This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

It was always there, the fascination with life and the world around me. It stayed with me all through my childhood. There was even a time when I decided that the answer to the question of what I wanted to be when I grew up was clear… I wanted to be a biologist! I remember a drawing contest: Draw your dream occupation. I was eleven years old and my efforts resulted in a piece that featured a big magnifying glass showing enlarged insects, blood plasma, and amoebae. It won me a first prize. Afterwards, the jury commented that if I didn’t become a biologist, I could always try to do something with art. So, well, here we are….

As I grew up and attended art school at the turn of the 21^st century, my love for nature faded to the background. Sustainability, climate change, cradle-to-cradle, bio-based, and other now common terms were unheard of then. The only time the word “nature” was mentioned to me as an art student was in negative criticism… My drawings and paintings were seen as being too close to nature. (This was at a time when conceptual art ruled the art scene…) I stopped painting altogether and opted instead for a degree in stage design, and another degree in education.

After finishing those studies, I slowly found my own path and decided it was time to pick up the paintbrush once again. But I was disappointed with my materials; they didn’t reflect who I was and what I loved. To address this problem, I specialized in old painting techniques. That’s where I finally found the missing piece: my love for natural materials.

As the years passed, I searched for beauty in simplicity, concentrating on the little things… in my professional career as an artist, but also in my personal life. More and more, nature found its way back into my life, into my work, and it widened my perspective. “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better,” Albert Einstein said many years ago, and how right he was. Suddenly all was clear. I had come full circle and it was time to fully reclaim my fascination with nature!

I started to dig deeper. The relationship between human, nature, and sustainability became recurring themes in my work. I found beauty in the rough, pure burlap, the homemade gesso, the pigments. I cherished these materials, the craftsmanship, and the cradle-to-cradle way of thinking and working because for me, image and content should strengthen each other, not contradict. Art that explores a theme like sustainability but is made with non-sustainable materials is, in my opinion, a contradiction in terms and a paragon of hypocrisy. It’s bad art no matter how beautiful it is. Harsh? Maybe, but for me that is the underlying principle of sustainable art – it should not become waste! I believe the art world should be progressive and innovative, but in recent years of doing research and treading my path, I have found mostly shut doors, frowning faces, and laughing gallerists unwilling to take this issue seriously. I came to the conclusion that when it comes to sustainability, the art world painfully lags behind.

There is still so much art being created with non-sustainable materials, even toxic materials, and artists aren’t taught to think about their production process. It is the art/end product that counts, the art world doesn’t allow itself to see work as possible waste. While we have seen positive change, integration of circular systems, and cradle-to-cradle production in many other fields like design, architecture, manufacturing, and engineering, somehow there is no room for discussion in the arts. Yet we live in a time where there is more art being created than ever before, by professionals, amateurs, hobbyists… It’s an illusion to believe that all of it will be preserved for future generations. Some of it will be worth hanging on to, but let’s face it… most of it will become waste. However, it doesn’t have to be this way. Much could be accomplished if the art world was willing to broaden its focus and consider the impact of the artmaking process and the afterlife of artworks in addition to worrying about the end product.

As my work continues to evolve, I am increasingly committed to concentrating not just on the production of an image, but also on the creative process, the source of the materials I use, and on searching for natural and sustainable alternatives. It may sound strange, but I am very proud of now being at a stage where my work process is completely sustainable, the end result cradle-to-cradle. This means that my paintings are completely biodegradable, yet they can be conserved for centuries as well.

Sustainability, climate change, our relationship to the earth we live on and the species we share it with – these are the defining issues of my generation and of the generations to come. The art world should take a stand. It has an important role to play in this changing world.

Art about subjects such as climate change, mass extinction, and wasteful consumption doesn’t have to be doom and gloom. I have found that real, meaningful change stems from positivity. My art is about reconnecting with nature, reviving that sense of wonder and care for all that surrounds us. My art is me, digging deeper, finding a new path, pioneering, inspiring others, doing my bit, hopefully sowing some seeds of change.

(Top image: Detail from Down to Earth, 100cm x 100cm, made with natural pigments only and painted on burlap prepared with my own gesso. The painting is 100% biodegradable, so it will never become waste! It can however be kept in a good condition for centuries…)

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Dorieke Schreurs currently lives in Maastricht, in the very south of the Netherlands. She studied Fine Arts, Stage Design, Art Education, and specialized in old painting techniques, and combines art with research, science, and education. Optimist and realist, she focuses on sustainability, cradle-to-cradle, nature-inspired solutions, and innovation in work and personal life. She lives a trash-light lifestyle with her husband and sons in a renovated old farmhouse, on a patch of land with fruit trees, vegetable garden, and chickens.

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

On Saturday, 22^nd April, on Earth Day, there was a March for Science throughout the world; a protest by scientists and individuals who care about the erosion of an empirical truth that Science represents. On this day too, in response to the what is arguably now known as The Anthropocene Era in geological terms, there began a global project to reverse another kind of erosion; one of trees. Both approaches present a slightly different perspective on a common problem, but by finding the language and metaphors through which both can align, we can create a resonant harmonic of thought that can truly transform things. As individuals, existential change – the most pressing of which currently is climate change – would be overwhelming, but en masse, humans can achieve almost anything and our achievements throughout history have been recorded through the visual arts. Art, both comforting and challenging, is society’s litmus paper. After all, we had cave paintings long before we had language.

And so, I write this not only from the perspective of the scientist I once was, but also as an artist seeking a common visual language – a Brave New World Aesthetic, I call it – a parity between so many subjects, some of which are truly objective and yet others, like our connections to each other and our world, highly subjective. Superficially, art and science appear quite different and yet both are governed by Nature, our connections to each other, and the physical laws of the universe.

From books like Huxley’s Brave New World written over 80 years ago to films such as The Matrix, we, as a species, have had a fascination with the ideal of the hero or heroine overcoming all that is Dystopian to create what was once envisioned by Plato over 2000 years ago in The Republic: a fair Utopian, green world in which everyone is taken care of by each other and their natural environment. Once, this future vision might have eluded us, but we are now in possession of the technology to make it happen and it is this that informs my work and gives me so much hope for the future. Some would argue that it is precisely because of our scientific advancements that we are in a situation when species are dying off; trees are disappearing and the very air we breathe is smothering us as we hurtle towards an Anthropocene Age. But perhaps by simply changing our perspective, we can see this as a wonderful opportunity rather than an existential threat.

I have experienced the power of a changing perspective in the last few years as my work moved from purely “sciart” – academically manipulating the physical laws and the materiality of paint to represent scientific ideas – to an entirely new process that was inspired by my environment and my connection to people and ideas. One moment of insight involved re-framing a classic physics experiment as literally “painting with light,” and another came from a walk one day amongst the trees when the leaves appeared so bright that I could literally touch where the edges met the sky. As a “city girl,” it felt quite overwhelming but once embraced, it taught me that intuition is one of the most creative tools we have. If we can only listen to it. My vision now is one in which not only art and science collide, but also technology, philosophy, spirituality, and society.

My search in this brave new world is currently focused on growing an installation made of thousands of plastic leaves to recreate a forest floor. It is interactive not only because of the colors but also because we want people to add their own leaves, which I am looking to make purely from recycled plastics.

By taking the throwaway and transforming it, I am hoping to raise awareness of the fact that 95% of all plastic is only used once, and that the continued waste is devastating our planet. I am also working on a series inspired by people and evolution; ours and that of the innovations on the horizon, as well as on the future thinkers that are changing the world. I trained as a painter; so much of my work was based on “life” that this continues to be an inspiration, but in terms of processes, I am forever an experimentalist.

A dear friend named my work “Quantum Sculptures” as they are so dependent on the relationship between the observed and the observer, changing in color with a tilt of the head. The same metaphor applies to our planet and fellow inhabitants, whose wellbeing we need to remember is inextricably linked to our own.

This is an age of reinvention and change. I believe artists and creative thinkers can help us find new metaphors and reframe our perspectives. Through a new aesthetic, we can reach the top-most rung of Maslow’s Pyramid from which we have a chance of understanding our position and responsibilities in the Brave New World we are creating. Because no matter how clever our ideas or innovative our processes, we all possess the same frailties and need for compassion and empathy; as does our home planet.

To borrow from something seen on Instagram: The Earth without Art is just Eh.

It’s all about perspective.

(Top image: Detail of Resonance in Leaves, a growing interactive floor installation of thousands of leaves made from plastic and light. Photo: Maria Katsika.)

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Jasmine Pradissitto’s Quantum Sculptures in light embrace the dual world of the Physicist and Artist. Described as “holograms you can touch,” forms inspired by nature, the human condition, and scientific breakthroughs are melted and reshaped from plastics into sculptures as a commentary on an Anthropocene world. Currently represented by Marine Tanguy, and with continued technical support from LSBU, Jasmine has a PhD from UCL on the quantum behavior of silicon and has studied Fine Art at Goldsmiths College and Sir John Cass. She has had solo shows in London and Venice, been shortlisted for various prizes including the Threadneedle and Celeste, and has work in various collections.

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

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I grew up on a farm near woods and streams in Northeastern Pennsylvania. Nature was all around me. As a child observing nature, I focused on the macro and the micro worlds – veins and galls on leaves, organisms swimming in puddles, tree bark, a bird’s nest on the windowsill, stars in the Milky Way, and an eclipse of the sun. With wonder and awe, when I was around 7 years old, I witnessed the Aurora Borealis from the porch outside my house. The Sun’s activity and the Earth’s magnetic field were lined up in such a way that we could see it in Pennsylvania. The phenomenon of nature was a treasured part of my life then, as it is now. As a resident of Chicago, I like to go to Lake Michigan and nature preserves nearby, to commune with nature.

The beauty of the world’s creatures and plants brings me joy, sustenance, and wonderment so I am devastated by what is happening to our planet. Animals are going extinct from poaching and human encroachment; we are polluting oceans and depleting them of sea life (and the Fukushima Daiichi plant continues to spew nuclear radiation into the Pacific Ocean); our ground water is being used up or contaminated; and, toxins are poisoning our air. As the planet heats up from human CO2 emissions, coral reefs are dying and glaciers are melting.

Shortsighted policies fail to recognize that we need insects, plants, and animals. Ant tunneling aids in decomposition, soil aeration and nutrient recycling. Bees pollinate fruits and vegetables. Bats eat pest insects, and fruit bat guano plays a role in seed dispersal. Birds aid in forest decomposition, pest control, nutrient recycling, plant pollination, and seed dispersal. Plants are a major source of medicine, with many lost forever through rainforest destruction. Plant roots prevent soil erosion, and rainforests produce and hold moisture, preventing drought and desert conditions. These are just a few examples of how we benefit from natural habitats.

I have always admired drawings in biology and science books, with close-ups, cutaways, and instructive illustrations depicting nature accurately and scientifically. After pursuing my MFA at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, I enrolled in natural science illustration classes and became a member of the Guild of Natural Science Illustrators. I loved making watercolor illustrations. While illustrating organisms, I learned about them so in a sense I became a kind of scientist studying nature.

My interest in natural organisms lead to the development of a body of work influenced by dioramas and displays in natural history museums. In one of my works, titled Deep Down (pictured above), I have created a cutaway in a cube that shows a chipmunk (covered with fur) living underground along with a worm, rock, and plant roots. A second side of the cube shows a snake, above and underground. The third side reveals an anthill above ground, and the colony tunnels underground. And the fourth side has a plant, cicada, plant roots, and a worm underground.

In another work, titled In My Backyard (pictured below), I have created a reproduction of a log made from epoxy clay, a reproduction of a wild beehive and bees, and a garden hose, all connected with industrial gas piping. On the right side of a pipe is a cube, with paintings of a housing development, a microscopic close-up of red blood cells, and a Japanese beetle on a leaf. A globe covered in mushrooms hangs from a chain from the cube. In this work, I am exploring systems impacted by man’s activity.

Other works such as Factory Farm (pictured below) and Fracking point to systems of man that are wreaking havoc on the environment. Runoff from factory farms is creating algae blooms in the ocean, GMO crops are killing helpful insects and creating super weeds, and fracking is polluting water wells with natural gas and causing earthquakes. Bees are being sickened and disrupted as they are trucked all around the country to pollinate fruit trees.

Spelling Bee imagines a larger than life genetically modified bee that can spell and is making a hive in the shape of the letter B.

Under the present Trump administration, with its stated goal of shutting down the EPA, we will lose important protections. Trump wants to reverse the Clean Air Act, cut energy efficiency rules, allow dumping of coal ash into waterways, eliminate car fuel efficiency requirements, and permit the use of lead-based bullets, killing eagles who might feed on contaminated animal carcasses. He has already signed an executive order to reverse the Clean Water Rule, wants to roll back the Endangered Species Act, is reversing bans on harmful pesticides and chemicals, and backing the oil and gas industries regardless of their negative impact. Deregulation primarily benefits corporate interests, not the people, not the planet. Trump is not thinking about leaving a healthy planet as a legacy for his children and grandchildren. Denying climate change will delay crucial steps to reverse it. This is unacceptable, and we must fight these ill-conceived, poorly informed policies.

As an artist, it is important to me to make work that addresses these issues. My work celebrates the beauty of nature, while at the same time pointing out the impacts of human activity. My hope is that by connecting with my art, others will realize how important the continued existence of all manifestations of life is for the survival of our planet and its people.

(Top image: Deep Down, 16” x 8” x 8”, carved wood, mixed media.)

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Chicago artist Victoria Fuller has an MFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and fellowship awards from the Colorado Council on the Arts and Humanities, and the Illinois Arts Council. She also received an Illinois Arts Council CAAP Grant, and was a resident artist at Sculpture Space in Utica, NY and Ragdale Foundation in Lake Forest, IL. Her large-scale public sculpture “Shoe of Shoes” is in the collection of Caleres Shoes in St. Louis. Sound Transit in Seattle commissioned another large-scale sculpture, “Global Garden Shovel,” and she was commissioned by Comed to create the sculpture “Peas and Quiet.” In 2016 she was featured in Sculpture Magazine’s May issue, as part of the show “Disruption” at Grounds For Sculpture in Hamilton, NJ. Her most recent large-scale public sculpture, titled ”Canoe Fan,” is installed along the Huron River in Ann Arbor, MI.

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, First Published 25 April 2017

We are almost four full months into 2017, and already there have been multiple large-scale international public demonstrations, starting most notably with the Women’s March in January. And we’re between two major international marches this week – the March for Science, and the People’s Climate March. In my installment this month, I highlight a particular creative effort for the March for Science, as well as a powerful new documentary from Standing Rock, amidst the unprecedented political situation in the United States.

There is power in the rallies and marches of these past months, in the convening of individuals around shared values. I relish in the humanness – the connections, creativity, compassion. I am also thrilled by the offers of alternatives: public forums to practice alternatives to the oppressive status quo that leaves out and strips the power of people that do not fit the “dominant” type. In these imagined alternatives, there is room for nonhuman beings and forces. This past weekend’s March for Science was such a space, where those who work with data and study forces on all scales could come together in solidarity with one another, and with public supporters. My group of fellow artists and I marched to stand with the discipline of science, with the people who put the scientific method into practice, collate data to relearn our histories, and uncover our future potential as human life on Earth.

My colleagues at Artists Rise Up New York hosted pre-march workshops to construct puppets of animals with endangered status. We wanted to bring these puppets to the March for Science – which landed on Earth Day – in solidarity with the humans who study these animals and their (our) ecosystems. These puppets, fashioned out of repurposed materials, were a way to show up for our friends in science and across species. We gathered under overcast skies with our puppets in hand, amongst thousands of fellow science allies, many of whom touted posters summarizing their reasons for showing up.

The puppets, with their playful, cartoon-like appearance, caught the attention of other marchers, particularly those under the age of 10, and their families. Young children, strapped to their parents’ bodies, had a front row seat to a non-fiction puppet show. Many were eager to engage tactically with the characters: a sea turtle and a golden eagle. The three-dimensional animal puppets inserted a level of joy and playfulness into the march, complementing the posters of scientific and Earth-based puns. Despite the rain that greeted us NYC marchers, our energy flourished down Broadway, past Trump Hotel, until dispersing near Times Square. There is a performative aspect to these marches; they offer a forum for forces, elements and species – otherwise marginalized, silenced, voiceless groups – to be seen on a large public scale, a way to more closely speak to power.

In this week between two major marches, in the spirit of Earth Day, anti-fracking activist and documentarian Josh Fox’s latest documentary, Awake, A Dream from Standing Rock, has been released. I would be remiss if I did not wave the flag for this film (it’s streamable online and less than ninety minutes!). A collaboration with filmmakers Myron Dewey and James Spione, Awake compiles a series of stories from the peaceful resistance at the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation, on the edge of Dakota Access Pipeline construction. The film is an education, for those who were not at the Standing Rock camp, in the way that the Indigenous perspective comes to the fore. This film and its makers deserve a dedicated post, and that will come. In the meantime, I wanted to call attention to the way Awake writes the history of this moment in time, as well as offers tangible actions to take toward climate justice – to resist fracking and Big Oil, educate, and support those presently at Standing Rock and at reservations around the country. I will be taking the peaceful, passionate, urgent energy of Awake with me to the People’s Climate March in DC.

As I reflect on the inaugural March for Science, look forward to the Climate March, and consider the themes from Awake that propel me to action, I see the role of arts in this current historical moment: the creativity of constructions at international marches, the framing of stories from Standing Rock in film, the performance of coming together in a public space, as documented for the world to see. My art-activism connections are only examples, and by offering them, I seek to keep the momentum going. We can all keep the momentum going by taking action that suits us: find a Climate March near you; support Indigenous communities; defund DAPL.

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

Building Worlds as a Message about our World

The tide of climate change is too easily dismissed as a slow steady march that can be denied or at least ignored in favor of “more pressing” issues. In my Building Worlds series, I create paintings that fuse past, present, and future eras into imaginary worlds to emphasize our inevitable and potentially irreversible effect on the planet. At first glance my paintings resemble captivating cityscapes perhaps gone a bit awry. Viewers find themselves struggling to place these scenes in memories from travels and other experiences. Their contemplation often leads them to linger, observe, and process the imagery more deeply beyond the initial aesthetic. But these are not your typical vistas. They contain a message that begins to reveal itself upon closer examination. Something is happening to these worlds. There is an aspect of urgency to the scenes that people often begin to sense. Strata teem with suggestions of past civilizations. Debris and crumbling elements resembling ruins from antiquity are interspersed with gleaming, modern imagery all condensed into a single work as if they are “time-lapse paintings.” The skies are infused with dripping and texture that suggest that weather no longer exists in its predictable form.  What does all of this mean? Can it be good? Can we continue to accelerate our consumption of our planet’s resources while ignoring the costs? I hope my work can lead people to consider such questions.

Repurposing with a Purpose

The heart of my work is repurposing – taking one thing and using it for something else. In a sense, I have even chosen to repurpose my passion for painting as a conduit to highlight issues, action steps, and the work and efforts of others to combat climate change. I have joined the many artists striving to permeate concern for our planet into our culture. My paintings give me a means to build community and to help increase general acknowledgement of the need to address climate change sooner rather than later. Repurposing is a hopeful and important process that will be central to the health of our planet as “progress” places constant pressure on us to consume at the cost of our environment, while at the same time threatening to render us obsolete. Repurposing helps to counterbalance these forces.

The Genesis of my Worlds

The story of my current work began in Jerome, a small town in Arizona that was itself repurposed from a mining town to a tourist destination. In 1957 when the copper mine was closed, the town was threatened, but with ingenuity it was deemed a historic town, and the mine was reopened as a “ghost town.” I visited Jerome on a family vacation. The sweeping views were impressive and the ghost town feature was a must-see for the kids. The operational infrastructure of the mine had been left in place to “age with the elements,” and the desert climate had been relatively kind. Work trucks from the 1940’s stood in place, like colorful ghosts. The patina of their aged surfaces and lines of their bodies told the story of a bygone era and the bittersweet beauty of aging. I painted my Truck Series: Jerome Arizona based on my love for these trucks, at that point in time, in that setting.

My Process of Artistic Propagation

I chronicled this series of paintings and kept extensive digital images of them. I had painted the trucks with a thick impasto technique that lent dimensionality and texture true to the aging surfaces of the vehicles, and the photos of my paintings retained much of this visual texture. In a sense, I was “haunted” by those images and they spoke to me. In the spirit of repurposing, I conceived of a process I now call artistic propagation. I began by extracting the textured elements so vividly shown in these photos and bringing them into a fresh new context. With this in mind, I experimented with digitally manipulating photos of my paintings, cropping components such as grills and headlights from the trucks to create unique printed archival collage papers. I planned to affix them to the support in a purely abstract non-representational manner. I found myself arranging them in strata and enjoying the results. I also realized that worlds like none I’d seen before were emerging and that I could build these worlds in a metaphorical way that gives voice to my concerns about our planet.

In general, propagation is the reproduction or spreading of something. It applies to plants and animals in nature, and it also applies to the spread of ideas. My process of extracting elements from my existing works and using them to create new ones to convey a message is similar to that of propagation both in our natural and ideological world. In a sense, each of my works contains the “genes” of its ancestors, and I use these works as a vehicle for promoting interest in and awareness of efforts to save our planet.

Since this initial period of exploration, my artistic propagation has expanded to include intricate layers of construction. In addition to metaphorically “salvaging vehicle parts for reuse,” I repurpose by creating collage material incorporating stamping and sgraffito effects from castoff apparatus and implements including pipette holders, variegated tubing, wire gauze, rubber stoppers, and well plates. Fortunately, I am able to easily access these items from a Durham, NC organization called The Scrap Exchange. One of the first creative reuse centers in the United States, The Scrap Exchange diverts 167 tons of materials from the waste stream annually. Their mission is to promote creativity, environmental awareness, and community through reuse. They recently celebrated their 25^th anniversary, and they are poised to ramp up their global reuse impact. They have launched plans to establish the National Center for Creative Reuse (NCCR), which will contribute to a global reuse revolution through factors such as philanthropy, research, and education.

Organizations like The Scrap Exchange give me hope for the future of our planet. I feel fortunate that as an artist, I have a unique platform for sharing their story and the stories of many other organizations and individuals working to help our planet. This Artists & Climate Change blog and others like it are an encouraging window into the global efforts across the arts to address climate change. As we continue to join in chorus, we will amplify our impact.

(Top image: World Wide Web, 16”x 20” Acrylic & Collage)

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Jenny Blazing was born and raised in the Pacific Northwest. She is an artist now living in Durham, North Carolina. She graduated from University of California, Davis with degrees in Environmental Design & Economics and subsequently earned a Ph.D. from University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. Her work focuses on the ephemeral beauty of our world and our need to do our best to respect and preserve it. She recently held a debut showing of her Building Worlds series. Follow Jenny Blazing on Instagram.

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

This article was originally published on HowlRound, a knowledge commons by and for the theatre community, on September 24, 2016.

Many years ago I was browsing in a chain bookstore at my local mall and a title almost literally jumped off the shelf and into my waiting hands: Ecopsychology: Restoring the Earth, Healing the Mind, edited by Theodore A. Rozack. The book consists of essays by psychologists and environmentalists wrestling with how we humans are personally and internally affected by the environmental crisis. The book ignited a passion in me, but at that time, I could not figure out how to combine my work as a theatre designer and the urgency I felt to work on behalf of the planet. The ideas were out there, but the performing arts hadn’t widely begun addressing the issues of environmental crisis and climate change. And when they did, the work was emotive, grief stricken, and hopeless.

In 2009 came my answer. I designed the scenery for Henry Murray’s post-apocalyptic play, Treefall, produced by Rogue Machine Theatre and directed by John Perrin Flynn. In the story of the play, there have been massive fires, local wars, ravaging disease, and the breakdown of all infrastructure. The sun will burn flesh if exposed, so the young characters awaken at dusk and spend their productive time at night. Their parents have been lost to disease, or gone for help and never returned. They are living in a sort of cabin-shack in the northwestern woods where every once in a while an ancient tree topples over with a deafening crash. They have created rituals to help them remember “The Mommy” and the good food they used to eat. And yet, the play was not about how all this happened. Murray simply placed these young characters in a dystopic world where they struggle to survive, create a family, find love, and establish their individual identity. It is a story about people, not of the environmental events that placed them there.

Scene from Treefall at Rogue Machine Theatre Los Angeles, 2009. Photo: Stephanie Kerley Schwartz.

We stripped our theatre bare, and set Treefall wall to wall in the wide space. Instead of scene changes, we moved the actors to the places in the story. I put out a call to the company: “Bring us your un-used electronics, the ones you were saving to take to a responsible recycler.” I placed the main platforms on piles of discarded computers, video game consoles, phones, keyboards, printers, and miles and miles of cables and wires. In Treefall, electricity is no longer being generated, so all of these things were now obsolete.

It seemed important to use as much recycled and re-purposed material as possible. This drove the design process. The walls of the cabin were made of scavenged wooden shipping pallets. I had saved some thick green-edged acrylic panels from a big-budget project, and we placed them against the walls and patched up seams with silver compact discs (CDs) and more of the wires. A friend who designs for television gave me access to some pieces of linoleum flooring that would have been thrown away. From another set, we found some scraps of corrugated metal. It was a huge world; besides the cabin interior, there was a hill with a water feature for the pond at the top, a library, a ransacked store. It was also important to represent the forest somehow. I blew up some photos I had taken in Maine and Oregon of fallen and upright trees, and placed them against crushed Mylar space blankets to create a collage of mirror and forest—a metaphor for the danger of sunlight and those dying trees. It was a joy to design this show and a major success for Rogue Machine (and yes, we recycled all those electronics).

Scene from Treefall at Rogue Machine Theatre Los Angeles, 2009. Photo: Stephanie Kerley Schwartz.

In Steven Leigh Morris’ review of Treefall for LA Weekly, a quote grabbed me; “What’s surprising is how few plays, and playwrights, are grappling with what is obviously the most profound concern of our era: the damage we’re inflicting on the ecology of our planet.” The idea for HeatWave came after I designed Treefall. My artist friends were participating in “calls for work” relating to the environment and I wondered, Where is my theatre community in this dialogue? We were behind. The biggest crisis of our era and the theatre wasn’t addressing it! The challenge is to create stories that are more than just grim laments. Air pollution, dirty water, traffic congestion, food deserts, lack of parks and playgrounds—most of these problems disproportionately affect people struggling to make it in lower-income neighborhoods. Los Angeles is a city full of small grass-roots organizations fighting to make things better where they live. What if a bunch of playwrights could hear their stories? Could see the human beings impacted by this crisis?

HeatWave group explores the TreePeople Learning Center, September 12, 2012. Photo: Stephanie Kerley Schwartz.

HeatWave opening gathering at TreePeople on September 29, 2012. Photo: Stephanie Kerley Schwartz.

In September of 2012, HeatWave brought environmental justice groups and theatre artists together at the TreePeople Conference Center to learn from each other. Grass-roots activist groups spent the day presenting inspiring stories of the hard work they are doing to improve conditions in their communities and our world. The event was a well-attended success, and we are grateful to Union de Vecinos, Aguas con el Agua in Maywood, Plastic Pollution Coalition, Heal the Bay, and other groups who came and shared their stories. As a side note—thanks in part to TreePeople and hardworking volunteers; we managed to feed everyone lunch with a zero-waste outcome.
HeatWave/Rogue Machine participated in the Climate Change Theatre Action (CCTA) which took place last November to coincide with the COP21 climate talks in Paris. We presented eleven short plays involving nine directors, fifteen actors, four musicians, a projection designer, a phalanx of volunteers, and a whole bunch of samosas. The feature of the evening (besides the plays) was a harrowing presentation by NASA-JPL scientist Josh Fisher. The devastating evidence he presented drew gasps from the audience, and was a sobering reminder that we must, to quote host Belinda Waymouth, “Use everything we’ve got,” to make change. In his essay from Ecopsychology, Roszak writes:

…the environmental movement has other means to draw upon besides shocking and shaming the public it wishes to win over… What do people need, what do they fear, what do they want? What makes them do what they do: reason or passion? Above all, what do they love?

I believe that theatre techniques hold pathways to explore and answer those questions. More and more plays and productions are being made that address these issues and ask more questions. How do we live now? How do we find the power to respond to devastating changes that seem inevitable, relentless, and tragic? How do we still go on with our lives in the most humane way possible?
The work keeps coming. The plays are being written. The dance pieces are being choreographed. The designs are more thoughtful. The equipment is being re-designed to use less power. We consider the waste stream, and we have recycling groups and Craigslist to recycle set pieces. But there will always be more to do—we need to get beyond grief and get into living with it. We can’t go on. We must go on. We will go on. We are using everything we’ve got.

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Stephanie Kerley Schwartz is a freelance scenic and costume designer based on the West Coast. She is the Resident Designer at Rogue Machine Theatre. Her design work has been seen all over Southern California in theatres large and small, and has received many awards and nominations. Her short fiction has been published in the Santa Monica Reviewand multiple literary blogs.

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

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I’m going to be honest with you: artists can’t save the world.

Though I’m a tireless optimist and probably a slightly naive idealist, even I know: it’s not going to happen. Artists may make the most amazing tapestry out of carrots or powerful and politically charged paintings, on an institutional level, very little changes. What we really need is systems change. Diana Scherer. Rug made out of roots. The Regeneration Exhibition, Transnatural Arts & Design, Amsterdam. 190 cm x 100 cm.

Luckily, the world doesn’t need to be saved. It will be just fine. Those who could do with a bit of help are human beings. If we want our societies and natural environments to (still) be pleasant/liveable in the future, our economic, political, and societal structures need to be re-invented now.

Our crashing economies, fossil fuel-based energy over-consumption, and deregulated climate are just a few examples that prove that our current systems are broken in many ways. And lone wolves – whether they’re artists or not – are generally not well-positioned to instigate systems change.

Better able to make that kind of large-scale change from within the realm of the arts, are the museums. An institution (just like a business) can be a key interface between government and the public, and a museum is traditionally a place for ideas, dialogue, knowledge, and fresh perspectives. However, many major European museums grew out of the colonial regime of the 19^th century. Natural History Museums in particular – where you can see stuffed animals through the lens of colonialism and exoticism – feel painfully and embarrassingly outdated in the 21^st century. This makes them institutions par excellence to take the lead on the discourse around post-colonialism, mass extinction, and climate change. Alfred Russel Wallace (1823-1913) was a British naturalist regarded as a pre-eminent collector and field biologist of tropical regions in the 19th century.  He was an explorer, geographer, anthropologist, biologist and writer.

Independent curators Anna-Sophie Springer and Etienne Turper have come to the rescue. They work with Natural History Museums worldwide to help them “re-purpose themselves as relevant agents for change in the Anthropocene.” The duo works with permanent collections to change the role of the curator from a caretaker of objects to a producer of knowledge. According to Turper, museums needs to respectfully respond to science but also connect to the outside world. Through their project “Reassembling the Natural,” and specifically the exhibition cycle “Disappearing Legacies: The World as Forest,” Anna-Sophie and Etienne work directly with scientists and propose new takes on specimens in existing collections. They suggest a different response in order to create a new understanding of the present through history.
A Taxonomy of Palm Oil, installation by Anna-Sophie Springer and Etienne Turpin, as part of the exhibition “Emergent Ecologies: NYC Edition.“

In a Skype interview in February 2017, Etienne remarked: “It’s shocking how conservative the institutions are. The scientists are really smart, the activists are really smart, the artists are really smart – everyone is smart and still it’s so challenging to get this moving forward. What I find most challenging is to realize that this attempt is just a drop in the bucket. The urgency and complexity of this global challenge requires so much more (…) and yet it’s still challenging for the institutions to overcome their hurdles to get on with their job. That’s shocking to see; in 2017, we’re still slowing down our work on this. What we want to communicate is the scope in terms of the size of our problems as well as the speed of the transformation, and how that connects to us.”

Institutional responsibility includes practicing what you preach; a museum exhibition is per definition a wasteful practice. Toxic materials are used for painting and photography, huge installations are built and flown all over the world, and venues (often big and monumental) spend precious energy keeping temperatures and humidity levels within a narrow range, and lighting spaces to make the work as aesthetically enticing as possible. The business of showing art doesn’t allow for easy compromises. However, there has been significant improvements. Since 2012, all Major Partner Museums (as well as National Portfolio Organizations) of Arts Council England are required to report on their environmental impacts, using Julie’s Bicycle advanced carbon calculators which were designed specifically for the cultural sector. Museums, as well as other cultural institutions, are starting to understand their environmental impact. New tools help to measure and reduce energy, water, waste, recycling, travel (audience, business touring) and production materials. With arts funding continuously drying out in Europe, more and more arts funding bodies are looking at this pioneering collaboration, if not for the planet, for their pockets. In 2013-2014, Julie’s Bicycle’s identified savings of 7,063 tons of CO2 or £1.25 million compared to the previous year.The Happy Museum Project  looks at how the museum sector can respond to the challenge of creating a more sustainable future.

Furthermore, museums are becoming increasingly aware that they will lose credibility with their audiences if they keep on accepting funding from Big Oil. How can a climate change exhibition in the Science Museum be sponsored by Shell? The organization Platform has been questioning these partnerships and pioneering a divesting movement through their Art Not Oil campaigns, targeting major museums such as the British Museum, Science Museum London, and Tate.
Performers from the Art not Oil coalition calling for an end to BP sponsorship at the British Museum September 2016. Photo by Anna Branthwaite, image courtesy of Art Not Oil.

These are just a few examples showcasing what institutional transformation in the arts could look like. But it is painfully apparent that this movement is spearheaded by people outside of museums; independent curators, activists, and charities. Museum staff, it’s your call now! Putting up exhibitions about climate change and mass extinctions was step one, but after talking the talk, it’s now time to walk the walk….

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

In preparing for a submission to an international art competition on climate change, I came across The Yale Program on Climate Change Communication (YPCCC), a dedicated program within Yale University’s School of Forestry and Environmental Studies. Fascinated by their research on public climate change attitudes, behaviors, knowledge, and policy preferences, I reached out to Associate Director, Lisa Fernandez, whose insights guided my application. What I learned from her and from studying the program’s data convinced me that the work of YPCCC is critical to artists of all disciplines whose art is focused on stimulating awareness of, and action against, man-made climate change. Specifically, Lisa called my attention to Global Warming’s “Six Americas.”

I have been as guilty as other artists who may assume that their creative expressions against an alarming global threat will be endorsed by an audience of like-thinkers and will convert those who think otherwise. But, in fact, the research conducted by YPCCC indicates that it is not so simple. They explain:

There is no one public response to climate change. Instead there are different audiences or “interpretive communities” within society who each respond to the issue in their own distinct ways. One of the first rules of effective communication is “know thy audience” – including who they are, what they currently understand or misunderstand about climate change, their perceptions of the risks, their underlying values, attitudes, and emotions, where they get their information, whom they trust, etc.

In other words, understanding your broader audience is a ‘critical first step’ to actually impacting their beliefs and actions.

According to the research, first conducted by YPCCC in 2008 and then updated as recently as 2016, there are six distinct American audiences with regards to climate change: the alarmed, the concerned, the cautious, the disengaged, the doubtful and the dismissive. Only the alarmed, representing just 18% of Americans, are fully convinced of the threat posed by climate change and are taking some sort of action to address it. Although the concerned, at 34% of the population, agree that it is a significant reality, they have not yet become actively involved in addressing the issue. The rest of the population are not yet fully convinced of the global dangers posed by climate change. (See video explaining the six Americans.)

Just as other groups interested in generating support for actions to combat climate change (such as environmental organizations, local, state, and national governments, businesses and the media, etc.) are using the framework of the Six Americas to direct their messages, so do artists need to consider the six diverse audiences of Americans if they want to effect real changes in attitudes.

The resources contained on the YPCCC’s website are extensive and include additional information on audiences and their opinions, the barriers to behavioral change and climate action, what messages are best for engaging different audiences and combatting misinformation on climate change. The New York Times recently highlighted the research of YPCCC in its article, “How Americans Think About Climate Change, in Six Maps.”

Two maps from the article shown above reveal a clear disconnect between the responses to the statements: (Left) Global warming will harm people in the United States, vs. (Right) Global warming will harm me personally. The responses on the left show that most people know climate change is happening (Light yellow-red being 50% – 100% agree) but those on the right indicate that most don’t believe it will hurt them (Light Blue to Dark Blue being 0% – 50% agree). Source: Yale Program on Climate Change Communication

I asked Lisa Fernandez, Associate Director of YPCCC, the following questions related to the work of the program of the YPCCC and the artist’s role in addressing climate change:

What other YPCCC resources are particularly relevant to artists?

We have an outreach and communication arm called “Yale Climate Connections” that tells stories about global warming from many different perspectives, using the written word, video, and audio.  There is a daily 90-second radio show that has so far told nearly 700 stories, aired on more than 300 stations across the country (it’s also available as a podcast). There are a number of stories about art and climate, and we’re always looking for more material, especially if it’s focused on what people can do to address global warming. You can submit suggestions here.

What is the single most important thing that artists can do to address climate change?

Don’t underestimate the importance of “preaching to the choir,” (as well as to the other 4 Americans.) The single most common question people who are alarmed and concerned ask is “what can I do to make a difference?”  It actually makes a lot of sense to address your work to these two groups because you don’t need to convince them that it’s happening and that humans are causing it.  You can spend your energies engaging them in solutions.  There is tremendous potential here that is not yet tapped.

Why are you hopeful that we will ultimately be successful in reducing the effects of climate change?

Because of the energy that we see growing among the alarmed and the concerned to protest inaction (the People’s Climate March is gathering steam for April 29^th in DC) and the increasingly widespread innovations that are proceeding apace in the business sector and states and cities. There are many examples in our radio stories. I think the profitability and quality of life improvements of the new energy economy are unstoppable, even given the orientation of the current administration. Former NYC Mayor Bloomberg has a great piece on why he remains optimistic.

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Susan Hoffman Fishman is a public artist, painter, photographer and educator whose work has been exhibited widely in galleries and museums throughout the country. Her mixed media paintings address current social and political issues.

In 2011, Susan established a long-term partnership with fellow artist, Elena Kalman to create socially relevant, interactive, public art projects. Their current, on-going works include The Wave, a national installation which addresses our mutual dependence upon and responsibility to protect water, and HOME, which calls attention to homelessness and the on-going need for affordable housing in our cities and states.

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