Welcome to the eco art boom
Here in the Deep South, spring is a time of shockingly fast growth on the ground and tense, electric air above. Wildflowers and early bloomers (in some circles known as “weeds”) are the reward for enduring the chronic uncertainty of ever-looming thunderstorms with a penchant for turning severe.
Whenever the rain offers a break, I’ve been working in my garden. I’m taking the work a little more seriously this year, studying companion planting guides and mapping out where, precisely, various seeds and seedlings should be placed in the four beds I built last summer. Tomatoes with basil, beans with squashes, lavender with rosemary, lettuce with garlic, etc.
In the precious free spaces between planting, freelance contracts, and baby naps, my mind keeps returning to the image of plants forming an active, chemical community with each other. Growth and fruiting are affected not only by the strength of an individual’s roots, but also by the activities of one’s neighbors. Companion plants promote vibrant success for all involved. Non-companions inhibit and limit.
In biology, the phenomenon behind companion planting is known as allelopathy. In creative circles, it’s called “a network.” It’s no secret that writers and artists who are better connected to each other are more effective at drawing resources from the lucrative soil of residencies, awards, book deals, and speaking gigs. But these days, I’m less focused on all of that and more interested in the rapidly growing eco idea network. We’re witnessing a boom in environmental art and literature right now, and much of it is taking place outside of mainstream culture sources like Big Five publishing or Netflix.
To name only a few of a billion examples, Torrey House Press and Ashland Creek Press are thriving independent presses that are wholly dedicated to eco books. The Climate Museum exclusively exhibits innovative climate-inspired artworks. Initiatives like the EcoTheo Collective are building conceptual bridges between environmental awareness, theology, and mental wellness. There is so much good, important work happening that it’s almost overwhelming.
There’s a risk, for me at least, in seeing what all of my “companion” creatives are doing and thinking, well, that’s covered, no need or space for my voice, then. But I know I am not a tomato stuck wilting beside a nutrient-hogging broccoli. Far from it. Yesterday, while reading long-time climate/science fiction writer Jeff VanderMeer’s provocatively titled “Climate Fiction Will Not Save Us,” I was struck by this passage:
“In this moment, cocooned uncomfortably within climate crisis, as if trapped within a porcupine turned inside out, the issue [of climate change] is not speculative. It permeates everything and everyone, even those who have not recognized it yet. Poetry, contemporary realist fiction, interdisciplinary art installations—any creative form, in any mode, can (and sometimes should) engage with the climate crisis, even if it’s just a persistent hum in the backdrop, like a misfiring bank of fluorescent lights.”
Our current artistic moment, whether the NYT Bestseller list reflects it or not, is all-hands-on-Earth. Maybe aesthetic is for human ideas what allelochemicals are for neighboring plants. We talk often about the benefits of “cross pollination” in creative practice, but less so about the leeching of our unique, individual influences into common, shared soil from which everyone can draw and benefit from.
And so, with all that in mind, here are some thought-chemicals to inspire your own creative potential this week. Happy growing.
Consider
Not Too Late is a brand-new anthology of essays by some of the most prominent environmental writers of our time. Edited by Rebecca Solnit and Thelma Young Lutunatabua, it aims to “change the climate story from despair to possibility.” This is, of course, right up Tiny Goat’s alley.
One of many excellent excerpts:
If we were able to unshackle our imaginations in this moment, I think our compatibility with the Earth would become possible. I believe that humans have a concept of ourselves as taking from the Earth and not necessarily giving anything back to it, using the Earth as kind of a temporary machine from which we’re going to launch some other situation or find some other planet. And it’s a very limited worldview. I think if we were to unshackle our imaginations, we would be able to see this is an abundant place that has everything we need. It could actually be very satisfying for us. Maybe we could satisfy it, too. —Adrienne Maree Brown
Want to read more about the book before reading it yourself? This review in British Vogue offers some good context about the origins of the collection.
Listen
When a plant has a bad day, it’ll tell you all about it if you listen closely … with a very sophisticated microphone and processing software.
Last month, plant biologists at Tel Aviv University published the results of a study on the sounds emitted by tomato, grape, tobacco, and other plants while under stress. By listening to their voices, the scientists suggest, we may be able to better understand plant responses to human and environmental interactions.
You can hear some of the plants in this video featuring the study’s lead investigators:
The New York Times also published stand-alone clips of the various plants, embedded within a longer write-up of the peer-reviewed study in the journal Cell.
One More Thing
I’m a regular reader of The Fizz, a thoughtful newsletter by sommelier Margot Mazur, who highlights “women in wine” across the United States. She recently interviewed winemaker Deanna Urciuoli, who is reviving heritage grape varieties in upstate New York at her new winery, Dear Native Grapes.
The article led me down a reading rabbit hole into the concept of terroir, the distinct taste imparted to a particular wine by the soil in which its grapes grow. Last month, Italian geologist Carlo Ferretti announced his Vineyard Geological Identity tool, an analytic framework that aims to measure the specific elements that go into a particular terroir profile, such as the geochemistry and soil composition of a specific vineyard.
One part of Ferretti’s recent interview in SevenFiftyDaily has stuck with me:
“The terroir is connected with the abiotic stress and the biotic stresses of the plant and in the end it goes in the fruit and in the wine,” Ferretti says. Another stress that winemakers are facing is, of course, climate change, which is prompting some viticulturists to look at higher, cooler elevations for their vines.
Climate-related stress is affecting the literal taste of wine in places like Tremeno in northern Italy, where the Gewürztraminer wine grape has been grown since 1,000 AD. To adapt, winemakers are looking to move their vines to higher-altitude locations in order to preserve the historic taste of their iconic wine, and they’re using Ferretti’s tool to help them identify potential sites.
Salute, science. And salute to you, dear reader! (Or prost, if you prefer … :)
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