Seas and Mountains: Fragments of a Trip | Alexandre Christiaens

Alexandre Christiaens

Two years ago, I traveled with my wife Dominique through the North of Chile, from Lauca Desert to Atacama. Since then, I couldn´t stop thinking about returning to those places to continue gathering images and sounds.

Middle of the night. I cannot conceive driving without looking at the landscapes I cross by. The distance to my meeting tomorrow morning in Antofagasta allows me a pause. By instinct, I´m distrustful, so I look for a place where nobody can see me, even those I cannot see. Immersed in my sleeping bag, with my baggage as a pillow, my gaze fixed on the multitude of stars of the Milky Way: the constellations, the guessed nebulae. I cannot stop thinking about the past two weeks at San Pedro with unexpected and fruitful meetings: in Verónica, who organizes an artist residency; in José, talented musician and astronomer teacher, chaman in body and soul; in Robin Son, a horseman with whom we share some hours between Mars Valley and Valley of Death. The furtive and rare encounter with a young tattooist who wanted a portrait of his painted body also comes to mind. I think in the volcanoes I could see again, in the sea´s geology and the lava. The ocean makes an unbearable noise. ¿May I lie too close to the sea? I turn to calculate the distance between us again: some 20 meters, the waves might not reach me.

At dawn, I took the coastal highway from Tocopilla to Iquique, 230 km at once. The white light of daybreak carves the mountain relief that borders the ocean. My enthusiasm increases with the morning: I know it is an ephemeral moment; I would like to pause it to keep going, accompanied by the beauty of dawn. Later, in a landscape flattened by the brightness, shaped by strong contrast, I persist in arriving at a salt mine that seems to emerge from hell. I ask myself if the memory of the traveled places and territories was revealed to me by photography.

On the screen, I see the image that has made me come once again to these places, standing over the same crag as two years ago. I don´t shoot. Instead, I take a seat. Maybe I need to feel that I am part of the earth, the mountain and the seas I have traveled through. My photographic trips take meaning from the unceasing encounter with the landscape, the wildlife, the minerals and the oceans. Damn it! The silver salts are part of my photographic work. ¿Would they come from Chilean mines? ¿Should every practice need to be reconsidered for the Earth’s sake?

March 2020: facing the outbreak of this microscopic virus that has humanity and the whole world in suspense. The trip to Valparaíso and my participation in the International Photography Festival of Valparaiso, FIFV, were postponed. Beyond our frustration in front of this pandemic, another failure, even more devastating, comes to light: our superiority over other living beings is broken. We must try different routes, be attentive, and listen to what we have forgotten, neglected, or repressed.

After my re-encounter with this renowned plateau and its crust of salt, I return to the coastal highway. I cross the departmental and sanitary control again, but in the opposite way. I travel alone. The day quiets down; life calms itself on the night’s eve. I stop, get out of the car with my cameras, come back to

The great power movements the car, and stop again. A great experience unfolds to my gaze. The live world fuses with one´s perceptions. I have of the tidal wave acquire no age, enraptured with the nature that flows through me. ¿Could I sit here? For now, I prefer to accompany shape on the horizon. It is an the movement and fix the numerous pelicans flying over a battle line in the sensitive side of my withe and black oceanic rib cage, a giant among films. Like bullets, they pierce the hunting horizon with the arctic terns; they submerge while the sea lions and breathing giants. dolphins emerge: the fishes get trapped. The ocean is churning –from outside-in. The wild and pure life takes and gives; the alive is sealed with essential pacts. Also the sun penetrates the curved veil of the horizon before disappearing. ¿Is my enthusiasm provoked by the landscape? I´m a galloping horse; I shoot with the eyes and the joy of a kid.

Middle of March 2021. Following a road implies listening to our instinct, involving our hearts and fears. I pick up my travel bag and leave for Valparaíso. Casa Espacio. Some days after my arrival, the borders close: Chile is once again a red zone. Hesitation: Despite the few contacts, should I try to forge links with the fishers, or should I travel inland, from Magallanes to San Pedro de Atacama?

I watch the heavy sea. The sound of the waves keeps me awake. Far away, the great power movements of the tidal wave acquire shape on the horizon. It is an oceanic rib cage, a giant among breathing giants. I no longer feel like a galloping horse, but like phytoplankton, no more, no less. All the relationships are reciprocal. Looking around, I confirm the infinite unity and multiplicity of life axioms.

Maybe it is 2 or 3 in the morning, and my sleeping bag is wet: I take refuge in my car to end the night. Suddenly, a shout from outside wakes me up: the light of a lantern illuminates the waves and me for a moment with an uncertain intention. Awkward, stuck, I rub the steam from the window, and I catch sight of two people walking by the sea shore. A man and a woman, I think. They kick out a big dog with bad words and stones. Then, like a divine apparition more real than in Félicien Rops´ paintings, an enormous pig as giant as two full wheelbarrows reach them. In one minute, they disappear the same way they arrived, switching off the lantern that made them come up in my visual field. Amazed, between doubts and laziness, I didn’t capture the memorable scene. At dawn, confused, I wander through a seemingly abandoned village not far from there. I must arrive in Antofagasta: I have a meeting in SACO. They have organized a talk with photographers, but the vision of the night before obsesses me like a burning bush.