Nature: Encompasses all living organisms (plants, animals, fungi, protists, bacteria, archaea) and the ecological systems they form. This includes their interactions with each other and the non-living environment (e.g., Water, air, soil, rocks). This definition focuses on the biological processes within the living world, like evolution, genetics, and ecosystems.
Human–Nature divide: Refers to a conceptual separation between humans and the natural world. It is composed of various ideas and perspectives that emphasise the distinction between humans and other living things, often portraying humans as fundamentally different from and even superior to Nature.
Active
An Active Volcano is a mountain that has either erupted within the last 10,000 years, in the current “Holocene” epoch or shows signs that it might erupt in the future. There are about 1,500 active volcanoes on Earth, located along plate boundaries and hotspots. They come in all shapes and sizes, from towering stratovolcanoes like Mount Fuji in Japan to squatting shield volcanoes, which are shaped like a warrior’s shield, such as Mauna Loa in Hawaii (fig. 1).
Living in rural France for most of my time growing up, I developed an intense attachment to my surroundings. As a family we were more directly impacted by the elements because we relied on natural resources to get through our winters and our summers: chopping wood to heat our home and collecting rainwater to nourish our vegetable patch were part of life for us. We were alert to drought, flood, and fire, and acutely aware of Nature’s capacity to bless with abundance and punish with impunity. Our community relied on its local artisans to provide the skilled labour and produce to sustain those of us who were living in the area. From buildings and architecture and furnishings to consumable food items such as bread - everything was the fruit of the interconnectedness and vitality of our surroundings and our relationship with them. The simplicity and resourcefulness learned in my early years remain an influence in my work and have inspired me as a graphic artist to question to what extent visual documentation serves as a tool to deepen the bond between humans and their natural surroundings.
Figure 1: Mauna Loa in Hawaii
In a world where individuals spend more time indoors and in towns and cities, the need for well- crafted visual narratives becomes even more pronounced. The emotional and psychological impact of visual documentation is undeniable. Whether through the strokes of an illustrator conveying the essence of a species, through the lens of a camera capturing the fleeting moments of Nature’s beauty, or archival footage revealing the dynamic forces of Nature, visual documentation has the power to instil a renewed sense of connection.
I believe our current existential crisis stems in part from a lost or impaired connection between us as humans and the living world. I explore whether historical and contemporary design initiatives can unearth opportunities for rekindling the intrinsic bond between humanity and the natural world. The journey I take encompasses the works of early twentieth-century visionaries like Marie Neurath, Kibbo Kift, and Katia & Maurice Krafft. I hope the following pages will stand as a visual odyssey tracking humans in their similarity and closeness to Nature, both historically and in the here and now.
In science class, my teacher introduced us to volcanologists Katia and Maurice Krafft through the 1987 film The Volcano Watchers, a captivating documentary that took us on a thrilling journey through the fiery world of volcanoes. I remember the volcanoes, plate tectonics, geological formations, and the subsequent examination of natural disasters as being the most vibrant chapters we’d ever studied. Science came alive in the classroom via the documentary’s breath-taking visuals: molten lava spewing, fiery geysers erupting, and vibrant landscapes being transformed by volcanic activity.
The Volcano Watchers cuts through dry statistics and impenetrable jargon to humanise science through the power of personal stories. The footage shows Katia and Maurice not just as scientists but also as adventurers, lovers, and passionate individuals, and these images they recorded and saved are ultimately what makes the documentary so powerful (fig.2). By weaving together stunning visuals, heartfelt emotions, and the story of two remarkable individuals, the film serves as a powerful testament to the importance of archival footage. It proves that history can be experienced, felt, and understood through the lens of those who lived it, leaving a lasting impact on viewers long after the credits roll.
Figure 2: Katia and Maurice Krafft
What can be more symbolic of the power and dynamism of the natural world than the presence of volcanic activity on Earth? And how do we contemplate this rapturous but terrifying phenomenon without being repelled by its capacity to overwhelm Nature and threaten our existence? In 2022, Sara Dosa made a documentary Fire of Love (fig.3) using the Krafft’s archival footage.
Figure 3: Maurice and Katia Krafft
Catherine Russell writes in their 43 film reviews Cineaste, fall 2022:
“While Fire of Love may not be a film about climate change, the depiction of the planet in action is unparalleled. The smallness and insignificance of human life is indelibly portrayed in the Kraffts’ stunning visual archive and in the remarkably dynamic collage crafted by Sara Dosa and her team.” (Russell, 2022).
Katia and Maurice Krafft, the film’s central figures, were volcanologists their footage brings us closer than ever to the raw power and beauty of erupting mountains, molten lava, and fiery geysers. (fig. 4) Witnessing such grandeur through their lens evokes a sense of wonder and connection to the forces that shape our planet, reminding us of our place in the larger scheme of things. Despite their extreme and often dangerous work, the Kraffts’ story is one of love and shared passion. The film paints a poignant portrait of their unwavering love for each other, even in the face of death.
Tragically, Katia and Maurice perished in Mt Unzen’s pyroclastic flow during its eruption on June 3rd, 1991. While their lives were cut short, their extensive footage lives on through the arduous work of Sara Dosa and her team. However, Fire of Love is more than just a captivating documentary about volcanoes. Beyond the geological aspects, the Kraffts also documented the human stories associated with volcanic eruptions: the impact on local communities, the resilience of people living in volcanic regions, and the aftermath of eruptions. This human element added a layer of empathy and connection, emphasising the symbiotic relationship between humans and the natural environment. It is a testament to the power of visual documentation and archives to provide a pathway between us and the natural world, to reveal the shared human spirit, and to deepen our connection to our own humanity. By preserving legacies, igniting curiosity, and celebrating the power of storytelling, the film reminds us that, even in the face of danger and loss, the bonds of human connection and the desire to explore remain eternal.
Figure 4: Fire of Love
In this essay I’m aiming to uncover opportunities for restoring our relationship with the living world and seek to inspire a renewed sense of ecological responsibility through visual design. But first I look at some historical influences, ‘Dormant’ impacts, that although outdated have shaped our ideas of our place in the universe.
Dormant
Dormant volcanoes are mountains that have erupted in the past which are not currently erupting and showing less significant signs of potential eruption compared to active volcanoes. For example, Mount Kilimanjaro (fig. 5), the iconic African peak, is considered dormant today. It last erupted around 360,000 years ago but shows signs of mild geothermal activity like fumaroles and hot springs. Here, I will write about ideas which might seem inactive, or asleep, but still have power over us.
Figure 5: Mount Kilimanjaro
“The crisis is at root one of perception; we no longer see the cosmos as alive, nor do we any longer recognise that we are inseparable from the whole of nature, and from our earth as a living being. But there is hope, for as the crisis deepens, the call of anima mundi intensifies.” (Harding, 2006).
The human-Nature connection has been a long-standing and intricate relationship that has undergone profound shifts over time. In our modern era, the disconnection between humans and Nature has become increasingly evident in the destruction of habitat, the extinction of species, the reduction in living organisms that exist in an interdependent balance, and in the emerging climate change catastrophes that are causing havoc. According to Stephan Harding in the chapter ‘Descartes Meets Alchemy’ from his book Gaia Alchemy: The Reuniting of Science, Psyche, and Soul, this disconnection can be partly traced back to the 17th Century’s Scientific Revolution and the influential ideas of René Descartes who perceived the Earth and the Universe as mechanistic entities devoid of consciousness. Harding’s notion of “Anima Mundi” defines the world as being an inherent, holistic consciousness. This idea challenges the reductionist Cartesian view of nature as mere machinery (Harding, 2022).
Descartes’ emphasis on reason and the separation of mind from the body contributed to a more analytical and reductionist approach to understanding both the human experience and the external world. This perspective, often referred to as Cartesian dualism, has been critiqued for potentially creating a view of Nature as a mere resource to be exploited, devoid of inherent value beyond its utility to humans. As science and medicine expanded, and the idea of ‘MAN’ as superior and dominant over Nature took hold, there began a shift from agrarian lifestyles to urban living resulting in a more powerful physical and psychological disconnection from natural environments. This cultural shift was seen as a huge improvement as with it came many benefits for workers such as less arduous labour and better conditions. But industrial technologies during the 18th and 19th centuries contributed to the disruption of traditional, nature-based livelihoods. Factories, transportation systems, and urban infrastructure changed the way people interacted with the environment. It certainly was the start of departing from a ‘hands on’ craft-based way of living. Societal changes, including the shift from agrarian to industrial societies, altered the way people perceived and valued Nature. Economic priorities shifted toward industrial production and consumerism, leading to a more utilitarian view of Nature.
Based on Vesuvius’s eruption in 1777, Joseph Wright of Derby’s Vesuvius in Eruption (fig. 6) is a captivating depiction of the legendary volcano spewing fire and molten rock into the night sky. Even if Wright did not witness the original eruption, the painting, created between 1776 and 1780, is more than just a landscape. It’s a powerful exploration of the Sublime; the idea of the natural world as an experience that is both vast and powerful, evoking a mixture of rapture, terror, and beauty that surpasses the ordinary and the beautiful. (Kant et al., 1987). Vesuvius dominates the canvas, dwarfing the bay, islands, and tiny human figures in the foreground. This emphasises the raw power and immensity of Nature, reminding viewers of their own fragility. Wright’s mastery of chiaroscuro creates a dramatic interplay between the fiery eruption and the cool, moonlit sky. This contrast amplifies the theatricality of the scene, adding to the sense of wonder. The molten lava is both terrifying and mesmerising, its fiery glow casting an eerie beauty over the landscape.
Figure 6: Vesuvius in Eruption
In the article from Frieze: ‘Can Artists’ Relationships with Nature Kindle Humility and Respect for our Environment?’ Geyer interprets Kant as saying that:
“The formidable experience of the destructive and terrifying power of the sublime natural world exposes our ‘physical helplessness as beings of nature’. Yet, man emerges triumphant in the final moment of sublime transcendence; nature is ‘small’, and inferior compared with the ‘infinity’ of reason and the human mind... In our contemporary world, humankind has pushed global ecologies to the brink of collapse, provoking environmental catastrophes of our own making. This immense natural power no longer inspires poetic gratification; today, the danger is all too real.” (Geyer, 2019)
Geyer suggests a transformation in how we engage with the natural world. While acknowledging the historical amazement towards nature’s power, he emphasises the need to move beyond the romanticised notion of human transcendence and acknowledge the real consequences of our actions on the environment.
Walter Benjamin in his theories relating to art and imagery pinpointed the inherent danger of representative imagery. His essay ‘A Short History of Photography’, from 1931 contains nuanced thoughts on the relationship between photography and Nature, revealing both its potential and limitations. He believed visual documentation has a greater power to raise awareness than written descriptions do, as they can transcend linguistic barriers and reach a wider audience, potentially making issues more universally understood. His doubts lay in the aestheticisation, commodification, and loss of ‘aura’, alongside selective representation and historical decontextualisation, which can all potentially obstruct genuine engagement and action.
“What is aura? A peculiar web of space and time: the unique manifestation of a distance, however near it may be. To follow, while reclining on a summer’s noon, the outline of a mountain range on the horizon or a branch, which casts its shadow on the observer until the moment or the hour partakes of their presence—this is to breathe in the aura of these mountains, of this branch..” (Benjamin, 1931)
The aura, in his terms, is the unique presence and authenticity that an original work of art possesses in its specific time and place. During the early 20th century, the advent of film and photography transformed the way people experienced images. This period hailed the beginning of the rise of mass media and the popularity of reproduced visual images to convey ideas and thoughts and emotions via newspapers, magazines, propaganda and, of course, cinema.
‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’, is an influential essay in which Benjamin (1936) discusses how the mechanical reproduction of art through photography and film alters the traditional meaning and essence of an artwork. Benjamin expresses concern about the impact of visual reproduction, such as film and photography, on the sacred aura experienced as a response to viewing original works of art that evoke great emotion. According to Benjamin, traditional works of art, like paintings or sculptures, have a unique aura due to their author, specific location, history, and materiality, whereas photographs, being mechanical reproductions, inherently lack this aura as they are copies, potentially produced in multiple iterations. However, I would argue that photographs can possess a different kind of aura based not on material uniqueness but on the captured moment itself. The fleeting nature of the event captured and the ability to transport viewers to a specific time and place can create a powerful experience and emotional connection.
Whilst Benjamin’s primary focus is on the realm of art and the reproducibility of it in images, one could extend the discussion to consider the broader impact of such technological changes on our connection to the natural world. In other words, if Walter Benjamin were writing my essay, he might suggest that as our experiences become mediated through various forms of reproductive representation there may be changes in our relationship to the natural environment and the way we perceive it. As we engage with representations that involve more complex artificiality, we could argue that we are alienating ourselves more and more from that which is natural and alive. I am drawn to go back in time to use more analogue methods; a hike in nature is captured on 35mm camera, or super-8 film. The beauty of the Krafft’s archives is that the tools used to record their adventures, their 16mm film footage and analogue photography were scientific tools in the sixties. Benjamin’s essay was written in the 1930s, when photography was still evolving, and its artistic potential was less established. Nowadays, photography occupies a much more prominent place in the art world, with various genres and movements pushing the boundaries of artistic expression.
We might have put Descartes, Kant, and Benjamin away, relegating them to the past as no longer serving our needs or useful; we may categorise them as ‘dormant’, but their ideas and beliefs form the basis of our fundamental sense of place in the natural world and our relationship within it. Equally, the impact from the Industrial revolution and the massive changes in our way of living particularly in the global north has now been revealed to be at the heart of our problems with the climate.
Visionaries such as cinema director Tarkovsky, the rebellious Kibbo Kift group, and isotype inventor Marie Neurath, who I look at in the next chapter, recognised the potential of visual documentation in conveying the beauty, complexity, and fragility of the natural world in very different ways. Through hiking, designs and drawings, diaries, illustrations, and photographs and cinematography, they sought to create narratives that went beyond the limitations of words, aiming to evoke a deep appreciation and understanding of Nature, creating movements a little like harmonic tremors and their significance in volcanology.
Harmonic Tremors
Harmonic Tremors are an enigmatic type of seismic signal associated with active volcanoes. Their sustained vibrations, distinct spectral signature, and potential connection to eruptions make them valuable tools for understanding and monitoring volcanic activity. This chapter explores movements, meaning activity that came about from previous people’s attempts to bridge the human-Nature gap.
Figure 7. The Wonder World of Land and Water
As a key figure in the Isotype movement, Marie Neurath (1898-1986) strove to make complex ideas, including those about the natural world, visually accessible and engaging. Through the symbolic language of Isotype, co-developed with her husband Otto, Neurath translated abstract ecological concepts into easily understood symbols. (fig. 7) These colourful pictograms depicted ecosystems, flora, fauna, and environmental processes, aiming to strengthen environmental literacy in a diverse audience. However, questions arise about the potential oversimplification inherent in such visual representations. It’s possible that the focus on clear, universal symbols risks erasing the intricate details and unique characteristics of individual landscapes and ecosystems.
“The books, in series such as ‘The wonder world of nature’ and ‘Wonders of the modern world’, were produced to a formula that was strongly influenced by production constraints and underpinned by team working. The process began with finding out about a particular topic and checking facts. Then Marie and her team sketched out ideas for visual presentation which they showed to experts in the field – accuracy was crucial. The sketches formed the basis for more detailed drawings and final artwork. Marie Neurath described it as, ‘a little factory making books … we make one after the other, it is great fun’.” (Walker, 2012).
Reading University houses a significant archive of Isotype materials, including original artwork, publications, and correspondence. I found an interesting project they ran from 2007 to 2011 called Isotype Revisited, with the aim to investigate and reappraise the legacy of Isotype, explore the potential for Isotype principles in contemporary design and communication, and engage with new audiences through exhibitions, publications, and online resources.
“Marie Neurath was involved in all stages of the work, as demonstrated by the remarkable materials in the Otto and Marie Neurath Collection at the University of Reading. The collection contains source materials, correspondence, drawings, and specifications for print that together show how the books were made.” (Odling-Smee, 2019)
Beyond simplifying information, Neurath’s work often depicted natural processes and cycles, like the water cycle or plant life cycles. These visually engaging infographics aimed to enhance viewer understanding and appreciation for interconnectedness within the natural world. (fig. 8) However, concerns may linger about the potential homogenisation of diverse natural phenomena within Isotype’s standardised visual language as it may inadvertently minimise the inherent regional and cultural variations in ecological processes.
Figure 8: The Wonder World of Land and Water Inside
I strongly believe that Marie Neurath’s work had a significant positive impact on the human-Nature connection. Her clear and engaging visuals made complex ecological concepts accessible to a wide audience, generating curiosity and appreciation for the natural world. It is likely that children who grew up with her illustrated books maintained a connection to nature sparked by her work. Additionally, her environmental campaigns effectively communicated the importance of conservation and sustainable practices, influencing public behaviour in positive ways. Ultimately, I believe her legacy lies in her ability to connect people with nature in a meaningful and impactful way, inspiring appreciation, and action for our environment. Could this be an example of images that lack ‘aura’ due to the simplification of diagrams, and despite Benjamin’s warnings the reproduction of this enables these books to be distributed to large numbers of children through schools and education from the 1940s to the 1970s.
The Kibbo Kift (fig. 9) group under the leadership of John Hargrave (White Fox), employed visual documentation as a significant component of their approach to deepen the human-Nature connection. As a social movement that emerged in the early 20th century, the Kibbo Kift sought to reconnect individuals with nature through a combination of spiritual, artistic, and communal activities. The members wore distinctive ceremonial robes and insignia that were visually rich and symbolic. These garments often featured nature-inspired motifs and symbols, fostering a sense of identity and unity with the natural world. The Kibbo Kift organised camps as a central part of their activities, and these camps were designed with careful attention to visual elements. Camp layouts, flags, and banners incorporated symbols and imagery inspired by nature. This visual environment aimed to create a harmonious and immersive experience. The Kibbo Kift produced illustrated publications that documented their philosophy, activities, and ideals. These publications often featured intricate illustrations and graphics that conveyed the group’s commitment to nature, outdoor activities, and communal living. The visual narratives served to articulate and share their vision with a broader audience.
Figure 9: The Kibbo Kift
Photography played a crucial role in documenting the group’s outdoor activities. Images captured moments of members engaged in hiking, camping, and other nature-focused endeavours. These photographs served not only as a historical record but also as a means of showcasing the group’s commitment to reconnecting with the natural environment. Members of The Kibbo Kift engaged in various arts and crafts activities, creating handmade items adorned with nature-inspired designs. (fig.10) The photographs perhaps have less ‘aura’ but without this documentation the communication of the projects would be limited to those who were able to see the artifacts or take part in the events.
Figure 10: Alan Garad Mingan and tent
Visual documentation played a role in capturing the group’s rituals and ceremonies, which often involved nature-centric themes. The use of symbolic gestures, visual elements, and ceremonial artefacts reinforced the idea of a shared spiritual connection to the earth. Largely perceived by the wider community as eccentrics and oddballs (George Orwell, for example, described them as ‘sex maniacs’), and due to internal conflicts, financial challenges, and external pressures the group eventually dissolved.
In Annebella Pollen’s book: The Kindred of The Kibbo Kift (2016), she unfolds their story through four substantial and scholarly chapters: Movement, Culture, Spirit, and Resurrection, each presenting a captivating exploration showing many images from their archives. Delving into the origins and evolution of the group, the Movement chapter provides a comprehensive overview. The Culture chapter immerses readers in the group’s unique blend of beliefs and aesthetics, drawing inspiration from Native American, English, Egyptian, and modernist influences. Venturing into the mystical realm, the Spirit chapter delves into the group’s non-Christian, occult, magical, and ritualistic dimensions, weaving together late-19th and early 20th-century occult and gnostic concepts. The Resurrection chapter unearths the enduring legacy and unexpected influence of the group, surpassing initial expectations. The footnotes and bibliography not only enhance the scholarly depth but also serve as catalysts for further exploration, inspiring additional lines of inquiry.
The fact that broadly speaking very few people have heard of the group, and that their visual costuming and graphic designs rest in archival data and are largely unknown, means that their efforts to establish a longstanding and impactful connection with Nature is doubtful. Their influence remains very much a minority cult one, with groups like ‘Stone Club’ and ‘Weird Walk’ following in their footsteps and operational today.
Andrei Tarkovsky (1932-1986), a renowned Soviet filmmaker productive during the 1970’s, is often celebrated for his profound and philosophical approach to cinema. His works, particularly during the time when they were made, reflect a deep contemplation of the human condition and our relationship with nature and existence. While Tarkovsky’s films may not directly address environmental issues, they engage with broader themes that resonate with the human-Nature connection via a sci-fi lens. Tarkovsky’s films, such as Solaris and Stalker, explore the concept of time and its impact on human perception. Nature, in his films, is not merely a backdrop but a dynamic force intertwined with the characters’ experiences. The ‘Zone’ in Stalker, for example, is a mysterious and otherworldly place where the boundaries of reality and perception are blurred. This exploration of the metaphysical and the unknown in natural settings contributes to a sense of awe and reverence for the environment. As Nick James (2019), writing in the British Film Institute publication ‘Sight and Sounds’, says:
“If there are grasslands swirling, white mist veiling a house in a dark green valley, cleansing torrential rains, a burning barn or house, or tracking shots across objects submerged in water, a Tarkovsky name-drop is never far away. That usage might seem glib, but these things indicate a wider aesthetic terrain that deals in transcendence and the spiritual, but one that has resonance outside of religious belief – a cinema of what we might call the agnostic sublime.” (Nick James, 2019)
The natural world in his works is a space for contemplation and self-discovery. Scenes linger on landscapes, emphasising the beauty and complexity of the natural world. This emphasis on nature as a space for reflection and spiritual exploration aligns with the idea of a deep human-Nature connection, where the environment serves as a source of inspiration and introspection. The characters often grapple with existential questions, and their interactions with nature serve as a backdrop to these inquiries. Tarkovsky’s treatment of nature goes beyond aesthetics; it becomes a narrative element that reflects the characters’ internal struggles and the human quest for meaning. During the time Tarkovsky was making films, the Soviet Union underwent significant social and political changes. Tarkovsky’s portrayal of landscapes, often featuring rural or traditional settings, can be seen as a reflection on the impact of modernisation and industrialisation on the human-nature relationship. The nostalgia for traditional landscapes in his films could evoke a yearning for a more harmonious connection with the natural world.
Tarkovsky’s films contribute to the discourse on the human-Nature connection by emphasising the spiritual, existential, and temporal dimensions of our relationship with the environment. While not explicitly addressing environmental concerns of his time, his works invite us to contemplate the profound connections between humanity and the natural world. The philosophical and poetic nature of Tarkovsky’s films provides a unique lens through which to explore the intricate bond between humans and nature.
But as we navigate a world where the human-Nature connection is at risk, visual documentation such as that given to us by Tarkovsky, Marie Neurath and the Kibbo Kift emerges as a beacon, guiding us back to an understanding of our intrinsic relationship with the natural world. Through this visual language, we not only witness the beauty of nature but also recognize our role as stewards and our collective responsibility to preserve and cherish the environment for generations to come.
Extinct
Extinct volcano: is a volcano that has not erupted in human history. This means it hasn’t shown any signs of activity, such as earthquakes, gas emissions, or magma movement, for thousands of years.
However, it’s important to remember that the term ‘extinct’ is not absolute, as it’s impossible to definitively predict whether a volcano will never erupt again. Mount Thielsen in Oregon is considered to be an extinct volcano. This final chapter encompasses the feelings of disconnection that we have now with Nature and what we stand to lose.
As I sit here and draft my essay the world feels as though it is crumbling apart, both politically and environmentally, and we are fast becoming witnesses to our own extinction. The science fiction novel written by Ursula K. Le Guin The Word for World is Forest, first published in 1972 (just two years after Senator Gaylord Nelson established ‘Earth Day’ to highlight the dangers and threats to the environment), resonates now even though fifty years have passed since its publication. The story is set on the planet Athshe, a lush and forested world inhabited by a humanoid species called the Athsheans. The Athsheans are a peaceful people who live in harmony with their environment and in their language the native word ‘Athshe’ means both ‘forest’ and ‘world’, an embodiment of how closely intertwined they are as humans with the trees and the land. The novel explores themes of colonialism, exploitation, and the consequences of human interference in a foreign ecosystem. Written after the Vietnam War and at a time when nuclear proliferation was escalating as was alarm about the risks of global warming and habitat destruction, the novel resonates today as we as humans continue to be torn and split between the desire to extract and exploit for personal and profitable reasons, and the wish to live in harmony and protect the Earth we live on.
Nowadays modern technologies such as digital devices and the internet have led to what journalist Richard Louv has labelled ‘nature-deficit disorder’. He argues that as people spend more time indoors, engaged in screen-based activities they become disconnected from the natural world. The worst part of writing a dissertation for me, as someone who very much needs to be outdoors and only feels alive when doing so, is the amount of time spent sitting on a chair in front of a screen. The only way to cope is to listen to Takashi Kokubo’s music on repeat whose work often evokes tranquillity and deep emotions, transporting me to serene landscapes and cosmic realms...
“Passion is lifted from the earth itself by the muddy hands of the young; it travels along grass- stained sleeves to the heart. If we are going to save environmentalism and the environment, we must also save an endangered indicator species: the child in nature.” (Louv, 2005)
In the book Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder, Richard Louv explores the idea of the dis-connect and discusses the impact, particularly on children, of spending less time outdoors engaging with natural environments. He coined the term “nature-deficit disorder” to describe the physical and mental health issues he observed in children arguing that it can lead to a range of problems including attention difficulties, obesity, and a diminished sense of wonder and creativity. Last Child in the Woods, published in 2005 has had a significant impact, influencing discussions on the importance of nature experiences for children and inspiring initiatives to reconnect young people with the outdoors. Educational systems in general emphasise indoor and classroom- based learning, reducing opportunities for outdoor and nature-based education. This can lead to a lack of environmental awareness and appreciation among younger generations. Louv’s book has spurred a broader movement to address nature-deficit disorder and promote a healthier, more nature-centric lifestyle for children.
In her book Fen, Bog & Swamp, Annie Proulx draws attention to the wetlands that are being destroyed all over the world. Similarly, to Harding she insists this lack of care and protection comes from the Judeo-Christian belief that humans can use the world as they wish, and that the creation of the earth by God who made man in his image was for human consumption: “The attitude of looking at nature solely as something to be exploited – without cooperative thanks or appeasing sacrifices – is ingrained in western cultures.” (Proulx, 2023). Even though the interpretations of religious beliefs can vary, and individuals and religious groups may have different perspectives on environmental stewardship, the basic idea that God created man in his image follows a logic that he also created an earth full of creatures and life for his benefit.
Conclusion
In conclusion, as we navigate a world where the human-Nature connection is at risk, visual documentation potentially serves as a beacon, guiding us back to an understanding of our intrinsic relationship with the natural world. Through this visual language, we not only witness the beauty of nature but also recognise our role as stewards and our collective responsibility to preserve and cherish the environment for generations to come. Some of the reasons behind our human-Nature disconnect include cited philosophical and cultural influences such as Cartesian discord and Sublime self- indulgence. The power of visual documentation to move us to feel and act to create stronger bonds, as exemplified by Maurice and Katia Krafft, Marie Neurath, and the Kibbo Kift, demonstrates that the impulse to be at one with Nature is inherent within us. However, until we acknowledge the intrinsic value of Nature, not just as a resource but as a co-inhabitant with inherent rights, our insatiable appetite for destruction will ultimately consume us all. My belief is that, as we navigate the decades to come, humans will find ways to manage and adapt to climate change and to find new ways of living that foster protective rights for Nature. Visual documentation that can be universally understood and can influence our behaviour will be vital in this story. Like the ancient volcanoes that are such powerful symbols of the Earth’s capacity to reform and reshape, we will surely rise to the challenge and finally bury our Cartesian mind-body, human-Nature split in the cooling lava ashes. The question remains, however with so much information out there and scientific data and archives, why have we not as a species managed to get our act together and in the face of existential threat, acted to repair colossal damage? A pertinent question to this paper is: how can we design and create visual documentation in such a way that it facilitates action? In the face of political, corporate and media denial, perhaps the answer is a very gloomy one; it will be left to Nature to sort it out.
Bibliography
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Pollen, A. (2016) The kindred of the Kibbo Kift: Intellectual barbarians. London: Donlon Books.
Proulx, A. (2023) Fen, bog & swamp: A short history of peatland destruction and its role in the Climate Crisis. New York: Scribner.
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Walker, S. (2012) Info design for children, Eye Magazine. Available at: https://www.eyemagazine.com/blog/post/info-design-for-children (Accessed: 15 December 2023).
List of Figures
Figure 1. December 8, 2022 — Mauna Loa Fissure 3 Fountain (no date) USGS Science for a changing world. Available at: https://www.usgs.gov/media/images/december-8-2022-mauna-loa-fissure-3-fountain (Accessed: 19 December 2023).
Figure 2. Katia and Maurice Krafft (2010) Wikipedia, USGS. Available at: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:KatiaMauriceKrafft.jpg (Accessed: 15 November 2023).
Figure 3. Maurice and Katia Krafft, scientists who were devoted to each other and to volcanoes. (no date). Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/06/movies/fire-of-love-review.html (Accessed: 15 December 2023)
Figure 4. Fire of Love (no date) Defacto Film Reviews. Available at: https://defactofilmreviews.com/fire- of-love/# (Accessed: 03 December 2023)
Figure 5. Karim, M.M. (2019) Mount Kilimanjaro Dec 2009. Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Mount_Kilimanjaro_Dec_2009_edit1.jpg (Accessed: 29 December 2023)
Figure 6. Wright of Derby, J. (1777-1780) ‘Vesuvius in Eruption, with a View over the Islands in the Bay of Naples’, Tate. Available at: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/wright-vesuvius-in-eruption-with-a-view- over-the-islands-in-the-bay-of-naples-t05846 (Accessed: 26 November 2023).
Figure 7. The Wonder World of Land and Water (1957) Marie Neurath - Picturing Science. Available at: https://www.marieneurath.org/ (Accessed: 28 November 2023)
Figure 8. Neurath, M. (2019) Creative Review. Available at: https://www.creativereview.co.uk/how-marie- neuraths-pioneering-picture-books-shaped-science-education/ (Accessed: 03 December 2023).
Figure 9. (No Name). (No date) Kindred Kibbo Kift, Blog Size. Available at: https://blog.size.co.uk/2018/04/09/kindred-kibbo-kift/ (Accessed 30 December 2023)
Figure 10. The Kibbo Kift Foundation (1924) Mingan and tent, Museum of London. Available at: https://collections.museumoflondon.org.uk/online/object/931866.html (Accessed: 30 December 2023). Alan Garrad (Mingan), sitting by his tent at the 1924 Althing. The tent was decorated to Hargrave’s designs: the symbols on the side represent man’s handicraft through the ages. The actual tent is in the Museum’s collection.