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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