Tag Archive for 'Travel'

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On the Horizon

Light on the eastern horizon

Light on the eastern horizon

Day 12; February 3, 2009; Vesleskaervet, Dronning Maud Land, Antarctica
Average Daily Temperature: 15.08˚ F
Average Daily Wind Speed: 12.30 mph
Feels Like: -3.37˚ F

Last night was the opening of ICEPAC, the Bienal del Fin del Mundo’s Antarctic venue. The whole base gathered down at the remote mobile base for music, video art, and dancing to celebrate this cultural center in Antarctica as an event and a place. We had spent the whole day preparing for the opening, and organizing various components of the exhibition. After dinner we all gathered in the media room for Alfons Hug’s lecture about the exhibition here in Antarctica as well as its other venues in Ushuaia, Argentina and Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo, Brazil.

Once the discussion that followed the talk had concluded, everyone jumped on skimobiles and made their way down to the black geodesic tent. I spent too much time gathering my equipment, missing the ride down, and so set about walking there on my own. The evening was soft, the wind gentle, and light was bending across the land, alluding to colors that would intensify as the night progressed. Standing there feeling the air, I could see the party commencing below, and began my short trek.

There is nothing like being alone in Antarctica. Spending even short durations of solitude out on the ice is to be confronted by the unyielding expanse of nature. One peers into the horizon as if it were a tether, but it is at once a doorway and a mirror.

I have spent most of my days here in Antarctica gazing out toward the horizon, and find it leads me to reflect deeply on the Earth’s spherical shape. As I look into the endlessness in front of me, whichever direction I look, I can see the slight curvature of our planet, and it conjures up the image of the little blue globe I have back at home. Often I would hold the globe in my hands and look at Antarctica, always having to turn the object up-side-down in order to find the hidden continent. When I think of this now, here, it occurs to me, in a very particular way, where I am on the planet. It is a bit hard to explain, but it feels like a rubber band going back and forth between imagining Antarctica before my arrival, and knowing Antarctica now that I’m actually here. It is that distinct resonance of “place” in one’s soul, and as I begin to fully acknowledge my remoteness, I am ever struck by the sensation of it.

Perception of “place” changes in every moment throughout the day here, as light dissolves the edge where the earth meets the sky into a seemingly singular locus. I can look south out my window toward the horizon three hundred times a day, and each time I am led to a new place. Experiential adaptability and an active presence is key to delineating terra firma from the intense luminosity that sometimes removes the ability to perceive three dimensional space. It is impossible to abandon the constant interaction that occurs with the land here. Antarctica calls you to be its witness, requires you to accept its moods and then shows you the world anew, if you allow it. To abjure nature’s profound force here is to somehow ignore truth, which would leave you quite defeated.

I arrived at ICEPAC in about 20 minutes, having taken my time to meander and watch the now lowering sun. Joining again my colleagues and friends, I felt a real kinship with these and all the people before us who have lived on this continent. Even in my short time here, I already feel this place has pierced my core, as I know it has done to all who have spent time here.

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Traversing Africa

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

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.

***

Terra Incognita

antarctica-map2As I prepare for my first trip to Antarctica, now just weeks away, my mind is abound with visions of all the possible permutations of white. My imagination is confounded by the seemingly obvious fact that I cannot know this place in any capacity until I am fully there, feet planted solidly on the ground, eyes absorbing the view of vast ice deserts, breath taking in the cold air.

The existence of Antarctica was first predicted by the ancient mathematician, astronomer and geographer, Ptolemy (1st century AD), who claimed that there must be a southern landmass to balance the North Pole.  He named it terra incognita, “unknown land,” and amazingly it would be approximately 1600 years before its existence would be confirmed. According to history, Antarctica was first officially sited by humans in 1820. Thus, the continent has been an invisible and mysterious place to us humans for the majority of our existence.  I find this a rather stunning truth.  We had, in fact, peered deep into the universe with telescopes long before we had ever seen the 7th continent on our Earth.

Antarctica is entirely extreme, being the coldest and windiest continent on our planet. It is also the driest climate, making Antarctica the largest desert on Earth. It is roughly 4.5 million square miles (14 million square kilometers) in size, which is about the size of the contiguous 48 United States plus about half of Mexico. There are no permanent residents on Antarctica, and even during the “busiest” of science research seasons, there are still only several thousand people on the continent at one time, and they are spread out across 16 research stations operated by various countries for scientific and educational purposes.

For the last four years, I have been reading and absorbing all I can find about Antarctica, and have, rather obsessively, explored this mysterious and remote continent through images, facts, stories and my imagination.  Yet, I am awed by the knowing that the true essence of Antarctica remains firmly and deeply unknown to me. Indeed, what could possibly prepare someone for a journey to the only naturally uninhabitable continent on Earth?

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