Weather Between Us – open-weather

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.

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.

2024-08-02 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.

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.

2024-03-05 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.

2024-06-10 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!"

2024-07-03 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.

2024-06-15 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.

2023-12-22 09:53:21

clear skies after a storm, solstice sun, strong warm wind, wet wood of the balcony

2023-12-23 21:14:06

Mild, very windy, raining

2023-12-24 09:29:15

windy, mild, a small amount of blue sky, it's Christmas eve!

2023-12-25 09:20:08

Grey and so warm. It's Christmas (and my birthday). The horrors being reported from Gaza seem to be worsening: Heavy weather, lethal weather. Clouds maps are always moving. Clouds make visible our shared breath.

2023-12-26 18:10:44

2024-01-05 20:16:07

Chilly and noisy (cars, mopeds, buses)

2024-01-06 20:00:00

Cold. It's been raining all day. I held my antenna out of the window.

2024-01-07 08:21:24

White-grey sky. Not too cold. It began to snow just before the satellite pass, so I had to change plans and stay on my balcony, where my laptop could stay dry, instead of going to the park. I used a stretchy piece of plastic to weatherise my dongle.

2024-01-13 18:50:29

Cold but clear. I enjoyed being in the weather because I have a new coat and I have been inside all day. Amazingly, the snow on the balcony is the same as when I left a week ago. I take pleasure in this stability because I am feeling disorientated: I did not sleep on the night train and I stayed in bed all today.

2024-01-14 20:03:14

I wore too many wooly layers! It was milder than I expected, around zero Celsius. My ground station was between the bins and the Austrian Post Academie. A few stars were visible between the clouds and light pollution. People hurried past: a dog walker, a parent and child, a runner. I have felt restless today. I asked Nicola about the weather: he says people are ice skating on the nearby pond in Türkenschanzpark.

2024-01-15 21:29:44

Cold, dark, damp. I feel "under the weather". Today, I stayed home and experimented with the loop antenna. To adapt the antenna to receive Very High Frequency transmissions, I squashed it into folded dipole. Despite what the online instructions recommended, this seemed to make things worse. I reverted to the open loop – the circumference of which is just under a half wavelength of 137 MHz. It okay but was highly directional. I will try again soon.

2024-01-16 11:29:29

Augarten, Wien, Austria

A piercingly clear day. Fresh. Chilly! I was glad to feel the sun on my face.

2024-01-17 09:39:48

The balcony of my flat, Wien, Austria

Cold, small, icy snow flakes. I had to keep my laptop inside. I used the loop antenna, elevated by a curtain pole to 1.5 metres. The antenna was highly directional, and so was challenging to keep tuned to the satellite. There is still pockets of snow on the rooftops. It feels around –3C outside. It wasn't forecast to snow today but the clouds are a pale white-grey and city has the deadened acoustic quality of a snow day. The light level is low.

2024-01-18 08:13:21

The balcony of my flat, Wien, Austria

So icy underfoot! My body felt sluggish this morning from a lack of sunlight and and my period. I ventured outside only to grip the v-dipole antenna to the balcony railing and then stayed inside for the duration of the satellite pass.

2024-01-18 09:26:57

The balcony of my flat, Wien, Austria

I tried the loop antenna again, this time squashing it into a folded dipole. The result was not good. Despite the near overhead position of the satellite, I could barely hear its transmission. I experimented with orientating the antenna vertically and horizontally. The temperature feels a warm 2–5 degrees this morning. It is raining lightly. Over WhatsApp, my brother sent a photo of the sun rise off the coast of Cornwall. In return, my mum shared a photo of her frosty garden. In both photos, the sky was clear. Yet an hour later my sister’s partner sent a video of large snow flakes falling in Truro. The weather in the UK is so much more changeable than in Austria. Here we have steady, continental weather. British weather is sea weather.

2024-01-20 20:32:35

Inside my bedroom! Wien, Austria

It's clear but cold. I'm still feeling unwell (again!) that I think it feels colder to me than it actually is. I stayed inside during the satellite pass.

2024-01-21 20:19:49

The balcony of my flat, Wien, Austria

Frosty, slowly defrosting. This morning, I woke to a blackbird singing. There is still snow on the ground in the woods. Sasha and I have been receiving NOAA satellite imagery everyday for one month!

2024-01-22 20:08:39

Leaning out of the Northeast facing window of my flat, Wien, Austria

I have been inside most of today. The weather inside is stuffy.

2024-01-23 21:33:09

On the North West corner of Diepold Park, Wien, Austria

I think heard a Great Tit calling this morning. It rained today and feels milder. I was meant to be on a night train to the Netherlands this evening but German train drivers have walked out. They will be on strike until Monday. I have cancelled my trip. Life feels turbulent at the moment.

2024-01-24 19:06:51

Augarten, Wiem, Austria

It almost feel warm today. In the afternoon, it rained but I was inside the studio so didn't notice until I saw the wet pavement. My body also feel springy-ier, the migraine and stiffness I've had since Saturday is receding.

2024-01-25 21:31:00

My bedroom, Wien, Austria

Silent migraine.

2024-01-26 19:06:51

Augarten, near the gun towers, Wien, Austria

Today, the bird song was louder than the beep-beep of the satellite. Gardeners in the park were clearing the dead leaves into piles. I heard that it's better to leave them to decompose and return their nutrients to the trees from which they fell – they don't kill the grass. The temperature is mild and there is no wind, but there is a heavy blanket of cloud. Although it is nearly midday, the cars have their headlights on. This evening I willl go to the 'Defend democracy' protest outside the Austria Parliment.

2024-01-27 22:26:10

On my balcony, freezing my ass off, Austria

Cold, but only because I didn't expect to stand outside, so I didn't have my coat, hat and gloves on. More bird song today. I was around 7 Centigrade. Clear, clear skies. So many stars.

2024-01-28 20:35:07

Inside with the antenna strapped to a curtain rail, tied to my balcony in Wien, Austria

Beautifully sunny. The woods are free of snow and ice, and full of walkers. I went on a solo hike in the Wienerwald, stopping for lunch at Toiflhütte, and breathing plenty of Waldluft. The birds continue to sing. I heard blackbirds, crows, wood peckers, a jay, and small song birds. The temperature is a frosty 5 degrees centigrade, with no wind.

2024-01-29 20:20:46

Entrance of Augarden, Wien, Austria

It's clear and cold again, when I left for work this morning the rooftops were frosted white. Frost always takes me back to childhood. When there was a heavy or hoarfrost, I would go out before school to slide down the field opposite our house on a tray. Sledging on frost felt more risky, edgy, than on snow – the frozen ground could easily inflict bruises. It was also a sport no one else seemed interested in, so I had the field to myself – bold and alone.

2024-01-30 21:46:34

Dornerplatz, Wien, Austria

I worked from home so didn't leave my flat until the evening. Today was dry, clear and cold, but not too cold – you could take your gloves off without your fingers hurting. The stars were bright.

2024-01-31 11:45:19

Gefechtsturm Augarten, Wien, Austria

Open skies and bird song – almost spring like. I did not weather my thermal leggings under my trousers today! At first I thought that I'd made a mistake but quickly I warmed up and enjoyed the free feeling of air on my legs.

2024-02-01 11:30:57

Beside the round flowerbed in Augarten, Wien, Austria

Wet! I have just come back inside from the satellite pass, dripping. I stood in Augarten park, in the intensifying rain, my laptop inside a small bin bag tent. From the warmth of my shared studio, I decoded the image. A huge white arc of water sweeps across my screen from North from Spain to Norway. Is this what it feels like to be at sea – to orientate by waves of water and light? Sometimes Sasha and I joke that open-weather is a queer, feminist space agency. Right now, I feel less like an astronaut and more like an aquanaut.

2024-02-04 19:08:31

In a field by the motorway, somewhere outside Klagenfurt, Austria

Today I swam in an alpine pool next to melting ice. I am recieving this image a dark hill, by a motorway, under the stars.

2024-02-05 20:36:24

At home, on the window ledge., Austria

Turbulence: outside, between me and my partner, in my body. I saw on a forecast map that the jet stream is between me and Sasha. The winds leaving London appear to arrive in Vienna. I like this thought, that we are asynchronously sharing the same air. I imagine messages, aeroplankton (Luftplankton), and water vapour moving between us.

2024-02-06 10:32:11

Children's play area in Diepoldpark, Wien, Austria

Blustery, blue and spring-like. The wind was so string this morning, it almost blew me off my bike.

2024-02-07 21:47:26

On my balcony, Wien, Austria

I was buffeted by mild but squally weather through the satellite pass. When I looked behind me the sky was ominously dark. For a moment, I thought that I should put down my antenna in case an electrical storm was coming, but none was forecast so I kept recording. It has been a tough day and I am feeling tired.

2024-03-15 09:32:12

Augarten, Wien, Austria

This is the first weather note I write in almost a month. The pansies have been planted out in Augarten. I rested my bike on the stone of circular flowerbed and used a mobile phone and my v-dipole antenna to receive a long image. I took with me a cooked painted egg, which I dropped in the gravel when peeling and had to throw away. It is a clear, sunny day.

2024-03-18 10:30:30

Augarten, Wien, Austria

I enter the radio frequency incorrectly and only discover half way through the satellite pass. My bike is leant against a Yew bush. The park is full of children and adult carers, sat on benches in the sun. In my usual spot there was an older woman talking animately to herself, I decide not to risk interupting her. The temperature has dropped, but the sky remains clear. I will call Sasha to discuss this project.

2024-02-13 10:44:38

On my balcony, Wien, Austria

QFH antenna test.

2024-02-22 22:05:16

Reaching out of the door, Wien, Austria

2024-02-29 18:41:05

Augarten, Austria

2024-03-01 22:06:11

At home, Wien, Austria

2024-03-03 20:39:23

Diepoldpark, Wien, Austria

2024-03-04 21:28:15

At home, Wien, Austria

2024-03-05 11:27:55

On the balcony, Wien, Austria

2024-03-06 19:34:04

At home, Wien, Austria

2024-03-07 10:59:59

Augarten by the trees, Wien, Austria

2024-03-14 11:15:08

Augarten by the flowers, Wien, Austria

I did not press 'stop recording' before closing SDR++, and so corrupted the file.

2024-03-15 09:32:12

Augarten, Wien, Austria

This is the first weather note I write in almost a month. The pansies have been planted out in Augarten. I rested my bike on the stone of a circular flowerbed and used a mobile phone and my v-dipole antenna to receive a long image. I take with me a painted cooked egg, which I drop in the gravel when peeling and have to throw away. It is a clear, sunny day.

2024-03-16 18:33:56

Diepoldplatz, Wien, Austria

Experimental copper tube v-dipole antenna.

2024-03-19 21:44:25

Leaning out of the window, Wien, Austria

I catch the last satellite pass of the day, dog tired. I am still waiting for a medical intervention to relive me of the pain that comes in night, preventing me from sleeping soundly. It is cold but clear out. I have given into the warmth of my flat and am leaing out of out the window. This morning on my way to the studio, I a man cycles past me carrying a full-sized bow and arrow.

2024-03-20 18:26:26

Augarten, Wien, Austria

It's so peaceful in the park. The air is rich and still. Dusk has always been my favourite time of day. I need this moment of stillness after working on a project about the war in Gaza. I feel a familiar combination of profound gratitude and guilt. The sky is clear, it helps me.

2024-03-21 11:26:48

Flowerbed, Augarten, Wien, Austria

My phone says that it's 3C but it feels warm in the heat of the sun. I take off my coat and sit on the edge of the stone flowerbed, taking in the bulbs that have sprouted, listening to the satellite's signal, and offering a polite smile to the people who stare as they walk past. I mostly get blank looks, but one older man returns a scowl. It is not just the rise in temperature that makes it feel like spring is here, the air is scented.

2024-03-22 19:38:12

Leaning out of the window at home, Wien, Austria

2024-03-25 22:09:44

Diepoldpark, Wien, Austria

It is still but cold. I receive the image in our local park, standing by the toilets. Earlier in the day, on the train platform in Brno, I see a man dressed like a cattle herder, in full leathers, carrying tall boots. At the vegetable market, I buy a woven fruit basket from aother burly man who shows me and N a photo of him dressed as Obelix the Gaul. Tomorrow is meant to be sunny.

2024-03-27 21:42:54

Malzgasse bus stop, Wien, Austria

"And this is how it sees storms!" I write to Michaela, sharing a vividly coloured enhancement of the satellite image that we had received earlier, standing at the bus stop outside our shared studio space. "That’s just another name for us", she replies with the wit of the screenwriter she is. I like this thought – that we are storms. Robert, standing next to me, looking at my laptop screen, points out the Gaza Strip. I dismissed his observation because the the section of image beneath the map overlay appears to be only noise. Later, when I turned off the map overlay, to my surpsie Gaza's coastline was still visible – noisy but indisputably present in the image. How many times has Gaza been visible, only for me to not see it? I have spent the day working remotely with colleagues in London on digital platform for investigations into Gaza War. And now, somehow, without realising, from my local bus stop I have formed an indirect yet unbroken line-of-sight with the Palestinian territory.

2024-03-28 20:06:43

Standing outside my flat, in the rain, Austria

I rush home from the tram in the wind and rain, hoping to leave my things inside before the satellite arrives. I don't make it so stand buffeted by the wind on a street corner. Cars pass me, headlights on. Despite the tall apartment buildings, I catch a strong signal and am feeling happy until, for reasons I don't understand (perhaps the wet) my phone crashes, ending the recording. The experience does not help my sense of being off kilter or out of sync.

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