On my first attempt to record sound at the foot of the Briksdalsbreen (Briksdal glacier) in Stryn (Norway) I arrived when the wind was so strong that it forced rain horizontally. For brief milliseconds I could open my eyes to glimpse a blue ice monolith through the turmoil. Some days later, on my second attempt, the scene was completely different. Although grey and drizzling, there was not a breath of wind and the forms in the ice were revealed: an enormous wall of blue twists and gashes, suspended vertically an unknown distance away across a lake. I jumped into the small rowing boat and slowly lowered two hydrophones (underwater microphones) into the water. The guide rowed so close to the face of the glacier that as my microphones recorded its electrical sparking, sucking, squeaking, whistling, burning and clicking sounds, I could at the same time run my hands over the smooth curves of its close-up form. To this constant singing and talking was added a single underwater ice fall. Gracefully the boat glided away from the face. Glacial Loop (Microclimate III) is an evocation of this boat journey.

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