Antarktikos #1

Mapping Nature

2021 — 2022



You can order Antarktikos #1,
Mapping Nature here.


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Contents

PAG. 002 — 005 / An Introduction, Esther Kokmeijer

Chapter I. Mapping Antarctica

PAG. 007 — 011 / Mapping Antarctica, LIMA
PAG. 012 / Antarctica in Twelve Layers, Klaske Kokmeijer
PAG. 013 — 015 / The Mapping of Antarctica, The Map House
PAG. 016 — 021 / Nihil, Nothing 71°10’ S, 106°54’ W, Adwin de Kluyver
PAG. 022 — 025 / Two Encounters, John Kelly
PAG. 026 / Maps from the Peaceful Order of Antarcticans, Graeme Walker
PAG. 027 / Metaphorical Antipodes The Arctic Circle and Antarctica, Jacinda Russell
PAG. 028 — 029 / Antarctic Village No Borders, Lucy + Jorge Orta
PAG. 030 — 033 / Finding True South, Evan Townsend
PAG. 034 — 035 / In Conversation with the Colours of the North Sea, Blending into the Colours of Antarctica, Valerie van  Leersum
PAG. 036 / Observing Penguins in a Different Light, Maarten J.J.E. Loonen
PAG. 037 / Arctic vs. Antarctic Melting Stripes, Thomas Rackow
PAG. 038 / Stillness I and II, Esther Kokmeijer
PAG. 039 / Antarctic Traces, Michaela Grill
PAG. 040 — 041 / Freshwater Reservoir Movement, Ashwin Patel
PAG. 042 — 045 / Terra Nullius Ownership and Pioneering on Ice, Esther Kokmeijer
PAG. 046 — 049 / Borderland Antarctica [Revisited], Anja de Jong
PAG. 049 — 051 / Endlessness, Tim O’Riley
PAG. 052 — 054 / Solastalgia Mourning through theTranslation of Ice, Karin Hellqvist
PAG. 055 — 057 / Travel the Earth and Draw with Fusho, Kaori Tsukikaze
PAG. 058 — 061 / Mapping the Invisible An Artist’s. Engagement with Subatomic Particles at the South Pole, Donald Fortescue
PAG. 062 / Ephemeral Art Snow Sculptures & Land Art Installations Made of Snow, Franziska Agrawal
PAG. 063 — 065 / Folded Space, Carla Feijen
PAG. 066 — 069 / Antarctic Dream Excerpts from the Logbook, Andrea Pagnes (VestAndPage)
PAG. 070 / A Table for 7.8 Billion, Please, Justine Corrijn
PAG. 071 — 073 / Stellar Axis Antarctica, Lita Albuquerque

Chapter II. Imagining Antarctica

PAG. 075 — 076 / Constructing a Place through Literature The Image of Antarctica, Elizabeth Leane
PAG. 077 — 079 / Interference, SNOEK//HAGENS
PAG. 080 — 081 / Reality Check, Ann-Kristin Källström
PAG. 082 — 083 / Whitemelt, Oliver Thie
PAG. 084 / Antarctic Thought Experiment, Alexander Stevenson
PAG. 085 / Terra Australis Incognita, Andrea Bordoli
PAG. 085 — 087 / Icy Tiles GAN, Ethan Reid
PAG. 088 / Hole in My Heart, Shauna Lee Lange
PAG. 089 / Gaia, Filip Wierzbicki-Nowak
PAG. 090 / Kryophone, Grégory Lasserre & Anaïs met den Ancxt (Scenocosme)
PAG. 091 / The Final Glacier, Robert Roelink
PAG. 092 — 093 / Ice Paintings, Daan den Houter
PAG. 094 / Surreal Composition, Angelo De Grande

Chapter III. Archiving Antarctica

PAG. 096 — 104 / Antarctic Resolution Ice Memory and Antarctica as an Environmental Archive, Carlo Barbante and Jacopo Gabriell
PAG. 105 / The Antarctic Time Machine, Peter Fretwell
PAG. 106 — 111 / Climate Archive, Suzette Bousema
PAG. 112 — 119 / The Oldest Ice on Earth (That We Know Of), Ian van Coller & Todd Anderson
PAG. 120 — 129 / Abstracts Research Articles
PAG. 130 — 143 / Ways of Understanding Antarctica Relationships between Art and Science, Adele Jackson

PAG. 144 — 154 / Contributors
PAG. 156 — 159 / Acknowledgements
PAG. 160 / Open Call #2 Cosmos

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An Introduction

Two millennia ago, the ancient Greeks wrote about a vast land mass at the southern reaches of the globe. Despite having never seen it, Aristotle theorized this southern land allowed the spherical Earth to maintain a geophysical balance with its northern lands. Hence, he called it Antarktikos, ‘opposite of Arktikos’. Arktikos in ancient Greek means ‘near the bear’, referring to the northern celestial hemisphere’s Ursa Major constellation, also known as the ‘Great Bear’.

For centuries, a hypothetical southern continent appeared on maps as Terra Australis Incognita (Unknown Land of the South) or Nondum Cognita (Not Yet Known). Cartographers such as Jodocus Hondius, Abraham Ortelius, and Petrus Plancius perpetuated this belief of a southern landmass by depicting it prominently, though entirely from conjecture. In 1772, Captain James Cook embarked on a three-year mission in search of this as-yet-undiscovered continent. Although he circumnavigated Antarctica, he never reached land. The first confirmed landing on Antarctica was in 1821, only 200 years ago.

As a child, I saw Antarctica like the early philosophers and cartographers did  — as a place I had never experienced, but one that was etched into my imagination. I was born in Frisia, a province in the far north of the Netherlands. In my youth, the lakes and rivers were often covered with a thick layer of ice in wintertime. My dearest childhood memories are on this ice — ice-skating through an enchanting, often white and wide, landscape. I remember the sky being deep blue, the air crispy, and the ice sparkling from the sun. Or there were days when my surroundings were swallowed by a white mist, making my world very small and comprehensible.

My childhood fascination with winter inspired a life-long curiosity about other frozen places, so in 2013 I went to Antarctica as an expedition photographer. With the first sight of icebergs, I fell instantly in love with the majestic landscape. The environment was filled with elusive and indescribable beauty, as if fairytales from my childhood had come to life but many times more impressive. Within the beautiful world of Antarctica, the floating icebergs are the most fascinating to me. Blue chunks of ice the size of buildings, and sometimes entire countries, are constantly in motion, visibly and invisibly looking for balance. These icebergs are ground, polished, and shaped by water, weather, and wind. They come from glaciers that are formed excruciatingly slowly from millions of years of compressed snow, an archive that is stored layer by layer and caries millions of years worth of valuable information. Glaciers now calve faster and faster, crumbling into large icebergs, then slowly transforming into water. 90% of an iceberg floats under the surface of the water. Concealed, relentless, and unpredictable. It is a nice metaphor for the underlying invisible interests that play a role in the global climate crisis.

Antarctica is a place where you can feel powerful and at the same time incredibly defenceless. Without question, it is nature who is in charge; humans there are at their most vulnerable. But not only on Antarctica are we vulnerable. The melting of the Antarctic ice sheet is affecting humans worldwide. Antarctica can be seen as the protagonist in many of the major issues and challenges facing the contemporary world. Since the signing of the 1959 Antarctic Treaty, Antarctica has been a reserve for peaceful purposes, scientific investigation, and environmental protection. It is arguably one of the best protected places on earth. We should continue to protect Antarctica — not just for the continent’s sake, but for the world’s. Like Antarctica’s influence reaches far beyond the continent itself, our actions as human beings too can reach Antarctica, no matter where we are.

Over the past ten years as an expedition photographer and guide, I have worked in close collaboration with scientists. With the intention to find enrichment for both parties, I also joined together with scientists in my artistic work. For me, those collaborations were, and still are, extremely valuable. Both science and art are human attempts to understand and describe the world. Art is mostly associated with emotions and starts with the question ‘why?’, while science is rooted in the question ‘how?’. Where scientists are often bound by methods and frameworks, artists excel at limitlessness.

I founded Antarktikos because I believe in the power of combining art and science. In many respects, scientists and artists share immaterial and mental ownership of Antarctica. They are not interested in conquering or controlling. Instead, they temporarily engage with the continent to bring knowledge, ideas, inspiration, confusion, beauty, and acutely urgent questions to the world. I wanted to create a platform for a broad range of artistic and scientific perspectives that can reinforce one another, with the intention to reach the mind through the heart.

This magazine is a collective undertaking to research ways we can strengthen the artistic outcome of science, and vice versa. With that said, I also want to make it clear that I do not think artists and scientists should always collaborate, and not all contributions in this magazine are related to both science and art.

Most of the content of this issue was compiled through an open call. This inaugural issue of Antarktikos carries the theme Mapping Nature. The magazine is organized into three chapters — Mapping Antarctica, Archiving Antarctica, and Imagining Antarctica. Together, all of the contributions tell a full story, each one important in its own way while strengthening the meaning of the rest.

Please feel free to share your thoughts, wishes, and curiosities with us. And please invite more people into this journey so we can continue to strengthen our network and bring the wonder of this incredible continent to even greater audiences. I see this publication as a journey, a voyage through time. It is an expedition that we are embarking on together, and I hope it is one you will continue to take part in.

Esther Kokmeijer


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