This project has so far culminated in a multimedia exhibit on the University of Colorado-Boulder campus in 2022 based on two expeditions to Greenland/Iceland and Nepal.
I have long been obsessed with ice. Its beauty is singular: strange, sinuous, rippling shapes; subtle shades of gray, blue, and white; narrow, tenuous, and metamorphic structures; solid, yet in constant transformation, and thus highly dangerous. I thus find ice to be a medium of emotional resonance.
I have also spent a great deal of time in icy landscapes—in intimate encounter with glaciers and permafrost. I have stood atop the glaciated peaks of mountains in the Andes over 20,000 feet tall, paddled into ice caverns buried in the recesses of miles-long Alaskan glaciers, floated down tumultuous whitewater off the toe of these very glaciers, watched the silent spectacle of jagged blue larger than a house plummet into calm ocean water followed moments later by a thunderous crack, and lamented with a glaciologist as we tracked down and measured survey stakes drilled into glaciers descending from North America’s largest mountain.
Here are a few images that convey some of my fascination.
I have also spent a great deal of time in icy landscapes—in intimate encounter with glaciers and permafrost. I have stood atop the glaciated peaks of mountains in the Andes over 20,000 feet tall, paddled into ice caverns buried in the recesses of miles-long Alaskan glaciers, floated down tumultuous whitewater off the toe of these very glaciers, watched the silent spectacle of jagged blue larger than a house plummet into calm ocean water followed moments later by a thunderous crack, and lamented with a glaciologist as we tracked down and measured survey stakes drilled into glaciers descending from North America’s largest mountain.
Here are a few images that convey some of my fascination.
The earth's ice is melting. Sea ice is diminishing while ancient ice caps and glaciers pour themselves into the oceans. To most of us, the earth’s icy landscapes seem remote. Yet, the furthest reaches of the earth are responding directly to us, to our daily decisions. Our fates are tightly bound together: as we shape the future of ice, ice shapes our future.
The loss of this reflective white coating will accelerate warming as more solar energy is absorbed by the dark surfaces of land and water. Ocean currents will transform. Millions of people who depend on glacial meltwater will suffer. Highly populated coastlines and island nation-states will disappear under rising seas. Millions of refugees will be displaced. This is not inevitable, but it is the course we are on.
This is the greatest human rights issue in global history.
Ice is also extraordinarily beautiful, powerful, and diverse. Like a species, ice manifests in a multiplicity of forms in response to the vicissitudes of individual places; it is locked in finely-tuned webs of interdependence; its active and evolving presence is valuable in its own right. Unlike a species, its loss will not be total, but it will be substantial. In many places, an ancient lineage of deposition, expansion, and intimate co-creative mutuality will cease to be. Naked rock and motionless moraine will stand in stifled testimony to the monstrous glory that once was.
We are losing one of the most significant active geological forces on the planet and robbing the earth of one of its most wondrous phenomena.
I agree with James Balog that "the story is in the ice." I am thus embarking on a book project to document through writing the world's melting ice and the people who study and depend on it--diving into the heart of our human relationship with frozen landscapes. My primary focus will be on the loss of ancient ice in the Arctic, Antarctic, and the world's great glaciers. This will combine the best of academic research with expeditions to Alaska, Greenland, and Antarctica. I will seek grants to support the academic component of this research in which I will work with scientists and ice-dependent people. I will also launch a GoFundMe campaign and seek sponsorship to support the expedition. This expedition will be the first to float both the northernmost and southernmost rivers on the planet in Greenland and Antarctica respectively, as well as newly emerging rivers produced from melting and receding glaciers, all in an effort to draw further attention to this loss and to the necessity of taking urgent steps to mitigate climate change. Through my uniquely humanistic and experiential lens, I will tell the story of vanishing ice and make its implications emotionally visceral to a global audience.
Admittedly, my project presents a certain moral conundrum.
My latest excursion and research took place in Nepal, including a summit of Lhotse.
Here is an article touching on the value of the humanities and arts in addressing climate change. And another.
The loss of this reflective white coating will accelerate warming as more solar energy is absorbed by the dark surfaces of land and water. Ocean currents will transform. Millions of people who depend on glacial meltwater will suffer. Highly populated coastlines and island nation-states will disappear under rising seas. Millions of refugees will be displaced. This is not inevitable, but it is the course we are on.
This is the greatest human rights issue in global history.
Ice is also extraordinarily beautiful, powerful, and diverse. Like a species, ice manifests in a multiplicity of forms in response to the vicissitudes of individual places; it is locked in finely-tuned webs of interdependence; its active and evolving presence is valuable in its own right. Unlike a species, its loss will not be total, but it will be substantial. In many places, an ancient lineage of deposition, expansion, and intimate co-creative mutuality will cease to be. Naked rock and motionless moraine will stand in stifled testimony to the monstrous glory that once was.
We are losing one of the most significant active geological forces on the planet and robbing the earth of one of its most wondrous phenomena.
I agree with James Balog that "the story is in the ice." I am thus embarking on a book project to document through writing the world's melting ice and the people who study and depend on it--diving into the heart of our human relationship with frozen landscapes. My primary focus will be on the loss of ancient ice in the Arctic, Antarctic, and the world's great glaciers. This will combine the best of academic research with expeditions to Alaska, Greenland, and Antarctica. I will seek grants to support the academic component of this research in which I will work with scientists and ice-dependent people. I will also launch a GoFundMe campaign and seek sponsorship to support the expedition. This expedition will be the first to float both the northernmost and southernmost rivers on the planet in Greenland and Antarctica respectively, as well as newly emerging rivers produced from melting and receding glaciers, all in an effort to draw further attention to this loss and to the necessity of taking urgent steps to mitigate climate change. Through my uniquely humanistic and experiential lens, I will tell the story of vanishing ice and make its implications emotionally visceral to a global audience.
Admittedly, my project presents a certain moral conundrum.
My latest excursion and research took place in Nepal, including a summit of Lhotse.
Here is an article touching on the value of the humanities and arts in addressing climate change. And another.
Satellite image at top from https://water.usgs.gov/edu/pictures/full-size/icecaps-satellite-large.jpg