I enter the dark theater, the Abyss, and pass out six eggs to audience members while my voice plays in the background. I walk over to a table and put the hurricane algae culture lamp down. Underneath is my Ocean Radio Altar with a big thermometer, and two large plastic eggs on each side filled with three raw eggs resting on white flowers.

I finish telling the audience, “I didn’t realize the oceans were absorbing so much heat.” Then I reach and grab carbon in the air absorbing it into my water body, trying to understand how the ocean has been trying to heal the Earth.

“Oceanic Wandering / Ways of Knowing” is a part of my water art practice. In this particular yearlong iteration I explore, learn from, and world-make within the Abyssal Zone, examining my relationship with my imagination as well as the impact of climate change on the ocean and marine life through Surrealism and other modes of research.

I walk to an invisible edge, where below there is the Hadal Zone, and sit down. Radio static sound effects play and I ask out loud, “Hello, hello can anyone hear me?” over and over again. Someone in the audience responds. Suddenly inaudible whispering starts and I run to my Ocean Radio Altar and start praying one of many Ocean Prayers, and then curl up in a ball to go to sleep, holding one of the plastic eggs and the thermometer against my chest as the audience watches a video clip from the film Planet Ocean. This year has been the most trust-bending whirlwind of loss, confusion, fear, uncertainty, and death.

I wake up, look around and start improvising throughout the space, trusting my intuition and finding some flow in a place I am deeply unfamiliar with; the unconscious and illogical. My body starts absorbing carbon again, doing the same movement phrase as before, taking in more and more. I run to grab my hurricane lamp. Looking up, I start blowing a whistle as I swing the lamp back and forth. The oceans are changing.

Slowly, I walk backwards bringing the lamp to my side. I find myself at the edge again, sitting, when I suddenly catch a glimpse of something luminescent.