The year is 1960, and the CIA has a crew of its best men holed up on a remote Caribbean island, inside a radio tower broadcasting Kleenex commercials into the living rooms of families in communist Cuba. Seagulls circle the tower as the men inside slowly lose their minds—and sight of the mission—under the blistering sun and humid August heat. Those transmissions can still be picked up today, inside the Weather Station.
Swan Island Beach Radio Tower, 1960 is part of an ongoing sonic realization, known in internal memos as The Weather Station Atrium Playlist, documenting real and imagined weather events and their associated energies.
Spectres of decaying broadcast material and low-fi electronic signals echo through a remote weather station atrium, operated by a skeleton crew of department technicians, meteorologists, and interns. Their playlist passes time that feels both immediate and infinite, haunted by transmissions from a past that may or may not have ever existed.
