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Symbiosis in Art and Nature (2020-2021): Video

A STUDY OF THE SYMBIOSIS BETWEEN NATURE, ART, AND THE ARTIST: CAN ART PRACTISE HELP MEND SOCIETY'S BROKEN RELATIONSHIP WITH THE ENVIRONMENT AND ENCOURAGE BIOCENTRISM OVER ANTHROPOCENTRISM?

This essay is a study of human relationships with the natural world through art practise; addressing how our constantly changing rapport with the earth has been reflected in art throughout history, how modern disenchantment has driven a wedge between us and nature and how this has in turn led to the creation of Anthropocene. By focussing on the idea of symbiosis between humans and the earth, I will discuss how environmental art that gives back to the environment can be used to heal the broken connections we have with the planet and help us consider stories Biocene or Chthulucene (Haraway, 2016) before stories of our own ‘human epic’. By centring this essay Andy Goldsworthy on Derek Jarman’s artworks as well as my own practise, I shall depict how art bring us symbiotically closer to the earth in a time where nature becomes increasingly hard to access.

The power of mother earth has been depicted throughout art history. Often, representations of the natural world attempt to capture its majesty and grace natures wonders, or to capture its vastness and incredible power. As referenced in Naturopa (ed93/2000) Caspar David Friedrich’s ‘The Wanderer above the Sea of Fog ’ (Friedrich, 1818, image 1) is a great example of a romantics perspective of nature. The vast mist and the overwhelming sense of unknowing in this painting shows Friedrich placing nature on a pedestal of mysticism and grandeur. This way of representing nature through art could be ‘to show our helplessness, to constitute a vital force whether as a smiling dawn or a dismal night or in its sheer violence’ (V, Bozal, 2000: 3). There is an interesting hierarchy created in which humans are placed as physically inferior to the almighty powers of nature when we recognise our ‘helplessness’ in comparison (2000: 3) to its forces. Although physically the ‘wanderer’ stands above the vast landscape; the landscape is undeniably the stronger force in the composition. The way the figure stands over the vast sea of fog, could also show a want to conquer and overpower the uninhabitable landscape. In ‘Arts of Wonder: Enchanting Secularity’, Kosky describes the human position in nature as ‘Not fully rooted in nature himself, man must contend for the ground on which he can “win a foothold” and stand amid the profusion of the things of a nature that fills and overfills the planet’.  Painted during a time where much of Europe had begun industrialising; perhaps the painting is a Romantics view of future conquests and natural clearings in which could be filled with human endeavours. Undeniably, this view of being helpless to nature has shifted due to industrialism, modernisation and digitalisation. Our relationship with the earth has grown far more tenuous. Modern disenchantment has driven a wedge between our natural instincts and the natural world. We have termed this era the ‘Anthropocene’ and by calling it so, we (the Anthropos) are truly only looking at the stories of this from a human perspective.

Oppositely, Indigenous groups and tribes are arguably the humans with the purest relationships with the earth. The earth permeates all aspects of their lives. For many, I imagine the concept of the Anthropocene doesn’t exist within their world; nor does it have a place. ‘Not Just a pretty picture; art as ecological communication’ discusses a group of Yolngu elders that petitioned against mining in Yirkkala, Australia. The ‘bi-lingual petition was bordered by a painted summation of Indigenous law’ (C, Moore, 2007: 345). This summation portrayed the responsibility the Yolngu people feel for this land. By using natural materials; the Yolngu people demonstrate the way nature transcends being purely physical as it plays such an important role in the lives of so many people. The ‘bark petition’ examples a complete symbiosis between humans, art and the earth. In most western cultures, dependence on the land is not so engrained in our society nor do we see it to be necessity. The lost connection the modern world has with the earth is reflected in contemporary land art. Certainly in my own practise; my work is in response to the yearning I have for the nature we have lost. I want to rekindle my relationship with the earth and through art practise.


My intention is to reconnect with the earth through art, whilst figuring out a way in which I can give back. I want others to consider themselves to be part of a biocentric society- rather than anthropocentric one. This way of thinking is summarised perfectly by Donna Haraway’s coining of the term ‘Chthulucene’ in “Donna Haraway: Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Chthulucene: Staying with the Trouble”, Anthropocene: Arts of Living on a Damage” (Studio Olafur Eliasson, 2018). The Chthulucene is a compromise between the Anthropocene and the Biocene in which the stories and history of the earths processes are considered equal to stories derived from human existence. In the context of my own art; I want to create work that isn’t about telling a the story of the human epic but to tell stories from the earth’s perspective by focussing on small and often unnoticed processes in nature, in hopes to reconnect with it in a way our ancestors once were. In her book ‘Tentacular Thinking: Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Chthulucene’, Haraway summarises her ‘objections to the Anthropocene as a tool, story and epoch to think with’ (Haraway, 2016, pg. 7). Two of these objections that apply to my practise are that ‘Species Man does not make history’ (Haraway, 2016, pg. 7) and ‘that History must give way to geostories, to Gaia stories, to symchthonic stories’. (Haraway, 2016. Pg. 7). In a series of poem’s I have written called the Shed Series (2020)I have told the story of the broken shed I had in my garden, in which I have transformed into a trellis for a vine/ weed growing on my wall. We as ‘species man’ (Haraway, 2016, pg. 7) tell its story by naming it a shed but do not consider its previous life. Once, the shed was a seed, then a tree- until human intervention changed its path. The first poem is written from anthropocentric point of view. Although through personifying the shed, I am looking at it as far more than an object; I am still only considering my experiences with the Shed. I saw it as ‘broken and repulsive’ (Shed I, 2020) and wanted to ‘rebuild it’ into something ‘organic’. Although a human story is told here, symbiosis is achieved by stripping away the human aspects of the shed (its ‘bones’, ‘skin’ and ‘limbs’ (Shed I, 2020) and benefitting the earth by returning the raw wood back to its natural state. After reflecting on my choice of a human viewpoint and considering the ‘Chthulucene’ and Haraway’s objection to valuing human stories over natural ones; I chose to write the second poem from a bio-centric viewpoint. The Shed is tired of being manipulated and rebuilt so has given in. ‘Rotted, you crumbled in my hands, disintegrated into nothing’ (Shed II, 2020). Human intervention has ruined the integrity and strength the shed once had as a tree. This can be said for most human interventions in nature and metaphorically applies to a lot more. If the world were viewed from a non-anthropological point of view, humans would learn something from the stories of the earth. Only considering human stories as part of history is preventing yourself connecting with the earth in a way our ancestors once did. In Shed III I have taken away my own narrative and focused solely the story of the Shed before being intervened with. By seeing that the Shed was once ‘A provider of life, plentifulness and abundance, a home for many and a sign of hope’ (Shed III, 2020) I am recognising the Sheds story as a natural wonder and its position in the natural cycle of the earth. The Shed as far more than the man-made product it seems on the surface.

The contempory land art movement appropriates traditional methods of making art, showing ‘a transition from representation of nature to "fashioning" or, if you will, utilising it; as such, nature is the "raw material" (V, Bozal, Naturopa, e93/2000:4). As the world develops, our relationship with it becomes more tense. This has created a need for artists to become more physical in producing environmental work and to utilise the earth in their work to repair these broken connections. Often, I feel artists focus on their ability to harness and control the forces of nature. Contemporary works such as the Spiral Jetty by Robert Smithson (Spiral Jetty, 1970, Image ) show more of a confrontational approach to working with nature. ‘As if man wanted to pit himself against nature itself, to transform it and thus attain a sublimeness that seems to be denied him in everyday life.’ (Naturopa, 2).’. Although Smithson works directly with the environment and utilises the power of nature, the Spiral jetty does not give back to the earth from which it was born. Such as in daily life, we cultivate and use the earth but don’t give back. This is reflected in art too. The notion that ‘man tries to win a foothold and establish himself among the beings [physis, commonly translated as nature] (Arts of wonder, page 1 of A. Goldsworthy) is present throughout  ‘Arts of Wonder: Enchanting Secularity’ (Kosky, 2013) as well. The theme of a clearing is present all through; a clearing being an area of nature yet to be touched by humans. In one of his descriptions of a clearing, Kosky presents the idea that ‘technē’ (Kosky, 2013, pg. 131) is the ‘knowledge which supports and conducts every human irruption into the midst of beings’ (Kosky, 2013, pg. 131). The idea that when human sees the a natural clearing, they only envision  ‘making and producing’(Kosky, 2013, pg. 131)  rather than seeing opportunity for organic growth. This perspective illustrates the lack of symbiosis between humans  and nature. If anything, humans are parasites to the planet as all things natural ‘must be pushed aside, marginalized, or forgotten when man comes to take his stand on solid ground’ (Kosky, 2013, pg. 132). Oppositely, I see a clearing as an opportunity of reflection, away from the modern world, much like Kosky’s second description of the clearing. Kosky focusses on the work of Andy Goldsworthy to depict the ‘clearing as place or opening where human being emerges and comes to dwell’ (Kosky, 2013, pg. 132). Goldsworthy enters the clearing and creates art ‘in flux and fluctuating because engendered or created with the waters and the winds. With: that is to say, out of or from the river and the wind, but also in partnership with the river and the wind’ (Kosky, 2013, pg. 133). Goldsworthy creates work that is in complete symbiosis with the earth. For this reason, this idea has become poignant throughout my video.

Moments of reflection are present throughout my video piece Garden (2020)I focus on areas of clearing but instead of envisaging human development, I draw focus to  minute sounds and movements. The unkept clearing in which nature has been allowed to flourish liberally. Garden (2020) focusses on my unmaintained garden, as moments of pause in-between building and working with the Shed. After watching ‘Rivers and Tides – Andy Goldsworthy’ (Rawrberrys, 2012) I realised the need to reflect and pause should be depicted throughout my video alongside shots of myself building and working with the environment, to mirror my own experiences of that space. At the start of the film, Goldsworthy refers to the important history of the land whilst depicting the vast clearing in which he is working in. Yet, his work so minimally impacts his environment, instead flowing with it. Like Goldsworthy, I want to enter the clearing with a biocentric frame of mind and create work alongside the earth that benefits us both.I focus largely on the making process and what physical interactions with the earth they involve. I want to feel the earth with my hands and learn to physically connect to the planet the way my ancestors did and that many groups (such as the Yolngu people) still do. By embracing what some would view as primitive methods of making, I can receive from the earth the physical connections I crave so much and give back physically and spiritually to the environments I am working with. Goldsworthy discusses his need for working with the earth by saying ‘I need the nourishment and the clarity that working with the land with my hands gives me’ (Kosky, 2013, pg. 137). What I seek from my symbiotic relationship with the earth is nourishment as well. By working closely with one or just a few natural resources, I can relish in all that I can extract from often unnoticeable parts of our environment; through making, reflection and the documentation of process. By using the shed to create the trellis and as a focus for my video piece, I learnt everything I could about its material to give the Shed a narrative. Moments such as pieces splitting or falling are all part of working with nature rather than over-powering it with tools or chemicals. By focussing on the movement of my hands throughout, I have tried to highlight the importance of physically connecting with the earth. In ‘Andy Goldsworthy - Rivers and Tides’ (Rawberrys, 2012), as Goldsworthy slowly builds a sculpture from sticks and thorns; he becomes aware of the wind and its potential to ruin his sculpture. Accepting these forces lets them become a part of his work. The forces of nature can’t be controlled by humans, as the stories of humans do not come before the earths. Like Goldsworthy, I have tried to recognise this in my own film by embracing failures that are out of my control.  

Writing has been my main source of inspiration throughout this creative process. By writing diaries in response to different environments around Birmingham, I started to reflect upon the small details of nature such as ‘the immense pressure of the water causes leaves to form incredible geometric shapes around the protruding rocks’ (Diary Entries, 2020, image 4)  and wondering whether it more resembled a ‘pine cone’ or a ‘made up creature’ (Diary Entries, 2020, Image 4). Its important to reflect on these details in a way that doesn’t put the anthropocentric point of view first. I’m inspired by these elements as this over analysis often leads to sculptural or written outcomes, such as the spider webs I found on my shed. I observe that they are a ‘prime example of strength in nature’ due to their ‘complex’ ‘architectural qualities’ (Diary Entries, 2020, image 5) but by humans are still viewed as ‘temporary, weak and easily destroyed’ (Diary Entries, 2020, image 5) Reflecting like this makes me feel closer to the earth and allows me to understand nature in a more equal, symbiotic way. The way I reflect these ideas through text has been influenced by ‘Derek Jarman’s Garden’ (Jarman, 1995). The paradise created at Prospect cottage (1986, image 8) allowed Jarman to understand the world from the view of the plants and the environment. His poetic description of ‘The lizards dance in the santolina’ (Jarman, 1995, pg. 123) personifies the lizards as they ‘laugh’, ‘dance’ and ‘play’(Jarman, 1995, pg. 123). By personifying the lizard in such a way, Jarman is recognizing the Lizard as an equal, living being. This is something I have tried to adopt in both my poetry and my writing. Like Jarman thinks about the lizards in his garden, I think about the spiders in mine; ‘When building the trellis, I felt (perhaps) what a spider might feel, I was aware of its fragility while building, but know that if it fails, I must retry and rebuild’ (Diary Entries, 2020, Image 5).  It’s a humbling experience to consider the struggles of the earth before your own and to put yourself in the position as a creature so small as a spider. I want my art to work against the idea of the Anthropocene, much like Haraway’s summary of ‘objections to the Anthropocene as a tool, story, or epoch to think with’ (Haraway, 2016, pg. 7); I agree that ‘species man does not make history’ and that ‘Man plus Tool does not make history’(Jarman, 1995, pg. 7) and by following that, my art becomes symbiotic with its environment effortlessly. Observations such as ‘so many weeds are spectacular flowers’ (Jarman, 1995, pg. 30) and his preference of ‘shaggy’(Jarman, 1995, pg. 41) gardens over ‘Gardens that deny paradise’, ‘over watered and covered in noxious chemicals’ (Jarman, 1995, pg. 40). Like myself, Jarman values the wilderness of the garden. His clearing is also a place of wild and uncontrolled growth. Through my own diary entries, I observe my own garden in the same way, such as my description of unidentified weed in which I have built the trellis for; ‘Its courageous. It effortlessly, slowly, tears down the concrete and brick walls in which I am so desperate to escape from’(Diary Entries, 2020, image 6)  Writing freely and with little thought, allows me to draw connections between myself and nature that I never knew were there. My fascination and analysis with specifics such as the weed growing in my garden allows me to make meaningful, symbiotic connections with nature.

Considering the above discussion, art practise certainly does help rekindle the broken relationship between humans and earth; through physicality and reflection. My own practise as well as the practises of artists Derek Jarman and Andy Goldsworthy demonstrate a yearning to reconnect with the earth in a symbiotic way and a want to consider this ‘Epic’ (Studio Olafur Eliasson, 2018) to be a the Biocene or Chthulucene, not the Anthropocene. Processes of documentation, reflection as well as physically working in the earth with my hands have bought me closer to the environments in which I was first inspired. I wish to encourage others to think about working creatively with the nature in a symbiotic way, especially as our relationship with the planet is becomes increasingly fragile everyday.




Bibliography


  • Jarman, D. (1995), derek jarman’s garden. London: Thames and Hudson Ltd.





  • Studio Olafur Eliasson. (2018). Donna Haraway, Anthropocene, Cpitalocene, Chthulcene: Staying with the Trouble, Anthropocene: Arts of Living on a Damage. Available at: https://vimeo.com/200992946 (Accessed: 8th December, 2020).

Symbiosis in Art and Nature (2020-2021): Text
Symbiosis in Art and Nature (2020-2021): Work
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