Hayward Gallery’s environmentally-themed summer blockbuster, Dear Earth: Art and Hope in Times of Crisis (until September 3) “takes another path to approach the environmental crisis: it is not intended to breed despair,” says its chief curator Rachel Thomas. an idea proposed by Otobong Nkanga, one of the show’s contributing artists.
Admirable aspirations, and with extractions, extinctions and extreme weather systems currently at an unprecedented global level, we need as much hope as possible. But if no one can doubt their good intentions, many of the 17 artists of Dear Earth seem to approach the climate and ecological emergency in the spirit of an earlier era when information was hazy, ideas around the environment vague, and it was a big problem for galleries even to address the issues green. After one of the UK’s wettest winters and the hottest June on record, we no longer need to be told by US eco-feminist Andrea Bowers that ‘climate change is real “, and certainly not in the form of a flashing electric neon sign.
Other highly publicized works have an equally hollow note. With the Thames flowing alongside the Hayward, there is no need to experience the therapeutic power of water, or ponder “what lies underground towards the center of the earth” while standing in one of Cristina Iglesias’ elaborate concrete, glass and metal structures, with pumped water constantly gurgles beneath our feet. Has no one considered the environmental impact of shipping such a heavy work of art? Or the power needed to power the hydraulic pumping system? Likewise, while veteran environmental artist Agnes Denes is a hugely important figure and it’s always great to see images of the iconic two-acre wheat field she planted and harvested on a landfill in Battery Park in New York in 1982, is it really necessary to fill an upstairs gallery with one of its multi-level metal giants living pyramids copiously planted with local vegetation? Again, consider shipping! And watering!
A lighter reminder of the power of plants is offered by artist duo Heather Ackroyd and Dan Harvey who have been photographing photosynthesis in living grass for over three decades. Over the years these have often been used to spotlight prominent figures fighting for climate justice around the world, and for Dear Earth the artists have produced five new portraits of local London-based activists. They are: Julian Lahai-Taylor of Grow Lewisham; Love Ssega, co-founder of LIVE & BREATHE; Destiny Boka-Batesa, one of the founders of the Choked Up Clean Air Campaign; Paul Powlesland, co-founder of Lawyers for Nature and River Roding Trust; and Helene Schulze of the London Freedom Seed Bank. Each of these individuals and their organizations correspond to the four fundamental “commons”: soil, air, water and seeds, which we all need – and must share – in order to sustain life on Earth. While I wish I had more detailed information about each of these figures and how one can accompany their work (a QR code per label, perhaps?), these spellbinding elegiac images literally and figuratively root the work in the urgent – and active – specificities of the here and now.
Ackroyd & Harvey’s grass panels on burlap are lightweight recourses and can be composted at the end of the display. Another welcome example of how plants and water are used more responsibly is offered by two important commissions that will continue to inspire and nurture long after the exhibition is over. Natura Nostra Forest—Southbank is a 130m² ‘pocket forest’ made up of 390 native trees that was planted on a terrace adjacent to the Hayward entrance by urban regeneration organization SUGi. Specifically designed to withstand a harsh environment and increasingly extreme weather conditions, this arboreal oasis will remain as a new permanent feature of the South Bank complex, sequestering carbon and encouraging wildlife.
Another significant permanent work that sits outside the walls of Hayward is the Gemstone Project located in the roof garden of the nearby Queen Elizabeth Hall. Precious Stones enabled South Bank gardener Paul Pulford and his team of volunteers to install an ingenious and sustainable irrigation system for arid conditions inspired by the ancient techniques of Native American peoples of the Southwestern United States. This involves surrounding the garden’s 250 plants, including native and fruit trees, with an eclectic mosaic of stones, tiles and bricks salvaged from across London and the banks of the Thames, using ancient ancestral knowledge around the world to deal with the impact of London’s climate change on already inhospitable terrain.
Such practical and sustainable initiatives offer a hopeful indication of how humanity can care for and work in harmony with the natural world, even in the most hostile environments. Back inside, Hayward artworks from around the world and in multiple media also strive to communicate the many manifestations of this crucial interconnection with nature. These include the drawings, films and expansive tapestries of Otobong Nkanga that connect humans to nature and the cosmos; an eight-meter mural painted on the walls of the Hayward by Brazilian indigenous artist-activist Daiara Tukano and an extensive textile sculpture by Aluaiy Kaumakan using endangered Taiwanese craft traditions. Yet, while often visually arresting, these works seem more concerned with illustrating and commemorating the lost communal bonds between humans and the natural world than offering resistance – benevolent or otherwise – to the current status quo.
More galvanizing is Richard Mosse’s ongoing documentation of environmental crimes in the Amazon basin that uses the latest imaging technology to capture information invisible to the human eye. These take the form of film and photography that combine his documentary footage with Geographic Information Systems (GIS) mapping technology that renders the polluted terrain in trippy psychedelic hues. Although he has recently shown similar work in London at both the Barbican Center and 180 The Strand, Mosse is always a welcome presence at the Hayward, with new work consisting of eerily vivid photographs of the effects of mining oil by multinational corporations on Kichwa. Indigenous territory in northeastern Peru, as well as a full-bodied film made this year that combines the angry speeches of the Yanomami of northern Brazil with powerful imagery depicting the extent of the devastation.
Imani Jacqueline Brown is another activist artist whose video installation draws on her extensive research into polluting petrochemical companies in her native Louisiana. In prints, videos and an interactive mapping platform, Brown uncovers how the origins of this fossil fuel industry lie in a 300-year-old history of extractivism in the region, which began with the colonial conquest of the indigenous territory and the subsequent establishment of sugar cane plantations dependent on slave labor. Louisiana’s oil industry continues to employ descendants of slaves, many of whom are also the most affected by pollution and land destruction today. By mapping both the hidden geographies of oil wells and canals as well as uncovering the location of slave burial sites and their planting of restorative trees, Brown forcefully underscores the irrefutable interconnection between climate and social and colonial injustices that exist around the world, whether in Louisiana. , Lagos or Lewisham.
Sometimes the simplest works can be the most effective and hopeful. At Cornelia Parker’s THE FUTURE (Sixes and Sevens) a class of primary school children in London talk about their hopes and fears for the future. Funny, moving and often more aware of the climate emergency than most adults, these children offer common sense. “Does every person need a computer, does every person need a phone?” one asks, while another says, “We need people to start designing better cities!” The film ends with a girl saying “the future is great!” But it’s a bittersweet clarion call because right now it’s up to us to make sure they have a future.
Desperate times call for radical and active measures on the part of artists and institutions alike. It is encouraging to read in the most recent press material Hayward’s assertion that no flights were made to search Dear Earth, with only one European artist visited by train and the rest via Zoom. The same press release includes lists of various ways in which Dear Earth has strived to be “as sustainable as possible” in its facility and infrastructure – from recycled walls and gloves to climate-positive paint, offering what he describes as “a breakdown of what we’re proud of have achieved”. Eco-responsible and anti-waste actions in the café, the shop and in the production of the catalog are also detailed. Some artists, but not all, are credited for recycled materials or having eco-friendly credentials. With the South Rim, Hayward states its goal of becoming “a net zero carbon site by 2035 (scope 1 and 2)”.
All of the above and more is positive, but it should be – and often is now – standard practice for all institutions, whether or not they put on an eco-themed show. If the Hayward is proud of its initiatives, listing them for all to see alongside exhibition information on gallery walls and artists’ labels would send a meaningful message of genuine intent. But to offer a real sense of hope and signal a real step change in culture and attitude, there must be a demonstrable program of systemic change in place that puts the environment first in all operational aspects of the activities of Hayward, present and future. It would send a very real message that climate and environmental catastrophe is more than just a hot topic for a group show.