Today is March 23rd, 2026 and it was 4 AM when I awoke abruptly in my bunk, a sensation of freefall gripping my chest. The ship rocked precariously, while navigating the relentless waves of the Drake Passage. The second day of our return journey to Punta Arenas had begun, but it felt more like an endless night, shrouded in the tumult of a restless sea.
Sleep had become an elusive companion for many of us aboard. The sounds around me formed a chaotic symphony, where the clatter of personal belongings blended with the groaning and creaking of the vessel. As I struggled to drift back to sleep, I envisioned each sound as a note in a wild composition, reflecting the harmony of our collective journey through the restless waters, much like the unique roles each of us played on this voyage.
I finally gave up and left my bunk around 9am. I looked at my phone and saw a text message from Alison: “Hey Rebecca, I don’t know if the ship sounds the same in different places but from my cabin it sounds like music with these various maybe whale songs and moaning… like a deep bass and cello. I was thinking it might be cool to record it.”
I knew exactly what she was talking about because I had recorded a similar sound before going to bed the night before, from the perspective of my cabin.
Transcript for Audio Clip: echoey and resonant humming sound and creaking ship noises.
Alison and I had previously talked about my interest in understanding the team’s science through the lens of sound and after reading that message I thought to myself, there’s no way back for her, her acoustic perception has been activated and now she’ll be paying attention to every single sound, just like I do. For me sound has the ability of adding a sense of magic and wonder to the mundane and factual.
In a haze, as we continue to navigate towards our final destination, I reflect on this journey. During the past 4 weeks and a half I’ve been immersing myself in this expedition by filming, taking photos, recording sounds in unexpected places, having individual conversations with people, trying to internalize as much as possible when it comes to the science and research being conducted here, but without getting too overwhelmed by the complexities of it all.
As an artist embedded in this expedition with 17 scientists, the inspiration hasn’t necessarily been coming from the objective truth of their work, but from their profound drive, the obsession within the specificity of their individual interests and the emotional truth found in the science they are embarking on. In a sense, I feel like that is what has allowed me to blend in and to capture a shared sense of wonder that feels quite magical and surreal.
A few days ago I was chatting with Sam Afoullouss, one of the divers who has also been filming the underwater realms during this expedition, about how there is something surreal and magical within the environment in which the science in this expedition is taking place. He said something that stuck with me: “Some people say that magic is nothing but unexplained science.”
In a sense, art serves as a narrative tool to convey truths about our individual experiences, but through the lens of fictional or abstract interpretations from the artist. The idea of combining facts with fantastic elements, as seen through the lens of everyday life, came up in another conversation between Ben Meister, one of the skilled divers in this expedition, and Sam. I can’t remember what was the beginning of the sentence but his reply to Sam was: “[…] those are basically facts about fiction”. “Facts about fiction” seems like a fitting title for whatever body of art work comes out of this experience.
Still in a haze, and as the day comes to an end, I realize that we are not just passengers on a voyage; as a team, we are entwined in the very fabric of our shared realities and we cultivate those realities by believing in possibilities that often remain unspoken. Each of us holds a unique thread, woven from our intentions, expectations and the moments we choose to embrace. The amount of magic we incorporate stems from our willingness to step beyond the mundane, to lean into a controlled spontaneity and to find wonder in the ordinary.
