THE WATER ARCHIVE - NORDIC STREAMS AND SOUNDS

mirandaraziel
Sep 14
12 min read

Updated: Sep 17

The Water Archive - Norway, July 2025.*

Two main axes for analysis.

Textures

Temporalities

CONTENT

Presentation

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Sound streams

Presentation

The water connects, dissolves, transmutes. This project conveys a microextraction of water samples and sediments in an allegoric way. Each sample, after careful analysis, depicts different aspects of a traveling reality from a group of people conducting their own journeys. It encapsulates the geology , nature, pollution, sedimentation, condensation, civilization, dreams and liquid tears of this planet in a specific surface during a limited time; concretely, from the coast of Stavanger to the port of Bergen during seven days in a Nordic summer.

In a parallelism, water connects stories in different temporalities and between an array of people. You are drinking the drops that once were probably drunk by one of your ancestors. Similar to the story of “There are Rivers in the Sky” by Elif Shafak. This novel spans centuries, connecting three main protagonists—Arthur, a Victorian-era boy with a prodigious memory; Narin, a young Yazidi girl facing genocide in 2014; and Zaleekhah, a contemporary hydrologist in London—through the shared element of water, symbolized by the Tigris and Thames rivers. This story explores themes of water scarcity, historical memory, cultural loss, exile, and the power of storytelling, all centered around the idea that a single drop of water holds the interconnected memory of humanity and the planet.

Far from me to try to create a stream of verses and words that can match the depth and length of that novel. But in this project, the samples of water speak for themselves in the form of aphorisms because they reflect the memories of a trip. Sometimes, you cannot contain the water and the words as a novel. They vanish among your fingers and what remains is a grasp of its essence: remembrance. Like eroded pages and incomplete sentences. The water streams of aphorisms reflect and refract memories and desires. They could resonate with your own story, and refresh your own _______ (only you can complete this gap).

Having dinner one night in the ship, I tried to express that the wave is the perfect symbol of nature, from macrophysics to the atomic level. From the waves of plasma and the streams of electromagnetic energy, to the electronic oscillation of particles at the quantum subatomic level. From the inflationary equations of the universe to the Heisenberg equations of uncertainty in the microscopic scale.

In a micro scale, for instance, based on the wave-like nature of quantum particles, the Heisenberg uncertainty principle states that precisely determining both a particle's position and momentum simultaneously is impossible. This is because a particle is a wave packet: pinpointing its location requires combining many waves, which causes its momentum to become uncertain. This fundamental trade-off, expressed as Δx⋅Δp ≥ ℏ/2, is a direct consequence of wave-particle duality.

In a macro scale, and in geological terms, the waves, which represent liquid and water by excellence, are the remembrance of not endurance. They represent the volatility even of solid states. Even rocks will melt. They could be considered as a liquid moving in very long temporalities, eons or millions of years, producing new shapes, peaks, valleys, and an amoeba of forms. In that dinner, I was thinking that water contains the essence of nature and is a form that mediates all the forms. Thus, it deserves a careful ‘analysis’.

My goals are not pre-established, but I will try to combine natural sciences, arts and “sciences of the spirit” as excuses to dig deeper layers of reality to understand what is a journey, the act of traveling, empirically and symbolically. All of it, sharing special moments with a family that is also in a vital journey, reinventing their lives as sailors, with the fears of the unknown ahead and expectations, and the strength and adaptability when your home is the sea. My tools are observation, intuition, presence, and curiosity, as this text aims to archive those impressions during the different days I spent in this project through the collection of an array of samples/streams.

The last part of this project is a soundtrack composed improvising ambient and experimental works in a piano, with the aim of resonate the water samples/streams and the findings of this trip.

PART 1

Stream 1. Day 1

Arriving into the port in Stavanger. Quick and impactful kick off in a boat trip to the main vessel (Atlas) passing through other embarkations in the fuzzy harbor. Even warships from the NATO were stationed there and many tourists were taking ferries to other Fjords. There was wind but relatively calm waters. My hosts explain me everything about vessels and sailing.

A neighbor vessel and a coastal town before departure

At night, reflections of lights in the calm water surface, mirrors of a summer tale blinking. Impressionist paint alive.

[At day 8, after the trip, I came back to Stavanger by bus and ferries while watching idyllic towns and spectacular forests across the road. After arriving back, at night, I walked again to the port where everything started in Day 1. It was windy and there were no more big ships or crowds of tourists, just some yachts. It was like a ghost town. Only the memories of the first day and the whole trip lasted.

Where is the starting point when you close the circle?].

Stream 2. Day 2.

Morning calm waters. In the surface, shapes of flat squares, almost with no peaks and valleys. Turquoise tones and shades mixed with blue/winter/cold tones. These tones contrasted the warm red and whited colors from other vessels, houses, and constructions in the shore. Below them, silver reflections from the sunlight coming across the clouds, like spotlights in a theater stage.

The water was playing its role, being a quiet supporting actor, thus, a main character.

At distance, foggy clouds covering misty mountains in the horizon.

Stream 3. Stormy waters. Day 2.

In the afternoon, big waves (about 2 m high) and winds blowing from the open sea in the west towards the coast; clashing in the side of the Atlas in our way to the north. It makes everything tremble and wabbling like a grain of wheat inside a turbulent glass of water.

Dorsal waves, chains of mountains moving, and again the silver tones of the clouds. Being at the deck gives a rush of adrenaline.

At times, an intermezzo of clear sunlight bathing us amidst the endless multitude of clouds and unstable waves.

Stream 4. Revolving waters. Day 3.

The textures in the water are like electromagnetic fields, a constant rough oscillation creating patterns like a folded and smashed sheet of paper: rugged, clashed and waiting to be thrown away in a 'garbage can' by the wind. Regular peaks spread in packages flowing in all directions, but the superposition of them is not enough to produce bigger waves.

The colors are serious and solid, cold blue mixed with gray metallic tones. Everything is very hypnotic and chaotic.

Textures of the waves and drawings made in different days. Top pictures: drafts from energetic representation of the movement of the water according to different textures, currents, and scattering directions. The 8 shape (a) is typical of calm water whereas the sharp dorsal lines (b) appeared mostly in open sea waters or windy days. At the bottom, depicting different metaphysical configurations of revolving streams, and capturing rain drops bouncing in the ocean surface.

Stream 5. Days 3 and 4.

Even the most advanced software and engineering systems cannot predict or emulate the behavior of waves in water and clouds with total accuracy. These have an uncertainty essence and move in every direction, yet, at the same time, they create a singular stream and pattern. It is chaotic nature mixed with uniformity. It seems that nature plays with the idea of infinite possibilities and realities but then chooses just a specific path.

Leaving a trace of the water behind the vessel, a road of foam that at some point vanishes at distance. The white path left behind makes a gently curve in the middle of the canal between the mainland and the islands.

Thinking in that trail of past and future; a few seconds ago we were there, where now there is just water.

A few minutes ago we were passing through a point in the trail.

But it is like I am still there, behind.

And I see myself, simultaneously from the other vessel and in the same vessel.

I can still encounter myself and live this other temporality, yet, I am in this side.

Equations of Heisenberg taken to the macroscopic level of our own existence.

Our vital paths are not ordered events in a linear story, they are fields of indetermined waves, clouds of ambivalence, streams in many directions decanted in specific patterns or in one path.

Maybe I am making a repartition of myself into different moments and spaces, where the momentum (time) cannot be identified, dividing my trail in a flow that can be seen from another side which is unreachable but that still can be interconnected.

Two movements of time. The movement of molecules and currents inside the water. The movements of our life step-by-step in a subjective in-time outside-time and perhaps timeless trail.

All of this mediated by the lenses of forgetfulness and the sedimentation of memories.

And, eventually, everything will be forgotten.

Entropy wins autopoiesis.

Life is a rebel pause in the landscape of nothingness.

In the meantime: endurance.

Streams 6 and 7. Days 2 to 4 at night.

Sunlight almost until 23:00. The full moon emerges sometimes above the clouds; winds blow and become brushes editing the painting of this scenery. The weak moonlight reflection in the water and in the islands faints away at intermittent moments, in fragmented cycles or patterns.

Above everything, a caravan of clouds wanders in the sky adrift. They come from the ocean to the land in packages of waves in order to trade clouds for rivers. Distant past thoughts precipitating in the land of tomorrow.

I had conversations with the moon. When is possible, I ‘save’ my life in this checkpoint every month. At full-moon nights, I reflect upon my emotional state or memories, connecting my experiences every month, like an astral phone call with a sort of oracle.

A reverse werewolf looking to be at ease.

Last full-moon in July I was mentally tired sitting in the floor at the entrance of my hotel in South Korea. It was not an easy day.

Reflection of the reflection of the sunlight. How is that possible? How is that light reflects into other beings? It is crazy if you stop to think in that!

What is light beyond a wave and particle, and beyond good and evil?

The moonlight vanishes in just a tiny fraction of time.

A wave never comes to you alone.

Stream 8. Day 4.

After a rainy journey, we dropped the anchor in a bay close to a boreal forest. The pine woods are sober, majestic and mysterious. I I started drawing a sketch of the trees. Almost immediately, A Forest by The Cure starts playing randomly in the Spotify of Steijn as he and Laura prepare dinner. Such a coincidence.

I am captivated by the darkness and serenity of the trees. Next morning, I asked to visit the land and I walked alone in that forest. It was calling me, like the lyrics of that song.

Come closer and see. See into the dark. Just follow your eyes. I hear her voice. Calling my name. The sound is deep. In the dark.

PART 2

Stream 9. Day 4 and 5.

Arriving in misty Fjords. Raining. Amazing canals. Mysterious islands. More forests. Anchored in a narrow strait. We visited a waterfall and played flipping stones in the beach. Back inside, playing videogames after a long time with Lieve as it was raining even more outside. She is such a cute girl.

At night, the rain stopped.

Nearby, a big mountain was looming upon the Atlas watching us.

In the darkness, its reflection in the water was making shadows that were moving like ghosts. Spirits in a constant dance.

It was terribly quiet and spooky. Even the moon was shy.

Stream 10. Day 5.

Next day the weather gave us a gift. The sun was shining above the clouds and the precipitation of foggy clouds formed waterfalls in the peaks of the Fjords. Silver veils falling dawn unveiling the colossal monsters asleep for millions of years.

We ventured into the kayaks. And I am thanks to Laura and Steijn who unconsciously helped me to overcome the fear I still had from the last time I tried kayak in the sea currents. It was a hard time in the Philippines as you can read in this story here.

After this, I asked to be dropped in the middle of an island and I had time to walk around a majestic scenario, in a shore bathed by the green-silver semitransparent waters and the cheerful pine trees embracing the shores. We even had time to swim in the waters of another beach. The water was really cold despite being summer. A rush of blood to the head.

And after having lunch, I took a nap in such idyllic landscape above a rock, having my body warmed by the sun like a reptile. I felt a tremendous tranquility, like a hobbit in the shrine town before the visit of the gray wizard. At that beach, I drawn and painted. And I ‘recorded’ that moment with charcoal and black shadows in a paper. Later on, I gave that moment carved in a paper as a gift to my hosts in the Atlas (see last picture of this post). In that same day, we had an exquisite dinner and delightful conversations.

Lenses of memory. During the sunset, whereas I was painting the landscape present in this post, I remember the tempered-glass aquatic mirror reflecting the clouds from the sky with an impeccable precision. It was a perfect copier. Also, I still can depict in my mind kayaking for a last time before the afternoon, alone, with the mountains surrounding me, the dark green colors from the bottom of the ocean, in a quiet but mysterious and hypnotic movement of the waters.

I go back in time and then forwards, to a short trip from the beach to the vessel that day, in the rubber boat with Steijn after he fished in those green-blue waters. We decided to row as we contemplated the last beams of the sun setting down over the fjord. As the sun sunk, the light was painting different shades and colors in the surfaces of the mountains and trees. A moving canvas in a whole landscape, vanishing into gradual darkness. And the water was still. Speechless, our hearts were synchronized with that stillness. Few times in my life I felt such a pleasant tranquility. Tranquility… A gap inside me that doesn’t need to be filled. Just a gap_______________.

At night, water mirroring the moonlight that in turns mirrors the sunlight, and the mountains echoing the sounds of nocturne animals and in turn my voice echoes them, as I whistle and scream to the darkness. Bioluminescence in the sea, magic colors when you pour a liquid over it. Never seen a synesthesia of living creatures emulating the light.

Everything is an echo and reflection of something.

A wave never comes alone.

PART 3

Stream 11. Day 5.

During the day, as we moved to our new anchor spot, I played the Ukelele from Lieve in the deck facing the wind. As the lyrics of Terno Rei song:

Com o vento na cara, os cachos nos olhos. Os olhos no vento, O tempo nao para. O tempo na cara.

"With the wind in your face. Curls in your eyes. Eyes in time. Time doesn't stop. Time in your face."

Stream 12. Day 6.

Dropping anchor in a rocky place with tiny islands. Archipelago of transitions, like doorways to multiple realities. We chose only one. At night, in the rubber boat, improvised visit to the rocks and quiet shores, listening to the rain drops hitting the rocks and whispering to the ocean. We can only choose once I guess. You only die once.

Rainy winds the day after. Lifting anchor and traveling at day to our final destination: Bergen. How we respond to the winds coming from the south as we go north? Sailing.

Stream 13. A night I don’t remember.

As the vessel moved according to the waves, I dreamt many things and many nights. But one night, I woke up suddenly, like having a quick movement or jump. It was a tiny instant. Afterwards, I positioned myself and my body again in the bed. A small leap in the dark and back into the unknown sleepy lands. But in that process, I felt I was like a whale going out of the water to reposition/remove/rest something. And I liked it. And I continued sleeping, smiling.

Maybe, is this kind of joy that whales feel when they go out and fall again in the sea.

I don’t know what they want to communicate.

Do whales jump into the air sometimes as they are sleeping and dreaming inside the water?

Acknowledgements

This project was made possible thanks to the Atlas Art Initiative vessel for Arts, which in 2025 was sailing from the Netherlands to Norway. I am delighted to have been part of the lives of Lauren, Steijn and the little Lieve. They are lovely sailors that truly work as a team and have a strength forged in their nomad sea-home project in the last decade. I wish them good fortune finding new places as they sail across the north. It was a pleasure to be part in the first days as they were moving to their new home in Bergen. I wish more people and artists can know them. And above all, I wish them good winds and streams in their paths.