Planktonic drifts

Anna-Tia Buss



Hello there

Can you feel me?

I’m not sure if you can see the same as I see you

I wonder if I’m allowed to look at you like this

 

Am I intruding in your space?

You just wanted to drift around in your lake

Now you're swimming under the microscope in the lab

 

Blurry images

Focusing on the creatures

My hands move the dish

Everything is in motion

Standing still for a while

Until the next Copepod swims through

Pushing the water

Creating tiny tumults

 

So tiny

Barely visible to the naked eye

Yet so crucial in our Planetary system

I wonder how it feels to drift around

To be so tiny and powerful

Your name, literally meaning drifting in Greek

Can I learn this from you?

To let myself drift a bit more?

 

The opaque water layers

Mixing with the waves

Touching my skin

Feeling the fresh water running down my hands as I pull out the filter

 

The droplets are dripping out of the container

Returning in the lake

Returning you to the waters

Emptying the valve into the plastic tube

Capturing the remains of the filter

Taking you away from your habitat

 

How long would you have lived today?

Dividing at nighttime

Multiplying your population

 

In what reality do you live?

 

Can you feel me?

Can you sense my presence?

 

I didn’t see you first

Swimming in your habitat

 

Seeing you little creatures suddenly so big

So beautiful

Perfect shapes

Slowly appearing as I focus the image

The colors take shape

The forms appear

The creatures come to live again

The galaxy-like images

Milky ways of planktonic beings

Forming an opaque universe

Drifting within the currents

 

I imagine something about you

Looking with my eyes

From above

In the microscope

Names

Trying to determine who you are

Is it relevant?

Do I need to know?

 

The magic of this world I’m discovering

Intertwines with my senses

Playing around with realities

Your life is so short

Yet so much more important in planetary cycles

How does a day feel to you?

Like a lifetime to us?

 

I move you around in the petri dish

Mixing the samples

Destroying your habitat even more

Your waters felt different before, no?

 

When I’m immersed in the water bodies

Surrounded by you

Do I look at you differently?

 

Do you feel me?

Do you see me?

Do you sense my body?

During the project week at Eawag, I became drawn to the hidden worlds of plankton. On a field trip to the research station at the Greifensee, we collected them in small plastic flasks, tiny vessels holding drifting lives. Their crucial yet so fragile presence stirred questions of captivity — of what it means to gaze at more than human beings, knowing that to observe them may also mean witnessing their end.

The microscope revealed itself as both a window and a threshold. Through shifting focus, these lives appeared and disappeared, unfolding in delicate layers, fleeting overlaps, and dissolving moments of light. What emerged was not only a vision of the creatures themselves but also of the spaces between — the fragile edges where perception, attention, and life touch.

This work is an attempt to drift closer, to dwell with these beings in their ephemerality. The video gathers microscopic still and moving images alongside underwater footage captured while swimming, weaving together bodies of water, light, and life into an immersive space. Text enters as a live reading with the visuals, a reflection that moves among them — searching for beauty in impermanence, and asking how we might encounter the more-than-human otherwise.

Images from field trip on the Greifensee to the research station from Eawag.