1987, Gerlache Straits, Antarctica
Plate 65, 18x27
In 1987 I ventured to Antarctica and sailed on an Argentine navy ship through the Gerlache Straits into a land suspended in space, quiet, majesty; dynamic, silent, yet thundering in its power. The whiteness of the endless snows contrasted and danced with the deep perfect blueness of the waters. On occasion, there was a black sand beach between the blue sea and the white snow. You would be sure that Matisse had been here.
It was of such unbelievable, believable beauty that you felt it was not really there—but it is. There are in the Antarctic region different dynamics. There is silence that thunders, whiteness that defies white, blue that defies blue, vastness that feels intimate. The American outpost was overstocked with everything American. The Russian and Polish outpost was growing large red tomatoes in a hot house. And so it went in this silent land of enchantment.