Crossing a damaged landscape on a boardwalk from the harbor, ringing a bell at evidence of human presence.
Svalbard is a barren landscape, devoid of trees. Instead there is the sparse vegetation of the tundra: mosses and lichens, and other low-growing plants. And fields of rocks, many, many rocks; and water flowing across the surface, making its own paths across the landscape.
Evidence of human occupation is apparent – the coal mines are shuttered, leaving behind mounds of coal, looming contraptions for the transportation of coal to the harbor, unoccupied buildings including housing for the miners who are no longer there.
Because of the permafrost, all of the buildings sit on pilings above ground. Pipes for water and sewage run across the surface of the land. Parked everywhere are snow mobiles in greater numbers than the population. Outside of town are fenced-in pounds with hundreds of near-wild and constantly barking sled dogs. Tourism is the new industry…
But we were there in September, before the snow had arrived. Nothing was hidden under a blanket of pure white snow; everything was visible.
The day after we arrived in Longyearbyen we took a 5-hour boat trip further north into the archipelago, to the abandoned Russian settlement of Pyramiden. This former mining community was closed in 1998, but recently they have reopened the hotel and its restaurant for tourists.
Our boat was met by the Russian guide who gives a tour of the town, explaining the history and functions of the various buildings that remain. We stayed in the hotel, and did performances over the course of the next two days.
Connecting the town to the harbor was a nearly mile-long elevated boardwalk. It covered pipes that were laid on top of the ground, and provided a way to cross over the groundwater that moved across the permafrost from the mountains to the harbor.
Performances:
My performance of Crossing Water (ringing bells) was along that boardwalk connecting the harbor to Pyramiden. As I walked its length, I rang a bell whenever I saw evidence of human occupation. The landscape was littered with refuse, presumably from the coal mines. Some of it was recognizable, but most of it was industrial material whose function I could not determine. All of our performances in Pyramiden included being accompanied by someone with a rifle, because of the threat of polar bears.
One comment that struck me on our tour was the information that there was no telephones nor internet in Pyramiden. There was only a single location where they could text from their cell phones if the weather was clear. If they wanted to communicate with anyone they had to write letters, and a helicopter that came twice a week with supplies took the letters to be mailed. It made me think about the fact that cursive writing is no longer being taught in schools in the USA.
In response to that, I did another small performance, Letters, with the other artists at the Pyramiden cultural center, as the school was closed. Pulling together tables and chairs, I held a writing class. I gave the group paper, postcards and pens, and they practiced cursive writing, and then they all wrote postcards to whomever they wished. I mailed the letters for them on our return to Longyearbyen, since sadly there is no longer a post office in Pyramiden.
