From its earliest origins, people's relationship with
nature and the environment has been a
core theme in art
In earlier examples of art, artists portrayed the
natural world as a mystic, powerful entity
a kind of physically dominating force
Hokusai's grandiose Great Wave
Frederic Edwin Church's untameable Icebergs
Toyen's ferocious Birds
or Peter Graham's Wandering Shadows
But in recent decades, that dynamic has
turned on its head
as humankind's impact on our environment becomes
ever more clear, urgent and irreversible
It's a matter of the safety of the human race
So I think, of course, artists are going to be
interested in that.
There is a deep connection to climate catastrophe
that is rooted in race and privilege
It can often feel like, you know, those dream
nightmares when you are screaming
but nothing comes out?
What is the role of artists in tackling our urgent
climate crisis and what are the different approaches
they've taken to raise awareness and engage us
with our increasingly fragile natural world?
Okay, so let's begin by going back to when humankind
started having a dramatic effect on our environment
As industrialisation in the UK rapidly developed in the late
18th century, artworks document the changes in our cities.
We've gone from the Medieval and Renaissance
representations of landscape and a nature which are
very much about sort of seeing God in the landscape
to where we are now, a post-industrial landscape
Smoke rises, ships swarm the docks and the landscape evolves
L.S. Lowry's work captures these changes with, as he
describes it, a range of tones akin to -
Lamenting the loss of nature, a different attitude
towards consumption and the dehumanisation
of the workforce as well
Very efficient farms where people have been cleared
off the land and it now looks very beautiful and peaceful.
But actually there's a disturbance there
there's a sort of underlying violence almost that the
artists are sometimes directly expressing through their work.
In the collection we have some photographs by
Peter Cattrell, which are of damage that's been
brought on the landscape by conflict.
He has these images of the land that's been reclaimed
for farming, but the photographs that we see are of
the crops after they've been harvested.
So it's these cut off stalks just so reminiscent of these
graves that extend as far as the eye can see.
Of course, we're now far more accustomed to
industrialisation, factories, pollution and emissions.
For contemporary artists, the challenge is difficult.
How do you reflect or visualise a seemingly
imperceptibly slow process of change when we're
so used to the causes of it?
In this photographic triptych, Patricia Macdonald
subtly explores the threat posed by the melting of the
world's icecaps and glaciers, prompting us to think of
the land that will be drowned by rising seas.
How do we feel when we see a chunk of ice changing
state into a trickle and then a flood of meltwater?
Ilana Halperin's work explores geology as a way
to understand our relationship to our planet.
She creates space to reflect on our place within a
constantly evolving and changing world.
From prints that use ink made from a core sample
from Scottish geologist James Hutton's farm
to watercolours that explore the fascinating geology
on the Isle of Bute.
Halperin encourages us to look closely at the world
around us, to notice the ground beneath our feet
and the seasonal changes.
If you can find something that touches people and that
they can engage in that kind of more emotional level.
Katie Paterson's Future Library project, saw a selection
of authors, including Margaret Atwood, Han Kang and
David Mitchell write original works only for them to be
locked away until 2114.
It is housed in Norway, and the books are printed on
paper that is made from trees from the forest outside of Oslo.
It's a hopeful, optimistic piece about harmony between
humans and nature.
In the words of contributing author
Karl Ove Knausgård -
Increasingly though for many, quiet reflection is no longer enough.
Other artists have explored climate change with a
more visceral, head on approach.
It's human nature.
You know it yourself, if you, if you're speaking to
someone and you try to begin with, you try to be calm
and reasonable and explain your point of view.
When you come across people who don't have that
point of view, I think then you do have to push things.
You do have to take things further.
You do have to provoke that response.
There is clearly something that makes some people
very uncomfortable about bigger parts of the
patrimony being maybe challenged.
How about dropping 24 enormous blocks of ice from
Greenland bang in the middle of central London?
The 2014 project Ice Watch, created by Olafur Eliasson
and Minik Rosing, aims to, as they put it, emotionalise
the data, make it physically tangible through the subtle
cracks of pressure as bubbles, thousands of years old
release across the city, showing hordes of passers-by
the physical realities of global warming.
In contrast to earlier representations of nature as a
mighty power, many artists now highlight our world as
fragile, decaying and dying.
Jenny Holzer is similarly direct.
She's most well known for her text based works
which are often found in public places.
Projecting the words of over 40 climate activists from
Sir David Attenborough to Greta Thunberg onto
landmark buildings across the UK, Holzer brings
these stark warnings and calls to action into
the public space.
It's through art that we can really viscerally see this
change as it happens.
Klaus Staeck uses similarly plain blunt phrases.
This piece translates to 'freedom dies in centimetres'
showing a book in an ever raising ocean.
'And another new life blossoms out of the ruins'
as a tree grows from a network of freeways.
But opinions differ, on whether these visceral shock
tactics work long term.
So yes, like shock can have an effect on parts of the
population that need that wake up call.
But at the same time, where does that lead and
how sustainable is it?
What kind of activism does it actually produce?
Of course, when we or artists speculate about the
future of the earth's climate, we're missing something key.
It has already been happening for a long time,
affecting millions of lives across the globe.
There is this idea that this is what things could be in
the future, you're already adopting the perspective of
someone who this hasn't happened to, someone who
has the luxury of looking into the future rather than
fighting for their life today.
The climate issue is also intrinsically a huge societal issue
through historical and present day injustices,
centuries of colonialism and racism.
People of colour in the Global South are and will continue
to be disproportionately affected by climate change.
Despite having amongst the lowest carbon footprints.
Colonialism and racism are at the root of the climate crisis.
Like there would be no climate crisis the way we know it
if it wasn't for racism and colonialism.
The two things are not separate, they're, they're
both the same issue.
People are leaving parts of the world.
Those who are most affected by the climate crisis are
also the ones not being heard.
The emissions come from the rich, essentially.
Half of the world's emissions by lifestyle are created by
10% of the world's population.
That's insane.
In the Pacific they think of the water as being a
highway and less of a back door.
So the water is always present when they're thinking
about the world and how they move through it and
how they need to take care of that water.
There are many layers to the images that are presented
in the tapestry.
The motif of the snake is very present and the hands
which are the whitest parts, the most gleaming and in
some ways possibly the most seductive part of the
tapestry, are made from whaling ropes and being
used as a source of commerce.
Ade Adesina combines traditional printmaking
techniques to explore the effects of climate change,
deforestation and energy consumption.
It's really striking artwork that combines objects,
places and scenes from his African heritage, British
culture and his travels around the world.
You can often see the backdrop of Aberdeen, the city
he now lives in, and the North Sea oil and fishing
industries in his work.
Right now in our current society, obviously there's a
limit to what art can realistically do.
Can art feed into that? Yes definitely.
It can be part of a discourse.
It can be part of a dialogue.
But some of these issues are so big, they have to be
addressed at a kind of global or governmental level.
If you're truly wanting your art to matter and I mean
that in a way that it will lead to change, lead to action
then maybe you have to step outside of the art world actually.
Rather than art being seen as activism,
art working with activism.
So in essence what we should be doing is opening up
and not talking to ourselves, but talking to the
world more broadly.
We often ask, is it now too late for real change?
It's not a new problem.
And when you're saying that it's it's too late,
then the question is like, for who? Right.
Is it too late for you to continue having your lifestyle
that you're used to? Perhaps.
Is it too late to save millions of people?
Definitely not.
In the words of Scottish poet Jackie Kay -
You need to be honest about what kind of change is needed.
It's not just about putting out a fire.
It's about changing everything.