I’ve been thinking about the convergence of my concerns, my responsibilities, and my abilities, and how that relates to climate change, motherhood, and my artistic practice.
We face overwhelming evidence that our climate is changing, on a daily basis. The changes are rapid, and have serious consequences for every living creature on this planet. The effects will be felt during our lifetimes, and necessitate massive change to the way our civilization functions, if it is indeed to continue functioning at all.
The alarm bells have been ringing so long they’ve almost faded into the background.
I don’t have data on how much of the world “believes” in the fact our climate is changing, dangerously so, because of humans. Let’s say it’s 40, 50 or 60%? Let’s suppose approximately half the world knows their daily choices perpetuate this global crisis. What would happen if that half of the world stopped driving their cars today? Stopped flying, stopped eating factory farmed meat, and stopped buying products with any single-use packaging? I wonder, but reality doesn’t show that to be a likely possibility. Individual choices matter, but their impact is negligible. Giving up my Subaru for an electric cargo bike is the eventual plan, but it won’t rewind climate change. Meaningful change will either happen (or not happen) because of coordinated and sweeping action from the corporations, industries, and political leaders of prosperous countries with the biggest carbon emissions. My personal actions won’t move the dial, but allowing that to be an excuse to do nothing feels wrong.
I find it uncomfortable to fantasize about my future. This month’s wildfire-preventative power outages forced me to see an emergency backpack isn’t large enough to comfortably provide for my family during disasters that are becoming more regular occurrences. As a mother, the weight of these fears feels unmanageable. The world my generation is bestowing to my daughter comes with a burden. I have hope they will right the ship, but it is a big ask. Hey kiddo, our planet is dying, and the moderately stable civilization I was born into may collapse on your watch as epic hurricanes, coastal flooding, contaminated waterways, wildfires, species decimation, bomb cyclone cold snaps, and frequent heat waves become the everyday. We weren’t willing to fix it in time, so you’ll have to figure out what to do.
As I contemplate what I can do on an individual level (other than biking, taking transit, refusing free water bottles and plastic flatware, bringing my own containers to the bulk bins at the grocery store, and so on) I wonder how my role as an artist can intersect with my concerns as a citizen and a mother, especially as my art already focuses on the natural world.
In early 2016, I shifted the subject matter of my paintings. My art pays homage to the beauty of the outside. My paintings are about standing in a forest, surrounded by redwoods and firs, taking a deep breath that reminds you of your essence and invites you to fully inhabit in the present moment. I made that change without a deep conceptional backing (I do firmly believe that art can, and should, be political, but I don’t believe all art has to be). Months after I began to paint forests, Donald Trump won the electoral college and became president. An administration characterized by disfunction and greed has actively reversed environmental protections we need for our water, our land, and our air. Before, I enjoyed a mix of blissful ignorance and hopeful optimism. Yes, climate change is real, and serious, but there’s hope we can slow it down, and find ways to reverse the damage we’ve done! This is no longer the way I think.
How do I proceed, without falling into despair? For now, my life has stability and ample resources, and I must rejoice in that, and share that joy with my child who is too young to know the burdens of her future. I will continue to revere nature in my art, all the while knowing, the world I am depicting will likely be dramatically altered in my lifetime. Redwood forests are no longer a place of timeless enduring. Our planet’s ecological environments are losing their battles for survival. I am no longer painting pretty landscapes, but potential memorials.