The Eddy Covariance Tower on the 14th September 2025.
Soon after passing the customs checkpoint, we took a right turn up an old road leading through a sparse forest of mountain birch. The unmarked road soon joined the path of a snow-melt riverbed up to a clearing where we parked. Collecting our gear from the rental car, we made our way on foot over a wooden bridge past the remaining shrubs and trees staking out the tree line. Although it was autumn when we arrived in Gilbbesjávri / Kilpisjärvi, patches of last winter’s snow could be seen on the Norwegian peaks to the North. Rounding the corner into the tundra, Sáná / Saana Fell opened up before us, the path we had walked on our first night at the Station visible in the far distance. Just up ahead, near a palsa mire, was the Eddy Covariance (EC) Tower, a recently installed station that monitors carbon levels, light, humidity, temperature, and the strength of the sun.
We had met a couple of doctoral researchers in the Station's restaurant during a fire alarm one morning, and they invited us to join them during their day's activities on the tundra. Ditching our bags at the EC Tower, we got to work: Gangotri Chattopadhyay set up the carbon flux measurements, and Lea Opitz took nearby TOMST TMS-4 datalogger readings.[1] Together, they were studying the effects of climate warming on the borealization and shrubification of the tundra. Lea placed a small disk on top of the TOMST, causing it to transmit its data to the field computer (a Panasonic Toughbook). Next to each TOMST recorder was a 30cm diameter stainless steel collar, which served as both a plot marker and a supporting base for the carbon flux chamber resting over Gangotri’s shoulder.[2]
As Gangotri prepped the chamber, which was at once precise and DIY, she was careful not to breathe into the sensitive end of the chamber or plot, so as not to influence the readings. The researcher’s measurements needed to be collected across a range of different photosynthetically active radiation (PAR) conditions: "Bright" readings above 500 PAR, "Shaded" readings between 200 and 300 PAR, and "Dark" readings below 100 PAR. After Lea finished transferring the TOMST data, she would produce a clipboard as Gangotri readied the chamber and PAR meter. While some of the data collected by the chamber was recorded on a small handheld reader device, the PAR readings had to be entered manually.
Left to right: Ziggy Lever, Gangotri Chattopadhyay, Lea Opitz, and Eamon Edmundson-Wells sharing berries as we waited for the right light levels during carbon flux measurements on the 14th September 2025.
As the week had been generally cloudy and therefore suitable for shaded and dark readings, the goal of that day was to collect light readings above 500 PAR. This meant sitting and waiting for the sun to come out on the damp yet soft tundra, our trousers stained by the juice of the endless field of bilberries, lingonberries, and crowberries all around us. As we waited, we would snack on the berries and generally lounge about, telling stories and laughing about the curious destruction of scientific equipment carried out by reindeer and other tundra animals. "Light readings in 30 seconds, I reckon", Gangotri would optimistically exclaim as the sun moved behind a front forming over the Station in the distance.
Then the sun would emerge, never higher than 16° above the horizon. A stopwatch timer was started, and we fell into silence as Gangotri read aloud the PAR readings at five-second intervals whilst Lea recorded them on the clipboard. This measurement window, lasting 1 minute and 50 seconds, was charged by the intensity and focus of the processes at play. During this time, we became acutely aware of the intensity of sunlight, felt as heat on our faces and in the shifting brightness of the world around us. As the numbers fluctuated, so did our sensations and experiences of light as phenomena.
Scan of notes during carbon flux measurements on the 14th September 2025.
Left to right: Ziggy Lever, Lea Opitz, Gangotri Chattopadhyay, and Eamon Edmundson-Wells during carbon flux measurements on the 14th September 2025.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the measurement window would close, and we’d be out of that present encounter with light as medium and back into the world. Looking at the graphs produced on the handheld monitor, we could see how some tundra plants (i.e. vaccinium vitis-idaea) stopped photosynthesizing when it got too sunny: during high sunlight there was no carbon sequestration, which is contributing to climate change as the tundra warms. We were told stories of spiders breathing inside the chamber and potentially ruining a reading, as well as how to identify the tastiest berries, and tales from other researchers who used the same plots.
In that moment, our experience of time felt strangely regular, held in a rhythm of attentiveness as Gangotri read aloud each PAR reading at five-second intervals. Gangotri had to read both the stopwatch and the PAR meter simultaneously, a feat requiring sustained attention and focus. In that moment, as we sensed the light shifting around us, we felt that our bodies were just as accurate as the carbon probe, but the record of that experience could not be reduced to a datapoint.
Later in the evening, we caught up with Lea and Gangotri in the labs. They had been inputting the day's data into an Excel spreadsheet, with one person reading the numbers while the other typed them in, a process that took hours to complete. They described how, during this data entry, they would find themselves in an almost trance-like state and would have to keep returning to the present to ensure that they were reading the correct numbers in the proper order.
The Observatory Project, Stick Survey, 2025. Video Still, 15 hours duration.
Throughout our stay at Kilpsjärvi Biological Station, the idea of the charged moment became something we actively sought out. It manifested through a sustained attention to process, such as watching for fish scales appearing on a microfiche machine in Fiche Finder, or spending 15 hours carefully cataloguing retired plot markers used in microclimatic vegetation surveys for Stick Survey. We assigned each other roles and developed processes that involved the act of making a measurement. Much of the kit we had assembled and brought with us from Aotearoa New Zealand seemed less useful than what we could borrow from the Station. We found humour in absurd processes of not-measuring, and the shared delirium of processual labour. Having to think on our feet opened up a methodology of lightness that allowed us to be responsive and open to what was going on around us.
The Observatory Project, Fiche Finder, 2025. Video Still, 12 minutes 33 Seconds duration.
In the work Ruler Weigh-in, we found the difference in grams between every combination of the Station's folding rulers, which are used to mark out survey plots in the field. Passing the rulers between us behind the camera to be measured and re-measured repeatedly complicated any attempt to keep track or maintain a sense of accuracy in our process. A replica of an 18th-century sunshine recorder was mounted on the roof of the Station, making a record of the path of the sun during the two weeks of our residency at the Station. We spent days and nights exploring the Station, joining researchers in the field, helping with test fishing, and chatting with the Field_Notes participants. The Station's cafeteria became an important site for meeting people, making harebrained plans, and telling jokes and stories. Attending some of the workshops and lectures arranged for Field_Notes led to meaningful discussions, revelations, shared humour, and good times in Kota.
The Observatory Project, Ruler Weigh-in, 2025. Video Still, 5 minutes duration.
The Observatory Project, Checking the sunshine recorder on the roof of Kilpisjärvi Biological Station, 2025.
If we tried to force things, the charged state of attentiveness we were after became elusive or unobtainable. Instead, we found we could be fully present with the process when we listened with our surroundings and the prevailing conditions. An example of this was how our desire to complete a complex experiment involving flying a kite by torchlight in the tundra was consistently foiled by days of little to no wind. Each night, we would hike up to the tundra after dinner, hoping for the otherwise windy conditions to return. As our trip's conclusion neared, after the third night of failing to launch our custom-made box kite, we realised we weren't listening and were trying to force an outcome instead. This realisation led us to change tack, and on the last night, we hiked up again, but this time with Station Research Coordinator Anu Ruohomäki, a retractable measuring tape, and fluorescent pink builders' string (used by the Station to mark plot boundaries). As we waited for it to get dark enough, we shared ginger tea and chatted about our lives. Vera, one of the Station's interns with whom we had hit it off, appeared on the path and joined our little group. After enjoying some more tea and conducting further testing and play, we finalised our plan and set up the camera and sound recorder to face Sáná / Saana. As we pushed record, the moment we had experienced earlier in the trip during the carbon flux measurements came back, and we fell into a focused silence. Without communication, we felt our way through the processes and procedures of the action, which now had a live audience of two to the side of the camera. Extending the measuring tape between us, we launched the kite and simultaneously reeled it in with the tape. As the kite flew low and gently across the tundra, it was illuminated by our head torches, passing from one light to another. We’d then move to retrieve the kite and swap sides, taking care not to tangle the tape and string in the carpet of berries beneath our feet. After a few iterations, the Kilpisjärvi Impractical Take-off Experiment (KITE) came to a natural conclusion, and we walked out of frame.
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The Observatory Project, Kilpisjärvi Impractical Take-off Experiment (KITE), 2025. Photograph by Vera Lleshaj.
The generosity and openness of the Kilpisjärvi Biological Station staff, Bioart Society members, Field_Notes: Living Methodologies participants, and visiting researchers ensured that our time at the Station had a transformative effect on our practice. We want to thank Station staff Anu Ruohomäki, Pirjo Hakala, Hannu Autto, Oula Kalttopää, Maija Sujala, and Vera Lleshaj; Bioart Society Staff Milla Millasnoore, Yvonne Billimore, Eliisa Suvanto, and Leena Valkeapää; and Field_Notes: Living Methodologies Participants especially Sam Nightingale, Elina Waage Mikalsen, Ellie Ballantine, and Taylor Alaina Liebenstein Smith; and Researchers Gangotri Chattopadhyay, Lea Opitz, Julia Kemppinen, and Pekka Niittynen.
— The Observatory Project (Ziggy Lever & Eamon Edmundson-Wells)
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[1] Air and soil temperature and humidity sensors recording data every 15 minutes from a probe inserted into the ground.
[2] A wide acrylic cylinder, the chamber features a carbon probe and a humidity sensor, combined with measurements of photosynthetically active radiation (PAR). This allows for a "Carbon Flux" measurement, which is used to determine a plant's photosynthesis/carbon production cycle.