This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

For me, it was love at first sight: “Renewable energy can be beautiful.”

Back in 2013, when I first saw this trademarked tagline on the Land Art Generator Initiative (LAGI) website, I remember shouting out an involuntary “YES!” to my computer screen. I then copied these five words to a piece of paper and taped it to the filing cabinet next to my desk, where it continues to inspire me to this day.

Founded in 2009 by co-directors Elizabeth Monoian and Robert Ferry, LAGI is a bold multi-faceted, multidisciplinary global collaborative platform to accelerate the transition to post-carbon economies by challenging creatives – artists, architects, landscape architects, engineers and scientists – to design site-specific public art installations that generate carbon-neutral utility-scale clean electricity.

It is called “solutions based art”: part renewable power generators, part large-scale public art installations.

LAGI employs a variety of strategies to advance popular acceptance of clean energy infrastructure: commissions and requests for proposals (RFP), biennial competitions, educational material development, and facilitating participatory design processes within communities.

Of these, LAGI is best known for its free and open biennial competitions that have attracted, since 2010, nearly 1,000 proposals from over 60 countries. The power of the competition model, according to Mr. Ferry, “is that it allows people to be playful, innovative and creative, without the bounds of a specific client.”

“The competition model encourages people to work collaboratively across many disciplines in order to imagine, which is of tremendous value in itself,” Mr. Ferry added.

No monotonous rows of solar PV panels or fields of spinning horizontal axis wind turbines here (ahem… which is exactly what I have spent the last decade photographing!) LAGI takes us in an entirely new direction that elevates clean energy infrastructure to the level of civic art and creative expression.

LAGI submissions are universally elegant, visionary, dazzling and yes, playful. In a word, awesome! Clicking through the design boards from each competition, I feel a rush of emotion: hope, optimism, confidence that the Holy Grail is finally within reach: a 100% clean energy economy in our lifetimes. LAGI shows us the way.

Here are links to each of the four LAGI competitions to date:

• 2010: Abu Dhabi and Dubai, UAE
• 2012: New York’s Fresh Kills Park, US
• 2014: Copenhagen, Denmark
• 2016: Santa Monica, California, US

I am particularly fond of the 2014 winning submission. Argentina-based designer Santiago Muros Cortés’ Solar Hourglass reminds us that “energy is just as precious and fleeting as time, and thus we should take care of it, appreciate it, not waste it.” This luminous hourglass – which doubles as a concentrated solar power station – sends “an optimistic message to those who visit it: that we still have time to make things right environmentally, that we are not beyond the point of no return… and most importantly, we don’t need to be.”

The 2018 competition, to be announced soon, will coincide with LAGI’s 10-year anniversary. Reflecting on their first decade, Ms. Monoian credits a large part of LAGI’s success to early support from Abu Dhabi’s Masdar which was “absolutely critical at the beginning, and continues to be so today.”

Looking forward to the next 10 years, Ms. Monoian says the biennial competitions “will continue as long as cities around the world keep approaching us,” but acknowledges, “It’s time to start implementing.”

Which means that within a few years – around the same time that countries like Norway will have completely banned petrol powered cars and Sweden will have completely eliminated fossil fuel usage within its borders – clean power stations as tourist attractions will have become a reality. Here’s a great example as imagined by Munos Cortés:

This is heady stuff! We are living witnesses to the third energy revolution. It’s happening now, all around us. The tsunami has crested; it is irreversible. Creatives around the world should seize this moment to shift the global conversation from despair to optimism, from apathy to action. As Mr. Ferry emphasized, “Make your art social. Hit the streets. Find opportunities to collaborate. Bring it to solutions.”

Through its website and multiple publications, LAGI provides a veritable goldmine of inspiration for urban planners/architects/engineers around the world to rethink our built environments in the context of climate change. More importantly, LAGI encourages us all to embrace utility-scale net-positive energy infrastructure as an integral and vibrant part of our commercial and residential centers.

When asked what is the single most important thing artists can do to address climate change, Ms. Monoian and Mr. Ferry answered simultaneously, in unison: Collaboration. “We are not equipped to work alone.” To create a livable, just world in this age of the Anthropocene, we must embrace the cross-disciplinary creative collaborative process that focuses on solutions. LAGI shows us the way.

Addendum: To the best of my knowledge, there is no other site on the Internet where one can find, all in one place, nearly 1,000 stunningly beautiful and replicable infrastructural solutions to climate change. Collectively, they help us visualize the beauty and promise of our post-carbon future. To quote futurist Alex Steffen, “We can’t build what we can’t imagine.”

Follow Joan Sullivan on Twitter @CleanNergyPhoto

Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.

Go to the Artists and Climate Change Blog

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

20^th of January 2017. A friend from Indonesia calls me. Not for anything in specific, just a bit of friend-to-friend chitchat. I can’t help to start a rant about something that starts with a T and ends with rump. Arief interrupts me: ‘Don’t worry sis’, he says. ‘The world has new countries.’ Arief, I have to explain, runs Jatiwangi Art Factory, a non-profit space in the region of Jatiwangi, and manages to mobilise thousands of people in the wider (rural) area to organize all types of cultural events; from performances to discussions and from exhibitions to radio broadcasts. This community is active, engaged and inclusive. They share responsibilities and resources. Still it takes me a few seconds before the penny drops: Arief is telling me the future is not America, it’s not even China, it’s Indonesia. And the reason is that Indonesia is the country of creativity and the country of the commons.

Not for Sale, picture by Jacob Gatot Surarjo

You must have come across this word recently; commons. Whether it was in an art, environmental, social, or policy context, the term ‘commons’ seems a good candidate to replace 2016’s ‘Post-truth’ and is certainly a more reassuring and constructive buzzword. If you’re not familiar with it yet, my personal, non-academic way of explaining the concept of the commons is as a form of sharing of resources by a community without private or governmental intervention. This could concern inherited commons (for instance rivers, forests, air), immaterial commons (for instance intellectual, cultural) or material commons (for instance machinery). It concerns communal resources that are (or rather could be) managed collectively without identified ownership but with shared responsibility. Though the concept of the commons often remains in the topic of social processes, more and more artists, city planners, environmentalists, philosophers, designers and architects around the world are recognising ‘commoning’ as an interesting way of working and as alternative to our broken capitalist and neoliberal systems – keeping commodification, commercialisation and privatisation at arm’s length. Indonesian urbanist Marco Kusumawijaya explains: ‘communities can play an important role in moving towards a different paradigm that is not dominated by capitalism and neoliberal governments. Rather, communities[1] can be the stewards of land and resources as well as being an essential place where relationships, alternatives, substitutes and critiques are constantly in the making.’

Elia Nurvista. Performance. Hunger Inc. Courtesy of Jogja Biennale

Indonesia has a long history of what we might now call ‘commoning’ but what is locally known as gotong royong[2] or bersama sama.[3] Traditionally both social and environmental stewardship have been at the heart of Indonesian kampung[4] life and in Indonesia artists have a key role in keeping this spirit alive. Artist Gustaff Harriman Iskandar explains that artists traditionally have a special status and social function in Indonesian society. ‘The artist often has an important position in the community (sometimes as spiritual leader, or politician) and is expected to make a contribution to society. They are not seen in the individual domain but rather seen in a social context.’

Irwan Ahmett and Tita Salina. ‘Trash Ball’.

Beside their sometimes ‘special status’ artists in Indonesia often work in collectives. Art collectives across Indonesia, and particularly in Yogyakarta, are practising this way of working in which they share knowledge, skills, responsibility and resources. Because the government often lacks in providing resources for artists, the artists started to organise themselves. ‘The sheer size of the country [1] makes that things only work on a small scale’, artist Andreas Siagian from Yogyakarta based art/science collective Lifepatch explains. In a country that is so big and diverse, things function better in smaller systems and structures that allow for flexibility, fluidity and self-organising. Lifepatch enjoys the process of collaborating and call this approach DIWO: ‘Not just do it yourself (DIY) but to do it with others (DIWO).

Across Indonesia art collectives are leading the charge in creating alternative ways of dealing with our resources, alternative currencies, exchanging skills, repairing, that have created a strong DIY culture and arts infrastructure, are innovating, experimenting and having fun. The collective is a good alternative to what artist Ade Darmawan from Ruangrupa calls ‘the big structures’. ‘Big structures have more difficulties to be relevant. They are always slow. You need to have real conversation with society and they miss a radar or mapping system. That’s lost. It’s hard for an institution to be localised. My experience with Ruangrupa is not bringing the community to an institution but the other way around.’

At Arsitek Komunitas, a community architecture initiative in Yogyakarta, each project starts with advice from the community. ‘The community doesn’t want to be an object in the collaboration’, says Amalia Nur Indah Sari  from Arsitek Komunitas. ‘Our principle is: believe the people, they are the solution. You need to trust the community and the community needs to trust you.’

Irwan Ahmett and Tita Salina. ‘Public Furniture’. Jakarta, 2010.

In addition to Indonesia’s creativity, solidarity and resourcefulness, there is a vast amount of (localised) knowledge of the natural world, whether it’s the indigenous communities in Riau, farmers on the rice fields of Bali practising subak[2] , or the Tukang[3] in Jakarta, the amount of knowledge and creativity this country holds is unseen of. All together it forms a strong set-up for a sustainable society. There is so much to learn from this society that has been through wars and genocide, which is at the forefront of climate change, centre of environmental degradation and one of the biggest carbon emitters in the world.This is our chance to widen our thought horizons: there are alternatives on offer.

[1] Indonesia is not only the world’s fourth most populous country in the world with its 257,563,815 inhabitants: http://data.worldbank.org/country/indonesia, based on data from 2015

[2] A sustainable form of water management developed in the 9^th century that is based on sharing.

[3] Repairmen

[1] Kusumawijaya explains community as ‘a group of people where its members live together in a territory, and share some commons in concrete way, with bounds and consequences immediately felt when something goes wrong.’

[2] Refers to a collaborative approach and a way of working for a higher communal goal

[3]  A Malay word that translates as togetherness.

[4]  Village or community

This research was commissioned by the Asia-Europe Foundation and the full research publication will be freely available on Culture 360 from April 2017.

Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.

Go to the Artists and Climate Change Blog

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

By Guest Blogger François Quévillon

I have an interdisciplinary practice that combines installation, video, photography, sound, and digital technologies. My work explores world phenomena and perception through processes sensitive to their fluctuations and the interference of contextual elements. I examine the operational dimensions of images, sounds, and other media through the elaboration of systems with unstable parameters – compressed or endlessly evolving spatiotemporal structures. A mix of scientific observation and contemplation, my pieces create ambiguous experiences through which the ungraspable manifests itself. I investigate how technology affects or redefines human cognition, culture, and the environment, as well as our relationships to space, time, and one another.

About Artists and Climate Change:

Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.

Go to the Artists and Climate Change Blog

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

By Guest Blogger Catherine Sarah Young

When you experience something that ticks you off, I’d recommend doing a project on it.

I was stuck in ankle-deep waters on one fateful day in Manila. It had rained for only a few minutes, but already traffic was at a standstill. The sewers were blocked – yet again! – and when the arteries are clogged, you can see the signs of an urban heart attack. All streets and alleyways within sight were impassable. Everywhere I saw people standing on higher ground, staring at the increasing water line in dismay.

The only ones cheering were the drivers of pedicabs, informal transport consisting of a bike and a small hooded cab for a passenger. They knew they could charge triple the normal fare because people were desperate. (To be fair, you’d have to be really cruel not to tip them well; it is quite heroic to pedal through weather like this.)

The many reasons for this blockage include how used cooking oil is improperly discarded in the sewers. It coagulates together with other objects that won’t break down right away, such as wet wipes and sanitary items. These blobs of fat have been nicknamed “fatbergs” in some cities.

It is these little apocalypses that make me do art about climate change. The Philippines, in the path of many typhoons especially with global warming, will only get more unlivable if behaviors go unchecked. And so, wet, grumpy, and miserable in the cold, I vowed to turn that experience into another piece.

A few weeks later, I was in Medellin on a residency for The Apocalypse Project. This Colombian city is quite the success story, having overcome a troubled history to win the 2016 Lee Kuan Yew World City Prize and 2013 Most Innovative City by Urban Land Institute, thanks to a renaissance in urban planning. Thankfully, in spite of many rainy nights during my month-long stay, Medellin did not get flooded the way Manila does and the sewage system seems to be well-maintained.

Manila and Medellin share similarities in both history and culture. And so I was interested to see how two cities can be so similar and different. My residency hosts, Platohedro and Casa Tres Patios, were able to get me more information about the city sewers, and one day I found myself staring down an open manhole. One engineer from EPM, the company that manages the city sewers, actually gave me access, and even gave me some samples for my research. I had never been so thrilled to receive a jar of sewage in my life.

I also got to visit the polluted Medellin River, which seems to be used as an alternative sewer by nearby residents. It was mostly water, but I was able to get some lipid samples.

After my residency, I went back to Manila to apply what I had learned in Medellin. It was difficult to get permission to open up the sewers in Manila, and indeed I had many a security guard shoo me away as I tried to pry some manholes open. Undeterred, I found some sewage in many open pipes in this city that gives one a lot of apocalyptic inspirations.

In the studio, I combined the sewage I collected from Manila and Medellin. I filtered and boiled the sewage to kill as many bacteria and pathogens as possible, but I still wore safety clothing, not unlike the pieces shown in Climate Change Couture published on this blog. Soap is the salt of a fatty acid, so most soap recipes would call for any oil with an appropriate amount of lye or caustic soda. There was a lot of trial and error in searching for the right amount of lye, especially since I did not know the exact composition of these samples. Some experiments didn’t produce soap at all, while others saponified and, to my horror, started growing out of the molds. Some had layers of fat in them, looking a bit geological.

Finally, I had enough soap bars and small samples to exhibit. I exhibited these in 1335Mabini, a space for contemporary art in Manila, and at the Climate-Resilient International Development Exchange in Bangkok in USAID Asia. A hazard warning cautioned people against touching the samples. A few did anyway, gingerly, and someone told me they smelled like cookies. I would never touch these without gloves as I know their previous state too well.

As an artist, it was interesting to see how people interacted with a project whose subject matter isn’t really discussed. People would gather, without me having to say anything, to examine the freaky objects displayed on a plinth and then engage in conversation about the cooking oil they use, traffic, and the myriad of other systemic problems of cities.

Improper waste disposal is one of the tiny behaviors whose consequences eventually interfere with everyone’s lives, and yet we usually blame other people for it. The value of art is that it gives us a platform to reflect on ourselves and our relationship with nature and our cities. To negotiate our place in the Anthropocene, we need to change our habits and make our systems work better.

Research for this project was made possible by a residency at Platohedro and Casa Tres Patios, with support from Arts Collaboratory and the Ministry of Culture of Colombia.

Thanks to Mr. Hemel Serna of EPM and his team for giving me administrative support in researching Medellin’s sewer systems. 

______________________________

Catherine Sarah Young is an artist, designer, researcher, and writer whose work explores emerging technologies and alternative futures through interactive storytelling and sensory experiences. Her experimental and interdisciplinary practice evokes conversation about our collective futures and individual choices. As an artist and designer, she has collaborated with scientists, companies, chefs, artists, think tanks, and museums around the world. As a writer, she creates worlds through science fiction and design futures, exploring themes related to the environment, feminism, and future technologies. She is the founder of The Apocalypse Project, a creative platform that explores climate change and environmental futures.

Artists and Climate Change is a blog that tracks artistic responses from all disciplines to the problem of climate change. It is both a study about what is being done, and a resource for anyone interested in the subject. Art has the power to reframe the conversation about our environmental crisis so it is inclusive, constructive, and conducive to action. Art can, and should, shape our values and behavior so we are better equipped to face the formidable challenge in front of us.

Go to the Artists and Climate Change Blog