From Antarctica To Alaska: Patricia Carr Morgan’s Evolving Dialogue With Ice

Tucson-based conceptual artist Patricia Carr Morgan has spent the last decade capturing the fragile glacial landscapes of Antarctica and Greenland. What began as a reluctant trip quickly turned into a profound connection with icy, remote environments. Carr Morgan’s work addresses themes of beauty, loss, and the urgent reality of climate change, transforming her personal experiences into visual narratives.

Her decade-long project, “I love you don’t leave me,” reflects a deep bond with the glaciers she has documented. Through photography, performance, and immersive installations, Carr Morgan captures the interplay between realism and abstraction, often using unconventional materials like coal and expired film to symbolize degradation and the passage of time. 

In a recent endeavor, Carr Morgan has teamed up with scientist Dr. Jack Holt to examine the Malaspina and Hubbard glaciers in Alaska, integrating scientific data with artistic interpretation. The collaboration stresses her ongoing commitment to raising awareness about climate change, making her work not just an aesthetic experience but a call to action.

You’ve mentioned that your first trip to Antarctica was a reluctant one, but it quickly became a profound love. Can you take us back to that moment when you first decided to journey to Antarctica? What was the catalyst that made you go on this exploration? How did that initial experience shape your subsequent trips to the polar regions?

Patricia Carr Morgan: It’s been pointed out to me that I never say “no” when I have an opportunity to travel somewhere I’ve never been, and that is why I took my first trip to Antarctica. Knowing we would be on a small ship, I was reluctant because of my unavoidable motion sickness. My husband’s interest was to see new birds, and traveling with him had taken me to many exciting places, like Greenland, the Svalbard archipelago, and several places in Alaska, Canada, and South America. Of course, I would go to Antarctica. 

I have always been fond of minimal landscapes, but when I saw Antarctica, I fell in love. It was dangerous, beautiful, and inspiring.

The day we left port, we encountered rough seas, and being naive, I went on deck. Wrapping my arms around a pole and holding my camera in two hands, I began photographing. One of the deckhands informed me that hanging on was impossible and that I would be flung overboard. After watching from inside for a short time, I went to our cabin and discovered that the motion sickness was not so bad. I lay in the cabin listening to lectures, nibbling on saltines, and sipping herb tea. Once we arrived at Antarctica, the water was almost calm and remained so until we headed back to Chile. I could fly to St. Georges Island on the Antarctic Peninsula for my next trip.

I have always been fond of minimal landscapes like the Key West mangroves and the Sonoran desert’s saguaros, but when I saw Antarctica, I fell in love. The glacial terminus with its multiple shades of blue, slashes of black moraine, and beyond that, an unending white that stretched to the horizon. It was dangerous, beautiful, and inspiring. 

You’ve spent years immersing yourself in the beauty of glacial landscapes. How has your connection to these remote, fragile environments influenced your view of humanity’s relationship with nature?

Patricia Carr Morgan: Growing up with crickets singing me to sleep and backpacking as an adult, taking pleasure from the outdoors, and feeling connected to nature have always been a part of me. Because of global warming, it isn’t just something that anchors me and gives pleasure; I’m aware that we are destroying the unique and beautiful planet that has given us life. A large part of the dangers come from melting glaciers and the impact they have on ocean currents as well as rising seas.

Over the years and across mediums, I’ve approached portraying these glacial landscapes like dear friends, and I hope this personal sense of admiration and loss comes across to the viewer.

Glaciers are threatened in many ways. Ice shelves melt because the warming ocean below erodes them, and they split away from the glacier, allowing it to flow into the sea. Greenland’s ice sheet is melting from above because of our warming climate. As the altitude of the ice lowers, even more warm air at the lower altitude causes it to melt more rapidly. The warming climate is causing droughts worldwide and a loss of biodiversity, which also threatens us. Edward O. Wilson, the famous biologist, said, “If all mankind were to disappear, the world would regenerate back to the rich state of equilibrium that existed ten thousand years ago. If insects were to vanish, the environment would collapse into chaos.” Edward O. Wilson (Apocalyptic Planet, Craig Childs, 2012). 

Your series “I love you don’t leave me” is a multifaceted project that reflects your concern for the glaciers. As this project has evolved over a decade, how has your emotional connection to the subject matter shifted? Have there been moments during this time when your approach to portraying the glaciers changed in unexpected ways?

Patricia Carr Morgan: I had wanted to do something related to global warming for a long time, but I had never found the right subject until my first trip to Antarctica. When my previous series, “Reality is a Good Likeness,” was completed, going to Greenland to gather more material allowed me to complete the installation “Blue Tears” as part of the larger project, “I love you don’t leave me.” I felt an urgency to express not only the beauty but the feeling of loss that haunted me. The temperature in my own hometown of Tucson, AZ, was rising every year. It was real; we complained and worried, but the icebergs the size of cities and towering glaciers left me with a tangible sense of loss. Over the years and across mediums, I’ve approached portraying these glacial landscapes like dear friends, and I hope this personal sense of admiration and loss comes across to the viewer. 

You use coal and expired film to symbolize degradation and loss in your work. Given the symbolic weight these materials carry, how do you decide on new materials or techniques when starting a new project? Is there a particular moment or realization that guides these choices?

Patricia Carr Morgan: After “Blue Tears,” I spent time thinking about the glaciers’ degradation and how I might express it in my photography with the use of coal. I called companies that sold it and asked for the small pieces that fell on the floor. One was very helpful and sent me a shoebox full of coal “crumbs,” which I appreciated. After experimenting with it on small works, I moved to larger prints. Before applying the coal, I sanded part of the image, giving it a cloud-like appearance. Later, I searched for a way to illustrate a melting glacier. Leaving much to chance, the ink appeared to be melting. How much the image disappeared varied according to the liquidity of the ink. These experiments resulted in the series “Liquescence.” The details found in the glaciers are unique and beautiful, so I frequently highlight them by cropping the image, resulting in a more abstract image. 

You’ve talked about balancing realism and abstraction in your work. How do you navigate the line between realism and abstraction when dealing with something as tangible and fragile as glacier ice? Is there an internal dialogue or set of criteria you follow when deciding how much to reveal or obscure in a piece?

Patricia Carr Morgan: In my series “Liquescence,” a lot is left to chance and the condition of the expired film has been the deciding factor. The film that is less damaged retains more of the original image and reflects the impact of the years it has been neglected. The abstractions of the original images are a result of my attraction to the details of the glaciers, the blues, the moraine, the cracks, and the small rubble of falling ice. I frequently crop an image so those become the focus, creating a more abstract image. I find that by abstracting an image, you can say more about the reality of things. 

You’ve been collaborating with Dr. Jack Holt from the University of Arizona on a project involving glaciers in Alaska. How did this collaboration come about, and how has working with scientific data influenced your artistic vision for this project?

Patricia Carr Morgan: I have been back to both Greenland and Antarctica and have started a project about the Hubbard and Malaspina glaciers in Alaska. The Yakutat tribe settled near these glaciers centuries ago after migrating across them from hundreds of miles to the north. The villagers know that the glaciers were much more extensive just years ago. I was introduced to Jack Holt, Ph.D., by Meg Jackson Fox, Ph.D., Curator of Interdisciplinary Photography at the University of Chicago (formally at the Center of Creative Photography, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ) and Anne Breckenridge Barrett, M.A., J.D., former Director of the Center of Photography, Tucson, AZ. Being in Planetary Sciences at the University of Arizona, Dr. Holt has measured Earth’s and Mars’s glaciers and has recently measured the Hubbard and Malaspina Glaciers in Alaska. He has guided me to these glaciers as we work on our collaborative project. He introduced me to members of the Yakutat tribe and connected me to the pilot and boat captain used. AZPM Public Radio became interested and accompanied us to Alaska, filming a feature of the project, which an art installation will complete. 

Collaborating with Jack has emphasized that as a scientist, his primary goal in this collaboration isn’t to explain data and its record of bad news, but to give the public an experience similar to mine, feeling the majesty of the glaciers and seeing a loss to be prevented. Just as the experience changed me, we hope the art will change viewers’ awareness. 

In installations like “Blue Tears,” you create immersive experiences for viewers. When designing interdisciplinary installations, how do you envision the viewer’s emotional journey? What specific reactions or realizations do you hope to provoke? Do you measure success in any way?

Patricia Carr Morgan: Building an installation allows me to engage the viewer in many different ways. First, I want to seduce them with its beauty. I always want them to have a physical relationship with the work by walking around, bending over, or stretching to see into or around it. My previous installations do those things. “Blue Tears” engages the viewer by having to look up to see its full 17” height, lean a little to see inside, and, most of all, be aware of the glaciers’ grandeur. The silk organza panels are strong, delicate, translucent, and beautiful. Throughout the exhibition, one by one, they fall to the floor until only one is left. During my performance, when several panels fell to the floor, some people had tears in their eyes. 

My work is currently concentrated on this project, but it is difficult for me to imagine moving beyond climate change as long as it is a danger to us.

“Enclosure XIII” is another series of mine that envisions a tomb for contemporary man inspired by the pharaonic tombs in Egypt. The dark plexiglass walls reflected the viewer as they walked around it, and upon entering, the blue neon that wrapped all six sides seemed to reflect into infinity. The viewer was standing in front of the gilded rib cage with memorabilia resting on an earthen-covered bier. Viewers were invited to leave something, and some left very touching notes and objects. My goal was to have the viewer have a relationship with death, burial, loss, and memory. 

My first installation was called “The Eternal Supper.” The viewer stepped onto a floor covered with rubber baby bottle nipples, which continued up the walls and across the ceiling. They felt the “squish” through their socks and knew the idea of nurturing: its fate to never be right … always too much or too little. Some people loved it, others found it bothersome, some sexy, but everyone had an opinion. 

These represent my goals: to make work that is visually, physically, and emotionally engaging. I want my work to be provocative.

Your work has been influenced by film, nostalgia, and mythology. How do these elements continue to affect your work today? Are there subtle ways these influences manifest in your current pieces, even if they aren’t the primary focus?

Patricia Carr Morgan: I think of a myth as a narrative expressing a collective consciousness, or unconsciousness, that is personal and universal. My work always starts with concepts that fit that description, such as nurturing, isolation, constructed reality, infecundity, loss, or grief. I’ve used nostalgia to express the sadness of a lost past and film as a constructed reality. My global warming works are different. I’m not tapping into a collective consciousness. However, everything I’ve mentioned is caused by global warming; I’m just trying to help people become aware. 

Your work often deals with the passage of time, from using expired film to capture degradation to reflecting on the slow melt of glaciers. How do you perceive time in your work? Does it play a role in communicating the urgency of environmental issues?

Patricia Carr Morgan: The passage of time is an important factor, and, along with the beauty, is an underlying theme in all this work. Time is an urgent environmental factor, and one that needs attention. In my next installation, I hope the path of the viewer will mark the passage of time. 

As you continue to explore themes of environmental decay and loss, what’s the next project you’re working on? Are there new directions or concepts you’re excited to explore?

Patricia Carr Morgan: My next project is the collaboration with Jack Holt, Ph.D., about the Malaspina and Hubbard glaciers he has been measuring. I plan to incorporate the Yakutat history of these landscapes alongside the grandeur and danger of these glaciers and their diminished size. My work is currently concentrated on this project, but it is difficult for me to imagine moving beyond climate change as long as it is a danger to us.

Featured image: Patricia Carr Morgan. Ice, Greenland & Antarctica.