Calli Ryan / Marielena Stark: COMMUNE / PILOT

Location

Pilot, Hans-Sachs-Gasse 27/4, Vienna

Saturdays 3-6pm

Do you want to spend a day

Just a day in the water

August 12, 2026

7:20 p.m.

A sense of unease is spreading at Terminal 3, Gate F. People are crowding against the tinted windows. Outside, the sun is low in the sky. Its yellow light shines across the tarmac, casting long shadows from the planes parked there. During the day, the temperature reached 33 degrees Celsius. You can see the heat radiating from the asphalt, while inside the building the temperature is comfortable.

7:22 p.m.

Gate 3 runs roughly from west to east. Unfortunately, the sun is almost in line with the building, so that only a narrow strip of light falls through the window onto the floor at the very edge. Those waiting stand very close to the windows and try to catch a glimpse of the sun through deeply tinted disposable sunglasses. Those without sunglasses try as well, but end up burning their retinas and look on, blinded and envious of those who came prepared.

It's been the talk of the town for days now: the solar eclipse over Europe. In Spain, it's a total eclipse; in large parts of Europe, it's at least nearly total. There's a sense of tension in the air. Something is about to happen. For a moment, everyone will be together in the moon's shadow. The sun will shine, and it will continue to shine for a long time, but not in this moment, not during this shared event. Not for us. It will still exist, as an idea, but we won't see it. It will shine, but we won't feel it. Only its negative image will be perceptible to us. It will exist only in our memories and in our hope. A hope for a new beginning, for the end of the transformation, for stepping out of the shadow into something new. Without knowing what that new thing might be, but different.

Just a day like no other

When nothing hurts your skin, yeah?

7:40 p.m.

The sun is becoming more and more obscured. You can't see this at Gate F. The tinted windows dampen the contrasts, and the outside world appears completely muted. The sun has now moved far enough that it's aligned with the building and is therefore no longer visible. You realize that you won't see anything of this solar eclipse here tonight. The airport's sealed-off security area keeps the natural spectacle out. The five phases of a solar eclipse (partial beginning, beginning of totality, total phase, end of totality, partial end) do not occur here. The light remains constant; any changes here would be cause for concern.

Since the 17th century, it has been possible to calculate the occurrence of a solar eclipse -nowadays down to the second. This makes the prediction of a solar eclipse by Thales of Miletus on May 28, 585, as recorded by Herodotus, all the more astonishing. On that day, the armies of the Lydians and the Medes faced off, ready for battle beneath the blue sky. When suddenly, just as Thales of Miletus had foretold, the sky darkened and the sun disappeared, fear gripped the soldiers and their commanders. They abandoned the fight and made peace.

Do you wanna know?

Do you want to feel the sun

8:13 p.m.

The solar eclipse has reached its peak. We head to Gate F36; boarding has begun. The eclipse glasses have long since been put away, and people are turning their attention to other things: In the U.S., Karoline Leavitt has announced her resignation, and in Germany, people are already commemorating the sixty-fifth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.

But the sun from underwater?

Nothing burning your shoulders

8:14 p.m.

Sunset. It coincides almost exactly with the maximum eclipse. The sun sets, darkened.

Nothing hurts within, yeah

Do you wanna know? Yeah

8:40 p.m.

The plane takes off and flies north. The horizon is still orange, slowly shifting through a soft yellow and a narrow green stripe into a bright, almost white blue, then into the deep blue of the night.

Text by Niclas Schöler

Lyrics: "A Day in the Water" by Christine and the Queens, 2023