Weather Between Us – open-weather

2024-06-27 20:55:10

Sitting on the window ledge, Austria

It's a warm evening and the street is loud. Starlings, children, adults shouting, car tyres screeching. The humidity has felt oppressive. As I recorded the image the sky was clouding over. The clouds are dramatic, they look high defintion and high contrast. They are moving quickly. I felt one large drop of rain on my way home, but that's it so far.

2024-06-28 12:01:02

In the heat of Augarten, Austria

As I write this weather note there is a warm wind and the temperature has dropped. In the park, I could see large cloud to my West. It might have been a cumulonimbus but its top was cirrus-like and its shape not well defined. The heat is waking me early. This morning instead of rising, I read the news in bed. President Biden has performed poorly in a debate about Trump, unnerving even his allies. The American Democratic Party is panicking. If the situation wasn't so terrifying, it would be funny. Writing this note is taking longer that is should as I feel so drowsy. I have drunk a mate tea to wake-up, however it seems to be having opposite effect. The wind has dropped and the sun is shining again. I could fall asleep at my desk.

2024-06-30 11:34:24

Hanging out of the window, sun on my face, Austria

I woke relieved to see a cloudy sky and even a few drops of rain. By eleven o'clock the sky had mostly cleared and the temperature is rising again. I feel the heat on my face as I lean out of the window to receive this image. My left arm turned to jelly as I tried to maintain the pose, thrusting my antenna as far East as possible. The Kestrels nesting in the building across the street made frequent alarm calls. Two flying ants danced around the stone work below me. It's Sunday, but N and I leave for Split by train tonight, so I am working a funding application. Sasha, I know that my contributions have been inconsistent recently. The pain I have weathered for the last year has surely left it's mark. It is 37 days until the operation.

2024-07-19 12:35:34

Augarten, Austria

Blue sky, hot. The city is heating up again. Yet the park, usually busy on such days, is quiet. Presumably many residents are already on holiday. Summer holidays are taken seriously in Vienna. Its shops and restaurants can shut completely, sometimes for more than a month, only reopening in September. This ritual of city life and work grinding to a halt in high summer as people take in long holidays, is a side of Austrian culture that is, perhaps, less well know and more associated with our hotter neighbour, Italy. I hide the ground station's hardware under the shade of a plant, and limit my time in the sun by leaving as soon as the satellite pass is over. I am tried and a little nauseous today, but in the openness of the park these feelings are less.

2024-07-20 21:11:38

Postsportverein, Wien, Austria

A welcome overcast day with light rain. Inexplicably, I heard air traffic control on the same frequency as the satellite NOAA-19. I was sitting on the concrete bleachers of the local sports ground, beneath a GSM mast for mobile (cellular) phones, but I cannot think think that could have had an effect. The transmission seemed too strong to be a harmonic. Decreasing the bandwidth to exclude the noise worked well. I feel lethargic.

2024-07-22 19:33:19

Park bench, Lackerngasse, Wien, Austria

What I thought was the beeping of a heart monitor was actually the beeps of a pedestrian crossing. I feel hollowed out. Heavy and exhausted, I sit on the street corner bench. I began the satellite pass stood next to the empty plot beside our house but moved because there was so much radio noise. It has become a mysterious fact that, since the block of flats that stood there was demolished last summer, the void has been filled with radio waves. I imagine live electrical cables buried under the compressed rubbled. Electric snakes hidden under shattered brick. This image has stopped me from venturing behind the flimsy construction site fence to pick wild flowers. A woman walking to beautifully glossy dogs stops to ask if I am listening for bats. For a moment, I wish that I was engaged in a short-range, in-situ sensing that could connect me more directly to the nature that surrounds me. Before the building was demolished there was a large bat population. No, I say, weather satellites. Man-made, metal birds, a thousand kilometres away. One of the three sisters in my building passes and asks what I am doing. I offer a less than satisfactory explanation as I have decided to rush to the nearby supermarket before it closes to buy a 'sports drink' in an attempt to replenish the electrolytes in my body.

2024-07-24 10:38:20

Danube Canal, Wien, Austria

The sun went in and out flooding the lush foliage in a dramatic yellow light. I had run out of time to reach the park, so carried my bike down a flight of steps to the bank of the Danube Canal. To my right two, trees that I did not recognise bore seeds and globe shaped fruit. The uncut grass next to the water's edge was flush with wild flowers. Up stream, almost under a road bridge, a woman wearing a hippy paisley print vest was collecting something from the bank, slowly filling two plastic shopping bags. I assembled the antenna unhurried with the knowledge that in my sunken position the satellite would take need to be almost overhead before I could receive it. It's transmission arrived earlier than I expected but my phone crashed, corrupting the file and forcing me to restart the recording. Once done, I sat on the bank, listening to the satellite's rhythmic presence and enjoying the cool winds and waters of the Danube.

2024-07-26 19:58:20

Marlene Wagner and Soph Dyer

Seestadt, Wien, Austria

Warm wind, residual heat. U-Bahn, aeroplanes, kids on the beach, gravel under our feet. Long shadows where the city meets the landscape.

2024-08-03 22:39:31

Lacknergasse, Wien, Austria

Still, mild, mottled clouds. Clear air. By contrast, there is so much to write about the turbulent, changeable weather of last week. And, yet, I know some weather is ineffable or Unwetter. Together, Sasha, we altered each other. My hormones were so low (by chance) and I was grieving how my body will be changed by the coming operation. You tried to lower the waves of adrenaline and cortisol with empathy, touch and grounding words. It worked, to a point. We were what M Murphy, co-director of the Environmental Data Justice Lab, calls "endocrine participating" (Murphy 2024). Yet the estrogen and progesterone in my body refused to join in, staying stubbornly low, disturbing my sleep, making my recall foggy. You felt so steady and strong, but I know that you too were tired and running on empty. Our boundaries, dangerously porous. Yet, in clear breach of feminist protocol, we worked. We worked on this project: carefully dismantling and debugging 3D-printed prototypes, testing digital interfaces, and making logistical plans for when and how to send hardware to far away locations. We swam and drank too many Weißer Spritzers. You tried to order a doppelter Espresso but instead made-up the word "dooblé". We laughed, mixing caffeine with dopamine, oxytocin and endorphins. We laughed too when, during a beautifully intense dance performance, we saw ourselves in the two dancers' energetic, full-bodied exchange. On the way back from lunch, I quite literally fell over your feet, bloodied my knees, and sat wordlessly gulping for air on the pavement. The activities list I drew-up before your arrival is now half crossed-out. Hungry to share, you and I pushed each other, as always. Next time, I hope for fairer weather between us.

2024-07-18 21:38:15

Diepoldplatz, Wien, Austria

A soupy night. Warm and still. Older men on park benches smoke and watched as I point my antenna. My phone crashes multiple times. I focus on the long beans handing from the tree in front of me. The last kids of the day shouted in the park, two whizz around on scooters with LED lights in their wheels. I try to ignore the men’s gaze and relax into the warmth of the night.

2024-07-17 21:51:08

Lacknergasse, Wien, Austria

Mottled cloud mellowed the sun and a breeze prevented the air from feeling too close. On the balcony it is dark, grasshoppers sing. The tomatoes are recovering from a lack of water while N and I were on holiday. The crop is about on third ripe. Despite the stress of returning to medical admin and heavy weather between me and N, it’s been a good first day back at work. Sasha and I spoke for more than three hours. The feeling of pressure on my chest is easing. I will make the most of the cool night and sleep early.

2024-08-18 21:56:16

Lacknergasse, Wien, Austria

There was a big electrical storm this evening. Bolts of lightening flashed between clouds for hours. As I have spent most of my time indoors over the last two weeks, so to witness this weather event, even from the window, was exhilarating. My recovery from the surgery has been uneven and absolutely nonlinear. I have moments of pure joy, such as when I woke from a nap feeling completely rested, my mind loose but still. But by the afternoon, I miss physical exercise and social contact. I know that I need to ride out this turbulence. Or rather ride with it. NOTE: I received the satellite image after the storm had passed and the stars were out.

2024-08-06 19:00:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

There was no satellite recording today because N was still troubleshooting the prototype ground station, so a bending of time, this recording is from tomorrow, the day of my operation. As I write this, I am waiting for the 'big day'. It’s raining, I can hear but not see the water cascade onto the hard facade the 1970s hospital building as the long curtains in my room are closed. Possibly for privacy or, I speculate, because the my roommate left for the operating theatre this morning when it was still dark. Either way the yellow glow of the artificial lights makes me groggy before anyone has even laid a finger on my body. A nurse searches for the word in English, “I will tie the bandage tight so as to stop a …. hema-toma." "Your vein opened too wide," she explains. "God", I say, "that sounds bad!" She reassures me, then sticks a cannula above my wrist where there seems too little flesh between skin and bone to cushion its intrusion. It stings. I watch my blood back flow into the two plastic tiny tubes. “I think that I’m going to throw up,” I say as a nurse announces lunch. I am given a cardboard bowl to throw up in and a tray with a clear soup, asparagus, rice, lettuce leaves, and a yogurt. I skip the yogurt and throwing up, and decide that I need sunlight. Opening the long curtains brings into view a drab but solid looking Altbau opposite. The rest of the day passes with time suspended between boredom, anxiety and grief, the sources of which I guess but chose not to give shape to with words. Satellite not known.

2024-08-09 21:03:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Today, I came home from the hospital. The weather was fair and I wore a tee white printed shirt and black slacks, loose at the waist. Satellite not known.

2024-08-10 20:50:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-11 19:39:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-12 19:27:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-13 06:38:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-14 10:11:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-14 17:35:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-16 08:48:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-17 06:35:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-18 20:50:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-19 20:38:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-20 19:28:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-22 17:29:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station Wien

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-23 09:58:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-24 08:49:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-25 08:37:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-26 20:50:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-27 19:42:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-28 19:30:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-08-29 19:17:00

Prototype Automatic Ground Station 2

Vienna, Austria

Satellite not known.

2024-06-18 12:23:59

Augarten, Wien, Austria

It's heating up. I enjoy how the city radiates heat from all directions, loosening my muscles. I embrace the floppy feeling. Yet Vienna is not yet built for sustained summer heat. Its surfaces are mostly sealed, there is too little vegetation, and it does not cool-off enough at night. I am standing in the blazing midday with sun cream and sun glasses but no hat. I am still learning how to live in a country that is a little hotter, a little drier than the North of England where I grew up. A group of young school children pass, all wearing matching caps. I take note. Buy a cap. During the satellite pass I try turning on a feature of the software defined radio programme called Automatic Gain Control or AGC for short. Gain is a property of the antenna, which can be manipulated in the software … and this still confuses me. Usually, I use the programme's waterfall display to manually adjust the gain, however today, keen to improve my understanding of gain and the software, I experiment with turning the two AGC functions on and off, and then both on at the same time. The waterfall display turns from blue to yellow to red. To my ears, the signal to noise ratio sounds worse, however the resulting image looks surprisingly uniform. In my studio, M, shares with me a weather forecast from the ORF, Austria's national public broadcaster. She wants me to know that Saharan Dust is forecast for Friday.

2024-06-17 12:37:54

At home, Wien, Austria

I rush out between Zooms calls to receive this satellite image on the balcony. The weather is warm dry, my mood is light, even joyful. I prop the my phone up on a potted Yuca, so as to get the tomato plants in the frame.

2024-06-16 22:39:42

At home, Wien, Austria

The tat tat tat of toy machine gun drifts up from the otherwise empty street. It is warm, comfortable. When we got home from the holiday the tomato plants were stressed from thirst and had curled their leaves from prevent water loss. After visiting such radically different climates – the dry heat of Istria and the wet cold of Firuli – and after overhearing my sister swap farming anecdotes of a too wet, too cold spring-summer with our host in the agriturismo, I contemplate how local climate is is and the importance of grounding theories of weather knowledge in specific sites.

2024-04-14 22:23:46

Augarten, Wien, Austria

The wind has been squally, like my body. I woke tired. To reclaim my body, I swim one kilometre at the local pool. The full sensory experience of swimming focuses me on breath and rhythm, in ways other sport cannot. I feel my muscles and enjoy imagining the small exercised-induced testosterone boost. I feel back inside my body, home.

2024-06-15 21:43:18

Sasha Engelmann

Outside L'Athénée bar, Ixelles, Brussels, Belgium

Sofie ran toward me in hall of the Gare du Midi in Brussels, and as soon as our bodies met we realised we were wearing almost the same thing: double denim, white trainers, a simple t-shirt. The next few minutes were a complete blur of overwhelming emotions, extreme happiness and my cheeks hurting from smiling too much. A group of us who had met at the Schloss Solitude art residency in Stuttgart, Germany during the Covid-19 pandemic had staged a reunion in Brussels, where Sofie lives. We spent the rest of the day talking at each other at hyper speed, visiting the exhibition of Belgian architect and feminist Simone Guillissen-Hoa, eating Congolese food in Ixelles, during which most of us ordered whole-fishes and plantain, speaking about life and loss in l'Athénée, and helping each other remember the many stories and moments we shared in the residency. Our experience of Schloss Solitude - a 17th century castle near a baroque forest - was particularly unusual as it happened during the second and third 'waves' of the Covid pandemic. We found ourselves - 35 artists from around the world - stranded in a castle on the top of a hill, affected by a rigorous German curfew and travel ban on movement between regions, let alone countries. Yet our 'castle of crossed destinies' ended up being some of the most memorable months of our lives, with experiments in collective living, workshops and teach-ins, dance classes, countless forest walks and excursions, mushrooms trips, meals and the making of what is now a family. When I went outside of l'Athénée to capture an image from NOAA-18, the night was late but there was still a thin light, and Sofie, Olivia and George came out with me. I spoke to a group of strangers who were immediatley interested in the radio antenna and satellite image, and we laughed in a semi photo shoot with the four of us. I wondered if the radio-borne satellite image, however noisy due to the tall surrounding buildings and angles of the city, registered the frequencies of our joy.

2024-06-16 11:39:50

Sasha Engelmann

Intersection of Rue de Serbie and Rue du Croissant, Brussels, Belgium

Camped out at a long table at a corner cafe, and feeling quite sleepy after a late night, five of us spoke for hours about our former lives, the legacy of communism in Bulgaria and the Balkans, developments in AI, and the politics of queer spaces. I set up my ground station at a cafe table on the streetcorner and was soon the subject of many looks and glances, though people were more hesitant to approach than the evening before. When Sofie arrived and began expressing enthusiasm about what I was doing and laughing at the situation, a small throng suddenly materialised around the ground station, including a man and a young boy, and an older man who gave me a small paper card that advertised 'La Constructorium Maya': "vise à construire une pyramide astronomique, un centre de démonstration des sciences et techniques, Précolombiennes à San Marcos (Lac Atitlan) au Guatamala". The man also insisted on showing us a photo of the Lake Atitlan, which was a pearl blue surrounded by deep green hills. Yet when I search for the website on the card I find what appears to be a french organisation that researches in the materials of building construction. Ten minutes through the pass, though we were still receiving a surprising signal given the five story surrounding buildings, rain began to cover my laptop and we went back inside. I placed my open laptop upside down on the brunch table so it could dry itself out. The following hours of the afternoon was a grey, dark, rainy mist until the sky suddenly cleared and sun poured out as Sofie and I left a bookshop where we had gone to a beautiful reading of a novel featuring vampires, a gay couple, a theatre festival and a skateboarding evangelist.

2024-07-03 21:19:36

Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Bosnia and Herzegovina

I am stood in the backyard of our host's house. Deep greens and reds of a flowering vine frame the midnight blue sky. Today, N and I visited the Museum of Crimes Against Humanity and Genocide, and then rode a cable car built for the 1984 Winter Olympics to a hilltop overlooking the city. In the evening, we walking along the Miljacka River to the book store 'Buybook Sarajevo' we stumbled on the opening of the BOOKSTAN literature festival. Before we realise that there is a festival, the crowd gathered out side felt familiar. Enjoying the atmosphere, we purchased two white wines and sat on a park bench. As N is at the bar buying a second round, I complement the small dog of an elegant older woman. She tells me that she is a translator of an English language book about the siege written by an author living in the United States. She is here to meet the author, she tells me, and will not stay for the festival as she is already looking forward to returning to her home in the countryside. When I later search for the festival programme online, I find its tagline: “A literary festival where there is neither East nor West, but just humans and their stories”. This evening my memories of working on war crimes investigations in Syria, Iraq and Ukraine, mingle with the stories of survivors from the museum displays. As we were entering the last room of the museum, I thought I could hear a video. There was no video, instead an older woman and man speaking in Bosnian. They looked distressed, I think the woman was crying. The couple were being interviewed by a small film crew. The walls of the yard block my view of the Sarajevo below, yet I know that the city I arrived in three days looks different.

2024-07-04 21:05:37

Miholjače, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Bosnia and Herzegovina

Two fire flies flash. I watch the coal mine and power plant on the plateaux, my radio antenna balanced on a rock above the road. A hazy red sunset bleeds out into darkness. On a walk this afternoon, the owner of the guest house pointed to the where an underground river was being rerouted to accommodate industry. His tone seemed to express a mixture of depression and despair. He did not mention the coal power station, which is not visible from the house. Now I see it, I imagine it thirstily drinking the river.

2024-07-02 21:32:41

Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Bosnia and Herzegovina

It's been raining. I wait for the weather to clear and capture the satellite's transmission in the dark next to Kovači Cemetery. The low stone wall I am sitting on is cold and damp. The cobbled road near me is empty but at its end, where it opens onto a broader street, people gather at the entrance to a mosque. Uneasy about the location, chosen without knowledge of the city because of it is the closest open space to where we are staying, I attempt blend with the night.

2024-06-10 12:25:53

Ray Dyer and Soph Dyer

Mošćenička Draga, Croatia

I am on holiday with my sister, Ray, and her partner Ben. When we check into our Airbnb the host, a women a little younger than our mother, apologies for our "bad luck" with the wet weather. We engage in pleasantries about how unpredictable the summer has been, and wet and warm the spring was. "We are not looking after Mother Earth", our host concludes. Her tone is serious. I think I detect fear, but cannot be sure. We say that "we do not mind", that "we will swim anyway", because "we are from the North".

2024-08-12 21:29:05

Sasha Engelmann

Zaraće, village of Gdinj, island Hvar, Croatia

As I set up my ground station on the edge of the concrete terrace at my Mom’s house in Zaraće (a small bay in the village of Gdinj, island Hvar, Croatia) I could feel the concrete emanating heat accumulated over the day. The prior evening a small group of us (friends and family) had ventured out to the warm rocks at night to watch for the Perseids - and we saw several meteors, sometimes so numerous they seemed to speak to each other in the sky. One very powerful meteor passed from 90 degrees above us in a long orange streak to the horizon. Gdinj (and Zaraće) is an origin point for my family - one that stretches back for generations on my mother’s side, through the Čurin family who settled in Gdinj, grew lavendar, cultivated olive trees for oil, and fished in the sea. I remember my Deda (grandfather) waking up at dawn to collect the fish of the day from nets that had been laid out by hand the evening before. It wasn't so long ago that the only way to travel from Gdinj, on the top of the island, to Zaraće at the sea, was by mule or donkey along a narrow dirt path. It wasn't so long ago (only last summer) that I came to Gdinj for my Baba Albina's funeral, an event that drew the whole village, and with people driving from as far away as Belgrade. In the local cemetary, mom and I each read a small passage, and my Mom also read a poem by Vesna Parun. It is always intense for me to be (back) here. I want to forget about the practicalities of life - how to get clean water (the water 'cisterns' aren't always the safest to drink from), how to get food, who to go for ‘kavu’ (coffee) with. I want to just lie without a towel or goggles or rock-shoes on the pale, jagged, karst rocks and stare at the sea. Indeed I have spent so many of my summers doing exactly this, I wonder if my small bones are laced with limestone, seawater, algae, olive, lavender.

2024-07-15 22:12:09

Perković Railway Station, Croatia

"I wonder if climate change can be measured in hot tracks?" you reply in response to my photo. N and I are waiting with perhaps a hundred other passengers at a small railway station outside Split. The reason, we are told by a cheery Austrian train guard, is that the railway tracks are too hot for the train to proceed. We must wait for them to cool. It is more of a novelty than an inconvenience to be stranded in the warm night with strangers. Assured by the guard that the train will not leave anytime soon, I made a dash to a local store to buy extra water and two ice creams. The small shop is filled with fellow passengers. The atmosphere is convivial if a little restless as we wait for the shop attendant to finish slicing ham for a local customer. I return feeling victorious, carrying the ice creams, the train has not left and will not leave another two hours.

2024-07-14 23:32:15

Duboka, Croatia, Croatia

There are even more Mauve Singers in the bay, too many to swim without being vigilant. N and I collect white plastic rubbed smooth by the Mediterranean and bring it back up to the village in bags. Our host is distressed and moved to apologise by the sight of so much plastic. He is an older man possibly no longer unable to make the steep 25 minute hike down to the water. He mentions the heat and then "the Albanians". N is confused and thinks that Albanian tourists have been littering in the bay, as opposed to racialised ocean currents carrying the trash from the Albanian coastline. His misunderstanding lightens my mood.

2024-07-11 22:25:02

Duboka, Vis, Croatia

I am getting better at staying cool headed in the heat. Blue skies, a few clouds. A gentle wind brought some relief. Today was hotter than yesterday. Our host said that he installed the air conditioning unit the day we arrived. He complained many times about the heat. It was a reassuring to know, as a Northener, that I was not the only on struggling. Yet it was disconcerting to know that the heat was new. It has not always been this way. N and I waited until the relative cool of the night to receive a satellite pass. We walked down to a track leading away from the village. Using a head torch, I checked for snakes. To my relief, I found a grass hopper laying eggs and a stray cat. Towards the end of the pass, curious to know what other animals might be near, I looked around for more eyeshine. My survey revealed many small green dots. I approached, expecting to find small animals, perhaps lizards warming themselves on the stone? Instead, behind each green dot was a Radiated Wolf Spider. N and I were being watched by tens of spiders. I dislike spiders so quickly packed-up and retreated to the house, eyeing the green dots lining the track.

2024-08-16 18:53:42

Sasha Engelmann

The rocks of Zaraće, village of Gdinj, island Hvar, Croatia

A school of tiny black fish swirled around the rocks, and island swallows swooped and dived for insects above. I sat on a rocky perch at the edge of the sea, under the fisherman’s chapel, where someone had left a bouquet of olive branches, Tradescantia pallida, yellow cow parsley and long grass. A fisherman walked past me on the rocks and I suspected I had taken his usual spot, but he didn’t ask me to move, and he climbed on further, somewhat awkwardly navigating the steep Karst with its jagged edges and slant into the sea. I meditated on the deep time histories of Hvar - how my memories of Zaraće were so bound up with every edge of these rocks, and how far back in time they had emerged from the ocean floor, pushed up by tectonic and geomorphic processes. As I faintly recorded NOAA-15 at only thirty degrees to the east, the tide was coming in, and by the time I packed up, the sea was waking up the limpets and sleeping snails where my feet had been.

2024-08-17 10:39:33

Sasha Engelmann

Zaraće, village of Gdinj, island Hvar, Croatia

A thin veil hung over the bay this morning, making the sunlight a little bit weaker and more silvery. Me and T had slept in after a hot and sweaty night during which both of us sat up awake at 3am. I squeezed between the bunk beds and tiptoed outside with my radio antenna before any coffee was brewed. As I suspected, leaving out the extension cable meant that I could receive the pass easily and clearly from the rooftop terrace. I hooked the antenna tripod on the edge of a plastic beach chair and held the android phone on my lap, watching the patterns of the mid-morning current in the bay. By the time I was done, I could see the grills starting to smoke to the left and across the water, preparation for a fish lunch.

2024-08-17 18:24:32

Sasha Engelmann

Jadrolinja Ferry between Stari Grad and Split, Croatia

The inside deck of the Jadrolinja ferry from Stari Grad to Split was far too crowded, so me and T sat on the floor of the upper deck. The air rushed around us, but the humidity stuck to our hair and skin. We said goodbye to Hvar for the summer. I said goodbye to my Baba.

2024-08-17 23:02:39

Sasha Engelmann

Jadrolinja Ferry in the Adriatic Sea between Split and Ancona, Croatia

The almost-full moon hung ponderously over the southern horizon of the Adriatic as we made our way slowly across it in an overnight ferry from Split to Ancona (Italy). T and I had hustled on with our car and luggage around 21:30 and by 23:00 we were in the open sea. Languages swum between Croatian, Italian and French as we qued for dinner and wandered around. People had hung hammocks up between stairwells and railings. Others had blown up mattresses on the landings between stairwells, and others were just lying on a thin layer of blanket, exposed to the wind and weather of the sea. As I set up for a 23:01 satellite pass, the air was so humid and sticky- touching the metal railing of the ferry felt like touching liquorice. The darkness of the sea at night felt ominous and limitless.

2024-07-13 22:42:00

Duboka, Vis Island, Croatia

2024-07-10 11:46:31

Duboka, Vis, Croatia

Intense heat stops me thinking. I sweat into my teeshirt and instantly regret exposing myself to the unforgiving sun. "Tomorrow", I note to myself, "wait until nightfall".

2024-07-09 10:12:00

Duboka, Vis, Croatia

Woke surprised by hot the apartment already was. As I set up my antenna on the track leading into the village, an older man and woman came out of their house to offer me local produce. Sweating, declined in stilted English. Perhaps I sounded Spanish as the conversation turned into an exchange of "Mucho calor!"

2024-03-05 22:09:44

Tyršův sad, Brno, Czechia

2024-03-23 18:50:46

Pítko Letenské sady východ, Prague, Czechia

The cold wind cuts through the light clothes that I packed. N and I are staying in Prague's old town but have spent the evening in Holešovice district. There are lots of Ukrainian and Czechia flags in the windows and on buildings. I was reluctant to go on holiday and leave work but I'm glad I came. The writing block I have had is softening with conversation, reading time, and thoughts about unrelated things. I am unsticking myself.

2024-03-24 18:26:50

Tyršův sad, Brno, Czechia

I saw people carrying palms leaves and realised that its Palm Sunday. I am stood a well kept park at dusk. There is cut grass, old trees, and a goats in a petting zoo. Local dogs and their owners gather nearby. Its a full moon and the satellite transmission clear. The air feels moist, cool, spring-like.

2024-03-28 11:42:10

Sasha Engelmann

Aire de Châteauvillain, France

The rather grandly named 'Aire de Chateauvillain' is a gas station, electric car charger port and a food court with a Paul and a bistro. After waking at 6am and driving the best part of the day, my partner and I were absolutely starving, but we had trouble finding anything to eat. After being shown to a table between two other traveling couples, we were turned away from the bistro when they said they were 'out' of both the squash soup I wanted, the cheese plate we were going to share, and the goat cheese in the salad my partner ordered. As many other people were eating there, I had a sneaking suspicion that the bistro wasn't really 'out' of all of these separate dishes (how can a french bistro be out of chevre!? or cheese in general?!) but that we were turned away for other reasons. We made the best of it, and after I captured a rather noisy satellite image from NOAA-18, we went on our way.

2024-08-02 22:55:42

Sasha Engelmann

Kottbusser damm, Berlin , Germany

Berlin, Friday night, August. I peeked off the ledge of my friend Omid's fourth floor apartment on the Kottbusser damm, and set up my ground station looking East. The traffic 'rush' sounds below mingled with laughs, drunken conversation and sometimes yells or screams. I noticed how the antenna reacted to the side of the building, the almost-midnight radio environment, and to being hand-held - it preferred the balcony ledge. I had travelled all day by train from Vienna after an intense week of work with Soph, a week in which we ate market-fresh pickles, swam in the Danube, worked like crazy on open-weather, and sat together with pangs of uncertainty about the future, both immediate and further afield. From my midnight perch, I sent Soph a hug and some calm energies through the body-temperature air.

2023-12-27 22:05:20

Hazy, damp cold. First night in Bergamo.

2023-12-28 19:00:15

It is my second night in Bergamo at same location but with my v-dipole antenna instead of the turnstile. Yesterday I learned that that the radio environment was noisy, however I was still surprising to receive no image. During the day Nicola and I observed an opaque haze hugging the alluvial plains of Lombardy. At dusk, a narrow slip of sky, frame by the haze below and clouds above, glowed blood red. Having heard how the Alps trap air pollution from the small factories on the plain, the red glow felt menacing.

2023-12-29 11:51:45

Near Mantova, Italy

Low, thick cloud cover. The air was warm and moist. Low light despite it being nearly midday. Standing between the fields, there were no obstructions other than telegraph and electricity pylons. It was amazing to as “see” the southern boarder of Algeria.

2023-12-30 11:46:17

Lago Inferiore, Mantova, Italy

Still, damp air, mild. Beautifully misty. Mottled sky.

2023-12-31 11:38:40

Very cold, a few snowflakes in the air. I failed to press record!

2024-01-01 11:15:10

There was heavy snowfall yesterday afternoon and overnight. This morning it is sunny and clear with no wind. I was able to take my winter coat off.

2024-01-02 22:17:00

Fondamente Nove, Venice, Italy

Damp cold, overcast and dark. My second failed satellite pass! Nicola was helping but dropped one of my antenna poles onto the marble of Fondamente Nove, crushing the screw thread. I also for my USB adapter. I am very tired.

2024-01-03 20:34:37

Fondamente Nove, Venice, Italy

It is a beautifully still night on the Venice lagoon; overcast, but with good visibility. I captured the image from a floating pontoon on the Fondamente Nove. As the satellite passed overhead, the pontoon was rocked by passing Vaporetti. I made a sound recording of water and radio waves mixing with the and clinking metal of the pontoon and a man singing.

2024-01-04 07:54:36

Chilly, damp morning air. It is misty on the lagoon. Cloudy, soft light, pastel colours. There is lots of radio frequency noise. The satellite's signal is weak, perhaps because of the noise or because my turnstile antenna is missing a pole.

2024-02-03 18:10:42

Near Pontebba, Friuli, Italy

We are in the mountains but it is above freezing. A thin layer of water covered the last of the melting snow. In Vienna last night, the wind was so strong it crashed against the bedroom windows, keeping me awake. After working on open-weather during the day, I was too excited too sleep deeply anyway.

2024-03-29 10:06:28

Sasha Engelmann

Courmayeur, Aosta Valley, Italy

We awoke in Courmayeur, the famous Italian ski resort near Mont Blanc. The weather was a hot topic from our first conversation with the hotel manager at Stella Del Nord, who advised us that the most accurate weather info would not be in our smartphones but in the hands of the ski shop owners. The person we spoke to yesterday evening said definitively 'non e bello', but today the verdict is that the clouds are 'high' and snow won't fall. A strong wind that was rumoured to arrive yesterday, also didn't materialise. To our good fortune- we are headed to the slopes!

2024-03-30 11:19:06

Sasha Engelmann

Playground at the Area di Servizio, Novara Sud, Italy

Continuing our road trip, we descended from Courmayeur through the Vallee d'Aosta and around mid-morning were surrounded by a thick, matte grey haze just north of Novara, en route to Milan. As a satellite pass was imminent we decided to stop at an 'area di servizio' and take a short break. The AdS turned out to be crowded with trucks (one with a banner reading HOPTRANS) and cars, so the only place to set up the ground station was in a tiny children's playground called PlayLand, ringed with a fence. As the image loaded it showed a promiment veil of dust crossing the Mediterranean and completely covering Italy. Later as we were driving further east, we noticed that rain drops made small red marks on the windscreen.

2024-03-31 10:38:31

Sasha Engelmann

Via Giovanni da Udine, Latisana, Italy

My satellite pass happened in the midst of preparations for 'pranzo di pasqua', and I could year the operations of the kitchen continuing as I set up my ground station and orientated myself in the garden. After driving directly into the saharan dust plume seen on my satellite image yesterday, and spending the night with family in Friuli, I wasn't surprised that the air was still hazy, and the clouds an obscure matte grey. There had been red spot patterns on vehicles and other stationary metal surfaces when we woke up this morning. Later in the day, while on a walk along the Tagliamento river, my throat and eyes felt the dust. As I got ready for bed, a 'tempesta' broke, causing a downfall of rain that my italian hosts called a water 'bomb', a new coloquial term for an extreme, unpredictable and heavy rain.

2024-08-08 23:17:13

Sasha Engelmann

Lignano Sabbiadoro , Italy

Acqua! ventisei. Sabbia! trentasette. (Water! twenty six. Sand! thirty seven). A voice called out the temperature of sea and land on a loudspeaker at the beach of Lignano Sabbiadoro on the Italian coast. I placed my towel on the sand next to a lifeguard station and felt the heat. People were running from their umbrellas to the sea (sometimes carrying small children) as the sand burned underfoot. I debated trying a satellite pass, decided not to in this unlikely location, and finally thought I’d try. Something about being in a swimsuit with the ground station immediately felt weird! My radio antenna got the attention of many, even at a distance - I caught several men with beer-bellies and leathery skin staring at me. Sadly I didn’t catch any signal - I had a big view of the sky, and checked and re-checked my settings, but it was difficult to see the tiny numbers in the android radio software in the sunlight. I decided to try again later, and I ended up catching a pass late at night from the balcony of T’s mom’s apartment. The shadowy form of the boot of Italy appeared in the infrared channel, lighter than the water (and therefore cooler). This puzzled me until I realised that land loses heat faster than water; the sea ‘holds’ it.

2024-08-21 12:28:55

Sasha Engelmann

Quercia delle Checche near Pienza, Italy

The quercia delle Checche, an approximately 300 year old oak tree and Italy’s first ‘green monument’, is full of dense, perfectly shaped leaves and is apparently thriving despite the dry summer. Planted in the 18th century, the oak was one of the few to survive the rapid landscape changes of the Tuscan countryside as the oak woodland was deforested in favour of agriculture. Rumour has it that Napoleon’s troops stopped to rest in its shade. Numerous local weddings, trysts, rituals and gatherings have occurred under and around its branches. Two large horizontal branches have fallen and now lie like giant bones in the yellow grass. Up close, the dry wood of the branches has whorls and shapes that remind me of Kármán vortex streets caused by wind flowing around islands or mountains. I wonder what events caused the wood to ‘flow’ in this way- what memories does it hold?

2024-08-23 11:04:44

Sasha Engelmann

Belvedere Trabucco in Lignano Sabbiadoro, Italy

When I arrived at the Belvedere Trabucco - a wooden pier facing the lagoon north of Ligano Sabbiadoro - I discovered it was full of fishing poles. Some older men and a few teenagers were monitoring the poles and their long, taught fishing lines. One young person re-attached the lure on their line - it looked like a spider or dragonfly. Fixing my radio antenna to the edge of the wooden railing, I fished for signals. The sound of NOAA-19 emerged soon after, and gained in strength quickly, as there was almost nothing between me and the Northern horizon except the lagoon and a thin line of land in the distance. In the greenish water below I could see the characteristic clumps of material called 'mucilagine' in Italy. Though mucilagine has been known for hundreds of years and is caused by a non-toxic microalgae, Gonyaulax, it has increased in quantity with rising Adriatic sea temperatures and it poses a growing problem to small fishing boats and businesses. Apparently, some hotels along the Italian coastline are even sending 'mucilagine weather reports' to tourists and travellers who want updated, semi real-time information on the spread of mucilagine in seawater before arriving at the beach.

2024-06-14 21:53:37

Tiere Viere, Dordolla, Italy

The sky is meeting the mountain. Fair weather, finally. Rain was forecast but did not come. The air smells good. It is a crisp, clear night.

2024-06-12 20:04:12

Dordolla, Italy

A musician, Pietro, joins us for the satellite pass. The alpine village of Dordolla is so small, we just needed to walk around for word to get to Pietro that we were at the only bar. There is a light drizzle. N makes a beat to the sound of the satellite, tapping the puddle with his foot. Pietro makes a sound recording. He is a drummer. The air is thick with moisture. The energy of yesterday's electrical storm has dissipated, but the clouds have not broken yet.

2024-06-14 11:36:59

Soph Dyer, Nicola Locatelli

Stefy & C. Market Di Gallizia S. e Valent S. Snc, Moggio di Sotto, Italy

I cannot focus on the meteorological weather as a delivery truck arrives to unload at the supermarket, which carefully crop out of shot. In the moment irritated the moment, but later accept my foolishness of my desire to document the mountains without people, cars and the heavy industry that lines the Fiume Fella river valley.

2024-01-08 19:18:03

Peace Palace, Den Haag, The Netherlands

The Netherlands

Brrrr. It is bitterly cold! I almost stopped the recording early because I couldn't feel my fingers despite my gloves. The sky was icy clear so I tried to spot NOAA-15, without luck I arrived in the Netherlands this morning after taking the the night train from Wien. I woke to thick snow flakes floating outside the train window. Inside the weather was toasty. It's no long snowing, but a wide current of cold air, coming down from Russia, is chilling Central and Western the Europe to the bone! Tomorrow I will wear my thermal leggings.

2024-01-09 11:13:34

Malieveld, Den Haag, The Netherlands

The Netherlands

It’s bloody freezing! Today’s image is from the workshop demonstration. I am too brain-fried from teaching to write more.

2024-01-10 08:48:00

Carnegieplein, Peace Palace, The Netherlands

The Netherlands

Lizzie and I stood outside the Peace Palace. Its public square was the closest the open space to our apartment. But we had also retuned out of curiosity to record the atmosphere before tomorrow’s court hearing. “The world will be watching The Hague,” several Dutch people had told me. On arrived, the square was empty except for people going to work or walking dogs. At the palace gates, security guards were using LED-lit mirrors to check the underbellies of vehicles. Perhaps this level of caution at the Court was normal? Lizzie and I assembled the antenna and tuned to the satellite's frequency. At first, a security man walked over and asked us to leave. We negotiated 10 more minutes. Annoyingly, we had not yet picked up a signal. I was about to begin troubleshooting when the a police car pulled-up. A police man asked for our IDs and took them into the patrol car, while his colleague stood, leaning on its open door. Still no satellite signal. Lizzie experimented with the position of the antenna, when she rotated it, I was sure that I briefly saw the telltale lines of the transmission. Cold, we gave-up, packed down, and waited for our IDs to be returned. Lizzie lamented having not pressing record: at least then we would have documented radio environment. As it was, we left twitchy from police check and without an image. From inside a nearby cafe, I tuned to the tension in my muscles and their alertness. Perhaps we hadn’t needed the radio antenna. Our bodies had picked up a tension in the air that I had failed to see.

2024-01-11 10:46:05

Eline Vere Park, Den Haag, The Netherlands

The Netherlands

"GLOBAL SOLIDARITY CALL WITH SOUTH AFRICA. JUSTICE FOR GAZA, MANIFESTATION AND LIVESTREAM OF COURT HEARING. Bring banners and signs with text: 'No genocide, No ethnic cleansing, Anywhere', 'Justice for the Palestinians', IsraelOnTrial for its #GazaGenocide'" @free.palestine.nl Today, I am unable to organise my experience of the weather into the coherent report. At lunch, I stood in the park behind the ICJ and watched a live stream of South Africa's lawyers argue that Israel is intended to commit genocide. Outside it is still below freezing. A street away, the students are build antennas: Ice-tennas, Tree branch-tennas, Finger-tennas.

2024-01-12 19:22:06

Between Amsterdam and 's-Hertogenbosch, The Netherlands

The Netherlands

I am on the night train. The weather inside is controlled by a continuous cold draft from an overhead ventilation duct. I rigged my v-dipole antenna to the ladder for the beds, and tuned to NOAA-15 mid-pass. As the train sped between lit buildings, I could see the satellite dip in and out of reception. I finish the recording just before we reach the next station. I am thinking about how the current political climate renders some lives disposible, ungrievable. "An ungrievable life is one that cannot be mourned because it has never lived, that is, it has never counted as a life at all", wrote Judith Butler. Is this fascism? Golrokh messaged from Tehran. There is so much weather between us. At 's-Hertogenbosch, a woman paediatrician boards the train. She is wearing a blue surgical mask and says that she’s got the flu (later, she corrects, she thinks that she has Covid). Our shared compartment feels tense as we exchange gases, aerosols, and possibly virus. She is going on a skiing holiday.

2024-04-17 13:33:12

In the car park Hotel Mariënhage, Eindhoven, The Netherlands

The Netherlands

I caught the image between bursts of rain. Drowsy after the night train from Vienna, I enjoy catching rays in the hotel car park. The air is moist and fresh. The clouds few but ripe. Tomorrow my experimental and sometimes unwieldy Critical Cartographies course at Design Academy Eindhoven ends. I'm excited to see the students work, its always energising and surprising. Hopefully they've enjoyed the experience as much as me.

2024-01-08 12:08:23

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

Snowflakes started to fall on my laptop during the satellite pass. They were very small and fragile, fluttery fragments of crystalline ice, not heavy like hail or water.

2024-01-09 11:56:24

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

I made a poor choice not to bring a hat and gloves when I went out for the pass today, as Hackney Downs was sunny but extremely cold and windy. Even the dogs running in the park had sweaters and multicoloured outfits on. A man stopped and asked what I was doing, and a woman and a dog happily took some photos of me.

2024-01-10 10:02:11

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

The grass crunched with frost this morning, and the air was so cold that my hands felt clumsy while assembling the antenna. Midway through the pass, a beautiful Italian greyhound in a pink sweater came over to investigate.

2024-01-11 09:51:05

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

I wanted to catch the satellite pass in my back garden, but the gate was so cold the lock had frozen or stuck, and I couldn't open it. I hurried to Hackney Downs and found a spot very close to the entrance in the long shadows of the plane trees. As I was listening to the satellite a woman with bright pink gloves came up behind me and asked what I was doing. When I told her about the satellite and my radio antenna, she immediately asked – are you a creative? This is the second time a person in Hackney Downs has asked me whether I am a 'creative' while I am holding my antenna. She kindly took the photo I uploaded.

2024-01-12 11:26:31

Sasha Engelmann

Downs Road, London, United Kingdom

I tried to stay away from the weather today as my asthma had kept me up the previous night and I was worried about too much time in the cold. I leaned out my second story window to catch the segment of the satellite pass that managed to creep in between the Victorian buildings on my street.

2024-01-13 17:53:11

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

I assembled my antenna on a bench in a dim pool of lamplight after sunset in the local park. I had just come back from the march for Palestine and still had my placard with me. As I was already so cold and tired from being out at the march all day, and the park was even colder than the streets, I struggled to concentrate, almost dropping my antenna and laptop.

2024-01-14 11:02:15

Sasha Engelmann

Downs Road, London, United Kingdom

I stayed almost entirely inside during this satellite pass, in sweatpants, slippers and an oversized jumper I had found in a vintage store in Buenos Aires. Even before I stuck my arm outside the kitchen window to catch the last half of the satellite pass, the antenna was picking up NOAA-18 inside the flat. This made me wonder about the porousness of our flat to the 'weather' of radio. Nicola took a look at my satellite image, he pointed out a cluster of white pixels where Mt Etna should be: the volcano is snow covered!

2024-01-15 10:41:52

Sasha Engelmann

Clapton Pond, London, United Kingdom

Half of Clapton Pond was frozen on the surface, the other half (receiving the sun over the tops of buildings) was not. Pigeons stayed out of the shade, milling about the edge of the pond and periodically bursting into the sky. In the decoded satellite image, I noticed that the mainland UK appears sandwiched between two bodies of east-moving cloud, receiving its own intermittent winter sun.

2024-01-16 12:09:16

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

The weather today is gorgeous – bright blue skies and golden sunlight. All morning the DJs on NTS radio have been remarking on the beautiful (if cold) weather conditions. To soak up the weather as much as I could, I found a spot in the middle of the widest field in Hackney Downs and set up my ground station. I was exposed in other ways too- many people stared and pointed at me from a distance, but none came near.

2024-01-17 21:49:09

Sasha Engelmann

Downs Road, London, United Kingdom

I had finally made it home after a fourteen hour day at work at the university and on many commuting trains. It's been so cold in the UK with a current of Arctic air reaching down across northern Europe this week, but it has also been very clear and bright- I could see the stars as I reached my antenna off the kitchen windowsill.

2024-01-18 11:44:26

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

The weather was bright and gusty, and bitingly cold. Hackney Downs was wide open and clear, so clear it made me wonder what it was before there was London. There were so many dogs being walked in Hackney Downs – I saw one person holding eight dogs – and a short-haired Australian Shepherd ran up to my laptop during the satellite pass. I stopped to pet her, and I wondered if her energy was having an influence on the satellite image.

2024-01-19 11:32:55

Sasha Engelmann

Downs Road, London, United Kingdom

I was in between two meetings on Microsoft Teams – one finishing and another one starting at 11:30. NOAA-18 was due to start its orbit over London at 11:31. I wondered – was there time for the weather? I tried to 'create time' by writing a 'I'm five minutes late' message to the person I was due to meet, and took my laptop to the bedroom to the nearest possible window to receive the satellite pass. As I was counting the minutes of the pass I was also counting how late I would be. I wished I could stay in the 'weather' of the bedroom and sunny back garden, and avoid the 'weather' of the Teams meeting room!

2024-01-20 11:20:08

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

It was a gray blustery morning in Hackney Downs. A man with a dog stopped nearby and asked 'what's that mate?' to which I replied 'a radio antenna, I'm trying to catch the signal of a weather satellite'. He gave a thumbs up and said 'so it's a weather thing? a weather thing?' I nodded, and he walked off without further questions. I had apparently given a satisfactory answer. Yet I wondered what kind of 'weather thing' he was convinced I was operating.

2024-01-21 11:08:40

Sasha Engelmann

Downs Road, London, United Kingdom

Storm Isha has been sweeping across the UK this weekend, with amber weather warnings issued by the Met Office in many parts of Wales, Scotland and Western England. Though the conditions weren't that bad in London, I stayed in the back garden of our flat to keep sheltered from wind. A curious cat named Dylan came padding quietly up behind me to check out what I was doing.

2024-01-22 10:57:26

Sasha Engelmann

Hackney Downs, London, United Kingdom

Wind has changed the surface of the park and neighbourhood overnight, leaving large piles of torn leaves, knocking down branches, ripping coverings off parked motorcycles and bending 'for rent' signs on their axes. Whistles and howls echo through the streets and across the downs, joined by the sirens of ambulances and fire trucks. On local radio this morning there was mention of wifi and phone service cuts. This is London in the aftermath of Storm Isha, which has swept across the southeast overnight. Its long arm is dramatically visible in the satellite image I captured today – curving over France, Germany and the continent, and spiralling toward Sweden and Norway.

2024-01-24 10:32:45

Sasha Engelmann

Royal Holloway University of London, United Kingdom

In comparison to the windy and wet weather of Storms Isha and Jocelyn over the last few days, today feels calm, even balmy. I walked to 'Founder's Field', the highest point on the university campus, to set up my spare V-Dipole and test a new dongle (RTL-SDR V4). The atmosphere of the university is also calm, as if the machines of departments, university managers and administrators are hibernating.

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