Author: Iida-Liina Linnea

  • Body as Location – Laura Denning 17.-20.7.2025

    I am a UK artist who works across different media to develop work which mostly focuses on watery human/nature relationships.  I use experimental methodologies to develop an art practice that aspires to contribute to experimental geography, to foreground its environmental and ecological focus.

    Having worked extensively with the Atlantic Ocean, the prospect of meeting the Baltic Sea for the first time meant that I would be dealing with a lot of unknowns, therefore an experimental approach was necessary! My plan was to document, through polaroid photography, the many ways in which ‘body as location’ could be interpreted. Human bodies, algae bodies, watery bodies, island bodies, vessels as bodies and so forth. I arrived with the vague notion that the polaroids would later need to be subjected to forms of corrosion to better represent what began as nebulous ideas. First, I had to take the images!

    My first impressions of Godzilla, berthed in a quiet harbour on a beautiful, calm day was that actually, the gaping hole between the two hulls was a terrifying prospect to have to cross! The practicalities of personal hygiene were mere incidentals in comparison. However, Andy and Merja quickly put me at my ease, and soon I was (in my opinion at least) able to nimbly navigate the boat. The cheeky little otter that popped up whilst we ate supper also helped make me feel at home. I loved the cosy cabin where I slept (though a few new pillows would be a good purchase for next years’ adventure). Although my Godzilla experience was mostly on land, I absolutely loved sitting above deck as we moved through the water. I saw a lot of bodies, in new locations, and as new locations.

    My experience (perhaps more so than other artists on this years’ residency) was a stitching, or a tacking, between land and sea, sea and land. At no point did I experience a watery world where no land is visible; the geography pulled us into harbours, under bascule bridges, along shorelines of lush summer greenery. I took 50 polaroid photographs. I joined revellers at a festival, and mourners at a concentration camp, I saw fireworks, and disused bomb factories, I entered quietly magnificent medieval churches and sauntered through loudly colourful reconstructed villages. One misty morning Andy and I witnessed the early and noisy arrival, then departure, of a large flock of seabirds.

    Clearly the Baltic Sea is a highly contested body of water. Whilst this is true of all bodies of water, the unique geopolitics of a sea that is enclosed by the countries of Denmark, Estonia, Finland, Germany, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Russia, Sweden, and the North and Central European Plain regions mean that the contestations are both deeply historical and actively present. Unlike on the Atlantic, in the Baltic sea you know you are never far from land, but which land, whose land? And therefore, does the sea bring these people together, or does it form a kind of neutral zone? How does the Baltic Sea enter the shared imagination of these culturally diverse nations?

    I have so much more to explore now I reflect upon my too short introduction to this watery corner of the world. Facts such as it is the world’s largest brackish water basin, and that it is only barely tidal, fascinate me. For the time being I will work through these questions, and sit with the memories and queries that surface whilst I develop my polaroids into a body of work.

    I will share my work-in-progress at a conference in Poland in October. Baltic Waterscapes: Entanglements in Natureculture takes place at Gdansk University, in collaboration wit Utrecht University. So now I have a deadline! Currently I am in the process of printing scans of the polaroids onto Corton steel so that oxidisation will bring rust into play. I am also experimenting with decades old, very out of date, liquid emulsion which I’m optimistic will also infer corrosion, time passing, imperfect bodies and compromised locations. I need to make, experiment and reflect a few times before I can explain the why and the what of the project, but the where is obvious, where else? Onboard Godzilla, Imagining Godzilla.

  • Piss, Posh Harbour Minks and that Pride Flag I Never Got to Mend

    Mia Tamme: sailing from Simrishamn in the south of Sweden to Skovshoved Havn on the outskirts of Copenhagen

    Merja is hands down the best storyteller I have met. The rest of us go through a lot of theoretical training and emotional work to be able to spill remarks like: “I am quite envious of your bush, mine is already grey and shabby.” Merja’s words after Tonya’s, my fellow mate on the boat, beautiful naked performance in probably the most expensive neighbourhood of Denmark. I hope, one day I’ll be as bold in my writing as Tonya with their body, and Merja with her words. I guess I also desire to impress Merja with this blog post. She asked me what sort of work I do, and I said I write funny stories. Actually, I am not even a writer, let alone a funny one, but I wish I were. Now I probably should pull something out of my sleeve…

    I also dream of being a badass sailor who circumnavigates the world on a 50-feet boat. I would have a big dog on the vessel, and hopefully fall desperately in love on one of the small Polynesian islands, only to realise that I am not into men, and then end up surfing a lot. In reality, I’m a pretty land-bound artist who chases their watery dreams by digging in the archives, coming up with stories about fisherwomen, and reading hydrofeminist theory. I think a lot, I tell myself that I am good at it. I say I need to think to be a better writer. Currently, I am obsessed with trying to find material on queers who sail, or women who live with the sea, but not in that essentialist type of way. Not that the lactating-body-and-period-blood-match-with-the-eternal-oceanic-osculation. No, not in that type of way. More in the pirates and badass femmes on the sea type of way! Eagerly, I volunteer to mend Godzilla’s pride flag, hoping this might make a change. In the end, I know that flags are just a representative fabric, and the queerest thing to do is chase cute harbour minks, get ice creams, and giggle while doing diving tricks with Iida, the boat’s photographer. Who I suspect is pretty queer, but I don’t dare to ask. 

    When Aga, another artist-sailor-resident, asks me if I am doing any art on the boat. I answer that I’m actually more into sailing than art-making. She laughs. I go on to a rant about how I want to bring the silly-excited-emergent-energy I get when I sail into to my artistic work. I tell her that I think it’s time to do more sailing and let the art just happen on the side. I am gutted that over the years, my artistic practice has been infiltrated by an increasing amount of housekeeping, bureaucratic tasks, grants, and applications. That’s not what life is about! Sailing represents the way out of that. When I talk to Merja and Andy, it seems like they too are caught up with all of that infrastructural work, even while touring with Godzilla. I am grateful for the space they hold on the boat. I can just hang out on the boat and live a life with no worries about money or emails, at least for the next couple of days. Just sail and stop thinking about how, why and … ! 

    I’m always a bit of a sucker for people who manage to stop talking and start doing, and people who braid their lives into a continues practice where lines between personal and professional, artistic and mundane fade away. I find myself amid Andy’s and Merja’s couple dynamic. I wonder which one of them is actually a captain, and does that matter? I have been told that every boat needs to have a captain with a strong hand and sharp words, but maybe that is just something I have been told? Andy and Merja don’t shy away from having what seems to be a personal argument in the middle of waves that give me a bit of scaries, and why should they? Professional-personal, human-sea boundaries kind of blur on the boat, and they should. That’s what makes sailing so much fun. Life is messy and cannot be pulled apart, especially when the winds peaks at 15 m/s. It’s hard to tell if the boat is an artwork or a vessel for transportation. Or Andy’s fibreglass experiment, or an extension of my body when I hold the wheel.

    About the boat—Godzilla is a cutie! On my desperate googling in the v-berth to find out more about its origins. I get soaked! I carefully question Andy, who, by the way, has worked for the boats deginer James Wharram in his youth. Cool! I stumbled upon the story: James was openly in non-monogamous relationships throughout his life. The boat is a copy of the canoes they used on Polynesian islands. I try to imagine how he built his first catamaran together with one of my favourite authors Bernard Moitessier, and how he sailed it over the ocean. I wonder if seeing people dwell less modernised lives on tiny islands gave him encouragement for less monogamous love, a less monogamous way of thinking about boat design? Was he queer? I cannot help to wonder if the multihull concept and the polyamorous relationships have something to do with one another? I think of the ties that develop on a boat, how roles get distributed, and how in the tight space, personal boundaries disappear. I feel like I know the crew for years, but I arrived just yesterday, people cook food 10 cm away from my toes, you get to know the odour of people’s piss And who likes to drink tea with regular milk and who with soya?

    There is something about boat life and I am not talking about sailing, but the whole shebang, the harbour showers, doing dishes, and chatting with fellow boaters. It’s its own microcosm. I grew up like that, spending endlessly stretching hours in boatyards waiting for the antifoul to dry, figuring out how to improve the outhaul system for the season ahead. Both of my parents are sailors. So I spent my childhood in ports waiting for the weather, and then for my mom and dad. I was taken along if the wind were fair and leant a couple of tricks: how to silently follow orders, smoothly slide on the boat without getting hit with a boom. I leant how not to drop myself into the water, how to set sails, hang fenders, splice ropes, and tidy up the boat once we reached the port in early morning hours, how to let my parents sleep next morning, and wonder on the pier looking at fish, imagining to be a fish, making friends with tiny black animals who I did not know were called minks. Words did not matter; it was more about the feeling, the feeling of belonging. The thing about childhood is that you do not really question it. I thought all kids knew how to sail, knew how to move like a fish, how to pee overboard, and make a bed in between sails, taking care not to sleep on the competition set. Those sails are more holy than my comfort!

    After being done with my bachelor’s, I got myself a boat with Erasmus money, only to realise that I had never been a captain. I had always just followed orders. I sold it some years later, thinking I was not cut out to be the dominating one, not cut out to be the badass sailor I was always expected to become. The leg from Simrishamn to Skovshoved Havn was my first sail after a two-year break. I think I kind of forgot how much sailing matters to me, how calm it makes me. I love the sea and the port life. I was definitely flattered by being called an excellent sailor by Andy and Merja, maybe I am actually quite good at it? I was reminded that even though I have not been sailing, I have grown to be a more confident girl boss captain. Probably through all that thinking about gender, probably by taking more dominant positions in sex, and probably also through my writing, performing and artistic pursuits. As I empty the canisters of piss, I find myself questioning the sailing etiquette and roles on the boat the same way I ponder about the roles expected of me on land. Soooooo maybe it’s time to get cracking, do some more sailing, but not in that conventional way, in the queer-artist-on-a-boat-giggly-girl-boss type of way?

    Ps. I never got to mend that pride flag, so some dear artist after me, please give it some care!

    2nd of July 2025, 

    Mia Tamme

  • Tonya Fucking Björkbom 27.-30.7.2025

    While onboard the Godzilla we sailed from Simrishamn to Skoveshaved harbour near Copenhagen. Our initial plan was to sail from Malmö to Laeso but due to climate change (and manmade greed) it was so stormy at sea that the route had changed.

     We set of early in the morning around 06.00 or 07.00ish on the 28th of june.

    Being at sea felt mesmerzing. I felt like I could stare into the ocean for hours, days, months even. It felt meditative, the mind stopped raising, the only thing that felt real was this very moment, the howling of the wind, the sound of the vawes hitting the boat, the salty smell of the ocean, the wind roughly touching my face, like a firm lover. I felt free. And I love that feeling above all else, I am an sagittarius after all.  

    We stopped for a hour at Falsterbokanal to wait for the bridge to open and then continued into the open sea. It was nice to have a break from the bumpy vawes. We ate some food together and enjoyd the stillness.

    After we continued the weather seemeed fine and I went to sleep after the Godzilla had passsed the bridge between Copenhagen and Malmö. It was around 22.00 and the boat rocked me to sleep to a rather calm and beautiful pink firy glow in the sky. 

    At some point I woke up to people shouting onboard and the boat rocking side to side, it was dark and the vawes where huge. At times I got scared that the entire boat might tip over. I went back to sleep thou. I was so tired. And a part of me embraced the storm. I embraced the uncertainty. Perhaps cause the last few years have been rather rough for me and I’ve therefor learned with each passing day that no matter how much I stress and worry the future will still be unpredictable. The only way to make it at least a bit easier is to welcome the unknown. To greet it like an old friend. I think this journey was a good reminder to never take anything for granted. Never ever. Not the climate, the sea, people, lovers, friends, food, shelter, health. Or a place to piss.

    And Something magical happens when you learn to ride the storm. You are insync with life. And yes it is painful and scary at times but its also heartbreakingly beautiful.

    In the night/morning maybe around 02.00 we arrived at Skoveshaved which is a super posh harbour in Copenhagen (the amount of people with white clothes, blond hair and beige dogs was hilarious). We spent the next day recovering from spending almost 20h at sea. I picked stones from the nearby beach and looked for places to do my performance. And on the 30th of June I did my performance where I basically made out with the sea and the nearby rocks by the harbour.

    I really enjoyd this experience and learned a lot, mostly I feel like my soul came out of the shadows and danced with me in the rhytm of the ocean.

    Some highlights:

    drinking coffee in the mornings, the laughter whenever the entire crew would sit down together, Merja’s stories (I particulary enjoyed her giving me reading tips on a comic called Killer condom), all the places I climbed on at various harbours, Simrishamn was especially magical (if anyone knows someone who lives there pls let them know that Im looking for a sugarmama/daddy atm), and I left one of my forest-nudes at the harbour for some posh sailor to enjoy, I also loooved the Godzilla, it was definetely the coolest looking boat I’ve ever seen! 

    I also enjoyed doing the dishes in the harbour shower while using dish soap as shampoo (thanks for the tip Merja) and most of all I enjoyed the feeling of freedom that this journey offered me. I think most of all I got a reminder that I should, like Snusmumriken in Moomin, every now and then go on adventures and by myself. Its nice to be around people but its also amazing to go into the woods (or in this case into the sea) alone, with only your backpack and an open heart. 

    Thank you to Mia, Iida, Andy, Merja, Bua and Aga. You have no idea how thankful I am of this experience ♡ 

    Mucho kärlek,

    Tonya Fucking Björkbom

  • First two weeks of Imagining Godzilla 2025

    Greetings form Århus! Two weeks of Imagining Godzilla tour behind us and it has definitely been eventful. Feels like we’ve already been sailing for months! But that’s how time changes at sea. 

    The planned route has been changing quite a lot with the beginning of summer being quite stormy, cold and rainy, with harsh winds blowing, and by some black magic a lot of the time they’ve been blowing against our route rather than helping us on. Here’s the actual route compared to the planned one!

    Our trip started from Hanko a day late, since we had to wait out a gale wind coming down from the Bay of Bothnia and blocking our passage across the Baltic Sea to Kalmar, Sweden. We got on our way in the early morning on Sunday 22nd with a decision to cross a shorter and more sheltered route to Nynäshamn close to Stockholm. Even with the worst gusts of wind past, we still had quite rough seas to cross in hard gusty wind. The first artists on board were the Passepartout Duo, experimental musicians from Italy and USA. They were sailing for the first time ever and really got straight to the deep end and a full experience of the sea. We did some 30h of sailing, with the waves getting huge towards the end of the leg, Andy and Merja taking it in 2h shifts to steer the boat, and everyone on board more or less getting their share of seasickness.

    Among the wind and rain, there were some calm and beautiful moments of sailing and the Duo got to test out their DIY hydrophones, recording underwater soundscapes next to Godzilla while it was gliding along the sea. 

    Chris Salvito of the Passepartout Duo recording underwater soundscapes with a hydrophone on open sea somewhere between Hanko and Nynäshamn. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    In Nynäshamn we were joined by artists Isabella Martin and Marek Tuszynski for the long sail down the Swedish coast with the intention of getting as close to Malmö as possible. 

    We ended up sailing all the way down to Simrishamn, approximately a 44h leg, with a brief stop in Kalmar in the middle of the night to get some petrol, since we had to be motoring quite a lot. Luckily also got a lot of nice sailing done.

    Isabella got some data collecting done for her project Baltic Bodies, filming underwater in Nynäshamn harbor and recording soundscapes boith underwater and above along the way. Marek, an experienced sailor and a certified skipper, was enthusiastic to sail the Godzilla with Andy and Merja, and to get inspired for his plans of a project about the mapping of the oceans.

    Isabella Martin recording soundscapes of the sea for her project Baltic Bodies. /Iida-Liina Linnea
    A submarine sighted near Karlskrona, not far from the Godzilla. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    We had a change of crew in Simrishamn where artists Mia Tamme and Tonya Fucking Björkbom joined us. We started sailing early morning on the 28th June from Simrishamn with the idea to possibly get as far as Helsingborg. The sailing weather was amazing during the morning and it turned out Mia was an excellent sailor and super enthusiastic to join in sailing the Godzilla. We stopped to cross over at the Falsterbokanalen near Malmö. When we arrived it seemed a bit stranded and not functioning,

    and we spend the better part of an hour having dinner and wondering if the bridge will open for us at the designated time. Nobody seemed to be working on a Saturday…or summer holidays… We did get through and had fantastic sailing through the Øresund Bridge connecting Malmö and Copenhagen. After a beautiful sunset the wind got harder and harder sooner than we had anticipated and Andy and Merja made a fast decision to head to harbor near Copenhagen to get shelter. We motored against the wind in growing waves, gusts of wind and rain to Skoveshaved harbor. Had we been sailing for longer we would’ve had an extremely rough and dangerous night. 

    Wondering will the Falsterbokanalen open for Godzilla. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    After the rough night, Godzilla spent a few sunny days in Copenhagen where we were joined by the next artists Aga Pokrywka and Agnieszka Bulacik. Near the harbor, Tonya delivered an extempore performance where they explore a possibility of a sensual and playful relationship with the Sea. 

    In Skoveshaved, Copenhagen. From left: Merja, Aga Pokrywka, Agniezska Bulacik, Tonya Björkbom, Andy and Mia Tamme. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    Leaving Copenhagen towards Århus, we had the first beautiful summer day of the trip. There wasn’t much wind but beautiful skies and sweet sailing with the spinnaker up, going at about 4 knots speed. We stayed the night in anchor at Isefjord and arrived in Århus in the afternoon 2nd July. 

    On board Agnieszka was fascinated by the sea and sang a Belarussian lament together with Aga for the Baltic Sea in different spots during their journey. Aga filmed scenes for her upcoming film, a speculative documentary about an alternative history for humanity from microscopic and astronomical perspectives. 

    Agnieszka and Aga practising the Belarussian folk song Sztoj pa moru. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    Getting near Århus, there were big commercial cruising ships passing by quite frequently and at one point we found ourselves sailing through his nasty, bubbly trail of foam and oil, that was the dirty water these cruising ships empty into the sea, without cleaning or filtering. Makes our efforts of collecting and storing our pee and dishwater on board, instead of throwing it overboard, like a literal drop in the ocean of an effort to try and keep the sea from becoming one big drain. It’s disturbing that this kind of activity is still allowed anywhere, and especially a sea as polluted and delicate as the Baltic Sea is. 

    A trail of waste water form cruising ships near Århus. /Iida-Liina Linnea

    ANIMAL OBSERVATIONS FROM ALONG THE WAY!!!

    • A porpoise swimming next to the boat near Århus!!!!
    • A demon hedgehog in Simrishamn!! Tonya saw the hedgehog in the early hours of morning eating a tiny baby seagull, who had been nesting next to our boat…
    • A huuuuge and very walrus-like lonely seal bobbling its head above water close to Godzilla in the middle of the open sea!
    • A very sleak and beautiful harbor mink in Skoveshaved, who had absolutely no fear of people or boats ( maybe minks are taking over harbors after the fur business collapse in Denmark??)

    Cheers,

    Iida

  • Santtu Laine 8.-13.8.2024

    My trip started in Turku, where I took a two-hour ferry to Seili Island. This provided a smooth start to the upcoming Godzilla trip and the adventures ahead. On the ferry, I also met Rachael Allain, a co-artist from the UK who was also taking part in the Godzilla project.

    At Seili, we participated in Herring Day, co-organized by the Archipelago Research Institute and CAA Contemporary Art Archipelago. During the event, we learned about the extensive research on herrings that dates back to the early 1980s. We learned that herring and the entire ecosystem of the Baltic Sea are highly dependent on the salinity of the seawater. In short, when there is less salt, herrings grow smaller, which affects the entire ecosystem—from birds to sea mammals, and ultimately to us humans. It is predicted that, due to climate change, the Baltic Sea will gradually become warmer and less saline than before.

    We also met with other Godzilla artists: Sergio Castrillón, Siún Carden, Minna Henriksson, and Ragnar Elnyg. We had the pleasure of enjoying the magnificent performances of Sergio Castrillón and Ragnar Elnyg. The evening at Seili concluded with a magical touch when CAA curator Taru Elfving took us to visit the old 17th-century church of Seili and to watch the beautiful sunset from the highest point of the island.

    After Seili, we headed straight to Hanko Harbour to seek shelter from the approaching storm and heavy winds. While Godzilla was tightly moored in the harbour, we spent three days at the nearby Tvärminne Research Station. Tvärminne is a zoological research station maintained and operated by the University of Helsinki. In the research station it was time to roll our sleeves and get to work. At Tvärminne and in the close by island I managed to film and record underwater videos and sounds. I was specifically interested in underwater noise pollution originating from boats and ships. The close proximity of Syndalen military base and passing patrol boats provided more than I had expected.

    My own research is divided into two areas. The first focuses on material studies, where I explore seaweed-based bioplastics with the intention of using them as building materials for my work. This approach is rooted in a “leave-no-trace” mentality, aiming to create art with minimal ecological impact. I am also committed to the idea that the materials I use are “edible”, meaning that everything is both non-toxic and compostable. The second part of my research centers on creating art, involving a conceptual approach to listening and interpreting the memory embedded in the material. 

    I learned that the wellbeing of herrings is closely tied to the health of seaweeds. As the Baltic Sea gets warmer and its salinity decreases, the growth of seaweeds is also affected. Another crucial element in this puzzle is the sustainable harvesting of seaweeds. The seaweed I’m currently focusing on in my research is a red seaweed (Furcellaria lumbricalis), which is also found in Finnish waters. In Danish waters, commercial overuse and extensive harvesting in the mid-20th century almost wiped out the entire species. In recent years, more sustainable harvesting methods and regulations have been implemented to prevent further overexploitation. This serves as a reminder that we shouldn’t repeat the same mistakes with underwater forests that we’ve made with our terrestrial forests.

    Countless discussions with Tvärminne researchers, often while sitting in the sauna (of course), sparked many new ideas and provided valuable information about the various organisms and the current state of the Baltic Sea. I feel that by exchanging ideas and discussing them, we reached a mutual understanding that we are all working towards the same goal: to better understand the sea and make the Baltic Sea livable for future generations.

  • Aga Pokrywka 24.-30.7.2024

    The first scientific illustration of prehistoric times was painted 2 centuries ago. This watercolor represents an aquarium-like view of an epic battle between different dinosaur-like marine species living 200 millions years ago. Looking at it gives you an impression that competition and Jurassic Park aesthetics are inherent features of planet Earth.

    But dinosaurs were not the first creatures inhabiting our planet. Much earlier, there were cyanobacteria, the inventors of photosynthesis. They kick-started life on Earth and filled the atmosphere with oxygen, which led to the mass extinction of early life forms and paved the way to the evolution of future ones. What would a painting depicting life on Earth 3 billion years ago would look like?

    The answer is quite straight forward. It would actually represent a large body of water covered with cyanobacterial blooms of blue green algae. It is a familiar view to those who have seen the ocean, sea or lake polluted with fertilizers during warm days. I saw that image this summer sailing with Godzilla through the Baltic Sea, from Visby to Stockholm. 

    Hugged by the ring of an undisturbed horizon, it felt that our boat was stuck in one place and that only water with its rhythmic waves moved underneath. Stripes of tiny particles of blue green algae of various intensities resembled light green-yellowish glitter. Like tiny stars hanging throughout the volume of entire dark waters, at least as deep and far as I could see. I was staring at them and passing through their hypnotic patterns. They had a surprisingly strong and vivid presence: microscopic organisms counted in nautical miles.

    It made me think of Solaris and the ocean depicted in this scifi book by Stanislaw Lem: a vast, sentient entity, covering most of that distant planet. It was confusing for result-driven astronauts and scientists: it was silent but active; it didn’t want to build cities or flying machines; it didn’t try to reduce distances, nor was it concerned with interplanetary conquest. It was only busy with being and transforming itself on and on. Humans tried desperately to communicate with it, without much success. The more they tried the more it revealed their own limitations, fears, regrets, and desires. It was a mirror, reflecting the internal landscapes of the humans who encountered it. The scientists were asking one another helplessly: “How do you expect to communicate with the ocean, when you can’t even understand one another?”

    Maybe being a sailor doesn’t differ that much from being an astronaut. What do you see when you look in your own reflection in the fertilized-polluted waters covered with cyanobacteria? What if the overgrowth of these bacteria in the oceans, including Baltic Sea, is not a curse but a message?

    I will delve deeper into that reflection in my upcoming work “Invisible Colonies”, a speculative documentary film that tells a new history of humanity from an astronomic and microscopic perspective. The premier is planned in late 2025 and it will include footage shot during my time aboard Godzilla.

  • Notes from Gdansk and Sopot

    July 9 – July 12

    From Hel we (me, Merja, Andy, Gary and Pekka) head to Gdansk. The weather is perfect for sailing, and Godzilla’s artist Pekka Niskanen films the sea during our journey.

    We arrive in Gdansk through the canal with a massive shipyard. The sight with enormous robot-like structures is ominous and it smells terrible – definitely not clean air to breathe. I keep thinking about the state of the soil and especially the state of the water. Can’t even imagine how polluted this area is – it’s definitely the biggest and most shocking dock I’ve seen so far. As we get closer to the city, our other engine stops working. What a timing! We manage to get to the harbour with one motor and there we find out that a piece of rope (most likely from the nasty waters of the shipyard area) has gotten stuck in the propellers. After removing the rope the motor works well again. The Pirates of the Caribbean seems to be a big thing here, we see masses of tourists sailing with a plastic-looking Black Pearls boat.

    We walk around the city for a while and find a place to get us some dinner. We talk about our sail from Klaipeda to Hel –  there was something exceptional happening during the last few hours of the trip. Because of the Kaliningrad sea borders, we had to sail a triangular apex-shaped route. 1-2 hours before arriving in Hel, Godzilla’s chartplotter and autopilot got jammed / disturbed so that the navigating had to be done in the old school way with a map and compass. The directions and the distances of other boats and ships could only be estimated by their lights (we were sailing at night!). Also the distance and the way to the harbour was only possible to estimate with the lights from the mainland.
We could see from https://gpsjam.org that we went exactly through this distraction zone.

    We visit the LAZNIA Centre for Contemporary Art in Gdansk. The Exhibitions Department Manager Agnieszka Kulazińska-Grobis and the Assistant Curator Katarzyna Serkowska are super kind to tell us about the inspiring exhibitions and the interesting projects of Laznia CCA. We take a look at the interesting “Made in Hansa – HANSEartWORKS” group exhibition.


    We make a day trip to Sopot to visit the Institute of Oceanology of the Polish Academy of Sciences (IO PAN). We meet the wonderful Prof. Jan Marcin Węsławski, the head of the institute, who is specialised in marine coastal ecology and has done multiple polar and sea expeditions. He has been observing the state of the Baltic Sea for decades and witnessed its changes. IOPAN used to have a sea temperature measuring device, but Prof. Węsławski tells us about the problem they ran into; 2 years ago near Gotland the water temperature was shockingly 29 C, so the scale of the machine was not sufficient anymore. We also talk about topics such as mustard gas, the effects of the warming sea water, overfishing, disappearing cod, and the various fascinating (and also art related!) projects of the institute. The institute also has their own gorgeous research vessel s/y Oceania!

    I find a 5 złoty coin on the floor and hope to get a warm shower with it. I try my luck – and it works! I get 5 mins of shower with it and it feels heavenly. We get prepared for the sea crossing to Sweden. Our next port is about 32h sail away, in Karlskrona, a small town south of Sweden. Iida joins us in the boat! Just before leaving, we see that there’s something weird floating on the water next to our boat. Maybe some trash? Dead fish? No, it’s a baby deer’s head (!) and some people come and pick it up. Time to leave Poland behind and start the journey to the north.

    All photos: Saara Kolehmainen

    🦭: Saara

  • Sea voyage from Klaipeida to Hel

    Klaipeda (LTU) Sunday July 7 4PM, – Hel (POL) Tuesday July 9 4AM

    Godzilla crew onboard: Merja, Andy, Saara and Gary. We leave from Klaipeda around 4PM. As the crow flies, the way to Hel would not be that long, but because of Kaliningrad and the Russian sea borders, we have to sail a route shaped like a triangle. On the Klaipeda harbour there’s a massive (literally the size of a multi-storey building) cruise ship from Velletta, Malta. 

    Photos: Saara Kolehmainen

    As soon as we leave the port, the waves turn big. The wind is weak but the size and the rhythm of the waves make the whole crew nauseous. It’s confusing to experience rough waves with hardly any wind. Merja and Andy explain the phenomenon; this thing happens when the waves continue their way even though the wind has died down elsewhere. Seasickness takes over. Andy and Merja steer the boat and sleep in 2 hour turns. Me ja Gary sleep in the pod (on top of the hulls). It’s the best place to be in this situation, because near mast the movements of the boat and the water don’t feel so much. I can only focus on the basic things: eating, drinking water, peeing, sleeping. I’m keeping my eyes on the horizon — it’s the only thing that doesn’t move.

    In the evening we see a magical (almost trippy) sunset. Horizontal stripes of blue, purple, red orange and bright yellow — looks like a painting! It’s impossible to take a picture of it because I feel too weak, I can only keep my eyes on the horizon or just keep my eyes closed. Merja shows that on the captain’s chair the world doesn’t spin so much, it’s actually a good spot to just sit and breathe for a moment. I take a look at the sunset for a while before going to bed. It’s dark for a few hours at night and we can see the stars.

    11AM the next day. I wake up and it’s a warm, sunny, beautiful summer day. Life wins! The big waves are gone and we’re moving slowly because of the lack of wind. Lesson learned: It’s better to prevent sea sickness than to go through it. Next time I try to take the seasickness pill on time before I feel bad. Some parts of the journey we travel with motors instead of sails because there’s still so little wind. As we reach the apex of the triangle shaped sea borders of Kaliningrad, there’s a Russian border boat guarding and a plane flying around, directly above the borders.

    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    4PM. First 24 hours on the boat! We have approx. 50 nautical miles (about 100 km) to Poland. There’s loads of blue algae around us and an ominous, massive oil pumping station (Lotos Petrobaltic) on the horizon. It’s super contradictory; It’s unbelievably beautiful – almost cloudless blue sky with sunshine. Soft, tender breeze of wind. No hurry. Time to draw sketches. Beautiful boredom. Gorgeous (yet polluted) sea. But then there’s this enormous oil pumping station that looks like an evil town and next to it there’s a ship from which a huge black cloud of exhaust gas is emitted. We can get the internet data for a little moment as we sail past the station. We have only seen cargo ships but not other sail boats on this trip.

    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    During the last few hours of our sail, Godzilla’s chartplotter and autopilot gets jammed/disturbed so that the navigating has to be done in the old school way with a map and compass. The directions and the distances of other boats and ships can only be estimated by their lights. Also the distance and the way to the harbour is only possible to estimate with the lights from the mainland. 

    After 36 hours of sailing we dock to Hel port in Poland around 4AM. The marina building looks like a tulip and it’s already getting bright outside.

    🦭: Saara

  • Notes from Nida/Preila/Klaipeida

    July 2 – July 6

    Helsinki-Tallinn by ferry, Tallinn-Riga by bus, one night in a hostel, Riga-Klaipeda by bus and Klaipeda-Nida by bus. I finally arrive in Nida and step into Godzilla, my home for the next 6 weeks. Andy and Merja had already arrived here a few days before, they had had a 60-hour open water sailing (also through a rough storm!) from Örö to Klaipeda, and then from Klaipeda to Nida.

    Nida is a Lithuanian small town uniquely located on the Curonian Spit between the Curonian Lagoon and the Baltic Sea. Its characteristic sand dunes and pine trees bent by the wind create a picturesque view. The border of Kaliningrad is 5km away, and from top of the dunes it’s possible to see the border fences going over the hills, border buoys on the water and a border guard boat on its spot on the Kaliningrad side. The Curonian Spit has the status of a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but I don’t know what that means in practice. There is plenty of tourism, and it’s interesting to see how popular this place is even if it’s so far from everything and definitely not convenient or easy to reach.

    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    Me, Andy and Merja jump into the van of Anton Shramkov. He drives us to the nearby village Preila, where his beautiful, unique upcycled home is located, and he tells us about the building process. He is an architect and an educator, who bought the house when it was just a skeleton-like structure. With the planning of this house he gave up using 3D programs and planned everything on top of photos instead. This cosy home was created with almost completely reusable materials (some parts are found from the sea, some are from upcycling centres, some are gifted by neighbours, some parts are bought as new). Their sweetheart, Umka the dog, melts everyone’s hearts and Anton kindly gifts an old life buoy for Godzilla. After the house tour we all go for lunch together and walk on the beautiful beach.

    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    On the beach in Preila, Godzilla’s artist duo Kati Rapia and Ilona Valkonen organise their ecological and community (re)searching photographic art piece and a workshop performance ”State of the World” with the local kids. The materials for the workshop are treasures and trash found from the sea.

    Photo: Gary Markle
    Photo: Gary Markle
    Photo: Gary Markle

    Godzilla’s artist Gary Markle joins us on the boat. Gary is a Canadian artist, educator, and doctoral researcher at Aalto University. He has been investigating the surroundings by foot – his expeditions have taken him to the beaches and forests of Nida and Preila, through various weather conditions. 

    Photo: Gary Markle
    Photo: Gary Markle

    We visit Nida Art Colony. NAC is a subdivision of Vilnius Academy of Arts and it runs an international artist residency programme and curates and commissions art and research projects, events, exhibitions, and study courses. Super interesting, inspiring and aesthetically pleasing place! We also visit architect Mantas Peteraitis’s & artist Lina Lapalyte’s beautiful house in the nearby village.

    Photo: Merja Puustinen
    Photo: Merja Puustinen

    We leave Nida and Preila behind and head to Klaipeda. On our way the beautiful sand dunes continue for miles. It’s a perfect day to sail with the soft winds. Sad to leave the nice people in Nida behind. The shipyard of Klaipeda is huge – it takes forever to go through it to the city harbour. As we get closer to the city we hear music and noises of festivities. It’s the Statehood day in Lithuania. The city is full of people and everybody is celebrating with Lithuanian flags.

    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen
    Photo: Saara Kolehmainen

    🦭: Saara

  • Gary Markle 10.7.2024

    Random thoughts from the journey so far

    “This too will pass”

    An ancient saying that helps with seasickness and hours of sailing as a passenger in the dark and rolling Baltic Sea.

    After this journey lasting over a few days and nights I’m thinking about things with a different focus, things like peeing, pooing and vomiting. But also more abstract things like space to move about, to sleep to make food…

    We (humans) don’t own things anymore than they own us. This goes for ideas and concepts as well as objects. This level of thing-ness is appealing to my current mindset.

    We borrow from the planet and owe a debt for this loan. Life is in this sense a transaction. A continuous flow of materials and energies across space and time. Of course the planet also must benefit from our existence too. Are humans perhaps permitted some interest on their investment? 

    I wonder what the balance in my account?