JOURNAL · WATER
Das Mysterium des Wassers
What do we really know — and where does interpretation begin?
ESSAY BY RITA-GRACIELA WERNER · RANDA, MALLORCA · APPROX. 8 MINUTES READING TIME
Rita-Graciela Werner with Veda Austin after the lecture.
IN THE ARTICLE
An exceptional staff
Veda Austing Perspektive
Observation and evidence
The power of the open question
There is probably no substance as essential to life on Earth as water. We know its chemical formula, observe its cycle, and use it every day. And yet the big question remains: Do we really know what water is—or have we primarily known what it does for us?
This question was the focus of an inspiring talk by Veda Austin. The New Zealand artist, author, and independent water researcher has dedicated herself for many years to the transition between liquid water and ice. Her presentation in Randa, Mallorca, was personal, authentic, and possessed the clarity that arises when someone not only studies their subject but lives it.
From a scientific point of view: an exceptional substance.
Even without any spiritual interpretation, water is extraordinary. Its molecules form a flexible network of hydrogen bonds. This creates properties that are crucial for life: water has a high heat capacity, dissolves many substances, reaches its greatest density at around four degrees Celsius, and expands when it freezes. This is why ice floats on water, lakes freeze from the top down, and life can continue to exist beneath the surface.
Water does not defy the laws of physics. On the contrary, these very laws explain why it behaves differently than many simpler liquids. Its local structure is constantly changing; temperature, pressure, dissolved substances, surface area, and the rate of freezing all influence the patterns that emerge.
What is considered certain
Water is anomalous — but not lawless.
Its unusual properties are well documented and closely linked to the dynamic network of its hydrogen bonds. However, it has not yet been scientifically proven that water understands thoughts, possesses consciousness, or stores meaning.
Veda Austin's perspective
Austin photographs water in a partially frozen state, which she describes as a "state of creation." In the emerging forms, she recognizes recurring motifs and possible reactions to words, images, music, questions, or personal intentions. Her photographs are fascinating: sometimes they appear abstract, sometimes they are surprisingly reminiscent of figures, symbols, or landscapes.
For Austin, water is not merely a material, but a counterpart. She points to its radical universality: it knows no origin, no religion, and no social boundaries. It flows through people, animals, plants, and landscapes, accompanying every life from its beginning to its end.
In her presentation, Veda Austin showed shapes that she had documented while observing partially frozen water.
Working with children is also part of her mission. She wants to encourage the next generation to see water not merely as a readily available resource, but as a living system that deserves attention, respect, and protection. The Māori term Tamariki —children—represents the future water bearers of our world in her work.
Between observation and proof
Austin's approach is reminiscent of Masaru Emoto, who combined water samples with words, music, and intentions, froze them, and then photographed selected crystals. His images popularized the idea that positive messages could produce harmonious crystals and negative messages irregular ones.
This is precisely where careful distinction is crucial. A striking image is initially an observation—not yet proof of its interpretation. In ice photography, selection, temperature, impurities, freezing rate, and the subjective assessment of beauty can all play a significant role. Small, blinded studies investigating Emoto's hypothesis have been published; however, these have not yet yielded robust, independent, and reproducibly confirmed evidence for a "consciousness of water."
This does not diminish the aesthetic power of the images. It merely changes the question we pose to them. Perhaps they do not offer an answer, but rather a starting point: How would an experiment have to be designed so that other researchers could replicate it independently? What conditions must be predefined and automatically documented? And what explanation remains when chance, selection, and physical influences are controlled?
The power of the open question
I didn't leave the lecture with proof, but with heightened awareness. Perhaps the most powerful effect of such encounters lies precisely in this: they challenge us neither to believe hastily nor to reject reflexively.
Water remains a scientifically complex substance and, at the same time, a powerful cultural and spiritual symbol. We can explore its measurable properties and still be moved by its beauty. Both can coexist as long as we clearly define what we know, what we observe, and what we suspect.
What if water contains more than we can currently explain? The honest answer is: we don't know. But that's precisely why it's worth taking a closer look.