car, but we managed to squeeze in and race off to our next appointments.

Having dropped luggage off at our respective hotels, we went to go pick up a good friend of Thomas’ who would be joining us on a two hour drive up the coast to Hermanus, where we would visit the Hermanus Magnetic Telescope (HMO), one of ITASC’s sponsors, and meet the scientists who had helped with the engineering of the GROUNDHOG, ITASC’s Automatic Weather Station that we will be relying on to help us predict weather in the field. They also helped build the UMTHOMBO WOMLILO solar and wind powered unit, which is where we will get all of our electricity for our mobile base.

Bobby De Beer hopped in our tiny little red Volkswagen, we zoomed off to Hermanus. The drive was incredible, with huge dark-cliffed mountains lining the one side of the highway, and the ocean lining the other. I felt myself settling into to the adventure, and enjoying all the “new” that travel brings. We were all taking and getting to know each other, and the day was a crisp blue.

Bobby owns a huge shop and a company that builds sets for television and movies. Films and commercials from all over the world come to him to build whatever place or prop they need.  It was Bobby and his crew who built the mobile base structure, based on an original design by architect Pol Tayler. The structure, named ICEPAC, an acronym for ITASC Catabatic Experimental Platform for Antarctic Culture, is currently being erected by our colleague Ntsiki, who is in Antarctica already, with the help of two Brazilian research scientists at the SANAE base.  We recently received photos of them putting it together, and the structure is like a line drawing on a piece of white paper, its black geodesic skeletal structure stark against the Antarctic ice fields in the background. Apparently severe storms have prevented them from continuing efforts, and so we will complete the construction of it when we arrive.

Once in Hermanus, we stopped by the Magnetic Observatory to pick up Ben Opperman, who is a research scientist there and also a collaborator on the development of GROUNDHOG and UMTHOMBO WOMLILO. Squeezing all five of us into the car, we head to the seaside for a long Sunday lunch, featuring local fish, some wonderful South African wines and some very interesting conversation that oscillate between art and science, our expedition, and personal anecdotes.  Everyone I’ve met here has been so fantastic, warm and generous of spirit. Ben and I spoke at length about the auroras and the data they collect from them in the Antarctic, at the SANAE base. There may be an opportunity for me to access this data for my project, as I want to record the audio that the aurora’s make during the time I shoot the final piece.  Andrew Collier, whom I met briefly later in the afternoon, is the HMO research scientist in charge of what they call the “Whistler Experiment,” named for the whistle-like sound that auroras emit.

After lunch Ben gave us an extensive tour of the observatory and its museum, and then we set off for the nearby home of Pierre and Jeanne Cilliers. Pierre is the Head Scientist at HMO, and he also sits on the Board of the National Research Foundation, another of ITASC’s sponsors. Pierre was also involved in the development of the UMTHOMBO WOMLILO. We all sat on their garden terrace and enjoyed additional delicacies and stories about our various projects and collaborations.

On the drive home, in the darkness out my window, I searched for the Southern Cross, a constellation I have longed to see for years and years. Alas, it wasn’t quite late enough, and was still below the mountainous horizon.

Back at my hotel, I went straight to sleep after some quick emailing, exhausted from the long, rich day.

***

Traversing Africa

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 24, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 2 Comments
GPS flight tracking screen shot

GPS flight tracking screen shot

Day 2; January 24, 2009; in flight from Amsterdam to Cape Town

The plane arrived almost an hour early to Amsterdam, due to the 115 mph tail wind, which was fortunate because my scheduled layover was hardly sufficient to grab a quick bite to eat and reach my connecting flight in time.  This is the third time in the last two months that I have been through this airport, and my hope was to find the little gourmet bakery I had enjoyed last time before having to endure the dreaded airplane food, which I would no doubt be subjected to on the very long flight to Cape Town.

Approaching my gate with coffee and breakfast in hand, I was stopped by the line, which reached quite far down the busy hall.  After the wait to get to the front, another round of security, and then more waiting to board the plane, I was finally installed in my seat by the window. I was hoping to glimpse again the Sahara as we traversed the first half of Africa, and click a few shots with my new camera of this vast and spectacular desert.

When I flew to Africa at the end of October to visit Tanzania and Zambia, I was able to watch the Sahara for hours and hours. I could see miles and miles of undulating sand, the occasional dark rock mountain leaping up from the flatness, as well as a good bit of the Nile.  I did get a few good photos on that flight, but with a camera that didn’t have a good zoom. Alas, today, the sky was too cloudy to see the landscape passing below, and so I used the 11 ½ hour flight instead to take several hundred catnaps in an attempt to catch up on some rest.

I arrived in Cape Town a bit disoriented from the long travel. After a bit of entertaining conversation with passport control, where I had to first explain what and where Antarctica is (a phenomenon that is becoming an almost daily occurrence) before I could explain what I would be doing on my sojourn in South Africa. My visa was still good from my last trip in November and so I was ushered in, quickly found my bags, and then headed outside to find Thomas Mulcaire, who was to meet me there.

Thomas is an internationally exhibiting artist from South Africa who resides in Brazil with his wife, who is also an artist. He is the co-founder and Principal Investigator of ITASC, and has been my contact. I first began my dialogue with Thomas just a month ago, and after quickly establishing the potential collaboration between our two projects, ITASC and The Polar Project, he invited me to join this expedition.

I am now an official member of the ITASC team, and am excited to join them in their ongoing collaborations between the worlds of art and science. ITASC stands for the Interpolar Transnational Art Science Constellation, and it is an official project of the International Polar Year 2007-2008 (IPY). ITASC is mainly supported by the South African National Antarctic Program and the South African National Energy Research Institute. It is rather incredible, and a personal honor, that as an American artist I would be so welcomed by the South African National Antarctic Program. While almost all the countries who have bases in Antarctica do have some sort of an “Artists’ Program,” almost none of them will collaborate with artists from other countries. I feel quite fortunate to have been invited.

ITASC describes itself as a “decentralized network of individuals and organizations working collaboratively in the fields of art, engineering, science and technology on the interdisciplinary development and tactical deployment of renewable energy, waste recycling systems, sustainable architecture and open-format, open-source media.”

Besides Thomas and myself, the team this year consists of Ntsikelelo Ntshingila, a.k.a. “First Born”  (Swaziland/South Africa) is a musician who mainly creates Hip-Hop and R&B tracks and who has produced 2 albums in Antarctica. Ntsikelelo is already at the base in Antarctica, having gone down with the ITASC container on the research vessel that departed for Antarctica on December 23, 2008.  Lötter Kock (South Africa) is a research physicist and is this year’s Base Commander in Antarctica for both ITASC & SANAE.  Also joining for the first two weeks of the journey is Alfons Hug (Germany/ Brazil) who is a curator, critic and exhibition organizer, and the Director of the Goethe-Institute in Rio de Janeiro.

This year’s expedition is the third ITASC expedition to Antarctica, and is codenamed ITASC: FIRE (Field Installation and Research Expedition). It follows the first expedition ITASC RECE (Reconnaissance and Communication Expedition) in 2006/2007 during which they installed the solar and wind powered GROUNDHOG Automatic Weather Station. This system provides weather data in order to predict the conditions we will operate in.

In 2007/2008 the second expedition, codenamed ITASC SITE (Systems Installation and Testing Expedition) installed their UMTHOMBO WOMLILO solar and wind powered sled at the GROUNDHOG site to test the feasibility of producing sufficient electrical power and water for a hypothetical crew of 6 using photovoltaic panels and wind turbines. Water and power are essential for the safety and comfort of the crew in remote environments. The UMTHOMBO WOMLILO unit produces 2.5kw of energy, enough to run a small suburban house. UMTHOMBO WOMLILO is a Zulu phrase meaning “Well of Fire”.

This expedition that we are now embarking on, ITASC FIRE, will install and test the prototype mobile ITASC IPY base called ICEPAC (ITASC Catabatic Experimental Platform for Antarctic Culture). It is designed to provide the basic living and working systems to support a crew of up to 6 artists, scientists and engineers in the field for up to 6 weeks. In addition to installing and running ICEPAC, the ITASC crew will also use any excess energy generated by the UMTHOMBO WOMLILO unit to try to melt a CATABATIC CELL, which is a habitable void beneath the ice using heating elements which apparently look a little bit like stainless steel light sabers.

The idea is to use solar and wind power to create a livable space, which does not require any other architectural support, thereby creating a mobile and transitory shelter in the ice, which will be returned to its original condition by the natural forces of Antarctica after we have left. ICEPAC and the CATABATIC CELL were designed and produced in collaboration with Pol Taylor of ARQZE (Arqitecturas por Zonas Extremas) in Valparaiso, Chile, who also produced the Chilean remote filed station EPTAP, at Patriot Hills (80 degrees south).

Thomas greeted me with a warm hello and a big hug, and given the adventure that is before me, I am relieved to find we are already friends. He dropped me at a lovely Bed and Breakfast in the heart of town, where I was led to a beautiful room off the main garden. I ordered a Rooibos tea from the night guard, and had a comforting moment of solitude, drinking hot tea in my comfy bed while listening to the sounds of the surrounding city. It is always such an interesting experience to arrive in a foreign city at night, where you must rely on the deeper senses in order to gain an understanding of the place. I hardly had time to consider these thoughts in any depth before I was already fast asleep.

***

En Route

Published
by
Erika Blumenfeld
on 23, January, 2009
in Antarctica
. 1 Comment
Flight tracker screen shot on flight from Boston to Amsterdam

GPS flight tracking screen shot

Day 1; January 23, 2009; in flight from Boston to Amsterdam

As we began the ascent to 39,000 ft, nearly two hours ago, I looked back out my window toward the waning lights of Boston, which dimmed by my growing distance. Tiny luminous points of light, poised static in the blackness, formed a nebula in my mind. A real star, tinier yet, hovered just above tip of the plane’s wing, glowing like a beacon to the lights below.

My journey to Antarctica has truly begun. No more preparations. No more arrangements to be made. No more wishing. I’m en route, toward the farthest reaches of our planet. The feelings and thoughts in my head are a mixture of deep excitement and elation swirled with the utter exhaustion from the hectic pace of the last month.  Since I accepted the invitation to join the ITASC team on their third and final expedition of their IPY project, my time has been a race to assemble the strange and unique gear one needs to survive in the Antarctic environment, as well as gather the necessary equipment for my own admittedly obsessive art-making habit.

My dear friend David Hirschi sent me a lovely “Bon Voyage” email earlier today, noting that he couldn’t imagine how one prepares for a trip to Antarctica. His email echoed my own similar thoughts throughout the last few weeks. What constitutes preparedness? My personal affects seem relatively meager considering the 49 days I will be on this remote journey, and yet I’m still well over my weight limitation for the flight to Antarctica due to the extensive photographic and video gear I’m bringing. Possibly harder than the question “what do you bring?” is the question “what are you willing to leave behind?”

My item list still seems rather astonishing to me, given that 3 weeks ago, I owned relatively few of these things:

•    My new, and much beloved, Canon 5D Mark II, which I was grateful to acquire (despite the 2 month nationwide backorder!) owing to the good graces of the Santa Fe Camera Center.
•    A 24-105 mm Macro and a 70-200 mm Telephoto lens with UV and polarizing filters.
•    Battery grip with scores of batteries and respective chargers
•    Portable yet steady tripod
•    Two of my hand-built “Light Recording” devices with adaptable parts for on-site configuration, and 100 sheets of 4×5 film.
•    A fully equipped Panasonic HVX200 high definition video camera, which is on loan through the generous support of Panavision.
•    My computer, two 500 Gig tiny portable hard drives and almost 30 Gigs worth of Compact Flash cards.
•    Power cords, Firewire and USB cables for every electronic device I’m carrying, surge protectors and plug converters, and back-ups for each of the aforementioned.
•    An iridium satellite phone, generously donated to my journey, and which is noted for working at any location on Earth as long as you are outside under the sky (a device truly after my own heart!)
•    A voice recorder (I’m hoping to interview some of the research scientists I meet, as well as the other ITASC team members)
•    Hoards of hand and feet warmers (I am simply one of those unfortunate people who never seems to stay warm. The stark irony of this is not lost…)
•    Stores of energy bars and chocolate (One burns more calories in extremely cold environments.  It will be necessary for me to average about 4000+ calories a day in order to not loose significant weight.)
•    Patagonia’s capilene and polypropylene cold weather base-layers, and Taiga expedition grade down booties for indoor foot protection.
•    Various precautionary meds and vitamin C packs.
•    Minimal toiletries, with an emphasis on lotion and lip balm (Antarctica is the driest place on Earth…)
•    An extreme conditions thermos (in a possibly vain effort to keep my tea hot in -20F!)
•    A roll of Duct tape (the ultimate quick-fixer of all things)
•    Two ice saws (for building igloos at our mobile base)
•    A book (Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology of Perception who’s 530 pages should keep me well occupied, if not utterly confounded).
•    A compass and some pens.

Now I’m more than half way across the Atlantic, and the plane rumbles in the air turbulence as we approach the windy shores of Ireland far below. I look over my list again as a way to somehow connect with the unknown that lies before me—these are the things that will travel with me “there”. It is a rather interesting experience to relate one’s moment to a collection of particular things. If my journey can be defined, or at least contextualized, by the contents of my luggage, then one might argue I could be traveling virtually anywhere. Yet, in my heart, I feel almost as if I’m going to the Moon.

***