Chantal Bilodeau

The Air We Breathe

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

by Guest Blogger Katie Craney

I live on the edge of the earth’s largest contiguous temperate rainforest that connects with over 25 million acres of federally protected wild land. Annual precipitation ranges from 25 to 140 inches along this coastal panhandle. It is here that water defines our identity, our way of life, our values, and our survival. Some would argue it is salmon that defines Southeast Alaska as the bounty of nutrient-rich tidal inlets and glacier-fed rivers and streams have provided ample human habitation for thousands of years. Sacred Tlingit song and dance about salmon abundance and return has been passed down for hundreds of years. Salmon fill our freezers and shelves, fuel our regional economy and culture, feed our families and the bears which ultimately feed the forest to complete an inexhaustible cycle of nutrients.

As an artist in Alaska, salmon seem an obvious theme to base research on. As I began sifting through the ecological significance of salmon for my own survival, I took a step back to see the larger picture of what ocean processes are needed for salmon to thrive in this environment – all of which can be summed up in two words: marine plants. Specifically plankton, the microscopic ocean drifters that create a biological pump in our oceans and are indicators of how anthropogenic climate change and ocean acidification will continue to alter the nature of our planet.

As a gardener I’ve learned the importance of maintaining proper pH levels in the soil to grow my own food. I can add nutrients, including fish fertilizer, what we call ‘fish juice,’ and organic matter to create the appropriate balance between acidic and alkaline soils. Some plants, such as blueberries and potatoes require more acidic soil, a soil with lower pH levels. Other varieties, like arugula or beets, can tolerate higher pH. The beauty of my garden is I have easy control of nutrient levels and can, in a reasonable timeframe, change the overall soil composition.

That’s not the case for maintaining a basic level of pH in the ocean. The ocean acts as a sponge and has absorbed about one-third of human-caused carbon dioxide emissions from the atmosphere. This absorption causes chemical reactions to occur, ultimately dropping the pH level, leading to “ocean acidification.” With this environment the lowered pH impacts the smallest members in the food chain – chlorophyll producing marine plants such as phytoplankton and the organisms that feed on those plants to secure the life cycle stasis of Alaska’s beloved wild salmon and so much more.

Plankton fall into two main categories: phytoplankton (plants) and zooplankton (animals.) Research suggests that due to their photosynthesis, phytoplankton provide up to 75% of the earths atmospheric oxygen, providing a significant amount of the oxygen we breathe. Not only do these tiny organisms allow humans to survive at the most basic level, they are the basis of the entire marine food chain. The balance necessary for these plants to exit should be applauded, honored, and respected.

For Plankton

Another factor in marine chemistry is glacier runoff. At the speed of current glacier melt, nitrates and iron levels flushed into marine waters will increase, can harm the productivity of plankton, and have a rippling effect through the food chain from salmon to sea birds and beyond. As ocean temperatures rise, surface waters where plankton drift will see reduced nutrient levels. This is especially important for plankton survival during the winter months. Think about how a bear hibernates over winter – plankton do the same by slowing down their metabolism and go a long time without eating, however, as surface temperatures warm earlier in the winter season, plankton burn through their fat reserves before regular food sources become available.

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*Ongoing research will continue to develop and help us comprehend the breadth of plankton’s role in our every day life. This is only a brief description of how I have come to understand and observe changes at a basic level.

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The more I learn about the significance of the ecosystem that surrounds me, the more I want to shout from the rooftops that it’s not too late! We can learn and change and encourage responsible clean energy and development while taking care of the 7.5 billion+ people on the planet. Right? I think so. I hope so. Through artmaking, I embrace an ecological perspective towards the biggest challenge we face and hope to encourage others to do the same. By creating a visual statement of what is at stake, I hope viewers of my work will take the time to ask questions and learn that we are all connected and in this together.

The small vignettes I create are my way of interpreting the complicated, long-term social and ecological nature of climate change. By working with wax on small pieces of metal and wood I explore the contrast between the malleability of the wax and the rigidity of the metal, which is symbolic to human – animal relationships within an ecosystem. Working with reflective metal allows for the viewer to be directly included in the composition to challenge boundary lines, barriers, and misunderstandings of how Alaska is changing.

For OxygenWhen there are moments of discouraging news I recall Aldo Leopold’s philosophy that the things we understand, can see, feel, love, or have faith in, will determine how we treat the land. For me, the place I call home is all encompassing and easy to love and treat respectfully. Though my art I hope others sense this passion and engage in conversations in their own communities to bring change. My friend Kim Heacox said it best in his book The Only Kayak: A Journey Into The Heart of Alaska, “We must pass through the prism of our own destruction to see a new and better light.”

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Inspired by the mountains, glaciers, rivers, and ocean that surround her, Katie Craney’s work reflects the juxtaposition of natural and human landscapes and her understanding of what it means to rely on the land for survival. Craney’s work can be found in the Museums Alaska permanent collection and is currently exhibited at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, and at the Museum of Art & History in Lancaster, California.

 

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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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A Different Tomorrow by Su Rynard #artcop21

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

by Guest Blogger Su Rynard

There is more than one way to look at the world, and scientists, like artists begin with questions, and both practices push the boundaries of knowledge and perception. As a filmmaker and media artist, scientists have inhabited my work for some time. I’m drawn to their research as a departure point for artistic inquiry. I don’t have a scientific background so every new piece I create begins with an exploratory journey.

I live in Canada where we have just endured a decade of anti-scientific government policy. In fact scientists around the world are to varying degrees, constrained by belief and ideology from all sides. This is clearly the case with climate change, where denial often trumps evidence-based research.

I have wondered if this denial has something to do with a societal need for visual evidence. Icons if you will – the need to see to believe. Consider the discovery of nuclear fission. The truth of this power is best understood through the visceral images of the destruction it caused, not the abstraction of the science itself. The same could be said of humans landing on the moon. The event itself was televised and the photograph of the whole Earth from outer space became the most reproduced image in all of human history.

Today landscapes are being transformed by global warming, and the tragic effects are visible. We now have tangible evidence of damage that will continue to occur unless humanity collectively succeeds in mitigating the effects of climate change. In 2005, Bill McKibben wrote about that very famous picture of the Earth taken from the moon. “Already that’s not the world we inhabit; its poles are melting, its oceans rising. We can register what is happening with satellites and scientific instruments, but can we register it in our imaginations, the most sensitive of all our devices?”

My hope is that by bridging the scientific and creative worlds artists can help bring climate to the forefront of cultural conversations. This was certainly a goal I had when I began my recent feature documentary film, The Messenger.

The Messenger is the artful story about the mass depletion of songbirds on multiple continents, revealing how the issues facing birds also pose daunting implications for our planet and ourselves. Filmed over two years on three continents, The Messenger is a moving and epic journey, as the film mixes its elegiac message with hopeful notes and unique glances into the influence of songbirds on our own expressions of the soul. Birds are winged sentinels, over time and across cultures, they have sent us signals about the health of our environment. Today once again, birds have something to tell us – and with this documentary, I wanted to amplify their message.

Birds killed

Today climate change poses a dire threat to birds worldwide, as thousands of species are highly vulnerable to global warming. In the words of Christy Morrissey, an eco-toxicologist featured in The Messenger, “We are changing the environment faster than birds can cope with. So we have to either stop what we’re doing and think about how to do it better, or pay the consequence of hearing total silence”. The changes in their behaviour and decline in their numbers are a warning. If the planet cannot sustain life for them, it cannot sustain life for us. In this way, the uncertain fate of the songbird is inextricably linked to our own.

Bear Cub

I’m pleased to have two short works Bear and Drowning London included in ikonoTV’s official ArtCop21 event Art Speaks Out. Art Speaks Out is an on-air exhibition of international video that reflect upon urgent global issues such as ecological devastation and climate change. The global event is part of ArtCop21, the official cultural program of the UN Climate Conference in Paris. Drowning London was inspired by predictions of rising sea levels. This one-minute video playfully animates an exaggerated flooding of the Thames while the city’s lost waterways transform London into a sea of blue. Bear was shot in Ontario, Canada, where black bears were documented foraging for food in their ‘natural habitat’ – the township dump. Set against an intermittent parade of people, SUVs and minivans – a fragile ecological relationship is portrayed.

Drowning London Detial

What these three works share is a tension between beauty and tragedy. Each in its own way is an exploration of the question of what we have to lose. In imagining this loss, my hope is to inspire change.

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From early video art to recent feature films, Su Rynard has worked across a range of approaches: dramatic, experimental, documentary, and photo installation. Her work has screened at film festivals world-wide and in galleries including the MOMA in New York and the National Gallery of Canada. Her debut feature dramatic film Kardia won the prestigious Alfred P. Sloan Feature Film Prize and her recent feature documentary The Messenger won Best Conservation Film at Jackson Hole Film Festival. Su Rynard lives and works in Toronto and is represented by Paul Petro Contemporary Art.

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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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Climate Journeys Part III: Creating a Map of Coastal Climate Change Adaptation

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

by Guest Blogger Lucy Holtsnider

Many island nations of the Caribbean and coastal regions of the Eastern U.S. are particularly threatened by damaging climate change impacts like sea level rise, increased storm surges, and loss of local aquatic ecosystems. Many adaptation measures could be taken to spare life and property in these threatened areas, but climate change skepticism and a poor understanding of the science remain a major barrier to meaningful action. In order to address this gap in understanding my partner, hydrologist Zion Klos, and I are embarking on a year-long sailing expedition, and art and science collaboration called Climate Odyssey.

Upon our departure in late June, we’ll begin photographing climate change impacts and adaptation strategies, interviewing stakeholders, politicians, scientists and artists, and visiting classrooms and community groups while we sail our 34’ catamaran along our route. I’ll compile the images and information we gather into an interactive map on our website, creating an accessible resource built to communicate the urgency of coastal climate change adaptation and the science behind the impacts. Each image added to the map will be linked to relevant blog entries and other adaptation resources, making the map both a piece of art and an engaging tool for sharing the science of climate change. At the end of our journey I will make printed versions of the digital map into an edition of artists’ books to be shared in libraries, galleries, and classrooms in those same communities we visited. Our ultimate goal is for Climate Odyssey resources to be seen by those who, due to either apathy or acceptance of a skeptical narrative, are disengaged from efforts to adapt to climate change.

Climate Odyssey Map

We are aware of several challenges posed by this undertaking, but our diverse and complimentary skills in art, science, and communication make us uniquely prepared to collaborate and use art as a tool for science communication. One obstacle is that climate change science is both complex and highly politicized in this country. There will be times when we need to address a person who is skeptical of climate change science, and Zion’s ability to address these often detailed questions frees me up to focus on the artistic portion of the project.

The next challenge addresses a central question investigated by Artists and Climate Change: can art really create emotions that inspire people to think in new ways, in this case to question a skeptical and politicized narrative? Fortunately for us, Zion’s research spans both the physical science of how climate change will affect the future of natural resources, and the social science of how to best communicate climate change impacts and the threats they pose. Research into the psychology of climate change communication shows that sharing projected local impacts rather than global ones, in addition to a focus on local adaptation rather than global mitigation of climate change, are two ways to better engage these audiences. We believe that only after people connect with the issue emotionally, understand the science globally, and feel the need to adapt locally, can a discussion begin about what global greenhouse gas mitigation can look like within these communities and the world they share. We’re also aware that psychologists and advertisers alike have known for decades that targeting emotions is an effective way to promote a change in behavior. We aim to use the emotional response elicited by a piece of art, in combination with these two strategies above, to connect with those who remain uncompelled by cognitive scientific arguments for climate change adaptation. These resources are then targeted toward a viewer who may not respond to a more cognitive argument for adaptation, such as a graph of projected impacts.

Climate Odyssey Back Cover

Though Climate Odyssey is the most science-based project I’ve undertaken, I’ve always been interested in the natural world. I grew up playing in green belts tucked away in the suburbs of Denver, observing nature wherever I could find it. My work today is place-based and is always tied in some way to observing the intersection of the natural and built environment, much like those suburban oases I sought as a child. A recent example of my place-based work is my 2014 series of illuminated sculptures called Moscow Light Houses. I gathered close-up photos of natural processes occurring on artificial objects over many months of walks through town. I then applied the images, often showing weathered paint or vegetation encroaching on buildings, to wooden frames shaped like the classic turn-of-the-century American houses that characterize the town. By documenting the unique quality of exposure resulting from a century of climate in the Northwest, and the historical architecture of Moscow, I encouraged viewers to reconsider their familiar hometown through my lens showing the overlap of the local natural and built environments.

The dynamic nature of a sailing expedition poses a unique challenge to my practice of carefully observing a place over a length of time. I’m eager to use the transient nature of our next year to expand my process: rather than reframing a single place I aim to reframe the issue of coastal adaptation for those who are disengaged. Through photographs and interviews, I will zoom out and observe the impacts that a changing climate, once considered both static and exempt from human influence, is now having on our built environments on the coast. As our balanced and familiar atmosphere of the 19th and 20th century is supplanted by a warming and unpredictable one, we find ourselves unintentionally in control of the planet’s thermostat due to our dependence on fossil fuels. Climate change is the ultimate intersection between the natural and built environment because of our culpability and its threat to our existence.

After months of work fundraising and repairing our boat, the excitement is building as our date of departure approaches. I’m eager to try my hand at reframing an issue instead of a place, and at incorporating science into a piece of art in a way that’s useful to the public.

Read Climate Journeys Part I and Part II.

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Lucy Holtsnider is an environmental artist working in book arts, printmaking, photography, and sculpture to comment on areas of overlap between natural and built environments. Her work is place-based and uses patterns and textures to give historical and regional context to the interactions between human constructions and natural phenomena. In addition to her fine art resume, Lucy has also taught art in a variety of settings, from summer camp to a classroom in Japan to community art workshops. 

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Filed under: Guest Blog Series, Multidisciplinary

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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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CLIMATE JOURNEYS PART II: SAILING THE SOUTHEASTERN U.S. AND THE CARIBBEAN

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

by Guest Blogger Natalie Abrams

I live in nature. Surrounded by it, I experience every subtle shift and change. I witness an amazing array of species as they inhabit the same place, and I am exactly where I want to be. I never could have predicted this would be my life. I never thought I’d give up my studio, my workshop, all my tools and supplies. I loved being a full time studio artist. But at some point, as an environmental artist, it wasn’t enough. As my ideas grew, the studio felt too confined, too removed, so isolated and incapable of adequately experiencing and expressing (incubating and containing) what I needed to say. Being more visual than verbal, that’s really what art is to me; another means of expressing a concept or idea.

Coast

Having sold the bulk of our possessions, my studio now fits in eight small drawers and paints live in a tiny bin. The sailboat is impossible to keep tidy and organized, and mold is a constant problem. But when I step out of the cabin into the cockpit, I see dolphins and egrets. I see pelicans and sea squirts.

And I talk to people. I’ve met the high powered corporate lawyer for a Fortune 100 corporation who discreetly helped her company acquire and donate thousands of acres to local conservation organizations. I’ve met men, former military, who are going back to study the sources of plastic in the gyres. Conservationists and scientists working on different campaigns which, in the end, are all related. I meet so many amazing people who all have interesting ideas about their place in nature and how they interact with it.

I also see things. Plastic debris, the dead remains from parties over the weekend littering the disappearing salt marshes. Fuel spills in water filled with wildlife. Artists who throw the dirty water used to clean their brushes directly into the waterways where those animals live, eat and reproduce. And I see the scars on the dolphins as they lethargically swim by. Entire blocks of downtown Charleston flood with an above average tide or an average rain because of rising sea levels. The issues take multiple forms, are complex and systemic. As one can’t look at each issue in isolation, each issue can’t be solved in isolation.

There are really two aspects to this project, Define Earth, when broken down. There is the artwork and the exploration and research leading to its creation.

The exploration starts as my partner, documentarian Kevin Murphy, and I sail to locations experiencing some form of ecological degradation and species decline. During the next three years, we’ll visit places in the southeastern United States and the Caribbean, including Indian River Lagoon, FL; Gardens of the Queen, Cuba; Curacao, Venezuela; Seaflower Biosphere Reserve, Columbia. In each place, we’ll meet with conservation organizations, scientists and researchers studying the issues leading to this loss, as well as locals to learn what impact these issues have on the population at large. During the course of that research, we’ll extensively photograph each location, record interviews and collect studies. I also collect relevant waste or abandoned materials to use in creating the artwork I call “creatures.”

Creatures 1

In short, my sculptures and the corresponding images present a barren hypothetical future. Composed of the collected waste materials, printed scientific reports, area photographs and other items, the works themselves reveal what brought on their existence. They divulge the potential of what we create here and now with our consumption and lifestyle choices.

I want this work to be hauntingly beautiful, engrossing yet uncomfortable. The colours too harsh and the landscape too bleak. They are visual explorations of what we will leave behind when the planet is no longer capable of supporting life as we experience it now. These creatures are attempts of life to spontaneously manifest from the waste materials discarded or deemed too inconvenient to retrieve. These creatures are photographed and filmed in locations related to the content of work. The images and video convey the “life” of the creature, struggling to survive, defend their place, procreate, but ultimately incapable of living. Installed in issue specific locations, these pieces tell stories and contain the history of what led to their creation; oil spills, planned obsolescence and an overburdened waste stream, over-fishing and rampant tourism, rising sea levels and changing climate conditions from global warming, methane harvest and release, and a whole host of human driven actions.

Creatures 2

Jacques Cousteau said “People protect what they love.”

As we enter a third mass extinction event, I hope to inspire the audience to value and love what we still have by depicting the potential of what we’ll lose. By demonstrating how that loss is being made manifest, I hope to spark that curiosity and understanding of what is causing the degradation, to educate and instill a sense of responsibility. I hope to help people actively think and look more closely at the world around them, and at the impact of the large and small decisions we make in our everyday lives. To step up, take responsibility and action to halt destructive practices.

The time is now. We don’t have a prolonged future to mull and debate. And while many consider this to be a political debate, I wonder why it isn’t a moral one. If it isn’t our best interest to just take care of our home. To take responsibility and care for the only place we exist in this universe. Our planet is a precious, living jewel filled with an abundance of life. Let’s treat it as such and protect what we love.

Read Climate Journeys Part I and Part III.

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Natalie Abrams’ sculptures explore the systemic nature of environmental and social issues. Transitions from organic to man-made and repurposed materials connote the transition of landscapes under duress. Abrams’ work is at the heart of collaborative undertaking Define Earth Projects; a circumnavigation exploring threatened ecosystems and the populations dependent on them, producing site specific installations, exhibitions and publications. Abrams’ artwork has been exhibited nationally as well as participated in residencies at Sam and Adele Golden Foundation for the Arts, Redux, Escape to Create and McColl Center for Art and Innovation.

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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

Climate Journeys Part I: Living Inside An Egg

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

by Guest Blogger Stephen Turner (AKA The Beaulieu Beadle)

Shall I not have intelligence with the earth. Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself?
—HD Thoreau ‘Walden’, 1854

I lived in character as the Beaulieu Beadle for twelve months from July 14th, 2013 until July 13th, 2014 in a six-metre long, floating Egg sculpture in the Beaulieu River on the fringe of the New Forest National Park in England. It was an innovative and energy efficient, self-sustaining capsule, providing a place to live as well as a laboratory for studying the life of a small tidal river in a protected Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI). Climate change is already creating new shorelines here, as established salt marsh is eroded by a combination of rising sea levels and falling landmass, and the entire littoral environment is in a state of flux. Sea level is predicted to rise by 114cm from today’s levels by 2115, with the loss of over 760 hectares of salt marsh.

The implications for wildlife and flora, as well as for people, are challenging and raise awareness of a particularly 21st century sort of tension and anxiety. The Beadle’s task was to raise awareness of the past and the unfolding present of this very special location, whilst living in an ethical relationship with nature and treading as lightly as possible on the land. My job description for him was to give a voice to mute nature, to be amanuensis to the tides, terns and turnstones, and to demonstrate the interconnection of life from the egg shaped hub of his personal parish.

The impracticability of the Egg as accommodation (even putting up a shelf was difficult on its complex curves) was more than balanced by the meaning of its shape as a symbol for life, nurture and new beginning that was easily understood by a virtual audience around the world. Everything comes from the egg, and with its close evolutionary companion the seed, it is the source of all life in the sciences as well as the cultural imagination.

Interior of the Exbury Egg.

Interior of the Exbury Egg.

So it was never about enjoying great views of beautiful scenery. I wanted no window in the Egg for the Beadle, except the circular roof light that offered a glimpse of sky. From most angles this appeared egg shaped too, and was a perennial reminder that the Beadle’s journey was to be of a more contemplative order.

Physical distances travelled grew less each week, as the boundaries of ‘round here’ were redrawn ever tighter about the Egg itself, and as depth of engagement replaced distance or travel, with a transcendent take on place. Memories and daily events painted a layered, complex and changing picture of the land, connecting past to present and informing an idea of place where art and everyday life are joined in a real time, 24/7 performance. The Beadle’s journey was one of deep communion with nature in parallel with the practicalities of everyday living.

Of course, the Egg was ‘lean, green, and clean’ in its manufacture and operation. The Beadle showered with two litres of water from a garden pressure sprayer, in a cubicle made from the timber of a former garage door. His laundry was done in a tub of cold water, and he relied on a chemical toilet that needed emptying into the mains sewer once a week (never like on many boats, into the river). He dyed his own clothing for an Egg wardrobe from colour provided by the surrounding flora. He collected and conserved food from the same sources, and in building up an Egg Kitchen of mint, gorse, blackberry, sloe, marshmallow, nettle, rose hips, and sea salt, he gently explored the particularity of a locally distinctive and cultural landscape of friendly flora.

Samphire 2013

Samphire 2013

His power was provided by a solar array sufficient to charge the batteries of a camera, lap top, and the Wi-Fi aerial (so as to share a virtual connection with the world). With no energy left over for lighting, the Beadle tuned into a diurnal rhythm, asleep soon after sun set and awake with the dawn as the length of day changed in duration through the year. Packaging was re-used as support for drawing, using ink made from the flora, and pens from found goose feather quills. So the best of the past was measured against the newest of digital technologies also deployed.

Samphire 2014

Samphire 2014

All of this was against a background of the physically changing land. Samphire growing outside the Egg in the summer of 2013, for example, had disappeared the following year. The water flow had eaten at the soft yielding edges of the marsh and the same ground was layered with green algae. The Beadle eventually found plentiful samphire growing further up river and made a preserve in white wine vinegar, ironically, when it seems harder to conserve alive in the river’s natural environment.

This one narrative amongst many, is part of the journey in time of the Exbury Egg that can still be examined here and here.

Samphire jar

The Beadles experience was modelled on that of Henry David Thoreau, who in the 1850s built a secluded home on the edge of Walden Pond, near Concord Massachusetts, where he lived simply and frugally for just over two years. His writing embraces spiritual development, provides a guide to self-reliance, and a commentary on human ‘development’. “Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself?”, he said. On the banks of the Beaulieu River, the Beadle sought communion with the rising briney waters. To paraphrase Thoreau; are we not also mostly water ourselves?

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Stephen Turner’s work often involves spending long periods in odd, abandoned places, noting changes in the complex relationship between human-made and natural environments. His projects are rooted in research, which explores these themes in a variety of media. Disciplinary boundaries are challenged through a creative practice that involves sampling, collecting, annotating, editing, and merging of historic, geographic, and environmental data with other more subjective investigations into the distinctiveness and particularity of place. The Exbury Egg project builds on the artist’s earlier installations for Turner Contemporary in Margate, Fermynwoods Contemporary Art in Northamptonshire, and for The Bridge Guard, Art & Science Centre on the Danube Bend in Stúrovo, Slovakia.

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Filed under: Guest Blog Series, Multidisciplinary

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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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Our Affair With Energy

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

This post was originally published on May 28, 2015 on the CENHS blog.

Our current energy consumption is to human civilization what an affair is to a marriage: the manifestation of a deeper problem. While the appeal of instant gratification is compelling, most of us wouldn’t jeopardize the emotional, psychological, and financial security of our marriage unless we felt significant discontent. In the same way, society’s impulse to consume energy to the point of self-destruction suggests nothing less than an existential crisis. The frame we once created for ourselves, that was meant to provide structure and meaning, has become too restrictive. We are longing for something else, but instead of addressing the problem head-on, we are spending precious energy (pun intended) trying to get metaphorically laid.

On the scale of civilization, the frame that gives structure to our lives is culture. Culture is how we communicate the values that shape our economy, education and governance. It is what guides our choices on a day-to-day basis. But the values that form culture are so embedded within it that we often cannot distinguish them. We act as if we have no choice, as if the reality we perceive and the actions we take are the only ones possible, while in fact they are the direct results of the cultural story we have constructed. Luckily, we have the means to take that story apart. At some point in our evolution, we created a lens that magnifies our beliefs and values and reflects them to us. This lens is called art.

Art is how we tell the story of who we are. It is how we make culture apparent. Whether through visual arts, music, dance, film, theatre, or the countless other means of artistic expression available to us, art provides a space where we can become aware of, and reflect on, our values. And not only does it tell the story of who we are; it also tells the story of who we might become. By giving reign to the imagination and seeing problems as challenges to embrace rather than obstacles to overcome, art opens up avenues of exploration and gives us permission to dream. Who are we? Who do we want to be? How does energy fit into this picture? Are our energy needs justified or are we trying to make up for something that is missing somewhere else?

Projects such as the Land Art Generator Initiative, the traveling exhibition Transmissions, Coal: The Musical, and artists such as glass designer Sarah Hall, photographer Edward Burtynsky, visual artist Richard Box, dance company Zata Omm and its project vox:lumen, and many, many others raise these questions for us to consider. They invite us to transcend binary thinking and reductionist ideologies, and to enter a space where we fully engage, with our mind and our emotions.

For decades we have been living with values that support a hierarchical, competitive, and individualist worldview. In a world that was less populated, less connected and seen as predictable and linear, the hierarchical model served us well. It centralized power, gave us control over the means of production and led to the explosion of knowledge that defines our society today. But it also created an energy-intensive, consumer-driven culture where the assumption was that there wasn’t enough for everyone.

With a growing population now globally connected, a conception of the world that has shifted from machine to biological system, and technological innovations that are making the means of production accessible to huge numbers of people, centralized power is no longer possible. Trying to control our vast network of knowledge only leads to conflict. Given this complex reality, the creation of a just, nurturing and sustainable world requires that we move from a hierarchical to a heterachical worldview, and embrace values such as creativity, collaboration, and interdependence; values like the ones set forth by the Earth Charter. It also means working with the assumption of abundance. There is enough for everyone. We just need to learn where and how to look.

Our affair with energy was exhilarating. There is nothing like the thrill of adventure combined with a heightened sense of possibilities to make one feel vibrantly alive. But as the novelty wears off, as the consequences of our actions come back to haunt us, it is time to pause and take stock. The good news is that while an affair may be a red flag, it is also a unique opportunity for renewal. We get to shed old habits, acquire new strengths, and build a life that is more in accordance with who we are. The bad news is that change is not easy. We usually embrace it as a last resort, and go through it inelegantly, with a great deal of kicking and screaming.

Artists who are exploring these issues can serve as a beacon. They may not offer practical solutions (though many of them do), but they can help us weave together the fabric of values that will inform our future decisions. They can help us integrate the parts of ourselves that may have been previously dismissed, lost or forgotten. They can make visible the possibilities laid out in front of us.

Reality is not inevitable, it is not immutable, and we do, in fact, have choices. Thank God, we can count on the arts to remind us of that.

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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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Pursuing Active Hope in Houston

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

What does the intersection of art and environmental activism look like? Along with Lina Dib and Tony Day, Matthew Schneider-Mayerson, a postdoctoral fellow at the Center for Energy and Environmental Research in the Human Sciences at Rice University, recently created Fossilized in Houston. Fifteen local artists were commissioned to produce images of species endangered by climate change. These images were then used to create lawn signs and thousands of posters and stickers that are being distributed throughout Houston in a guerilla public art campaign. Each week between March and July 2015, a new species makes its appearance. The goal is “to contribute to an enhanced intellectual and emotional awareness about climate change and the ongoing mass extinction, and hopefully push decision-makers in energy companies, city planners and individual citizens to reconsider collectively destructive yet normative behaviors.”

Matthew wrote a great article about why this project matters in the Houston Chronicle. And photos of the lawn signs, posters and stickers in various locations around Houston can be found here.

Turtle - Fossilized in HoustonWhere did the idea for Fossilized in Houston come from?

Distantly, it probably came from growing up amidst lots of amazing street art in New York City in the ‘80s and ‘90s, and then later on from my interest in the Situationists. More recently, moving to Houston and teaching about climate change was definitely eye-opening, because in Houston, the “Energy Capital of the World,” you can’t pretend that fossil fuels don’t power our lives like you can in many places. How can climate change be so urgent, yet so absent from daily life? Absence enables avoidance, and avoidance leads to business as usual. Scholars like Kari Norgaard have covered this topic in great depth, and my book Peak Oil is interested in it as well, but I suppose this project is a modest attempt to combat that absence.

Chameleon - Fossilized in HoustonWhat kind of impact are you hoping to have on people who see the images?

 Our hope is that the repeated reminders that our images provide, especially when people are exposed to this issue when they least expect it—waiting in line for coffee, driving around their neighborhood, in the bathroom of their favorite bar on a Saturday night—will contribute to the necessary shift in consciousness. It’s emotional, as it should be. Change is never as simple as “x sees this, and does y;” it’s an aggregate, and we’d like to be one small part. But consciousness-raising is only meaningful when it leads to action. The possibilities for action are endless—the nice thing about the scale of the transformation demanded by climate change is that there are lots of things people can do. Ultimately politics is what matters. Citizens of democracies (especially Texans) need to vote differently, and support or get involved with existing movements that are growing in strength. In Houston, for example, there are lots of amazing organizations that are taking on the hard work of opposing extreme extraction and fighting for environmental justice (T.E.J.A.S., Tar Sands Blockade, NoKXL). It’s only when these movements have popular support that the kind of actions required by our historical moment become possible.

Coral - Fossilized in HoustonIf you had unlimited time, funding and resources for this project, what else would you do?

If we could equal the campaign financing of all American corporations, we would create our own political party, elect some honest citizens to Congress and the Senate, begin financing the transition to renewable energy sources with the same vigor that the federal government has financed automobility and fossil fuels for decades, and then pass a constitutional amendment for public financing of elections. Less ambitiously, I’m convinced that a massive advertising campaign would have some effect. Corporatism and short-termism are two primary obstacles—the average American see thousands of advertisements each year, and they condition us to think in the short-term and to ignore anything beyond our own satisfaction (and perhaps that of our family and close friends). I might be naive, but I’d like to think that if Fossilized in Houston could regularly purchase billboards, TV air time, web ads, and sponsor radio shows and events throughout Houston it would have a real impact. You wouldn’t convert climate deniers to environmental activists, of course, but you can move people from one category on the spectrum to another—deniers to skeptics, skeptics to believers, believers to people to who support action, and those folks to active citizens and activists. There are a small number of people who just don’t care, for ideological or financial reasons, but most human beings are deeply troubled by the reports they can’t help but notice about climate change, increasingly frequent and damaging extreme weather events, and the ongoing mass extinction. That empathy for other people as well as non-human creatures is always present, but it’s dulled by routine, by social and cultural norms, and by capitalism in its various manifestations. Artists can contribute by not only helping people see that this is an issue which influences them personally, but by nurturing and encouraging empathy. That’s a powerful force for action, and that’s what we need right now, and in the days to come.

Lynx - Fossilized in HoustonWhat is the single most important thing artists can do to address the problem of climate change?

Artists are already doing a great deal to portray different aspects of this issue, and bringing that kind of intellectual and emotional awareness to audiences is key. What I’d like to see more people do is what our project tries to do—bring this work out of the galleries, theatres, and art-house cinemas, where it is accessible only by people who seek it out and can afford it, and into the streets.

More broadly, I think we need a revivification of pleasures and satisfactions that have been forgotten in the United States. Advertising and cultural expectations create a desire for a life whose pleasures and excitements are extremely carbon-intensive, based on flying and driving wherever you like and consuming whatever you want. These pleasures are fleeting, don’t make people happy, don’t create robust and resilient communities, and are incredibly ecologically destructive in aggregate. Insofar as climate change is a signal that we need to not only decrease our carbon emissions but transform our way of life, it would be interesting to see artists contribute to a counter-movement that illustrates and explores ecologically sustainable pleasures and virtues. In my book I’m critical of some aspects of James Howard Kunstler’s novel World Made By Hand, but I love the way that Kunstler tried to accomplish this. I’d love to see artists of all stripes take on this challenge.

Grasshopper - Fossilized in HoustonWhat gives you hope?

My students definitely give me hope—the honest and earnest responses they have to learning about climate change and environmental injustice is very inspiring. Websites like yours, and similar networks of scholars, artists and activists, also give me hope. But I also believe that the conventional conception of “hope” is flawed. What it often implies, and means for many people, is that we won’t commit to action unless our desired outcome seems likely and we can feel certain that we’ll have contributed in a direct way to that outcome. If that’s the standard, people will rarely take action. I much prefer Joanna Macy’s idea of active hope—as she’s argued, “passive hope is about waiting for external agencies to bring about what we desire,” while “active hope is about becoming active participants in bringing about what we hope for.” What gives me hope is not so much waiting for the news that everything’s going to be alright, or viewing on social media what others are doing, but taking action myself.

Filed under: Painting, Public Art

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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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Art = catalyst for change

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

I can’t imagine a more inspiring place to celebrate Earth Day/Week/Month 2015 than Melbourne, Australia.

This year, CLIMARTE has organized a month-long arts and culture festival with a brilliant title – ART+CLIMATE=CHANGE 2015 – that presents 25 curated exhibitions alongside keynote lectures, public forums, films, bike tours, sustainable architecture tours, anthropSLAM and more throughout Melbourne and greater Melbourne. The festival runs through 17th May.

Climarte, Jack Rowland, Melbourne Festival organizers have ensured that each event is accessible by bicycle and public transport. Event-specific map references (love this feature!) are provided for each venue to encourage use of public transport and to help out-of-town participants navigate Victoria’s public transport system.

Melbourne residents have been invited by the artists of one of the events – The Water Harvest – to contribute directly to an installation that celebrates the seemingly small acts of collecting rain/grey water. There is still time left to fill out an online form and contribute a small ‘collection sample” of water that has been collected, harvested, re-purposed or recycled by local residents. Each sample will be presented in a small vintage bottle (which will be returned to each contributor at the end of the festival), etched with the water harvester’s name and geographic coordinates of where the water was collected.

Here’s a video of CLIMARTE’S CEO Guy Abrahams talking about ART+CLIMATE=CHANGE 2015:

The festival offers an outstanding series of keynote speakers — all free (but early registration strongly encouraged!) — including David Buckland, Director Cape Farewell: the cultural response to climate change (UK); Chris Jordan, artist and Director of Midway (US); and William L. Fox, Director of the Center for Art+Environment, Nevada (US).

To inspire you on this Earth Day 2015, here are some words of wisdom from the CLIMARTE website:

  1. Art can show us where we have been, where we are now, and where we might go.
  2. Art can be a call to action.
  3. Art can be a catalyst for change.

If you missed our Earth Day 2014 post “Calling all artists”, take a look here.

You can follow Joan Sullivan, a renewable energy photographer, on Twitter @cleanenergyphoto

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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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Finding Inspiration in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

Brown bear

“The creatures of our planet have given me everything yet they ask for nothing in return. Giving voice to these majestic creatures and their habitat will forever be my lifelong work.” – Robert Thorpe

Wildlife photographer Robert Thorpe talks about his relationship with one of the most beautiful regions of the world, and with the people who inhabit it.

Much of your photography centers around the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge in Alaska. What compels you to focus on this area?

The Coastal Plain in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge is unprotected from oil exploration. It has been so for years. The Gwich’in call it the sacred place where life begins as it is the birthing grounds for the Porcupine caribou herd.

Not only is it my goal in life to someday see the Coastal Plain permanently protected, but it is also my goal to continue the work of Mardy Murie and her husband Olaus whose lifelong work was instrumental in establishing the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

When Olaus passed away, Mardy continued his work. She left us with a treasure. I can only hope that in someway I can do the same.

IMG_0142-R-1

What do you hope to communicate through your work?

I hope to give voice to the creatures of our planet and their habitat. And to help preserve the last remaining wild places on our planet.

What is the relationship between art and activism?

My love for the Arctic drew me to photograph the gulf oil spill in 2010. Before and after my trip to the gulf, people asked me why I did this. I told them it was because of my love for the Arctic.

Caribou heard

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

As a photographer I have always shared the beauty of the Arctic with my images of Greenland, Norway, Alaska or (Antarctica) to give voice to climate change. The poles are a vital gauge of the planet’s environmental health.

Yet there are times I will use a simple image like the one below, which I recently took in Vermont to try to inspire people.

I feel using my photographs can be a powerful tool to address climate change.

Trash

What gives you hope?

When a young child inspires people with his or her thoughts and work.

I held an essay contest with my local library a year or so ago. The subject was polar bears and our planet. I chose this young boy as the winner of the contest.

Polar bears essay

Filed under: Featured Artist, Photography

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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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Unchopping a tree

This post comes from the Artists and Climate Change Blog

Maya Lin, amphibian, frog, climate change, biodiversity, habitat, Vimeo

For International Women’s Day 2015, we celebrate Maya Lin, the artist, sculptor and architect whose What is missing? foundation and ongoing multimedia multisite memorial creates science-based artworks and installations to help global audiences make the link between habitat destruction, biodiversity loss and the sixth mass extinction. “What is missing?” focuses not only on what has already been lost — the past — but also on the present and the future: what work is currently being done across the globe in terms of conservation and habitat protection, and how can we visualize plausible future scenarios that balance human needs with those of the natural world.

“As an artist, perhaps I can put these issues in a new light—to get us to think differently about what the issues are and what the solutions could be,” she explained in an interview with Artspace magazine.

Watch her powerful but disturbing short film about deforestation “Unchopping a Tree”

The final message of this film is that through saving trees we can reduce emissions AND save species: “Together we can save two birds with one tree.”

In 2014, Ms. Lin was awarded the prestigious $300,000 Dorothy and Lillian Gish Prize, given annually to “a man or woman who has made an outstanding contribution to the beauty of the world and to mankind’s enjoyment and understanding of life.”

According to the New York Times’ ArtsBeat, Ms. Lin will use this award to continue working on “What is missing?” — a global map and public library to which anyone can contribute: sounds, stories, photos of species that we remember from our past which are no longer here.  A great way to participate in a unique interactive global climate change art project. Upload your images, share your stories here.

Follow Joan Sullivan on Twitter @CleanNergyPhoto

Filed under: Featured Artist, Installation, Multidisciplinary

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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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