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For #NationalPoetryMonth, Joan Sullivan interviews UK poet Matt Harvey. This is the fourth installment of Renewable Energy Artworks, a monthly series on Artists & Climate Change.

Matt Harvey has written a lovely little book of poetry inspired by renewable energy. Published in 2014, The Element in the Room is dedicated to “all those unsung souls quietly doing what they can to bring renewable energy to their communities.”

Short-and-sweet, the book is deceptively whimsical. Harvey opens his book with apologies to Dr. Seuss:

Energy cannot die – it’s just redeployed
it can’t be created, it can’t be destroyed
it can’t be frustrated, it won’t get annoyed
it can’t be upset, it can’t get in a mood
but it can be renewed and renewed and renewed

Featuring 32 poems – some several pages long, others as short as two lines – the book contains a variety of poetic styles, including a sonnet, a country and western song, and a prose poem cleverly entitled The Not-For-Prophit, as in:

“I didn’t say it would be easy.
A set charge per tonne of carbon emissions
would do more to save the planet
than any amount of recycling
and green poetry anthologies.”

Harvey also includes three “crowd-sourced” poems in his book. These are poems created through a process that Harvey calls “decimal democracy” in which the poet challenges his audiences to vote on a theme and then collectively contribute individual lines that are later taped together into a coherent (or not!) ensemble. As an example, here are a several lines from the crowd-sourced ode Turbines Are Beautiful:

Friendly sentry standing on a hillside giving us power
Bladed beauties, air cleavers
Daddy! Look, a windy bine!
What, no cooling towers?

The book also contains an important foreword by Jonathon Porritt, Founding Director of the Forum for the Future and author of The World We Made, a book we reviewed on Artists & Climate Change in 2014.

Readers of the Artists & Climate Change blog will recognize the prescience of Mr. Porritt’s words:

“Through time, poets and artists of all kinds have held a mirror up to society, to help us reflect and engage with some of the fundamental questions we face. Energy cannot be considered from an entirely intellectual perspective; energy generation is the unrecognized beating heart of our culture, the invisible ingredient in our diets, the unseen web that binds us to each other, to our places of work and our places of fun, and to strange people in strange lands. We cannot hope to grasp the magnificent complexity of this without art (emphasis added).”

With solar panels on his own roof, Harvey clearly is a fan of renewable energy: “I’ve always liked the look of wind turbines.”  But he does not shy away from controversial topics, notably NIMBYism (An Unchanging View) and consumerism (Less is More). He devotes no less than six poems to explore resistance to wind development, and why wind turbines seem to be “loved by many and loathed by some.”

If I had to choose my favorite tongue-in-cheek line in the book, it would have to be this:

“Don’t look a gift source in the mouth”

Let me end this post with Harvey’s playful paean to solar energy:

A Radiant Romance

To fly so far, so fast
And land so gently

Upon a panel on planet Earth

Eight and a third minutes old
And worth its weightlessness in gold

Fallen, faded and cooled

Then to be told,
‘Oi photon. Get your coat on.
You’ve been pulled.’

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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HAND TO VINE
PAW TO WING
IN KINSHIP WE STAND
WITH ALL LIVING THINGS

PASS THE SPARK
FROM HEART TO HEART
TOGETHER WE WALK
THROUGH LIGHT AND DARK

Lyric selection as sung by the 360 million-year-old Firerock in Sparksong from Firerock: Pass The Spark from Heart to Heart.

Firerock: Pass the Spark is a project that combines community engagement with climate change through the ancient practices of singing and storytelling. At its core is a mythical, warm-hearted, family-friendly musical production that illuminates our disconnection from ourselves, each other, and our living world, as well as the negative impacts of extractive industries. This musical storytelling project is a scalable, open-source, DIY project that anyone can produce. Performances are integrated with activities intended to build community and create spaces for dialogue and sustained collective action. Ultimately, Firerock strengthens our connections and focuses on what we can do to adapt, create resilience and solutions, and combat the worst impacts of climate change.

When I began Firerock, I decided to commit ten years of my life to the project. I set out to apply to climate change the lessons I had learned as a social engagement artist who worked around the globe with many communities including border towns (Littleglobe), homeless shelters (EU Festival of Culture), arts and hospice (Lifesongs) and many more. I was daunted by theme-based projects and yet morally compelled to do my best to bring whatever I could to the vast network of cultural expressions rising up in the face of such disaster.

Generally, I seek to bring a spirit of experimental artmaking to my work and I tend to focus on the cultivation of a few key conditions: 1) The experience of healthy and dignifying relationships; 2) Feeling connected to something larger than ourselves; and 3) Forms for meaningful participation. While there are many more conditions I care about fostering in social practice, I have found that these three have been essential for the kind of work that I am most interested in – namely personal and social healing through creative vitality. Firerock is an expression of this.

Many of us who are called to address climate change know it is an effort woven from heart and commitment. I had been working as an artist-composer, professor, and activist, creating art and social engagement projects for many years. So I started where I often start – by writing music. Working with my collaborator, Luis Guerra, we birthed the beginnings of Firerock in New Mexico. Soon, a group of immensely committed collaborative artists and cultural workers came together to make the Firerock team. Over the past years, we have taken a deep dive together and have done our best to create something that would pierce what we call in Firerock, The Snooze, the thick slumber of disconnection from ourselves, each other, and our planet. We set out to create something that would inspire a sense of possibility, and lead to sustained engagement and solutions. We have done this together and with hundreds of people from different communities through generative workshops. Firerock is a form of creative social evolution itself.

Firerock has been developed in workshops at universities, high schools, churches, with First Nations communities, coal miners and many others. The project will launch in New Mexico in the fall 2017 with a production and release of three DIY forms. We have focused on creating a story that captures the heart and imagination, and can hold up as each place makes it its own. Our small team works with local organizers and regional and national partners to create educational materials to support local DIY Firerockers. We are careful not to remake forms that have been so carefully created by others.

Reciprocity – NYC Workshop 2014 from Firerock Musical on Vimeo.

The attempt to make something as broad as climate feel intimate has been a great challenge. We often get compared to the Vagina Monologues in terms of the structure of the project. It must be stated, however, that everyone has a pretty good sense of a vagina. Climate, on the other hand, can feel very distant, abstract, and overwhelming. Artist of all kinds have tackled this in many ways as it is the power of our path – to make the world intimate. Many artists are documenting the wreckage and insanity growing around us. This approach is absolutely vital as part of a spectrum of creative expressions required for change. Our team, however, is interested in participatory story-making, and how our stories come alive through engagement – not simply through encountering the story. We want to give life to remembered, renewed, and new narratives that are truly regenerative.

Through the development of this project, some team members have stayed steady and solid, and others have come and gone. There have been delays. Deaths, babies, marriages, divorces, and other life events have happened and changed us. Each member has shown immense commitment and care. Funders and partners have been supportive, or at times, have gotten frustrated. Mistakes have been made. For a mostly volunteer team, working professionally around the globe, we have not been daunted but we have repeatedly needed to examine our commitments at different times and identify what we can and cannot do. This is an important process particularly when we are working in the realm of what is sustainable for all of us.

This project has many challenges. These challenges, together with our current political assaults, demand that we learn and grow better as a team and as a community through a process of trial and error. Since there are no simple solutions, the challenges make us increasingly clear and precise. For this, I am grateful. During the challenges – whether we are wrangling with the ins and outs of climate justice storytelling, funding, team issues, a difficult musical transition, personal ebbs and flows, fatigue, and more – I often return to what gives me the most joy… and that is the songs, the story and the unique way I have seen small communities take the work and make it their own. I never fail to see immense resource, power, and creativity in individuals and communities and I am reminded that inspiration and heart-felt connection can carry us a long, long way.

______________________________

Molly Sturges (artistic director/facilitator/composer/performer/activist/and creativity consultant) has worked with individuals & communities around the globe for over twenty years focusing on creativity, healing, and social transformation. Sturges is the founding artistic director of Littleglobe, a diverse artist collaborative devoted to arts and social transformation, and both Lifesongs (an intergenerational arts, aging, and hospice program) and the Institute for Living Story at the Academy for the Love of Learning. Molly is a United States Artist Fellow in Music and served for six years on the faculty of the University of New Mexico’s Arts & Ecology program.

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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Phantom Limb Company produces visually stunning work for the stage that combines dance and puppetry. Co-founded in 2007 by artist, director, and set designer Jessica Grindstaff, and composer and puppet maker Erik Sanko, Phantom Limb has been developing a trilogy of shows that grapples with humans’ relationship to nature and climate change. The first show, 69˚S., inspired by Sir Ernest Shackleton’s 1914 Trans-Antarctic Expedition, opened in 2011 and toured extensively. The second show, Memory Rings, played at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in November 2016. Memory Rings refers to both the resonance and impact of 4784 years of a living being, and the poetry of age shown through dendrochronology – the science of dating events by using the characteristic patterns of annual growth rings in trees. The final piece, Falling Out, a cross-cultural collaboration with Japan, is currently in development.

Jessica answered a few questions for Artists & Climate Change about the company’s process of researching and creating these pieces.

The icebergs melt, nature is defeated in 69ËšS. Brooklyn Academy of Music, 2011. Photo by Pavel Antonov.

You are working on a trilogy of shows that engage with the environment. Can you talk about how and why you conceived these shows?

In 2009, we started with a concept that involved putting performers on stilts in a white expanse. When we imagined this, the Frank Hurley photographs of the Endurance expedition (Ernest Shackleton’s attempt to traverse the continent of Antarctica) came to mind. We began to develop ideas for a retelling of this story when I discovered there was a grant that would support artists to travel to Antarctica. One of the questions in the grant was about broader impacts. I started to think deeply about the idea of retelling a story that many people already knew and what difference it could make in a contemporary context. Shackleton’s leadership skills are what make that story so profound today. In fact, people have written books on his leadership style – how it saved the lives of every single person on the expedition. Historically, polar explorers would pre-sell press rights to their journeys and have the queen or prime minister prompt them to do anything to follow through with their initial intentions. You see it over and over again in these early exploration stories. Shackleton stood out because in a moment of crisis, he stopped, took a new look at his situation, and changed his objectives and the values of the mission for the greater good of the group. We started to look at this as an example for leadership in our own country and in our communities, specifically around the topic of climate. As leaders, will we continue to forge ahead with our original objectives regardless of what happens around us, or can we remain fluid and adaptable?

In the end, we got the grant to go to Antarctica and we spent about a month there, collecting visual and aural data, visiting Shackleton and Scott’s historic huts, and having extensive meetings with scientists. This was a life changing trip on many levels. We were awestruck by the continent itself, like a trip to Mars, unlike anything you have ever experienced before. But more importantly, we developed a new passion for working with science, scientists, and environmental issues.

It was at this time that we made a decision to dedicate the next decade of our life to making a trilogy about humans’ connection to nature, and our uncertain future.

What qualities do puppets possess that make them good spokespersons for the environment?

They don’t actually speak. They leave space. A puppet works through empathy. Erik’s puppets have an uncanny ability to draw people in in a way that they often can’t explain. People leave with images that stay with them for a long time, and they keep thinking about the narrative and topics well after the performance is over. Direct, instructive, didactic information about climate seems to slide right off of most people’s back. The puppets somehow manage to creep into our most vulnerable parts, and resonate.

What do you look for when you do research? For example, did you have an idea before you went to Antarctica?

We’re both visual artists and Erik is a composer so we attach ourselves to image and sound first. We find sources that inspire us and then dig deeper.

I was immediately attracted to satellite images showing changes to sea ice around Antarctica so I knew I wanted to have our video artists play with animating that and making it a part of the landscape.

Erik and I found out that there was an active volcano near the base where we were staying, and a glacier slowly traveling across it. That was immediately inspiring – the idea of a raging volcanic source surrounded by ice. We sought out scientists who were working with that particular volcano and found a bank of sounds that had been recorded over a long period and then sped up 100 times to be audible. This became the sound of the impending breakup of the ship in our narrative.

We also knew we’d have access to the men’s original clothes. The huts have been preserved as if the men had left yesterday so we carefully documented the garments for historic re-creation.

We had access to the journals of the log keeper from the Endurance expedition and poured over those for days on end. For our show Memory Rings, we went through extreme measures to locate the world’s oldest living tree, found it, and documented it in ways that are integral to the tapestry of the final piece.

Research and expedition are key elements to our developmental process. I am in the process now of creating an itinerary in Japan that involves the Fukushima region, Butoh, and Japanese puppetry.

With a radically changed political climate in the US, many government agencies silenced, and information about climate change removed from websites, what do you hope your work can accomplish?

The same thing I wanted it to accomplish before. I’m not a radical protestor; I’m an artist who creates visual poetry. The only tool I have is the work that I do together with Erik. It moves people, it makes them lean in and listen a little more closely, and it inspires them to do their own important work within their communities.

The one goal that I have for the final piece is to get it outside of New York and Los Angeles so that we can expand the conversation and engage people who aren’t already aware of humans’ impact on climate change. We always have seminars, panel discussions with climate scientists, workshops, and other types of outreach when we present our work. We are committed to keeping the dialogue going outside of the theatre as a vital part of our work.  We’ve also begun to teach a bit and I think teaching students how to make work that has social implications while still speaking to them as artists is crucial.

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

Address it. When we started creating work that was about climate, it wasn’t very au courant. The topic has since had its rise and fall, and now the hot topic is you-know-who and immigration and diversity… Everything is important always, but nothing else will matter when all of our coastal cities and settlements are underwater. No other issue is as time sensitive.

Additionally, all artists have a responsibility to evaluate their development process and look for ways to be more efficient and produce less waste.

What gives you hope?

Small things. My 4 year-old daughter. A visit to my grandparent’s home, which was built the year I was born. There is a weeping birch tree at the top of the rolling hill of wildflowers that sweeps down to a little shaded valley of ferns and a stand of pines on the edge of a lake. It is amazing to watch a tiny piece of the planet that has brought so much joy grow and change and stay the same. My daughter sits under the branches of the same birch – “the story tree” – and tells stories with her great-grandmother.

(Top image: Shackleton and his men in 69˚S. Brooklyn Academy of Music, 2011. Photo by by Pavel Antonov.)

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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Since November, I’ve been engaging in more and more conversations around climate. Some formal, like the series of Environmental Justice Roundtables at The Lark, and the formation of Climate Lens (a collective of theatre-makers connecting on climate issues); others informal, like brainstorming with my collaborators about addressing climate issues through our theatre practices. These conversations, in their various forms, are inspiring in the sense of like-minded individuals sharing experiences and support toward bettering our collective future as humans on Earth. More than the “echo chambers” of social media, these in-person discussions make manifest a harness-able positive energy. It is increasingly easy to succumb to fear and discouragement, but I remain steadfast in the power of narrative to buoy us through these dark times, and want to reclaim narrative around issues of power itself to persist in the path to justice.

A majority of Americans are in support of governmental regulations on climate issues, yet the current administration wants to draw back what measures have already been put in place, because why listen to science anyway?! There are also climate denial conferences, like this month’s Conservative Political Action Conference, focused on diminishing the negative impacts of increased carbon in the atmosphere, in turn misrepresenting scientific consensus on what more carbon dioxide means for various life forms on Earth. What can be done to elevate our daily conversations to overcome the will of the powers-that-be? This month, I was inspired by Nicholas Kristof’s Op-Ed piece in the New York Times, And Jesus Said Unto Paul of Ryan, a commentary on the U.S. health care battle. I wanted to take a stab at a mythical conversation between a couple of the men in power, and my ideal of a positive shift in their positions on an issue for which they have such sway.

Rex Tillerson and Scott Pruitt are seated at a bar, unwinding with tall cocktails after a long, hard day at the office. Raising their glasses, they toast each other on their current positions: Tillerson – former ExxonMobil CEO – as Secretary of State for Trump’s USA, and Pruitt – former Oklahoma Attorney General – as Head of the Environmental Protection Agency. Rex indicates with his glass: “Cheers, Scotty, to another day of fossil-fueled success.” In return, Scott raises his: “To a future where the environment is ours!”

Upon the clinking of their glasses, a gust of wind rustles their salt-and-pepper hairs. Mother Nature bursts onto the scene, surrounded by a posse of interspecies collaborators. Discombobulated yet curious, Tillerson and Pruitt trail Mother Nature, observing her various encounters.

“What is she doing? What could she be thinking?” Tillerson and Pruitt mutter to themselves, as Mother Nature becomes the life of the party among a group of climate scientists.

“They say they are carbon-based life forms, that if they control carbon, they control life,” Mother Nature starts. “Well, they are right about carbon as necessary for life, but controlling life? It’s a misrepresentation, an alternative perspective with no testable evidence.” The climate scientists join her in flabbergasted chatter about “global greening” as an excuse to continue business-as-usual, blinded to human impact on the environment.

“We’ll tax the carbon, we’ve already got that plan in the works,” says Scott, leaning into Rex. Rex nods, adding “Taxes will get the job done! We don’t need any of those pesky regulations; they crush American businesses.”

Mother Nature turns on the punitive men: “Rex, your former position at the top seat of one of the world’s largest oil organizations illuminated the threat of mounting carbon dioxide levels. You now occupy a top seat in the executive branch. Speak out against Trump’s gutting of the Clean Power Plan!” Mother Nature whirls him around, unveiling images of devastation across the globe.

“And you!” Mother Nature gusts to Scott: “You’ve initiated, signed onto, or filed briefs in fourteen different lawsuits challenging the EPA’s climate regulations. And you think you’re apt to head the agency yourself? We are watching.” Again, she leaves the men whirling, finally able to see for themselves that they have a stake in the threat of large-scale inaction.

She makes her way to a throng of renewable energy workers. Rex and Scott are fixated. “Solar panel installers? Wind turbine salesmen? What’s American about that?” Pruitt whines. “The real American jobs come from real American pipelines!” Tillerson adds. Mother Nature guides them by the shoulders, “It’s not just about America. Pipelines run through Canada, using steel from across the world. Consider the images I have laid out for you. To recuse yourself from a decision on the Keystone XL Pipeline, Rex, is irresponsible, given what you know of the potential dangers from your time at Exxon. Renewable energy projects harness what is already coming straight to America. They work with Americans and for Americans.” And just as quickly as she arrived, Mother Nature is gone in a gust. Rex and Scott take in a breath, for the first time savoring the clean air afforded to them, their heads still spinning with the images, and their roles – our role as privileged Americans – in a broader context.

As Spring tentatively approaches in the Northeastern United States, I’m looking forward to conversation, with the environment, about the environment, and concerning the stories we tell about ourselves. My practice as a theatre maker revolves around narrative, and I am seeking now more than ever narratives that empower the vulnerable (human and non-human), that imagine a world where power is distributed equitably. I’m also looking forward to engaging with Mother Nature and her cohort at some upcoming Marches, including the March for Science on April 22 and the People’s Climate March on April 29. Physical displays of community, solidarity, joy, and persistence towards justice. My collaborators and I are sketching out creative elements to offer to these gatherings, ways to use our practice in narrative to target specific climate-justice concerns in support of these marches’ broader message. I look forward to sharing these creative actions as they come together next month. And persisting all the while!

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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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Mutation, 100 x 80 x 65. Colored wrapping paper and recycled materials.

I was born in 1974 in Romania to Greek immigrant parents. In 1980, my family was repatriated, and since then I have lived and worked in Serres, Greece. Serres is a small city with a population of around 100,000 inhabitants, located in the northern part of the country, eighty kilometers away from Thessaloniki. I live here with my wife and our two children in a house with a rather large yard, where I also have my studio. I feel fortunate since this arrangement allows me to easily divide my time between my family and my sculpting work. Having my studio next to the place where I live is essential to me. It is part of the normal flow of my life; I grew up in a ceramics studio working with my father, a visual artist himself, who often resorted to the study of nature to get ideas for his ceramic creations. I believe it was then that the idea of observing nature from a different perspective was unconsciously planted in me. It has compelled me to continue to observe the natural environment to this day, as well as the changes that occur in it.

This idea remained with me when I enrolled in the School of Sculpting Art, located on the island of Tinos, to study classical marble sculpture. After my graduation in 2001, I received a scholarship to continue my studies at the University of Athens’ School of Fine Arts. While studying there, I was fortunate to have exceptional and inspiring teachers like Theodoros Papayannis. It was also there, because I had to meet a series of requirements from the faculty, that I begun to consciously recognize nature as a storage of ideas. This marked the beginning of the creation of my first organic forms. I draw elements from the natural environment (plants, cocoons, fruits, living organisms), as well as from industrial materials and residues from our contemporary world. Then, through a variety of optical angles, I observe, conceive, and finally proceed to the fabrication of my “biomorphic forms.” Yet, although my work derives from an observation of the natural world, I try to avoid the representational mode. Instead, I strive to give new substance to my creations; an entirely new identity.Today, my efforts have moved towards expressing my growing unease about the genetic mutations that organisms must undergo in order to adapt to the constant technological changes of modern environments (i.e., genetically modified organisms, genetic pollution, technically mutant products, etc.). It is this feelings that gave rise to the series “Mutations” which, as described by art critics, is concerned with “foreshadowing mutations of organisms in a dystopian post-industrial era.”

Mutation, 80 x 80 x 75. Colored wrapping paper and recycled materials.

Drawing is almost always my starting point. My drawings continue to shape my work. However, when I move to other mediums, I don’t totally subject the work to the guidance of the initial drawings. Instead, I let the particularities of any medium lead me to new forms during the process towards completion.I wish to constantly challenge my audience. In fact, I hope that the people who see my sculptures learn to decode the complexity of the shapes I put before them through their own personal and subjective prisms. I don’t want to compliment viewers – to allow them to be passive. I like to challenge them to reflect on their choices and responsibilities within the living spaces of their actions. As the Greek critic Athina Schina remarks, it is in such a manner that viewers become better able to decode the “micro” or “mega” worlds that surround and besiege them.The works in my new series are made using white clay as the sole material. This natural, white matter, flexible yet also fragile, frees me from any compromises and limitations, thus avoiding the rather ephemeral nature typical of my previous works.

My new series titled “Findings” evolved from the previous series titled “Mutations,” which consists of works created using colored wrapping paper, as well as recycled cheap materials such as plastic, rubber, cartons and newspapers.

Finding (pottery white clay), 72x75x60. 

To conclude this brief self-presentation, I should note that it is not at all easy to pursue my artistic ambitions while living in Greece. We are in the middle of a difficult and grim financial crisis, where anything related to art is considered a luxury, and therefore expendable. However, I should also note that artists in Greece experienced a cultural crisis long before the advent of the economic one. I feel that new artists need to be freshly motivated. Most artists in Greece are unable to meet their basic living needs through their work alone. People interested in buying artworks are fewer and fewer and as a result, the number of galleries and art houses is dramatically dwindling.To many, it may sound strange that in such a discouraging socio-cultural and economic context, there are still people who talk about and value artistic creativity. Yet I make a concerted effort to remain optimistic, and hope that this plight will not prove detrimental to artistic inspiration in general. It is with such a hope that I prepare for a new exhibition of my recent work. It is going take place at the end of March at the exquisite ALMA Contemporary Art Gallery in Athens.

______________________________

Aris Katsilakis teaches Plastic and Pottery in the Department of Interior Architecture, Interior Design and Drawing Objects in the Technological Educational Institution of Serres, Greece. His work has been shown in some of the most influential galleries: He has presented solo exhibitions at Kalos & Klio Showroom (Thessaloniki), Kaplanon 5 (Athens), and House Papavasileiou (Serres), and participated in numerous group exhibitions at ALMA Contemporary Art Gallery, Kalos & Klio Showroom, Baton 7, Gallery Zoumboulakis, Gallery Myro, Kaplanon, House Shina, 8th Festival of Ancient Amphipolis, Municipal Gallery of Kallithea “Lambrakis,” 12th International Month of Photography, 11th International Month of Photography, and Biennale Internazionale Vicenza.

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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In the third instalment of her “Renewable Energy Artworks” monthly series, Artists & Climate Change writer Joan Sullivan interviews internationally acclaimed solar stained glass artist Sarah Hall in Toronto, Ontario. 

Before introducing Sarah Hall’s beautiful and important work, I feel compelled to describe briefly the rapidly evolving energy landscape within which she creates. For those who have neither the time nor inclination to read about distributed energy, feel free to skip the first three paragraphs.

Micro-generation is the production of electricity on a small scale – typically using renewable energy sources such as solar and wind – to help homeowners, schools, commercial and industrial buildings, religious centres, and municipalities offset all or a portion of their electricity needs. Electricity produced, consumed, and/or stored on-site is called “distributed” since it exists at the distribution edge of the interface between consumers and conventional transmission grids that carry electricity from distant centralized coal-fired, gas, nuclear, or hydroelectric power plants.

We have all seen rooftop photovoltaic (PV) solar installations; they are the most prominent example of distributed energy generation today.

In addition to being distributed, this energy is highly disruptive: consumer-centric distributed renewable energy generation will ultimately replace our aging, profit-centric, monopolistic, centralized power stations. Author and serial entrepreneur Tony Saba has famously predicted that the centralized system of fossil fuel-based energy generation will be obsolete by 2030. Just 13 years from now. In our lifetimes. This is huge.

So what does this have to do with artists, you may ask?

Historically, artists have embraced rapid change during times of great upheaval and disruption, such as the birth of the modern art movement at the beginning of the 20^th century that portended the chaos of two world wars.

In the 21^st century, climate change has already become the rallying cry for artists across the globe. If Tony Saba’s predictions come true, I believe artists will also draw inspiration from the massively disruptive energy revolution — currently underway — as we witness the emergence of virtual power stations that will blur the line between energy producers and energy consumers.

Canadian stained glass artist Sarah Hall is already doing just that. In fact, she has spent the last 10 years of her 40-year career pioneering the fusion of color, light, and photovoltaic technology for architectural glass.

Hall’s large solar glass installations include: “Waterglass” at Enwave Theatre at Toronto’s Harbourfront Centre (above); “Lux Gloria” at the Cathedral of the Holy Family in Saskatoon (below); “Lux Nova” at the University of British Colombia; “Leaves of Light” for the Life Sciences Building at York University in Toronto; and “The Science of Light” at Grass Valley Elementary School in Washington State, USA.

In a 2015 interview with Michael Todd, editor of The York University Magazine, Hall describes the evolution of her solar art glass installations:

“As a glass artist working in architectural installations, the idea to bring solar into my work came from a few sources which all converged within a couple of years. First, my mentor, Professor Ursula Franklin at Massey College, University of Toronto, encouraged me to explore connections to solar. Her physics colleagues in Santa Barbara had created a wonderful video “Power of the Sun” which she gave me. Second, I had seen many beautiful buildings in Europe creating in a technique called Building Integrated Photovoltaic (BIPV) and was convinced it was a great direction for solar. Third, I made connections in Canada, the US and Europe with architects and engineers working in the field of BIPV. Fourth, the studio in Germany where my work is produced made a prototype of art glass with embedded solar cells and encouraged me to create solar work. Fifth, and of great importance, was that I received a Chalmers Arts Fellowship from the Ontario Arts Council which gave me the time and resources to experiment with the integration of solar collection into my art glass projects. I am interested in using solar primarily as an environmental advocacy/educational tool.”

Hall further explained her multidisciplinary collaborative process to me:

“My projects are essentially collaborations with solar engineers. These projects have brought a rigour to my process of designing art glass because they require me to incorporate rigid graphic elements. There is a very big learning curve for everyone involved – and you need the team of engineers and electricians from the site to be on board with work they have never done before. This part of it can be very hard going and so I am very pleased with bringing many people into a new idea of solar – that it can both look beautiful and carry meaning.  The windows at the Cathedral in Saskatoon are important for me as a world first – a Cathedral whose stained glass windows are connected to the grid that results in an energy rebate for the Cathedral.”

Each of Sarah Hall’s solar glass installations is unique, beautiful and wondrous. Each converts solar energy into electricity, but the end use of that electricity varies according to the intended design of the architectural glass. For example, two of her solar installations – “Lux Nova” and “Leaves of Light” (below) – were designed to absorb and store sunlight into the structure by day and then, when darkness falls, use this stored electricity to illuminate/backlight the glass. The result is a stunning sculpture that glows in the dark.

In contrast, Hall’s “Waterglass” and “Lux Gloria” installations were designed specifically to produce clean electricity that feeds directly into their respective buildings’ energy systems.

I am particularly fond of Hall’s “Science of Light” installation at Grassy Valley Elementary School, which transforms the school’s main stairwell into an ever-changing flood of color and light, depending upon the time of day and season. This stairwell must be a delight for the students running up and down the stairs to their classes.

This “teaching” window was one element in a larger project designed by DOWA Portland architects Barry Deister and Keith Johnson to showcase a variety of green technologies at an elementary school in northwestern United States: a roof garden, wind turbines, a community garden, and Hall’s solar art glass. A lovely sitting area was created at the stairwell’s main landing to encourage students, parents, and staff to pause, contemplate and enjoy the transformative color and light show.

But what excites me most about this project is that Sarah designed it specifically “to delight, to teach, and to inspire.” The innovative use of solar cells embedded into the windows “offers students an ongoing lesson in science, ecology, and the positive use of technology.” How I wish I had gone to a school like this! I am sure that Hall’s magnificent teaching window will inspire many of these young students to study STEAM (science, technology, engineering, art, math) in order to learn to collaborate across disciplines – as Sarah Hall is doing – to design and build our post-carbon future.

Here is a short video on Hall’s solar glass for art and architecture:

All photos courtesy of Sarah Hall Studio.

Follow Joan Sullivan on Twitter @CleanNergyPhoto

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.

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This week, the Jan Van Eyck Academy, a post-academic institute for art, design and reflection in the quaint town of Maastricht (Netherlands), opened a Lab for artists to do Nature Research. In addition to offering a range of (amazing) facilities that can support woodwork, (RISO) printmaking, photography, video, and metalwork, the institute now acknowledges that nature is not only a great inspiration for artists, but the lack of it is a growing concern for many. The Van Eyck is positioning itself on the frontline of international pioneering art institutions that are enabling artists to explore in depth, through their work, their relationship to nature. The playground for this new Lab is a studio, garden, and greenhouse. Named after Jac. P. Thijsse, a famous Maastricht ecologist, the Lab gives artists an opportunity to do active research (get their hands dirty) and to consider the subject of nature in relation to ecological and landscape development issues. It’s supposedly a place to build bridges – between humankind and nature, but also between art and other disciplines, including agriculture, biology, botany, and (landscape) architecture.

The Jac. P. Thijsse Lab launched during the Van Eycks annual Open Studios with two works, including one by artist Marcus Coates who will be a Van Eyck advisor this year. Outside in the gardens, people could hear birds enthusiastically singing, ready for spring. Inside the Lab studio, however, it was revealed that the cheerful chirping outside was human voices replicating bird songs. Coates’s Dawn Chorus (2007) features individuals sitting in their own habitats – a car, an office, a bedroom, a school staff room – singing bird songs. For this project, Coates recorded birdsong of individual birds and then digitally slowed down the songs by up to 20 times. Singers from amateur choirs were asked to mimic this slowed down sound, which is similar in tone to the human voice. The recording was then sped up to the original speed of the birdsong, creating a magical transformation of the human voice into that of a bird. The work shows us a new way to look at nature and highlights our interconnectedness. Solely by changing the speed of the sound, we end up speaking  the same language.

In the greenhouse, a mysterious installation by artists Fabio Roncato (Van Eyck participant of 2016/2017) and Ryts Monet was found. It consisted of original bricks from the greenhouse, infused with a bright blue Yves Klein-esque pigment that reminds us of chapel ceilings in small Italian towns. A galvanised meteorite seemed to have crashed on the floor among the blue bricks – an invitation from the artists to reflect on the topic of the unknown landscape and the outer space. Their work shows that a greenhouse in the context of the Van Eyck is not just a place to grow plants; it is really a laboratory for ideas, questions, experiments, and reflections on the landscape in the widest sense of the word.

The van Eyck is not the only art institution that has picked up on artists’ growing interest in growing. Other great European places that accommodate artists unafraid to get their hands dirty include Prinzessinengarten (Berlin, Germany), ZKU (Berlin, Germany), Pollinaria (Abruzzo region, Italy), Grizedale Arts (Lake District, UK) and AtelierNL (Noordoostpolder, Netherlands) amongst others. In the last few years, even upmarket commercial gallery Hauser and Wirth re-purposed an old farm and garden in rural Somerset (UK) into an artist residence, complete with restaurant and exhibition space (see photo at the top of the page).

We live in times that force us to formulate a response to a wide range of serious environmental challenges: mass extinction, loss of biodiversity, climate change. However, these crises aren’t just disasters. They’re also great opportunities to demand and help build new systems that serve people and planet more equitably than neo-liberalism has. Moving away from the old systems requires a new mentality, which includes a big re-think of our relationship to the natural world. Is nature solely a resource for us to enjoy and plunder? Or are we nature? We are stuck in the idea that the world revolves around humans. This is why, not so long ago, we refused to believe Galileo Galilei. We, humans, want to be at the epicenter of it all. The potential for non-human narratives has barely entered our consciousness.

Moreover, we have become so addicted to fossil fuels and raw materials that humankind is now a climatic and, some scientists argue, geological force. A new geological epoch called the Anthropocene – which marks the commencement of significant human impact on the Earth’s geology and ecosystems – has now replaced the Holocene. This shift comes with a responsibility to ourselves, nature, and other species, and with plenty of new questions to grapple with. If art spaces that provide time for nature research can help artists to engage with some of these questions, we might be moving towards interesting answers.

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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Pages from the Frozen Sea is a scattering of photographs of the ways that ice can freeze a moment in time. Against a background of disappearing ice, the gathered photographs explore different ways to hold on to memory and emotion. Is it possible, as ice is melting more quickly than expected, to create a temporary stopgap? A photograph proposes a suspension of an experience, of an emotional state. It’s a suspension of disbelief, as if it might allow us to stop and steady ourselves, and find a way to think straight again (and reimagine the future).

Sarah Stengle and I wanted these explorations of ice to float in a digital sea. We wanted the pages to be fragmented and free, but to be considered a book all the same. We sent out an open call and received submissions from the US, Canada, England, Finland and Germany which we posted to a Facebook and an Instagram page.

Burning carbon is creating exponential change to the climate. Yes, fire and ice have always fought it out on this planet, but we’ve been working on the side of fire all these years now. Fire is winning. It would be wonderful to tell humans to cool it, because the rapid melting of the polar ice caps is terrifying. In the face of extreme weather, of upheaval and chaos, I think we feel frozen in our tracks. Freezing up is its own defense, and we lock down our fear inside ourselves.

Kafka imagines an interior emotional landscape that is trapped in ice. He writes, “a book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.” A book can break through by delivering life-affirming warmth, truth, inspiration, art and craft. You need to be free. Your wellspring needs to flow.

In thinking about extremes of temperature and art, Sarah and I talked about Olafur Eliasson’s glacier melting in Paris, about Andy Goldworthy’s icicles and David Hammons’ sidewalk sale of snowballs. We thought about the decentralized spirit of Yoko Ono’s work, and her instructions to: “use things until they melt.” The material and the moment change completely in the hands of each artist.

Sarah and I are now the caretakers of photos floating in a digital sea, gathering around an idea. It seems to me these floating photos possibly reverse the idea of a glacier fragmenting. Instead of dissipating and becoming less, they have the potential to become more. Maybe our book is a gathering of ice, a growing of ice. If Kafka’s book is an axe, maybe this book of ours is a crystal.

Aylin Green’s photo is of a frame frozen in ice: a freeze frame. It’s a portrait without a face, and darkly I feel I could know it well. There’s something important here, and if only it could be carefully melted, lovingly cared for, it would be revealed. Ice is very personal after all. They call this the Anthropocene age. Our stories are lurking everywhere on this planet, and this planet is lurking everywhere within us too.

Karian Blank seems to be documenting geology and her photo could easily belong in a natural history museum. Photographed in the cold, clear light of day, this specimen tells a prehistoric tale. When I learn that it’s pure invention and that the marks are the imprints of vintage buttons, I have to marvel at the power of stories we tell ourselves. The marks then may be seen as a form of human fossils.

Veronika Irwin’s photo of wire lace frozen in a thin layer of ice is mysterious. She expresses mathematical concepts through delicate lines that gain strength through repeated patterning. Her lines are vulnerable and loopy and yet they suggest strength and a quiet musicality. They prove a logic capable of replicating themselves ad infinitum. Inhabiting a pale light, for the moment, they bubble with possibility.

Sarah and I have felt our imaginations stretched as we viewed these and the many other submissions we received. As artists ourselves, we too have been creating ice pages. Sarah’s art is always alert to the drama that occurs when strangely ordinary materials come into relationships with one another. In her photo, there are what look like nails scattered on the floor of what could be an invented ice cave. I see elements of rough construction work below contrasted with finely crafted and futuristic-looking angles above. What Sarah was doing was not quite what I am seeing. Her method was simple but not obvious: she recorded what happened to blue ink, water, straight pins and the force of a magnet in freezing temperatures. Nature had a hand in creating her fiction.

My process was to freeze a photograph from a magazine into a chunk of ice, leaving the image trapped in a stubborn form (see picture at the top of the page). An image of snow-covered trees appears, as if it were a mirroring of beautiful surroundings, but it’s only a torn sheet of paper. An illusion. I don’t know if Kafka’s axe needs to break it open to reveal its emotions.

Sarah and I will keep growing our crystalline book of ice when we announce another open call for 2018. The form may change in a year’s time. The weather may change. This winter there were not enough cold days in Sarah’s Minneapolis or my New Jersey to freeze our art outside and, anti-heroically, our explorations happened in our kitchen freezers. This year was an El Nino year, and so our hope is that next winter will be colder. Pages from the Frozen Sea needs more cold to come together.

______________________________

Eva Mantell is co-curator with Sarah Stengle of Pages from the Frozen Sea. Other curating projects include Start Fresh at the Arts Council of Princeton and Windows of the Future at Carrier Clinic, NJ. Eva’s artwork has been exhibited at the Hunterdon Museum, Jersey City Museum, the Brooklyn Museum of Art and in ongoing projects with the arts collective Overflow. Upcoming exhibits include Natura Mathematica at Central Booking, NYC and Animal Architecture at the Monmouth Museum, NJ. Eva has a BA from Penn and MFA from the School of Visual Arts and lives in Princeton, NJ.

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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Plastic, plastic, every where,
All the fish are bereft;
Plastic, plastic, every where,
Not a soul is left.

I met Hong Kong painter Michelle Kuen Suet Fung at an artist residency in Alaska in 2016. She is a diminutive woman with a big smile, a big vision, and an even bigger heart. Four four weeks Michelle and I shared meals, living quarters, hikes, hopes, and worries, and together navigated the intricacies of ferry travel in remote regions. I was lucky to get to know her and her work, and to see the world through her eyes for those four weeks. I gained a friend, a colleague and a new tip for avoiding all those environmentally harmful plastic utensils when eating out: carry bamboo travel utensils (like these) with you at all times…

Michelle draws inspirations from a wide range of sources and popular sub-cultures, including fairy tales, children’s picture books, the Japanese Otaku, fifteenth-century European etching, as well as traditional Chinese painting. Animals and their relationships with humans is a long recurring thread in her works.

What are you working on right now?

I have three main projects in 2017. For the past month, I have been working on a book manuscript of “Plastic, plastic, every where!,” a dystopia of plastic consumption. (See video interview.) The cautionary tale begins in the present and spans about a hundred years. The narrative, which borrows from fairy tales, children’s literature, and prophecy, presents a future where humans’ frenzied consumption of plastic (as in objects like lifesaver donuts, telephone hotdogs, etc. …) has led the human race past the point of no return:

In the first half of the 21st century, marine animals have developed such an insatiable appetite for plastic that the nations of the world set up feeding stations. Over time, however, fewer and fewer animals show up to the feedings, and eventually, none show up. The global craze for plastic-eating originates from the 2084 annual meeting of the Great Five Industrial Nations on Miami Island, cut off from the mainland because of rising sea levels. At the meeting, China (in the form of a pig) proposes that if animals can learn to eat plastic, why can’t children?

The work was presented as a drawing installation in 2015. I have adapted the narrative into book form, and the story is shortlisted in the Young Writer’s Competition in Hong Kong. I will complete the manuscript in the spring and hopefully the book will be chosen for publication.

Concurrently, I am making “Plastic, plastic, every where!” into a moving drawings video. The work-in-progress has been almost two years in the making and went through substantial changes after my artist residency at Art Omi (NY, USA) last summer. This year, I will invest time to complete the final draft before pairing music and sound to the visuals.

Last but not least, China’s micro-narrative in “Plastic, plastic, every where!” has been developed into an autonomous work. In 2084, China has solved its pollution problems with Plan Polluta, condensing air pollution into building bricks. With these bricks, China builds floating artist colonies in the sky. I am making propaganda posters and banner paintings (loosely based on those from the Cultural Revolution era) to be shown in a solo exhibition at Pro Arts Gallery, Oakland, CA, in 2018. The gallery will be transformed into a promotional center for the Ministry of Polluta. Besides painting, I am also conducting research for the two performances that will take place during the exhibition.

You have lived in many countries. How do you think that influences your work?

I never quite knew how it affected me until last summer art critic Dominique Nahas described my works as cosmopolitan. It then dawned on me that I could only make cosmopolitan works because I was exactly that! I have lived in Hong Kong, Canada, UK and the US and speak three and a half languages (the half language is French.) I really enjoy looking at things from multiple points of views without realizing it. For instance, when I translate, I often find meaning differs slightly in different languages. It comes down to cultural sensitivity and connotations. However, I am poorly educated in the Middle Eastern, African and Native perspectives, and many other minorities. While it is impossible for any works to be truly inclusive, I hope my works are less about navel-gazing.

Do you consider yourself an activist? Why?

I have been asked that question before, and I don’t see myself as one. I think fundamentally activists work to bring about social change and artists focus on making their best possible work. I definitely belong to the latter group. Having said that, I do think the most compelling advocacy is to lead by example. Far from perfect, I strive to live a greener lifestyle. I stopped ordering anything take-out unless I have my own containers. I haven’t bought chemical household products such as laundry detergent, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, household cleaner for years. I make my own from food scraps or other greener materials. By persisting in my own habits, I see changes in people around me. I also share some of my insights on social media: the response is almost always encouraging.

You participated in the Tidelines Ferry Tour in 2016. Can you tell me a little bit about that experience?

That was a humbling journey. We toured eight communities in Southeast Alaska in one month under the theme of climate change. Having lived in Canada for almost two decades, I barely had contact with First Nations. I had to reassess my presumptuous assumptions about a green lifestyle in the 21st century. On this trip, I developed enormous reverence for a community for its respect of nature. Meat-eating is damaging to the planet in most developed countries, but salad-lovers may cause more harm in Alaska if we consider all the fuel and energy needed to fly in the leaves. The trip taught me to take my urban arrogant attitude home.

I wrote bilingual (Chinese and English) weekly blogs on the tour for Altermodernists, a Hong-Kong-based media platform for local artists:

Week 1 Blog Entry
Week 2 Blog Entry
Week 3 Blog Entry
Week 4 Blog Entry 

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

In this age of chaos and uncertainty, I hesitate to give artists an aura of visionaries. Artists should do what we have historically done well: Make great work. Facts do not compel change; pain and strong emotions do. If my work can elicit strong reactions that result in concrete change in one viewer’s behavior, I will consider my work successful.

What gives you hope?

It is relatively easy for those who live in the war-free First World to find solace: A blue ocean, a delicate flower, a cool breeze, a delicious meal, and our loved ones. When I gaze at these beautiful things, I have a fierce urge to protect them. When I look at my niece’s porcelain skin and watch her play with two leaves for almost an hour, I know we want to still have tigers, whales, elephants, and polar bears for her to experience. If we choose to have no hope, all battles are lost. I choose to have hope, because that is the only thing we have to go on.

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