In my work at the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation, and more recently with the Trust for Public Land, I have been fortunate to be involved at the nexus of landscape architecture, civil engineering, urban design, environmental management, park planning, and many related areas. Over the last decade, but particularly over the last five years, the concepts of sustainable design and its sub-genre, green infrastructure (GI), have entered into the design, construction, and renovation of parks. At the same time, many cities in America have taken on the challenge of managing storm surge, storm water runoff, water conservation, and water pollution reduction, increasingly through the use of green infrastructure. That challenge has become even more urgent with the advent of global climate change, and the more frequent and intense storms that have accompanied it.
Many cities face fiscal constraints that don’t allow them to build new parks, but are nonetheless obligated to manage water better—even to the point of creating major new infrastructure to protect themselves from catastrophic damage from storm surge, flooding rivers, and other damaging weather events. Parkland in U.S. cities makes up between 2.3% and 22.8% (with a median of 9.1%) of city land area. With the opportunity to build new, functionally layered landscapes that serve to process storm water, abate storm surge and serve as esthetic and recreational assets, parks and green infrastructure may be entering a prolonged, perhaps permanent, symbiotic relationship.
As to the question of whether green infrastructure can always be counted as a “park,” the short answer is no. But properly designed, constructed, and managed, GI can be a park, especially under broader definitions. For example, the 2,000 Greenstreets (i.e., greened traffic islands) created by the City of New York, prior to their being formally engineered as GI, were considered “parks” by the Parks Department. They were mostly very small properties, but what they had in common was plants and trees, and often sidewalks and sitting areas or benches. They played a small role in lowering the urban heat island effect, absorbing carbon dioxide and particulate matter, providing oxygen and habitat, and creating many small islands of beauty in otherwise bleak landscapes.
Perhaps the “mother of all GI” in New York City was the first “Bluebelt” in Staten Island, designed to capture, filter, and slowly release storm water runoff. In Atlanta, the spectacular new Old Fourth Ward Parkis a major new GI installation, and very definitely a public park. Finally, existing (“regular”) public parks can have new GI elements added to them, and new parks can contain significant GI elements (as will be detailed later in this article), and in a sense all parks that have significant green open space that absorbs storm water runoff can be looked at as a form of GI.
So the question of whether parks can be considered green infrastructure is a qualified “yes.”
What is Green Infrastructure?
Defining green infrastructure ought to be easy, but type “green infrastructure” into a Google search field, and there are 141 million entries; “green infrastructure definition” has a more modest 5 million. The Wikipedia definition, which comes up first, is quite vague and generic: “Green Infrastructure is a concept originating in the United States in the mid-1990s that highlights the importance of the natural environment in decisions about land use planning.”
The definition used by the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation is more specific, but also perhaps too circumscribed, defining GI as “a variety of site design techniques and structural practices used by communities, businesses, homeowners and others for managing stormwater.” On a larger scale, green infrastructure includes preserving and restoring natural landscape features (such as forests, floodplains and wetlands), and reducing the amount of land covered by impervious surfaces. On a smaller scale, GI practices include green roofs, pervious pavement, rain gardens, vegetated swales, planters and stream buffers.” Others suggest that true GI is not engineered or “built,” but is “natural” and in its simplest form consists of trees, plants, and soil.
Even among my colleagues at the Trust for Public Land, there has been a healthy debate about the meaning. Some favor the tighter definition that relates primarily to storm water management. But an argument can be made that natural systems, such as salt marshes, can provide a GI approach to storm surge abatement, and that conserving land around drinking water and watersheds to avoid pollution and the resulting need to build hugely expensive drinking water filtration plants would also constitute a kind of GI. Consider also that a medium-sized tree can absorb over 2,500 gallons of rainwater per year, and a riparian forest in the Chesapeake Bay watershed was shown to remove 89% of nitrogen and 80% of phosphorous before it reached the water.
However you choose to define it, GI is quickly becoming a major tool in designing and building sustainable cities, and increasingly as a way to both improve park design, and have GI function as parks.
What follows is neither an encyclopedic nor scientific survey, but rather a highly personal and anecdotal tour of where and how GI and parks are coming together across the US (there is also a great deal going on with GI in cities around the world, but that may be a subject of a future installment). I hope the readers will forgive a focus on projects in New York City and those in other cities being done by the Trust for Public Land, as those are some of the projects I know best.
A Short History of Green Infrastructure
By the broader definitions, parks have been part of GI systems since they were first created. Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux captured storm water in an intricate system of underground drainage tiles and pipes, and directed it to the lakes and ponds in their earliest parks in the mid-late 19th century. In Boston’s Back Bay Fens, an early version of GI was first used to clean polluted waters using natural landscape typologies. But for the most part, the 20th century saw an approach to storm water that sought to get it into storm sewers as quickly as possible. The prototypical urban playgrounds of New York and other cities featured huge areas of impermeable asphalt pitched to drain the water into sewers, and even sports fields were designed to drain away as much of the water as possible. That water carries damaging pollutants into water systems, causing combined sewer systems that serve more than a quarter of major U.S. cities to overflow. And when they do, they discharge sewage waste and high levels of phosphorous, pesticides, increased concentrations of a host of metals, including mercury, nickel, chromium, lead, and zinc, as well as organic contaminants such as PCBs and PAHs. However, in recent years, landscape architects, ecologists, and horticulturists have taken a new look at park design, seeking to make parks more sustainable. Among the primary ways to make a park more sustainable was to reduce impermeable surfaces and capture the storm water runoff in enhanced and enlarged landscapes.
The American Society of Landscape Architects, following the lead of LEED, worked with the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center at The University of Texas at Austin and the United States Botanic Garden beginning in 2005 to develop the “Sustainable Sites” and rating systems for sustainable landscape design. And in an unusual partnership, the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation and the non-profit Design Trust for Public Space worked with professional peers beginning in 2008 to develop and publish guidelines for building sustainable parks, “High Performance Landscape Guidelines: 21st Century Parks for NYC.”Charles McKinney (a longtime planner, designer and administrator at NYC Parks) and Deborah Marton (then executive director of the Trust) led a team of “fellows” and peer reviewers in developing guidelines for the design and construction of sustainable parks and public spaces, with a focus on storm water management.
Sustainable Urban Development Meets Water Pollution Control
At the same time the guidelines were being developed, some cities were taking macro approaches to sustainable urban development, including Seattle, Portland, New York, and Philadelphia. Portland and Seattle were among the first cities to use GI to capture storm water runoff in vegetated bioswales. New York City’s “PlaNYC” and the “Greenworks Philadelphia” were among the ambitious plans developed under the leadership of Mayors Bloomberg and Nutter in the first decade of this century. And many of those same cities were also confronted with having to clean up their storm water runoff to address federal Clean Water Act violations and consent decrees governing the management of storm water and combined sewer systems.
Greenstreet on Nashville Boulevard in Queens. Credit: New York City Dept of Parks and Recreation (NYC DPR)
The combination of proactive plans for sustainable cities and ways to comply with consent decrees also led to cities developing plans for storm water management that included heavy GI components. In New York City, a “Green Infrastructure Plan” was developed by the Department of Environmental Protection, and $1.6 billion was allocated toward the development of GI, from green and blue roofs to water cisterns, bioswales, “Blue Belts” and even small traffic islands, known as “Greenstreets” and specially designed tree planting systems, known by the cumbersome title of “Right of Way Street Tree Bioswales.” This commitment by the city represents an unparalleled opportunity to redefine the urban landscape, especially if traditional design approaches and cumbersome regulations and procurement processes can be energized and streamlined.
Diagram of Street Tree Bioswale.Street Tree Bioswale on Dean Street in Brooklyn. Credit: NYC DPR
As city officials across the country address storm water runoff issues (there are at least 770 cities in America with combined sewer systems, and more than 60 of them have consent decrees with the EPA and/or state regulatory agencies), many are also struggling to find funds to build and maintain parks and open spaces, or to plant and care for street trees. In many of those same cities, enterprising landscape architects, park agencies, and community-based organizations are developing novel approaches to address both issues.
In New York City, landscape architect Susannah Drake and her firm, Dlandstudio, have developed a plan to capture and process storm water runoff in street end “Sponge Parks” before it enters the heavily polluted Gowanus canal—construction for the first of these should begin this year. The design itself is complex, but even more complex are the layers of governmental agency oversight and approval involved in the project (see image below). Construction is also essentially complete on a prototype system Dlandstudio developed with the help of the Regional Plan Association to capture and phyto-remediate runoff from an elevated highway in Queens above a creek that flows through Flushing Meadows-Corona Park.
Mapping complex regulatory responsibilities along the Gowanus Canal, New York. Credit: DLand Studio.Rendering of Gowanus Canal Sponge Park.” Credit: dlandstudioLawns at Pier 1, Brooklyn Bridge Park. Credit: nycgo.com Photo by Julienne SchaerDiagram of storm water management system in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Credit: Brooklyn Bridge Park Conservancy/ Michael Van Valkenburgh AssociatesPearly Gates Playground in the Bronx. Credit: NYC DPR
On Brooklyn’s formerly industrial waterfront, landscape architect Michael Van Valkenburgh has designed Brooklyn Bridge Park as the ultimate sustainable park, with among other things hills constructed of stone recycled from a nearby tunnel-digging project, and a vast underground water storage system that captures storm water in the landscape for irrigation purposes (his landscape also performed admirably when much of the park was inundated with saltwater by storm surge from last fall’s disastrous “Superstorm Sandy.” In Queens’ Fort Totten Park, landscape architect Nancy Owens created a new park landscape in a vacant site of former army housing, designing a vegetated bio-swale which absorbs and channels storm water runoff away from structures, and creates an enriched park habitat. In many other projects, Parks Department landscape architects and architects are designing even humble playgrounds with a large array of sustainable elements, following the guidelines they helped develop. For example, the redesign of a classic 1940s playground in the Bronx, known as Pearly Gates Playground (so named by former parks commissioner Henry J. Stern in honor of St. Peter’s church across the street), landscape architects Stephen Koren, Nette Compton, Patricia Clark, and Jim Mituzas reduced the impermeable surfaces by at least 25 percent, using permeable pavement and bioswales to capture storm water, along with other sustainable materials including recycled glass and asphalt and high ash content concrete.
Green infrastructure goes to school
The traditional urban playground has long had its equally non-resilient twin in the urban schoolyard. In Philadelphia, where Mayor Nutter and his team have put forward perhaps the nation’s most ambitious and complex plan for a “green” city, the Trust for Public Land is working with city officials to transform traditional asphalt schoolyards and old-fashioned playgrounds into “green playgrounds.” The play areas, often not much more than huge deserts of impermeable asphalt and battered play equipment, are being transformed into beautiful new playgrounds with state-of-the-art play equipment, playing fields, and large new planting areas designed to capture not just all the rain water that falls on the playground, but also water that drains in from the surrounding sidewalks and streets. Philadelphia is also adding a range of GI elements to parks including, for example, a subsurface infiltration bed beneath a new basketball court at Clark Park to manage stormwater runoff on site, as well as from an adjacent street and parking lot; a stormwater infiltration basin at Clivedon Park; and a stormwater wetland in Fairmont Park. Using a combination of public funds (including a significant contribution from the Philadelphia Water Department) and private donations, the projects create neighborhood amenities that improve the community, expand opportunities for exercise and fitness, and also capture storm water runoff to help Philadelphia meet its ambitious goals for cleaning the adjacent rivers
A similar program is under construction in New York City, where the NYC Department of Environmental Protection and the Department of Education are providing crucial GI funding for the projects that will allow the Trust for Public Land to transform similar poorly functioning, part-time schoolyards into attractive, multi-functional, fulltime playgrounds. Led by Melissa Potter Ix, the landscape design firm Siteworks partners with Trust for Public Land Project Director MaryAlice Lee to manage a three-month community design process at each site, then works to create plans that direct storm water runoff into rain gardens and linear tree pits; water is also collected using porous pavers and in synthetic turf playing fields. And each site is designed to collect the first inch of rain water from every storm, which covers most typical rain events. Cities large and small, across the nation, are now considering using playgrounds as part of their storm water management strategies, in which GI use is encouraged by the EPA and state regulatory agencies, and in some cases compelled to do so as part of the consent decrees.
Schoolyard at P.S. 164 in New York after renovation. Credit: Trust for Public LandSchoolyard at P.S. 164 in New York before renovation. Credit: Trust for Public LandPlan for playground renovation at P.S. 261K in Brooklyn. Credit: Trust for Public Land
No open space is too small to contribute environmental value. In a perfect evocation of ecologist Rene Dubos’ admonition to “Think globally, act locally,” New York City Department of Environmental Protection allocated funding to the Parks Department to transform striped and paved traffic islands into “Greenstreets.” The idea of turning formerly paved areas into small gardens is not new—it was pioneered by then-Parks Commissioner Henry J. Stern and his fellow Department of Transportation Commissioner, Ross Sandler, in the 1980s, following a plan devised by DOT Deputy Commissioner for Planning David Gurin. Approximately 2,000 of these esthetically pleasing transformations were effected over the course of two decades, but the latest GI spin has the Greenstreets being designed to capture the storm water from the surrounding streets in specially designed systems with lush planting beds populated by plants that can tolerate both inundation and drought, along with the other indignities of urban street life, such as salt, contaminants, and dog waste. These hyper-performing landscapes are tiny by park standards, but they bring beauty to formerly barren corners, serve as mini habitats for insects and birds, and most of all, soak up storm water. Moreover, these steps are only the beginning of efforts to abate the increasing “heat island effect” that global warming is bringing to our nation’s cities. During Hurricane Irene two years ago, one of the first generation GI Greenstreets captured 25,000 gallons of storm water, and a corner notorious for flooding during normal rain events did not flood.
Emboldened by the success of the Greenstreets, DEP Commissioner Carter Strickland is now working with his Parks and Transportation colleagues to turn the humble street tree planting pit into a “Right of Way Street Tree Bioswale.” These planting beds are much larger than normal, five feet by twenty, and ten feet deep, with structured soil and drainage materials and infrastructure, with a tree in the middle, and a variety of shrubs and ground covers. Inlets from the street usher in the storm water from the curb, and each bioswales is designed to capture 3,000 gallons of water per rain event. Best of all, perhaps, the DEP is also funding the Parks Department crews that maintain both the Greenstreets and Street Tree Bioswales, addressing one of the essential reasons—chronic lack of maintenance funding—why many city park systems don’t embark on creating new parks and public spaces, no matter how small.
Cities across the country go green
While the GI/parks projects in New York City and Philadelphia are among the largest and most comprehensive currently under development, other cities are also embarking on ambitious projects. In a plan that will restore Olmsted’s Back Bay Fens of the 19th century, the City of Boston is in the first phase of a $93 million project to restore the 3.4 mile Muddy River and its shorelines, to alleviate flooding, restore the riparian habitat, and “daylight” parts of the watercourse that have been hidden in huge culverts for decades. And Washington, DC is commencing a $2.6 billion Clean Rivers Project, including GI/park projects, to comply with a 2005 EPA consent decree. Already Canal Parkis being recognized or its innovative stormwater management, and the National Mall too will become a GI player in the Long Term Control Plan, as the Mall is renovated for the first time in 40 years. Bellevue, Washington, was an early pioneerin a stormwater management partnershipbetween the water district and parks department, where the “Utility” purchased the land and built stormwater management features, and the Parks department built and maintained recreational facilities at each location—where a stormwater vault was built, the Parks would place a tennis court over it; and a stormwater detention basin would also function as a soccer field.
In New Orleans, The Trust for Public Land has worked with local officials to acquire a significant first portion of land that will eventually be part of a 3.1 mile “Lafitte Greenway,” a trail running from the French Quarter to Lakeville near Lake Pontchartrain. A design developed by landscape architect Dan Waggoner envisions not just a traditional bicycle path, but also a complex series of green infrastructure interventions that would help the City of New Orleans manage storm water runoff—a crucial issue for this low-lying city with a history of flooding. In Los Angeles, city officials are likewise looking at the many miles of impervious alleys to transform them into “Green Alleys”where light colored pavement could help alleviate the urban heat island effect, and planting beds could serve as rain gardens to capture storm water. And Chicago is successfully moving forward with its own Green Alley Program, introduced in 2007 to convert more than 1,900 miles of asphalt and concrete public alleys to 3,500 acres of permeable paving, with the goal of reducing stormwater by 80%.
And while green infrastructure has mostly been defined as a natural approach to storm water management, increasingly landscape architects, engineers, geophysicists, planners, and officials are considering natural approaches to creating both barriers and mitigation zones to address the effects of ocean and river storm surge. Fitchburg, Massachusetts, for example, removed a floodwall from the North Nashua River as the first of $39 million in GI in 17 cities across Massachusetts and created a riverfront park on a former brownfields site. And even before the disastrous impact of storm surge from Superstorm Sandy on New York City, ideas had been formulated by these professionals from these diverse specialties. It is been known for years that the low lying areas of New York city would be vulnerable to storm surge damage from both wave action and flooding, that it was just a matter of time before “the Big One” hit and flooded neighborhoods, highways, subway and automobile tunnels, and other crucial infrastructure.
Global climate change, rising sea level, and green infrastructure
In prescient “Rising Currents”exhibition mounted at the Museum of Modern Art in 2010, teams of local landscape architects and architects developed new approaches for addressing rising sea levels and flooding storm surges. Based on a two-year research project by the engineer Guy Nordenson, the landscape architect Catherine Seavitt and the architect Adam Yarinsky, the exhibition (curated by Barry Bergdoll) showcased what appeared to be radical thinking about how to soften the traditional hard edges of the city’s interface with its harbor waters. Among the ideas were recreating the historic salt marsh verges of the city, excavating “slips” that allowed the harbor waters to penetrate the street grid, building two-way porous streets, constructing apartment complexes in Venetian style water settings, and otherwise subverting the traditional approach to harbor waters—to build strong, rigid, vertical structures and walls, which work fine until the water goes higher than the hard edge.
Now, as the city recovers from the devastation of Superstorm Sandy and considers options for preventing or mitigating the effects of both gradual sea level rise and catastrophic storms such as Sandy, officials at the highest levels of government are considering both very expensive, gray infrastructure responses including dikes, levees and barriers, but also green infrastructure approaches, including engineered salt marshes, constructed dunes, and other “soft” systems to mitigate the flooding and storm surge damage. As with the expanded flood plains created next to rural rivers that flood regularly, these green infrastructure elements can also function as parks, greenways, and natural areas, providing public space for humans and vital habitat for animals.
Green infrastructure as part of the solution to managing that most vital and also most dangerous of all natural forces—water—will likely be an essential component of urban design for the foreseeable future. The Trust for Public Land is working with cities across the country to research, design, and construct parks using GI, and to investigate benefits and costs. As we work to create sustainable, resilient cities, green infrastructure, with appropriate planning, will be a way to create new, well-funded, multi-functional public parks and open spaces, large and small.
Adrian Benepe New York City
Acknowledgements: I wish to thank Marianna Koval, a Fellow of the Trust for Public Land, who is currently pursuing a mid-career masters degree at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government, and who is doing research on the use of Green Infrastructure in parks, some of which is incorporated in this piece. I also wish to thanks Cecille Bernstein, an intern here at TPL, who helped with the editing and organization of piece.
The other day, I took my two children to the park. We clambered over rocks and logs, slid down slides, and rolled down a large grassy hill.
Parks with strong “magnetism” can potentially exert forces of attraction and repulsion for people.
At one stage, I stood at the top of the hill, the city skyline before me, and the sounds of happy children all around me, and my overwhelming emotion was “I love urban ecology”. I am not usually a spontaneous tweeter, but at that moment I found myself wanting to share that emotion with the world.
The park was the Royal Park Nature Playground in Melbourne, and our visit there was a reward to the three of us for having sat through a long, boring meeting. We arrived at the park tired and grouchy, but within seconds of our arrival, all we could see were golden opportunities for fun.
Royal Park Nature Playground, Melbourne. Photo: Amy Hahs
The tension in our bodies had no chance against the joy of being out in the open, indulging in the overwhelming desires to run and move and sing and discover. It was a powerful demonstration of how important it is to have access to spaces that really MOVE you—physically and emotionally—as part of everyday life.
Because understanding the ecosystem services of green spaces is part of my job, it can be easy for the cultural services to become simply items on a list. My experience at the park was a timely reminder that I also need to be diligent about enjoying those benefits for myself. It was also an affirmation that the career I am carving out for myself actually can change our relationship with and understanding of cities. Standing at the top of that hill, I was humbled to suddenly realise: “I helped build this”. Not in any tangible, hands on, or direct way—but indirectly, through my participation in the burgeoning field of urban ecology. The research into the ecology in and of cities I have contributed to is now manifesting as beautiful, multipurpose, engaging parks such as the one I was standing in. That wonderful revelation left me feeling inspired to continue working towards creating opportunities for all city dwellers to have access to places that can have a meaningful and positive impact on their lives.
The pull and push of highly valued green spaces
I am a glass half full person, but I am also a realist. In the days that followed my visit to the park, I started to think about what goes into making a park like that. If I rolled back the turf on that fabulous big hill, what would l find? Where do those beautiful boulders come from, and what will happen if we keep gathering those rocks to use in other parks? Are there enough weathered logs to feed our desire for naturalistic playgrounds? And how can we make sure that these parks are distributed equitably now, as well as into the future? These are some critical questions that I would like to explore in the remainder of this essay.
A useful analogy to help with this discussion is the relationships between magnets and metal filings. The forces of attraction and repulsion combine to reveal the shape of the magnetic fields by creating clearly defined areas with and without filings. Some magnets have quite strong fields and produce very clear patterns, whereas others are much weaker and barely make an imprint.
If we think about parks as being magnets in an urban area, the filings are a way of visualising the impact they have on the economic, environmental, and social dimensions of the urban landscape. Outstanding and engaging parks, such as the one I described, have stronger and farther-reaching magnetic fields compared to the smaller parks with fewer resources, which have only a limited effect on a smaller number of filings. However, these strongly magnetic parks also create more obviously binary landscapes, and accumulate a much larger volume of filings.
If the current status quo for parks is to deliver open areas of turf with a tree canopy, then increasing the number of large or naturalistic parks, with undulating land forms and a diversity of physical features (such as rocks), will require a far greater quantity of physical materials during the construction phase. Where will these materials be gathered from, and what is the ecological impact that results from their relocation? Are the ecological benefits of improved habitat diversity in urban landscapes dwarfed by the associated depletion of habitat elements in more “natural” landscapes? There is no single answer to this question, as it will depend on the contractors, their suppliers, the local context, and a multitude of other factors. However, the first step towards fixing a problem is recognising it exists. By questioning and tracking the net impact of a park, we can develop a better understanding of whether the construction of these spaces is truly justified by their impact on the ecology of our planet.
Social justice and equity
Magnets exert two key forces: attraction and repulsion. The simplest demonstration of these forces can be found in toy train sets, where the carriages connect through magnets. The carriages stick together through the force of attraction. However, if you take a carriage off the end of the train and try to reconnect it using the wrong end, the force of repulsion pushes the carriages away from each other, and the train no longer pulls the carriage.
Parks with strong magnetism can potentially exert the same forces of attraction and repulsion for people. A great park will draw people to it, even from larger distances. However, such parks also hold the potential to push other groups of people away. For example, the development of a “great” park may increase surrounding land and rental prices, thereby making it unaffordable to many long-term residents of the neighbourhood. In our efforts to provide better parks without creating a social justice divide, we need to identify additional mechanisms to ensure that when strongly magnetic parks are built for disadvantaged communities, the same communities will continue to be able to enjoy them into the future.
Economic forces
Too often, the things that start out as a consideration of the triple bottom line (social, environmental, and economic forces) eventually get made on the basis of the original, single bottom line: money. Parks with strong magnetism cost more to design and to build than a basic “trees and turf” park. There are also unanswered questions about how much new maintenance approaches will cost compared to the current mulch, mow, and spray approach that we currently appear to be comfortable with. If a new style of ecological parks is going to be more widely adopted, then we need to start integrating the requisite ecological maintenance into the design to minimize the ongoing costs of management. We also need to start recording the maintenance costs for the parks that are built in order to establish the business case for (or against?) a change in the type of parks we build in our cities. As the management costs increase, there may also be more incentives to engage local residents to assist in caring for the parks. This would have the added advantage of providing opportunities to strengthen social bonds within communities, and to connect more people with nature.
A deeper appreciation for parks can change their magnetism
If sustainability is about making more effective use of our existing resources, then there is a case to not only build great parks, but also to explore how we can “re-use and recycle” our current parks to raise their perceived value in the community. Is it possible to adjust the magnetic fields of a park in ways that maximise their magnetism for people and biodiversity, yet minimize the ecological and economic impacts? For example, can simple stewardship activities change the relationship that residents have with their local park? Can simple changes in park management deliver improved biodiversity outcomes, or extend the range of benefits that a park can deliver? How can the ecological or social benefits of parks be increased while the essential design is unchanged? Expanding our park networks in the most sustainable way may require us to see every park—regardless of their many and varied forms—as an asset to be nurtured, improved where possible, and more fully and universally appreciated. In our roles as professionals and citizens, exploring this dimension could be the greatest sustainability challenge of all.
Photo: Amy Hahs
If the magnetism of parks helps shape our cities, how can we use the arrangement of magnets and strengths of magnetic fields to maximum effect? Strongly magnetic parks have been used regularly to shape cities (think emerald necklaces and green spines, for example). Yet it is possible that all parks have the potential to act as magnets and contribute to shaping our cities. If this is the case, how can we use our full diversity of parks to “tune” cities and deliver positive results across the triple bottom line, now and into the future?
The focus of this essay was clearly on parks and how they contribute to efforts at creating sustainable cities. However, many of these same dilemmas and challenges apply equally to other components of our built environment, including buildings, roads, artificial night lighting, water sensitive urban design, and the plethora of other infrastructure present in cities. As I walk through my city’s streets, I now wonder about the magnetism of all of these things that I see, and think about the trails of iron filings that they have created. It affects my vision, but it also makes it even more apparent that truly sustainable cities are only possible where we minimize the detrimental environmental, economic, and social impacts, and thenactually take the time to value and appreciate the benefits. This valuing process is the essential ingredient for moving an idealistic search for sustainability into a meaningful way of life.
Story notes: The Nature of Cities was invited to create a session at the 2014 Smart Cities Expo in Barcelona: “Participation and the Role of Green and Open Space in Cities”. This Episode is a back stage conversation among the panelists after the presentations. The session, led by The Nature of Cities Founder and Editor-in-Chief David Maddox, was concerned with engaging communities for the beneficial expression of nature and open space in cities. Diverse points of view are essential and the session included multiple design and scientific disciplines: David Maddox (an ecologist and composer), P.K. Das (an architect-activist, Mumbai), Jayne Engle (an urban planner and National Curator of Cities for People, Montreal), Eric Sanderson (a landscape ecologist with the Wildlife Conservation Society, New York), and Ton Borsboom (Senior Director at Philips Design, The Netherlands). The key messages of the conversation were these: public open and green space is critical to resilient, sustainable, and livable cities; today’s cities struggle with a lack of such spaces; yet tools and expanding movements exist to reclaim cities for people and create more open space for the good of nature and urban populations. It is crucial that people are involved in inclusive, not exclusive ways. We need to be better about helping people become not just consumers of their cities, but producers of them.
Public open and green spaces are declining daily in the world’s cities, largely due to population and development pressures. Yet there is broad evidence of the social, population health, and ecological benefits of open space, and a clear desire among urban populations for such space. The need for thoughtful creation of open space is critical now, as thousands of new cities will be built in the coming decades. Decisions about land use in cities—where the building, roads, and open spaces go—tend to become fixed for decades or even centuries. It is critical to get these decisions correct right from the start. David Maddox spoke about the need to articulate the attributes of the cities that we desire, and that how such cities are built is fundamentally about values—what do we think is important? P.K. Das spoke of building movements, such as Open Mumbai, around the public’s desire for more democratically created open space. Jayne Engle described a collaborative initiative in Canada, Cities for People, which was founded to experiment with advancing a movement to create more resilient and livable cities, including tests of new public engagement methods for communities and public space. Ton Borsboom presented a project in which technology facilitates information flow and dialog among the community and police to create safer public areas. Eric Sanderson illuminated a simulation model, Mannahatta2409.org, in which people can re-design and share concepts for the built and natural infrastructure of New York City and see how their designs perform in terms of of housing and jobs, carbon emissions and energy use, water consumption and stormwater management, and green space and biodiversity.
The people living in Mumbai generally associate nullahs with dirt, filth, and odor. City authorities have channelized these waterways, building impervious concrete walls along their edges, thus further severing their ecological and environmental attributes, and separating them from the people. This must change. It is changing.
As I am writing this piece, the entire state of Kerala in India stands devastated due to floods. It is estimated that more than 300 people have died, 10,000km of roads damaged and property worth millions of rupees lost (yet to be estimated). As per the Times of India report, an Indian daily, “If the National Disaster Management Agency’s (NDMA) estimates of the average loss of life and property due to floods every year in India is taken as a base, more than 16,000 people could die in floods across India in the next ten years and property worth over 47,000 crore (6.70 billion US$) may be lost. Little has been done to build disaster resilience”.
Madhav Gadgil, an eminent scientist and author of a landmark report on the conservation of the Western Ghats said in an interview, published in The Indian Express (another daily), that the scale of the disaster would have been smaller had the state government of Kerala and local authorities followed existing environmental laws. He further said that the problem was “man made”. “Unfortunately our state governments are in the grip of, and in collusion with, vested interests that do not want any environmental laws to be implemented, and the local communities to be empowered”. …“In terms of unregulated growth of illegal constructions, and creation of real estate all over, there are disturbing parallels (in Kerala) with Uttarakhand (another state in India)”. He said, …“These are not just natural events. There are unjustified human interventions in natural processes which need to be stopped”.
The understanding of nature, rather of every earth system, by most governments and their consideration in city-building endeavors is not considered important, rather deliberately ignored—submerged in the complexity of socio-political conditions that is often ridden with short-term material and financial gain. Tragically, this trend continues in spite of the devastation of land, property, loss of life and uncertainty of human existence caused due to climate change. It is people’s empowerment, participation and their movements for democratization of land and resources that would provide incredible possibilities, also being the most effective means, for the achievement of social and environmental justice.
The need for organizing participatory movements to check the ongoing destruction of natural systems and for achieving a sustainable ecology of cities is urgent and compelling. Re-envisioning cities through nature-based development plans and programs have become a priority. The Irla nullah reinvigoration movement in Mumbai is one such attempt and an example for bringing about structural changes in the way our governments conceive cities, prepare development plans and policies and undertake projects. Furthermore, this movement aspires to transform how Mumbai’s institutions approach open space and provide equitable access to ecosystem services for millions of people across the city, encompassing biophysical and social justice goals.
Mumbai is a city on the water with rich natural assets covering an area of 140km2 that define its geography. Sadly, the city has turned its back on such assets and considered these areas as dumping grounds, both physically and metaphorically. This has led to their degradation and environmental risk—such as flooding and pollution—that are threatening life and property. The central objective of this Irla movement is to revive and restore these natural assets and integrate them across the city, through participatory plans and programs, to achieve a sustainable and livable future for all.
This Irla initiative addresses the abuse and exclusion of over 300 km of watercourses, including four rivers within the city that have been turned into nullahs, or drains. These nullahs were originally natural watercourses, or rivers connected to the sea, thereby regulating ground water and assisting in dispersal of stormwater.
The people living in Mumbai generally associate nullahs with dirt, filth, and odor. Over the years there is little public knowledge of them being rivers and natural watercourses that defined the landscape. City authorities too have been apathetic towards the protection of both natural and open spaces, and have neglected their integration with the city’s Development Plan. They have channelized nullahs, building impervious concrete walls along their edges, thus further severing their ecological and environmental attributes, and separating them from the people.
This must change.
The Irla nullah movement
The Irla nullah movement was launched at the beginning of 2012 for the conservation, re-invigoration, and re-integration of a 7.5km nullah in Juhu, Mumbai. At the time, the Municipal authorities wondered why this was important. Battling such impediments, the movement continued: comprehensive plans and implementation programs were created through active citizen participation. Meetings were held in public places with posters and a Vision Juhu book, communicating the project. The gathered momentum could no longer be ignored by the city officials: the Municipal Commissioner finally approved the project eleven months later.
The central objective of the movement was to re-invigorate the nullah, including treating the waters and arresting silt formation. Although the nullah precinct and the neighborhood area contain vast number of public spaces, they are idiosyncratic, disconnected, and some are not open to the public. They are disparate in nature and function in isolation. These spaces include, the iconic Juhu beach, open spaces, gardens, parks, playgrounds, various public institutions like schools, colleges, training centers, music and dance schools, markets and health-care and community centers. There are over 20 such institutions along and in the precinct of the nullah.
These connected spaces could be further networked, as per the Vision Juhu plan, with neighborhood streets and marginal open spaces for integration and accessibility. The nullah itself physically weaves through the entire neighborhood as, potentially, a linear park, connecting various disparate spaces. Such networking of spaces realizes the high potential of networking different communities: fisher folk, slum-dwellers, hawkers, and all other classes. Almost 40% of the approximately 250,000 population of Juhu live adjacent to the nullah, while the remaining numbers reside within a 10-minute walk. Through this linear park, we could generate an active and pulsating system of public spaces, including the nullah that would form the spine of Juhu. This effort would continue to nourish community life, neighborhood engagements and participation, truly symbolizing our democratic aspirations.
Participation and the movement
The Irla nullah movement and the plan are conceived and executed through an active participatory process involving local citizens, elected representatives, officials of the government, celebrities, a host of educational and commercial institutions, the Municipal Corporation of Greater Mumbai (MCGM), and certain state and national government agencies. An extensive public communications campaign backed by surveys and data, have led to wider participation in the project.
[Importantly, the movement and project exemplify the need for engaging multiple and diverse stakeholders in the people’s “Right to the City”, and their key role in scripting urban growth. To claim such a right is to assert peoples’ power over the ways in which our city spaces are created, with a determination to build socially and environmentally just and democratic cities. This requires systemic change in city institutions, and how the people participate in the democratic process. The challenges are significant, and include the conservation of a variety of vital natural assets; their integration with the urban landscape; and expanding public spaces (both physical and democratic). It is a model a paradigm shift in understanding Mumbai’s sustainable ecology and use nature-based solutions to improve, with equity, the quality of life for more Mumbaikers.]
Engaging people from all sections of our society continue to challenge such movements. It is largely the middle class who continues to control and lead this project. This is in spite of the widespread campaign by the proponents to involve all people, including the slum dwellers, fishing communities, business establishments, and the rich. As the project has evolved, only a few from the leadership of the poor have continued to participate, but others did not show up in large numbers. Probably projects such as these do not seem to be their priority or they do not see nor realize any short-term tangible benefit, caught in their daily struggle for survival. Addressing social conditions such as these and overcoming them requires much greater mobilization, public campaign for dissemination of information, enhancement of public knowledge on environmental matters and their integration.
Sadly, the understanding of many such significant public interest projects are considered to be a part of the many “beautification” works that certain sections of the upper and middle class propose constantly and consider as their contribution towards the making of a better city. Governments too have been proposing and encouraging many such projects in the city in order to divert peoples attention from more significant public interest works that are kept under wrap.
In keeping with the dominant upper and middle class desire for an exclusive and beautified city, most elected representatives have developed gardens and landscaping of traffic islands or medians along important roads where visibility is of prime concern, visible manifestation being necessary to win elections. While most elected representatives have supported public gardens and other beautification works, they seldom, perhaps never, proposed or actively supported policies and works relating to the ecology the city. Such indifference is the biggest barrier in the 300km of nullah re-invigoration.
Often, due to weak social and political engagements with diverse communities, various citizens’ demands and movements are termed elite. But this is dangerous, as often experienced, in the understanding of the larger ecological and environmental battle for the achievement of sustainable development. The destruction and degradation of the ecological conditions in Juhu and the city warrants various social and political movements to understand the impact this has on the poor and marginalized communities in particular. As a matter of fact, it is the marginalized people who suffer the most due to climate change impact that has been heightened due to the continuing abuse of the natural conditions. Urban floods is just one of the many threats that we experience.
Neighborhood-based development
The nullah and related projects serve a larger objective also. Both the Irla nullah plan and the Vision Juhu Plan, of which the Irla nullah project is part, demonstrate that through a neighborhood-based development approach it is possible to decentralize and localize projects, thus breaking away from monolithic planning and design ideas that are disconnected from most people (and often serve the interests of the few, not the many). “Master Plans” for cities are generally drafted by elite groups of designers, and fail to engage with citizens on their ideas. It is through neighborhood based projects that it is possible to maximize participation of the local area people and in that process achieve a greater sense of collective ownership. Importantly, it creates the opportunity for a more collaborative approach to city and place making, as clearly realized in this case. For citizens of Juhu, this project has allowed the immediate reclamation, redesign, and re-programming of public spaces.
The current mindset of formal planning exclusive to “experts” has to be challenged. Sustainable ecology and environment has to be the central aspect of city development plans, prepared with people’s participation right from its inception. It is with the objective of participatory planning that the rejuvenation and integration of the natural areas and the wider city is set out to be our mission.
A new geography
Projects such as the Irla nullah work can help us re-envision our city with streams of open spaces and water, thus defining a new geography. We can restore these nullahs to their past glory, and contribute towards the ecological regeneration of these natural assets. We can simultaneously break away from large monolithic spaces and geometric structures of parks and gardens into fluid stream of linear open spaces, meandering, modulating and negotiating varying city terrains. We can re-design nullahs to be linear parks, accessible to many people across various neighborhoods.
Considering citizens participation as the basis and strength of such ecology movements, the Irla project demonstrates the importance of neighborhood based planning and design for the preparation of the city’s development plans and projects. Considering neighborhoods as the basis for organizing movements for effective democratization of urban planning and design is key. Such an approach facilitates local people’s active participation in matters concerning their area, which they know best, while influencing the city’s planning and development decisions.
With the nullah and the public spaces being the main planning criteria, we hope to bring about, over period of time, social change: promoting collective culture and rooting out alienation and false sense of individual gratification promoted by the market. Our experience of neighborhood actions such as in Bandra, Juhu, and the Irla plan implementation in particular, has come to confirm that such initiatives can influence long-term change in the way development of the city is understood.
De-barricading the city and its unification
There is a constant effort in carrying out public campaigns to explain the need for de-barricading the city and achieve unification, particularly its public spaces and the natural areas. This has been successful in the seafront projects in Bandra– another coastal suburb of the city, where spaces are open. In spite of the many significant social and environmental merits of the Irla movement and the project, the leadership there has gone ahead in proposing fences around the public parks and walls between the nullah and the adjoining gardens. Thus, public spaces, as much as the city, are yet again vulnerable to fragmentation and restrictions on free movement. They may have their reasons: vandals have abused and vandalized these places even during their construction.
Also, it is a constant struggle for achieving equality amongst the participants within a movement. Many significant movements that have been popular to start with have over time collapsed due to the hierarchical order within their organizations. Such social relations pose continuing challenge to the struggle for democratization of public spaces, indeed of the movements themselves.
To begin with, public campaigns as were undertaken by the Juhu residents’ movement to promote public dialogue and participation in decision-making would be necessary. Mapping of the area may follow this: documenting different conditions that exist, including the various changes that have taken place over time. People’s collaborative mapping of their own area is necessary in order to produce their own data and information that would, in most instances, differ with those that are constantly put up by the state. The issue is not limited to the production of people’s data, but evolving through that process their needs and demands pertaining to ecology, environment and development. The various studies conducted and the learning’s from the Irla movement is a telling story. The success of these efforts will hopefully propel people in different parts of the city to engage in similar movements.
Through this plan, we will generate an active and pulsating system of public spaces that would form the heart of Juhu. This will also provide a distinct identity to our neighborhood and all the people. Women, children, the aged, the young, will find opportunity to walk, cycle, play and intermingle. Groups, both formally and spontaneously, will be able to organize various social and cultural activity and get-togethers, including in the 500 capacity amphitheater built in a park adjoining the nullah, like music, dance, art festivals, and games for children, literary sessions and plays. The various schools and colleges in the area would be able to organize various students’ programmed too.
Keeping social, ecological and environmental values in place, the project has developed, with the active support of the Municipal Corporation, a forest of thousands of trees all along the first phase of the 1.5 kilometers of the nullah. This forest is a part of the larger idea of developing city-forests across neighborhoods and the city. Under this project the various forest parks that have been developed include the Kishore Kumar Baug (Kumar was a legendary Bollywood singer and actor), the Kaifi Azmi Udyan (Azmi was an eminent poet, writer and social activist) and a Children’s Forest Park. In the midst of these two parks a landmark amphitheater has been built that encourages spontaneous and formally organized cultural functions, named after Vijay Tendulkar (Tendulkar was an eminent theatre writer and director). In first phase, walking and cycling tracks and areas for children to play, pavilions for rest etc. have been developed. Good lighting and landscape have turned these places to be popular destinations. Thousands of people of all classes and communities throng these areas.
Building human resources
What this project has produced in terms of human resources is noteworthy. Through this project it has been possible to demystify and democratize the planning and design process. Citizens have actively interacted, and participated in various discussions and conferences, weekly site visits and interactions with the contractors, contributed to the formulation of design ideas and details, including the selection of materials and finishing’s. Many actively participated in the planning and design decisions from the inception. The myth of design and planning being the prerogative of trained professionals is, in more ways than one, dispelled through such collective efforts. The democratization of planning and design, and thereby of cities, has got a major thrust through this project. The mobilization of the collective to such an extent as in this project has successfully leveraged human resources at a neighborhood level. These citizens are now empowered to actively participate in decisions concerning planning and design of other projects of public interest in their area. This also reinforces the idea of participatory governance with the preparedness of an army of vigilant neighborhood residents taking ownership of their public assets.
These active citizens are now participating in meetings to discuss the forthcoming Development plan 2034 for Mumbai. Going beyond the interest of their area, they are prepared now to address matters across the city and build bridges with other citizens.
The key to the success of this pilot Irla project of addressing the issue of the watercourses of Mumbai has been the successful leveraging of all resources at a hyper-local, immediate and neighborhood scale. Residents of an area who feel strongly for their public assets can collectively assert pressure on government agencies for change; actively oppose disruptive forces to safeguard the larger interests of the environment as well as contribute towards the building of many more public assets, thereby leading to a mode of active and democratic development.
Collaboration and transparency
Fortunately, an earlier Juhu citizens’ movement for the restoration of the iconic Juhu beach and the experiences gained from it has forged for Irla nullah project important alliances and collaboration with many other neighborhoods and citywide citizens’ struggles. Such relationships generate enormous impetus to the localized movement, making it possible to sustain Irla and similar works in continuation and sustenance of initiatives in the future. As an example, Juhu citizens have participated along with other movements and projects through the form of Mumbai Nagrik Vikas Manch (Citizens Development Forum), in which over 20 citywide organizations have participated actively and engaged with several crucial city issues, like the ill-advised Coast Road, the elevated Metro and the opening of Aarey Colony, an eco-sensitive zone, for construction.
Collaboration and transparency are indeed the high point of Irla nullah. From the very inception of the plan, its execution has been possible due to the collaboration of multiple stakeholders at various levels. It is a unique story of teamwork. The list of collaborators includes the MCGM, which is the owner of the nullah and open spaces in its precinct; MHADA, the agency charged with the responsibility for its implementation; National Environmental Engineering Research Institute (NEERI) which has provided designs for the water filtration and cleansing systems; PKDas & Associates architects supervised this project on an entirely pro bono basis; the Mumbai Waterfronts Centre along with Kamala Raheja College of Architecture (KRVIA) which jointly undertook the neighborhood study of Juhu, resulting in the Juhu Vision Plan along with its publication in 2006; final year architecture students from KRVIA who partook in a design studio exploring the redevelopment potential of the Irla nullah precinct in 2017; PUDDI that is currently taking further the study and primary research for the re-invigoration of all Mumbai’s watercourses; Gulmohar Area Societies Welfare Group, the citizens’ group that has spearheaded the daily supervision and vigilance of the project with the support of other local area residents associations: JVPD Housing Association, Juhu Scheme Residents Association, Juhu Residents Association, Rotary Club of Juhu, Gaothan (Village) Area Residents Association of Juhu, and Juhu Scheme Residents Association.
This movement has also seen participation of several individuals from the area that include Javed Akhtar, who’s MPLAD Funds not only financed the project, but whose active participation in contributions key decisions has lent a fresh perspective. It is also important to mention several designers who have contributed as consultants to PKDas & Associates on an entirely pro bono basis: Ganti Designs, for lighting, Enviro designers for landscape and SACPL, for structures.
The complexity of the logistics in establishing this extensive collaboration and carrying out the multiple tasks of planning and implementation on a entirely honorary basis is a testament to the transparency of the process, without which such collaborative efforts would collapse due to misgivings and communication gaps, which are common in such kinds of projects. The movement involved the publication of several booklets, public campaigns and exhibitions, round table discussions, public meetings, press coverage and constant liaison with various authorities and this effort helped to foster trust in the project.
Such processes as evident in the Irla movement highlight the dedication shown by all collaborators equally and these have not only contributed to the success of the project, but have also reinforced the values and importance of such endeavors for larger public interest works within our cities. The Irla nullah movement and the project has demonstrated the need and significance of participatory, collaborative and co-operative endeavors as the foundation for building a robust, resilient and sustainable city.
P.K. Das
Mumbai
with input from Darryl DeMonte and Samarth Das
There is huge potential to incorporate mycelium into urban natural systems and infrastructure. To brainstorm this potential in the Portland area, we have created a loose network of interested ecology professionals called the Mycelium Net-Working Group. This epistemic network will serve as a starting point among government and NGO land stewards.
Fungi, that bizarre kingdom that includes yeasts and mushrooms, can be partnered with for healthier outcomes in urban natural areas and landscapes. Fungi, which are not plants and are more related to animals, are masters of chemistry. Enzymes created by fungi have been found to digest cigarette butts, DDT, and wood. They can transform wood into soil and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs) into less toxic molecules. Working with fungi has almost limitless possibilities to improve plant health, break down urban toxins, and produce food and medicine from waste products. Mycorrhizal fungi, fungi that partner with tree roots, are integral to plant and ecosystem health. Fungi grow outward similar to plant roots but then can reconnect their hyphae (or strands of fungal tissue) moving nutrients in changeable directions. Their adaptable forms and networks are also a good model for a biophilic city. The mycelium, or the webbed collection of hyphae, can form vast networks. Using mycelium as a model for relationships, we humans can work in collaboration with fungi. Mycorrhizal relationships demonstrate that many species prosper with more connection and collaboration and that our world is mostly NOT a battle between opposing forces Partnering with fungi and soil has multiple benefits for our shared future.
Microscope photo of intertwining mycelium: Citation: Cartabia, M.; Girometta,C.E.; Milanese, C.; Baiguera, R.M.; Buratti, S.; Branciforti, D.S.; Vadivel, D.; Girella, A.; Babbini, S.; Savino, E.; et al. Collection and Characterization of Wood Decay Fungal Strains for Developing Pure Mycelium Mats. J. Fungi 2021, 7, 1008. https://doi.org/10.3390/jof7121008 Creative Commons
Mycorrhizal networks
Mycorrhizal fungi intertwine with tree roots, exponentially expanding their nutrient capture capacity by ten to a thousand times. These fungi also connect to other plants creating an extensive and adaptable network in the soil, which can move nutrients from one plant to another creating a resilient web. In addition, mycorrhizal fungi produce glomulin, a sticky protein that helps bind soil particles together and enhances soil stability and health. This network is the foundation for ecosystem resilience and has been coined “nature’s internet” by mycologist Paul Stamets.
Approximately 95% of all vascular plant species form mycorrhizal relationships. This partnership has been seen in fossils of the very first land plants, dating back to about 460 million years ago. The fungi are the reason that the plants first survived at all on land, as the fungi produce enzymes that break down rocks and other substances into usable nutrients for the plants and themselves.
Drawing: (Used by permission, 33rd New Phytologist 33rd Symposium logo courtesy of the New Phytologist Foundation/Promotional Gods)
Research by Dr. Suzanne Simard and many others reveals how these fungi intertwine and entangle the whole ecosystem. “Mother trees”, as Dr. Simard calls them, are the pillars of the forested ecosystem. And it is the mycorrhizal network through which the wisdom of these oldest trees is able to communicate messages about pests, water, and nutrients. Mother trees are able to direct nutrients to their offspring via the fungal network and fungi can stimulate the growth of other microorganisms to protect the plants. When trees are connected to these networks die, they will transfer carbon and other nutrients to their neighbors via the fungal hyphae. Amazingly, this sort of shuttling of nutrients can happen between tree species, such as passing nutrients in the summer from a birch tree in the sun, to a Douglas fir in the shade, and then, in the winter, the Douglas fir will move nutrients back to the birch.
The interconnectedness of the plant-fungi relationship also expands to numerous wildlife. Maser et al, in “Trees, Truffles, and Beasts: How forests function”, explain how many forest mammals in present-day Australia and the United States are so dependent on mushrooms, specifically the underground reproductive structures produced by hundreds of species of mycorrhizal fungi called truffles, for their diet. Where I live in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, the western flying squirrel is one such truffle-seeking mammal (and it eats up to 100% of its diet in fungi during certain seasons). It digs for truffles in the soil and then glides its way from tree canopy to tree canopy using its wing-like skin between its legs. As these and other mammals and birds dig out and consume truffles, they are unknowingly dispersing the mushroom’s spores and further enhancing the mycorrhizal network.
Western-trained ecologists have for a while now known about the existence of these complex fungal networks, and we are finally realizing how a healthy network is so key to healthy forests. With this knowledge, there needs to be a shift in our frameworks of how we think about and steward the ecosystem, to one that promotes mycorrhizal network stewardship as a main driver. We can learn to team up with fungal networks to benefit our living systems, especially in urban areas that have experienced the most habitat degradation.
Fungi Practices in Urban Areas
Cultivating healthy fungal networks, rather than focusing solely on plants, is a paradigm shift that will take some experimentation and advocacy. There are large industries built on growing and nurturing plants, but only a few are dedicated to building mycorrhizal networks and building soil health. In landscape projects, soil is often neglected and rarely tested for its texture, compaction, or heavy metal composition. And testing for soil fungal and microbial community structure is possible but rare. Plants that thrive on a given site long term are matched not just with the microclimate but are an expression of the health and composition of the soil. The fungal and bacterial communities in the soil are an expression of soil health.
If the goal for an urban natural area is to establish native plant communities — this has been a major goal for most of my career — we need to put more value on the soil properties along with healthy fungal and bacterial communities. There are practices to improve the soil food web, but many of them have yet to become common practices in restoration.
Miguel Lopez decompacting soil and incorporating biochar and compost. Photo by Toby Query
Threats to mycorrhizae
The mycorrhizal network is dependent on living plants as well as soil organic matter. The disturbance of either one will result in hurting the mycorrhizae. Dense soils from vehicles and equipment compaction also damages soil health. This reduces the availability of space between soil particles for roots and mycelium to breath and grow, and also for mammals to burrow and dig. Herbicides, such as glyphosate, are also fungicides that can disrupt soil fungi.
Making a morel spore slurry Photo by Toby Query
Repairing soil
Healthy soil generally means high organic matter (usually 3-4% or higher), good aeration, a balance of nutrients as well as the right mix of sand/silt/clay along with abundant beneficial microorganisms. On a few of the sites I steward, I’ve been adding organic matter in forms of woodchips, biochar, and compost to amend soils. To loosen up imported soils, I’ve been using Dave Polster’s “Rough and Loose” technique. In landscaping and natural area projects with construction components, engineers and designers should treat soil and their mycorrhizae as critical for project success and continue to develop associated specifications.
Arbuscular mycorrhizae can be cultivated and many species are promiscuous as to what species they associate with, meaning one species of fungi can form connections with many different types of plants. It is possible to purchase mycorrhizae spores, but it could be an added benefit to cultivate spores from species that thrive in urban environments and magnify their abundance. Many techniques incorporate magnifying fungi, often times moving soil from healthy forests to newly planted or cultivated areas.
Korean Natural Farming is a technique that actively cultivates “indigenous microorganisms” to benefit crops by bringing mycelium and microorganisms from the forest into a farm field. We often transfer plants from more wild places into the city. Why not transfer mycelium the same way? Soil food web scientist Elaine Ingham promotes compost tea and other techniques to amplify microbial soil life. Rather than spraying weeds with pesticide, what if land stewards sprayed beneficial organisms on desirable plants? We are experimenting with using morel mushroom spore slurries and spawn to inoculate constructed beds of sawdust. Our hope is that the morel mycelium will feed on the sawdust substrate and gradually form a symbiotic relationship with surrounding trees, expanding the food web for the trees and expanding the mycelial network. And if this trial does succeed, who is going to be against having a harvest of morels?
Non-mycorrhizal fungi can also enhance soil quality and improve plant health. The Queen Stropharia mushroom (Stropharia rugosoannulata) is widely available and can produce large edible mushrooms weighing up to 2.25 kg grown on wood chips and straw. Woodchips can be used as a mulch around plantings and the fungi can benefit surrounding plants. This species breaks down toxins, reduces levels of E. coli, and shoots out spikes, called acanthocytes, that impale nematodes! This fungus feeds on both wood and animals! Many nematodes eat plant roots, so this fungus and other nematode-consuming fungi (like the oyster mushroom) can keep nearby plants healthy. Inoculated chips can regulate water and temperature around plants as well, improving growth. Queen Stropharia beds are easy to construct, a way to build soil and produce edible mushrooms for humans. If humans or other mammals don’t consume them, fly larvae will feed on the mushrooms which will in turn feed insectivorous birds or other creatures.
Photo by Toby Query: Mixing straw and woodchips with Queen Stropharia spawn to make mushroom bed.
Although many mushrooms are edible, one should NEVER eat mushrooms that grow near roads or that are exposed to air, soil, or water pollution. Fungi can break down various toxins but can also hyper-accumulate heavy metals in their fruiting bodies. Fungi used for remediation purposes should never be consumed, but mushrooms grown on non-contaminated substrate will be safe. Mushrooms used for remediation should never be consumed, their mushrooms should instead be harvested and disposed of if found to have heavy metals.
Inoculating Dead Wood
Blown down trees or pruned limbs can be converted into mushrooms. I’m experimenting with drilling myceliated wooden dowels into dead wood. This will help break down the wood and add medicinal and edible mushrooms to the landscape. Matching the fungi strain with the wood species is important as is the time of year and care of the fungi. As mushroom foraging increases in popularity, why not have landscapes and nature trails in the city cultivated with mushrooms?
Cultivating fungi on dead wood can be part of fire reduction plans, as inoculated wood might break down faster than left to natural fungi for decomposition. Dead wood often develops mushrooms without cultivation and species like turkey tails (Trametes versicolor) and the split-gill (Schizophyllum commune) are common and medicinal.
Beaver-chewed tree inoculated with myceliated dowels-Photo by Toby Query
Mycoremediation: Fungi for remediation practices
Fungi produce enzymes that are sent outside of their body to break down and digest surrounding materials. Lignin, the principal component of wood, is extremely hard to digest for most of the world’s organisms, but some fungi actually rely on lignin to survive. Because lignin has a chemical structure similar to some persistent human-created toxins such as PAHs, and PCB, we can use inoculated wood chips or straw as filters to break down road runoff or in other areas known to have toxic inputs. There is also mycoremediation potential for wastewater treatment systems where fungi can be used to break down pharmaceuticals and other hazardous chemicals that are usually not treated by conventional processes. There is a need for mycologists to be integrated into stormwater and wastewater treatment design to transform toxins into less toxic molecules for cleaner urban watersheds.
Fallen tree inoculated with oyster mushroom mycelium last year is fruiting in January 2023
Fungi for the climate
Trees are often thought of as the natural carbon storage vessels of our planet, but soil-dwelling fungi play a huge role. Fungi produce compounds that are more persistent at storing carbon in the soil than any other organisms and their importance should not be overlooked. Fostering tree-to-fungi-to-tree connections can help support canopy health in cities. Climate resilience of urban trees is ultimately a collaboration between soil microorganisms, soil texture, hydrology, and tree selection.
As I shift my own awareness and focus to be a land steward for all Portlanders, fungi can be part of this equity work. My own shift includes humans as nature: we are part of nature and rely on its abundance. Part of stewarding land can be harvesting foods, medicines, and materials to reconnect to the land. Edible and medicinal fungi can be part of this stewardship and mushrooms like reishi, lion’s mane, oyster, and shiitake can be cultivated in natural landscapes. These mushrooms could be available to the lucky human or squirrel. Medicinal and edible mushrooms are already harvested by the public in cities. Why not add to their abundance?
The Future is Fungi
To shift to prioritizing fungi in natural landscapes, we need more mycologists. The City of Portland has a very detailed and vetted plant list, but no fungi list. Fungi have been a forgotten taxa for species lists, identification, and conservation, and developing a species list is a good place to start. Intentional mycological landscapes and mycoremediation projects have been created by interested community members, but it is time for governments and educational institutions to build up their own knowledge and experience. Ecologists, landscape designers, and land stewards can begin to learn about their biology as well as simple techniques to work with fungi.
Selfie of Toby Query holding first flush of Queen Stropharia mushrooms from inoculated wood chips
There is huge potential to incorporate mycelium into urban natural systems and infrastructure. To brainstorm this potential in the Portland area, we have created a loose network of interested ecology professionals called the Mycelium Net-Working Group. This epistemic network will serve as a starting point among government and NGO land stewards to brainstorm potential uses of fungi, advocate for mycology projects, set up trials, share results, and educate ourselves and the public. Ideally, this will spawn innovative projects that lead to healthier and more inclusive urban natural systems and create a hub for resilience building. Not unlike a mycelial network! Community connections will be vital and learning the desires for medicinal or edible fungi in landscapes from different communities will need to be integrated into decision making. It is time to start building this infrastructure and I incorporating the fungal kingdom into our stewardship practices. It should be done in reciprocity, giving respect to the fungi and partnering with them to heal landscapes and communities. Working with fungi is a way to reconnect to the cycles of growth and decay and the web of the natural world. Changing our focus to protect mycorrhizal networks and encourage beneficial fungi will support resilient communities.
Like many great Tree for All projects, the Paseos Verdes program began with a conversation about what the community wanted and how we could work together to achieve it.
Since its beginning fifteen years ago, the landscape conservation program called Tree for All (TFA) has found a home for more than 10 million native plants in the 750 square mile Tualatin River Watershed of Northwestern Oregon. Over 700 projects have been completed along 140 river miles across 30,000 acres.
The Tualatin River Watershed
TFA owes its success to more than 30 partners who have recognized the importance of creating a healthy and resilient watershed for humans and wildlife. Key to this success is the notion that solving wicked problems like climate change and rapid urbanization is dependent on our ability to create diverse transformational partnerships. These transformational partnerships bring with them the human and financial resources needed for solving some of our most challenging and complex problems. Reflecting on these 15 past years, I have witnessed many great stories where partners have come together to create transformational projects that feed this landscape conservation program. For me, new programs often start with a walk in the woods with my friend Kirby.
Quiet reflection and connecting with nature
It is an hour before sunrise on a cool fall morning in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon. My alarm clock is going off with the usual thump, thump, scratch, scratch outside my bedroom door. Yep, Kirby the rescue dog is letting me know it’s time for our daily “Paseo Verde” (“Green Walk”). The hour before dawn is a very special time for both of us as we stretch our legs and clear our minds. A few humans are stirring but it’s the local wildlife and natural world that inspires us.
Kirby ready for his walk. Photo: Bruce Roll
Our walk begins in a typical suburban neighborhood, with cul-de-sacs, quiet sleepy streets and dark houses. Soon, however, I take a footpath that travels a mile along an urban stream planted with native vegetation. It’s dark, but we find our way with the help of my trusty headlamp and it’s not long before Kirby is saying hello to four sets of glowing eyes as we watch a mother raccoon herd her children home along this wildlife corridor. They look well fed as Kirby sniffs remnants of last night’s dinner, looks like crayfish was on the menu. It’s not long before we reach a local high school ball field where hundreds of Canadian geese spent the night. It is a safe stopover on their way south and they will be gone before sun up, leaving behind nourishment for the grass.
We are now three miles into our Paseo Verde when we enter the last segment of our journey, a 30 acre natural area with abundant foot paths and another opportunity to say good morning to Mother Nature. This time it’s 80 foot Douglas Firs and Red Cedars, with large Sword Ferns covering the forest floor. Owls and coyotes have left their calling cards beneath trees and along the trail. This stand of trees was here long before the surrounding houses. I wonder how many generations of wildlife have spent time in this forest. I have visited this park many times in the hour before dawn when it’s just me and nature. I wonder how many people are connecting with nature in this park.
Photo: Michael Nipper, 2015
Upon leaving the park, my walk is soon over and the sun is rising as I prepare for work. I saw some interesting wildlife, and, like me and Kirby, they appear to be well fed and happy. Clean air, water, and native vegetation seems to make us both happy. My mental health and moments of quiet reflection are tied directly to this daily Paseo Verde. It’s not the idea of lowering blood pressure and weight that stimulates my interest in these daily walks, but rather the experience I have of walking with a good friend and witnessing Mother Nature just before dawn.
I am fortunate to live in an area where Mother Nature is a few steps away from my home. Having worked throughout Washington County, Oregon, I also know that not everyone has this same opportunity. When I think about underserved communities, I often ponder how my job with a public utility might provide opportunities and access to nature. Creating such connections is not that difficult when we are able to step back and rethink how we connect our clean water regulatory requirements to a broader set of community values. Values like human health and wellness, access to nature, clean water, and sense of place. By pairing utility needs with the needs of local non-profits and governments, a broader set of values can be addressed and a richer outcome is achieved.
The creation of Paseos Verdes
A dozen plus years ago I was fortunate to join forces with the Audubon Society of Portland and Bienestar, a local community development corporation that provides affordable housing for Latino farmworkers and lower income families, on a program called Explorador Camp. The Explorador Camp program provides summer nature-camp activities and field trips to school-age residents of Bienestar housing. At the same time, the Tree for All program was busy restoring thousands of acres of public lands in the Tualatin River Watershed. We had a target audience and many great places to visit and learn about watershed health and stewardship. As the program flourished, we began to ponder how to expand upon the program and this partnership with the local Latino community.
In 2017, amid the burgeoning research linking nature with improved health outcomes, we were inspired to create a program that harnessed our existing partnerships to enhance human health outcomes alongside all of our efforts to enhance the health of the Tualatin watershed.
This seed of an idea was planted into the existing partnership with Bienestar and the Audubon Society of Portland, and the result was Paseos Verdes (Green Walks). The program, now in its fourth year, connects underserved community members to natural areas in Washington County through guided walks in the Tualatin Watershed. The walks engage families to learn about watershed health, water management, and wildlife. These experiences promote environmental stewardship while providing the health benefits of being active in nature and the outdoors.
The Paseos Verdes program began with a dialogue about what the community wanted and how we could work together to achieve it. We learned about the barriers that many community members face to accessing our local natural areas, and followed their lead in designing a culturally relevant program. Community members told us that they wanted a multi-generational, family-friendly program that accommodates the full spectrum of bilingualism. We also learned that transportation is a significant barrier to accessing local natural areas for many community members. Working with Bienestar, we developed Paseos Verdes and piloted the program in the summer of 2017.
A Paseos Verdes walk in action. Photo: Lorena O’Neill, 2019
The first year of Paseos Verdes, we started with three partners and one walk location. The program was a great success, and the response from the Bienestar community was overwhelmingly positive. Program participation exceeded our expectations and families were eager to sign up again and again. Walks were held at the Fernhill Wetlands, a cutting-edge natural treatment system and natural area. Along the trail, participants could often be heard exclaiming “I live nearby and I have never been here before!” while planning their next visit together. On one walk, children lined up excitedly to observe great blue herons and bullfrogs through a bird-spotting scope while marveling over the fact that their bathwater could end up in such a beautiful place. On another occasion, a delighted grandmother spotted wild chamomile growing alongside the trail and taught the group about the plant’s various uses in her native Mexico. This two-way teaching and learning model, in which both participants and naturalists learn from each other, is an important part of the program. Participants often teach the naturalists and the rest of the group about cultural uses for plants or alternate names for migratory birds they encounter on the walks.
A Paseos Verdes participant teaches the group about how this plant is used in basket weaving.Photo: Lorena O’Neill, 2019
In 2018, we brought on another partner, the Tualatin Soil and Water Conservation District, and joined forces with Hillsboro Parks and Recreation District to hold walks at the Jackson Bottom Wetlands Preserve. We also developed a Bilingual Naturalist Training Program. A cohort of five Washington County residents was recruited to participate in trainings and lead the walks. Participants learned about plants, animals, and habitats through classroom learning and field practice, while developing organizational and leadership skills.
The excitement of spotting a barred owl eating its prey. Photo credit: Lorena O’Neill, 2019
Paseos Verdes post-walk evaluations consistently tell us the same story: participants feel happier, less stressed, and more relaxed that they did before the walk. The children become fast friends as they walk the trails and marvel over a barred owl eating prey and families make plans to come back together the following weekend. By providing culturally competent and engaging opportunities for Washington County residents to connect with the Tualatin Watershed, Paseos Verdes is improving community health while fostering the river stewards of tomorrow.
Like so many TFA partnerships, Paseos Verdes started with a conversation between local governments and non-profits wanting to engage in a new partnership. In this case, it was the local Latino community and a walking adventure that brought together health care providers, parks districts, local cities, non-profits and a utility that was able to work within a broader set of community values. As we watch local health organizations join the program, we see new wellness investors joining forces with local restoration efforts. For me, helping create Paseos Verdes was one of the richest and most rewarding experiences of my career. I learned so many new things watching and listening to our new partners. Partners who add a sense of place and a cultural heritage that strengthens our community.
Imagine the world of productive potential beneath your feet.
In previous TNOC posts I wrote about two apparently different topics: urban agriculture and living underground. Let’s combine them now into a new urban object: Farming underground. You may very well think that I am playing smart-aleck here, and that this paper is just a piece of bravura, since farming may appear incompatible with underground place, if only because there is scarce natural light down there. Well no, it is not. Underground farming exists already and develops steadily throughout the world. An example is the Plantlab three floor underground farm in the city of Hertogenbosch in the Netherlands, with plants cultivated without sunlight by a private company—PlantLab. Another is the network of World War II shelters under the city of London used to grow crops. And you can find similar places in South Korea, Tokyo, and Sweden.
Traditional mushroom farming in Saint Germain-en-Laye near Paris. Photo: Wikimedia
And it is only natural, since living underground is a huge economic issue: there are masses of unused underground infrastructure (ancient quarries, tunnels, shelters etc.). In fact, farming underground is not such an original idea if we consider that mushrooms have been massively cultivated in ancient quarries for centuries.
But there is a fly in the soup, the same fly I was talking about in my former posts on plain soil level urban agriculture. What kind of underground farming are we speaking about? Are we going to reproduce conventional agriculture in the first place? And then, thinking of my last post about living underground, how would underground citizens interact with farming? Underground farming has already a solid financial agenda and may ultimately become even more industrialized than surface conventional one, which may very well lead to a social and environmental nightmare. But, we can also imagine reproducing kitchen and community gardens underground, so as to foster more inclusive societies.
There are some places in the world where this type of underground farming exists already. Let’s consider the Chinese village of Zhongdong in the province of Guizhou, where people have been living and farming underground for a long time.
On the way to Zhongdong. Photo: Wikimedia
In southwest China, at an altitude of 1.800 meters, is a huge natural cave tucked into hazy green mountains. Carved over thousands of years by wind, water and tectonic activity, this cave is 115 meters wide, 50 meters in height, and 215 meters under the surface. Today, Zhongdong is a village of more than 100 inhabitants tucked into this cave. In fact, Zhongdong means, “Middle cave”… How original! Well, maybe this truism is not so obvious after all: if there is a “middle cave” today, there were probably villages named “upper cave” and “lower cave” in the past, which means that this lifestyle was much more common then. And indeed, there are two other caves nearby: the first one is too damp to be habitable (local climate is characterized by heavy rains and high-level moisture) and second one is uninhabited.
The villagers belong to the Hmong ethnic group—which number about ten million inhabitants in China. This people live officially in the cave since 1949. They supposedly moved there to protect themselves from the chaos of the Chinese civil war. But in fact, there were there probably far a long time before that — we’re speaking of hundreds of years. The elders—among them people born long before 1949—remember that they had always lived there. Besides, the oldest village structures still in place in the cave date back over a century. The soil stratum also testifies to centuries of human occupation. In other parts of China people live in houses tunneled out of hillsides, but Zhongdong is the only place where people live year-round in a natural cave.
Zhongdong – a cavemen’s village. Photo: Carsten P.
It is not only a village: it is a whole world in a cave, a little universe. At first look, the village is formed of scattered shanty shacks with no roof. They do not need them, since they are deep inside the cave. But a clutter of food stocks, fuel wood, fodder, laundry drying on clotheslines, surround every house. There are also many farming lots. The inhabitants grow corn, rice, some vegetables for everyday use, and raise chicken and pigs—there are even a few cows. In order to make farming possible, the lots are located in places receiving enough daylight, nearby the cave entrance or under natural light shafts, and water is collected from dripping walls and guided to the fields. Recently wells have been drilled and nearby springs have been diverted to irrigate crops, water livestock, and for drinking and other domestic uses. They are vital, especially during the dry season when water supplies are limited.
The only connection linking the cave to the outside world is a narrow trail high above a river that winds through bumped countryside of Guizhou’s province. It means one hour trip walking from the nearest human settlement, followed by an hour up a steep, rough stone path to buy the things the villagers can’t make or grow, like toothpaste and soap, clothes, and to sell their cattle and crops.
An elementary school opened inside the cave in 1984: wooden classrooms against the cave walls with a schoolyard on the front side and a sport court. According to the teachers, acoustics were perfect, and the school’s environment was ideal for practical work in geology or biology (lizards, bats, and swallows). More than 200 children attended the school, some coming from hamlets of the neighborhood.
At the very beginning of this century the village got connected to electricity and landlines and cell phones started working. In the wake of these improvements a medical dispensary opened. So, yes, underground farming can be associated with a micro-society—here, a cavemen’s village—and is not inconsistent with opening up to the world.
Entrance to the parking lot. Photo: ParisculteursFarming in La Caverne.
When considering underground farming past meets up with future. Zhongdong can be seen as a reference—or at least an ancestor—for a project in Paris: an underground car park underneath a social housing complex of 300 households—quartier de La Goutte d’Or—has been converted by the inhabitants into a kitchen garden of 3,500 m2 named La Caverne (the cave). 500 m2 are already cultivated and the place produces more than 40 tons of organic vegetables, mushrooms and microgreens per year for the use of the local community (inhabitants of the complex and neighbors), recycling 20 tons per year of microbrewery dregs, coffee ground, and compost as fertilizer. Thus, La Caverne also turns urban biowaste into bioresources.
How did La Caverne happen? Paris City Hall launched a contest—named Parisculteurs— to develop urban agriculture and more generally active revegetation in the city. A collective gathering the housing complex’s inhabitants applied with the support of both their social landlord ICS La Sablière and Cycloponics, and their project—La Caverne—won the contest. Cycloponics is an environmental activist company that intervenes in disadvantaged districts to help people initiating participative urban underground organic farming, as a means of giving the inhabitants access to healthy food but also of building social inclusiveness and developing economic activities. The company already helped creating an underground farm —Le Bunker Comestible (the edible bunker)—in an ancient 1880s bunker near the city of Strasbourg.
The Bunker Comestible near Strasbourg.
As a co-op organization, social cohesion is also an objective of La Caverne. Right at the entrance of the staircase that leads to the farming lot is a direct sales kiosk where surplus production is sold to any passers-by. They also sell products from other Parisian urban and peri-urban micro-farmers.
You could be this passer-by. Pay a visit to La Caverne while in Paris. This activity provides jobs to unemployed people from the housing complex. La Caverne is succeeding in turning a social housing complex into a kind of village.
Urban Design practices have always been created in response to emerging and overlapping city models and the disciplinary contexts designers find themselves in. I have found that the urban ecology framework of Patch Dynamics has been key in allowing me to see how city models such as the megalopolis and the megacity interact and generate urban ecosystem change [see Note 1, at the end of the blog]. Your first though about a patch may be that of a shape that changes. However, the concept of a patch in this case describes a set of patches or a mosaic that changes over time. My search is not to find or create the best patch mosaics, or those that function in the most resilient ways. Instead, it is a project of creating urban design practices and strategies for a diversity of urban actors to engage their patches and democratize the resilience cycle in their own ways.
This post is partly a how-to-draw-a-patch guide, and partly a reflection on Patch Dynamics, an ecology framework that is being re-engaged by colleagues and myself as a shared tool between urban ecologists and urban designers. There are two recent papers that describe the ecological and urban design theory for the development of this work to date [2]. This post will not attempt to summarize that work but rather will spiral out from it. It reflects on what patches, as the basis of a drawing system for professionals in urban social-ecology, stewardship, resilience, sustainability, policy, design and planning, as well as informed citizens, can and cannot do. This post is illustrated with examples of how the author has been engaging patches in urban design research in India, China, and at The New School in New York [3].
Patches here are engaged as an experiment toward the design of an adaptive mosaic approach to urban change [4]. This is an approach that seeks to maintain a diversity of future options rather than targeting specific outcomes. In this post, patch drawings are shared as a tool that can generate a discursive space. They act to visually communicate the way urbanization intensifies and ages in patchy and complex spatial patterns with biodiversity changes lagging behind or moving ahead in similarly fragmented ways. They aim to foster ways that people can recognize, not just experience, what Steward Pickett describes as the ecology of the city, not ecology in the city.
Patch drawings also point toward a system that permits a diversity of research questions to emerge from, overlapping, adjacent and quite similar urban landscapes; it allows for contesting views and practices to co-exist and as Lily Ling suggests, to “chat” with each other, allowing democratic politics to arise quietly and incrementally through urban ecosystem change [5].
Imagery
Learning from the examples described below, including commissioned flyover, the commissioned satellite, do-it-yourself satellite mapping, oblique aerial imagery, and informed by the release of Google Earth historical imagery in 2009 and advanced printing on Google Earth Pro, this patch guide engages creative use of aerial imagery as an urban design tool [6]. In addition it explores open source approaches, given that imagery may not be free forever or openly available in some countries [7].
Gwynns Falls, Baltimore Flyover imagery comparison: Left 1960 (approx), Right 2006 Credit: BES LTER
In 2003 Laura Kurgan purchased data from Quickbird-2, a high resolution Earth-Observation satellite that only collects images if requested to do so. Her project titled Monochrome Landscapes was both a political and environmental activist statement as well as an innovative use of satellites as drawing tool. She selected four sets of co-ordinates of four spots on earth in which almost nothing but snow, water, trees or sand is visible. The satellite went there, collected imagery data that was later exhibited as a set of Cibachrome prints in a gallery [10]. In her words “they are photographs: information, surface, pattern, change encounter, event, memory field of color” and “they were also places that were contested, fragile, and subjected to an increasingly through surveillance apparatus.”
In 2010 Jeff Warren, the founder of grassrootsmapping.org led a balloon and kite aerial mapping workshop for students of Street Life and Mapping the City at The New School. Grassroots Mapping, which is now part of Public Laboratory for Open Technology and Science, has designed a range of participatory mapping projects involving communities in cartographic dispute. They have built a global community of mappers who are engaged in civic issues with low-cost mapping tools like balloons, kites, and remote-control airplanes. Lessons include how to hack a cheap camera, how build a crash proof housing out of a soda bottle, and tape it together into a giant tetrahedron made out of mylar survival blankets. This type of do-it-yourself satellite creates high-resolution imagery of a local area that can be “orthorectified” or “georectificied” and shared. The charismatic balloon attracts everyone who walks by and therefore could be itself a type of social research apparatus.
Animation of images taken from the balloon camera at Union Square, NY. Credit: Colin Macfadyen and Grasrootsmapping.orgUnion Square collage of the urban space generated by the charismatic balloon. Credit: Victoria Marshall, Martin Seck and Grasrootsmapping.org.
In 2010 an installation, titled Backwater Frontwaters, used oblique aerial imagery to bring forward two overlooked backwaters of the Hudson Raritan Estuary—Minetta Brook beneath Greenwich Village and the Newark Bay Wetlands under Newark Liberty Airport and Port of Newark. As part of the Living Concrete/Carrot City exhibition at the Sheila Johnson Design Center the project was a study of patches at two scales: the watershed and the block. Patches were individually arrayed in long vertical strips of paper that were hung from the ceiling like a curtain. In between each patch strip were student projects that engaged the watershed space, engaging memory, microclimate rhythms and everyday life patterns repeated over time in many extremely local experiments—e.g., tree pits, roof top planters, community gardens and new urban form. The installation aimed to demonstrate an approach to urban design where fine grain patchiness makes a difference. Land-cover patches change shape regularly in relation to flows of people, matter and information. The Backwater Frontwaters projects were designed as agents of change within these dynamic patches, altering and responding to moving patch boundaries in conscious and imaginative ways.
Rooftop Patch Study: 13th and 14th St, between 5th and 6th Ave, NY. Credit: Elinor Mossop and Victoria MarshallYardscape Patch Study: Ironbound, Newark NJ, Credit: Elinor Mossop and Victoria Marshall
Patch guide
Patchguide is a simple PDF that will show you how to create a patch drawing. In it you will find instructions on how to save and arrange your base imagery in Google and then create a layered file in Adobe Illustrator. You will then learn how to draw lines, how to create narratives, and then how to save your patch maps. This is a system of making that anyone who is familiar with the Adobe Creative Suite will recognize. For sure there are better ways to do this, for example it could be more high tech and automated (excluding some people) or it could be lower tech using printouts and pens for example (more inclusive).
First, patches are based on land cover, not land use. Its about what covers the land, not how it is defined as being used or anticipated to be used by strategic land use zoning categories such as residential, commercial etc. In other words land cover doesn’t confound the complexity of the city by mixing structure and function. The land cover types are buildings, pavement, bare soil, fine vegetation, coarse vegetation.
Second, a patch boundary is a line that marks differences in the mix of land cover types. In other words, a boundary is located where the heterogeneity of land cover mixes change.
Third, patches change shape and they do so in two ways. First the boundary can stay the same and the contents change. Or, the boundary can move, either becoming bigger or smaller as patches around it or inside of it change (see below.)
Finally the size of a patch depends on your research question. For example you can draw the patches of your block, neighborhood or your watershed.
Kunming, China. Land cover examples: buildings, pavement, bare soil, fine vegetation, coarse vegetation. Credit: Victoria Marshall and Colin MacfadyenKunming, China. Patch boundary examples. Credit: Victoria Marshall and Colin Macfadyen
Kunming, China. Patch change examples. In the middle of each set there is a village which mostly stays the same patch shape, while everything else around it changes. The duration for each sequence is 1999, 2002, 2005, 2007, 2010. Credit: Victoria Marshall and Colin Macfadyen
There are two things to keep in mind while you are in the middle of the drawing process: When you determine your minimum patch size consider it a rule, make notes and follow it. Later if others work with your drawing to add more patches they will be able to follow your rule. For example, a road cannot be a patch, unless it’s a wide highway, or a building cannot be its own patch, unless it’s a gigantic shopping mall. Going the other way, when you find that you are left with a big heterogeneous patch, you will need to make a decision to leave it or to break it up into smaller patches.
Second, as you finish one layer and then move to the next e.g. 2005 to 2007, you will find that you will need to go back and edit some previous patches. This can take time; however this slow process is an important stage in which you learn the particularities of your site. New patterns emerge the longer you look however there is a moment when your rules read evenly across every layer and you can shift to making narratives.
Kunming, China. Narrative #1. A patch change narrative of village edges changing. The rule here is every patch that is adjacent to a village patch is shown. What this reveals the transition whereby villagers change livelihood and lifestyle from agriculture to something else, while staying in place. This narrative is the base for the patch boundary samples shown above. Credit: Victoria Marshall and Colin Macfadyen
When you create your narrative there are many possibilities for example you can ask an objective or a subjective research question (see below.) It may come from your disciplinary expertise and capacity or it may come from the place. One is not better than another. The key is that the patch drawing system can accommodate many questions. For example, you may be interested in the bird diversity in the patch where you live, your neighbor may also be interested in the same patch but in relation to storm sewer flows. Someone else may be researching your neighborhood patch type in comparison with similar types in other cities around the world. In this way patch dynamic narratives provide the basis to share multiple ways of seeing, imagining, and monitoring.
Kunming, China. Narrative #2. A patch change narrative focused only on bare soil dominant patches. The lake is also shown as a reference. In this rapidly changing part of the city, bare soil is a transition phase for patch change from one land cover type to a completely different one. In other cities bare soil may be a mining site or desert, for example. In this narrative the patches change in response first to individual parcels and then later to the highway construction project. The lake gets smaller, due to sedimentation. The duration for all narratives is 1999, 2002, 2005, 2007, 2010. The earth in Kunming is red; therefore bare soil is easily seen by satellite. Credit: Victoria Marshall and Colin Macfadyen
Here are some harder things to understand about patch dynamics. As mentioned above, it is a framework that can be applied at any scale. In this way it is similar to the ecosystem concept. When it is applied to the world it becomes a model. The scale, at which it is applied, depends on your research question. So you ask, how big is a patch? The answer is, it depends on your question. For theKunming patch drawing, this area was chosen, as it appeared to be the most heterogeneous part of the city. A commitment was made to study a large area as the author hadn’t visited China at that stage and wanted to learn as much as possible through drawing, first. On reflection, this drawing was sometimes too big to “hold.” It may therefore be better to do many smaller drawings, faster.
Kunming, China. Narrative #3. A patch change narrative of how road edges change. The rule here is every patch that is adjacent to a road (pink line) is shown. What this reveals the transition whereby a local road is eclipsed by a ring road, and a connection to a new international airport (out of frame.) In making this drawing I wondered about the people who use the road. Does this type of drawing resonate in any way with their lived experience of witnessing this change as a commuter? Later when I visited Kunming (also called ground truthing) I felt like I was inside this drawing. I “knew” the area in a strange way, and of course it was completely alive in incredibly detailed and sensorial ways that can never be learnt remotely. Credit: Victoria Marshall and Colin Macfadyen
There are three things that patches don’tdo
First, patches explain land cover change, however they need to be correlated with other data sets such as social groups in order to learn how the heterogeneity within the city interacts with the social heterogeneity of the city and how together, they function.
Second, for this drawing method at least, Google doesn’t work at the close up scale. Similarly at bigger scales the imagery contrast of different flyovers creates ‘fake’ patches and zoomed out imagery creates ‘muddy’ city-regions.
Third, the patch classification doesn’t include water as a class, however it certainly could. For example, the daily rhythm of satellite circumnavigation of the earth has the potential to visualize urban seasonal change, in particular the monsoon cycle of Asian coastal regions, where most urbanization is taking place.
Kunming, China. Ground Truthing. Top: Dusty Village Street. Middle: Life on the bus. Low: Kunming Urban Planning Museum. Credit: Victoria Marshall
Kunming, China. Ground Truthing. Top: New highway gradient. Mid: Village life under the unopened highway. Low: Red earth. Credit: Victoria Marshall
Conclusion
Kunming is the largest city in Yunnan, a province of northwest China. It is located on the northern edge of the famous Lake Dian. Today this lake is extremely polluted, a legacy of filling in wetlands, which accelerated during the political campaign of spring of 1970, overfishing, a shift to the sanitary city (without constructing the waste treatment facilities,) and the more recent effects of the shoreline flower industry, the largest in China. The area in this patch drawing is on the northeastern edge of the city, upstream, in an area located between the new ring road and the new international airport. It wasn’t chosen because for its rhetorical potential as a new urban form, or a site of innovative social change. It is actually a somewhat unremarkable area and was simply chosen as it was heterogeneous, changing fast, and therefore easy to draw using satellite imagery.
Kunming, China. Location map with study area in orange and Lake Dian in white. The dimensions of the white square are 17 miles x 17 miles. Credit: Victoria Marshall.
Drawing the patches of a city-region is not a search for an ideal patch type, or an ideal urban form, rather it is to learn about the dynamics of the mix. For urban designers and urbanists the next step is to design an urban practice that is responsive to the mix and aims toward a more resilient dynamic. Patches bring everything into the field of view and allow for sorting as a creative and democratic act. They are a type of granular sketch that is shareable and updatable and could be used to create a model as well as new urban design practices.
But first, there is simply the project of learning how to draw and in the process to see urban change remotely and in the street. Making the most of new media and new technology this post shares this drawing system as a tool that contributes to the design of an adaptive mosaic approach to urban change, and as an urban designers contribution to the emerging field of urban ecology.
Victoria Marshall, with M.L. Cadenasso, Colin Macfadyen, Brian McGrath, S. T. A. Pickett
M. L. Cadenasso
Associate Professor
University of California Davis, Department of Plant Sciences [email protected]
Colin Macfadyen
Artist and Integrated Designer
colinmacfadyen.info [email protected]
Brian McGrath
Associate Professor of Urban Design
Urban Design Research Chair
Parsons the New School for Design [email protected]
S. T. A. Pickett
Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies
Director, Baltimore Ecosystem Study [email protected]
Notes
1 — Haar, S. and V. Marshall, 2013. Mega Urban Ecologies. IN Urban Design Ecologies Reader, B. McGrath (ed.). London: Wiley.
2 — Cadenasso, M.L., S. T. A. Pickett, B. McGrath and V. Marshall. 2013. Ecological Heterogeneity in Urban Ecosystems: Reconceptualizing Land Cover Models as a Bridge to Urban Design. IN Resilience in Ecology and Urban Design: Linking Theory and Practice for Sustainable Cities. S. T. A. Pickett, M. L. Cadenasso, B. McGrath (eds). Dordrecht: Springer.
Cadenasso, M.L.. 2013. Designing Urban Heterogeneity. IN Urban Design Ecologies. Brian McGrath (ed). London: Wiley.
3 — Research in China is supported by the India China Institute http://indiachinainstitute.org/; Research in Patch Dynamics is supported by the Urban Design Working Group, at the Baltimore Ecosystem Study. http://www.beslter.org/
4 — F.S. Chapin et al. 2011. Earth Stewardship: Science for Action to Sustain the Human-earth System. Ecosphere. Vol. 2 (8), Article 89.
5 — L.H.M. Ling, (forthcoming.) The Dao of World Politics: Towards a Post-Westphalian, Worldist International Relations. London: Routlege.
6 — McGrath, B. and G. Shane. 2005. AD:Sensing the 21st Century City: Up close and remote, Vol. 75 (6).
7 — As an alternative to Google Earth, the patch guide includes notes on Open Street Map, which is an open source platform. http://www.openstreetmap.org/
8 — Cadenasso, M. L., S. T. A. Pickett, and K. Schwarz. 2007. “Spatial heterogeneity in urban ecosystems: reconceptualizing land cover and a framework for classification.” Frontiers in Ecology and Environment 5:80-88.
9 — McGrath, B., V. Marshall, M. L. Cadenasso, M. Grove, S. T. A. Pickett, R.A. Plunz, and J. Towers. 2007. Designing Patch Dynamics: Baltimore. New York: Columbia University.
11 — Cadenasso, M. L., S. T. A. Pickett, and K. Schwarz. 2007. Spatial heterogeneity in urban ecosystems: reconceptualizing land cover and a framework for classification. Frontiers in Ecology and Environment 5: 80-88.
A review of “Palm House”, a commissioned project on view at the Edinburgh Art Festival until 27 August 2017.
In the late 19th century, Geddes proposed an interconnected network of small green spaces, acting as the ‘green lungs’ of Edinburgh’s cramped medieval-era Old Town. Many of these so-called ‘pocket parks’ continue to be used today.
The year is 1880; the place is Edinburgh, Scotland. Edinburgh’s Old Town is internationally known for its squalid conditions; its tenement slums plagued by poor sanitation and overcrowded housing. The medieval infrastructure has proven inadequate for the demands of the rapidly urbanizing population. Many of the city’s elite had relocated to the Georgian New Town in years before, leaving behind the city’s lesser fortunate residents in the Old Town. It is clear that improvements need to be made, but the city’s leaders are uncertain how to proceed.
Cue Patrick Geddes, a Scottish polymath who had recently taken on a lectureship in Zoology at Edinburgh University. During these last two decades of the 19th century, Geddes would address the challenge of revitalizing Edinburgh’s infamous slums. This would set the foundations for his most seminal works in city planning, from pocket parks to early bioregionalism, which had profound influence on our sense of ecology in urban planning, and on later thinkers such as Lewis Mumford.
Bobby Niven, ‘Palm House’ (2017). 2017 EAF Commission. Courtesy of Edinburgh Art Festival, 27 July to 27 August 2017
Rather than employing a drastic redevelopment scheme of razing the old buildings to make way for new, Geddes proposed small changes for the Old Town through a “Conservative Surgery” method. Geddes believed that this method of redevelopment would allow the Old Town to retain its character, while also improving living conditions for the area’s residents. One of the key strategies in enhancing liveability for the city’s poor was the introduction of public green spaces within the dense fabric of tenement buildings. The lack of space in the over-crowded Old Town did not hinder Geddes’ vision; the planner proposed an interconnected network of small green spaces, as this configuration would be more accessible and feasible. Acting as the “green lungs” of the city, many of these so-called “pocket parks” continue to be used today.
Johnston Terrace Wildlife Reserve is just one of Geddes’ former gardens; run by the Scottish Wildlife Trust, it is also Scotland’s smallest wildlife reserve. Nestled into a hillside in the shadows of an unyielding castle, the garden is easy to miss. The space is accessed from the steps of Castle Wynd, a busy pedestrian corridor for the millions of tourists that visit Edinburgh each year. A raised boardwalk path takes visitors through a meadow drift; paths converge at a cleared gathering space towards the rear of the site.
Bobby Niven, “Palm House” (2017). 2017 EAF Commission. Courtesy of Edinburgh Art Festival, 27 July to 27 August 2017
While the gate to the garden remains locked to the general public for most of the year, Johnston Terrace Wildlife Reserve can be visited this August during the 2017 Edinburgh Art Festival. The festival, which runs from 27 July- 27 August, features a collection of four new commissions which celebrate the centenary of Patrick Geddes’ forward-thinking work, The Making of the Future: A Manifesto and Project (1917). One of these commissions, artist Bobby Niven’s “Palm House”, resides within and responds to the context of the Johnston Terrace Wildlife Reserve.
“Palm House” is envisioned as a social sculpture, a space for the exchange of ideas and community gathering. The structure provides shelter from the elements during Edinburgh’s particularly wet month of August, but the work does not turn its back on the open-air context in which it is sited. Constructed with green oak timber framing and transparent acrylic siding, the small hut closely resembles a glasshouse, a clear artifact from the artist’s research into the glasshouses used to cultivate palm trees at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh. The line between indoor and outdoor is blurred, due not only to the construction materials utilized but also the abundant collection of potted plants within the shelter. Sculptural elements of the structure include wooden hand-shaped supports, a recurring symbol throughout Niven’s work. The double meaning of the work’s title, “Palm House”, references both the concept of the structure as a glasshouse (i.e. a palm tree house), but also the symbolic motif of these hands.
“Palm House” will also accommodate a series of four week-long artist residences across the month of August. The artists selected for the residencies (Neil Bickerton, Alison Scott, Daisy Lafarge, and Deirdre Nelson) will have the opportunity to produce works in this ‘off-grid’ urban oasis. The intention of holding these residencies in-situ is to gather a collection of ideas and responses to the histories and environment of the site, with the structure acting as a space for growth of both plants and creative practice.
As a project, “Palm House” responds to the ecological and seasonal nature of its surrounding; the work will always be changing and evolving through the month of August, creating its own ecology of collaborative production and exchange of ideas. Within the first few days of opening, the project has already proven to be a popular refuge amid busy festival hubs and corridors. Many visitors happen across the site by chance, and the experience of both the garden and the work has been a pleasant surprise for many.
Whereas other exhibitions in the festival—and in the field of contemporary art in general—may make the visitor feel like there is an underlying message or a concept to “get” in order to truly understand the work, this project simply allows viewers to enjoy being within a space and place, and to allow their own experience to take precedence over any preconceived notion of what the work “is”.
In his pamphlet, The Making of the Future, Geddes envisioned a re-construction, re-education, and renewal of society. He advocated for a post-war society where civic life is improved in a combined interdisciplinary effort of “Art and Industry, Education and Health, Morals and Business”. These ideas of interdisciplinarity and civic participation are activated in Niven’s work, which appeals to visitors of many backgrounds and perspectives. In the instance of Palm House, the combined experience of art and nature has the powerful effect of making people stop, observe, immerse themselves, and react to something previously unnoticed.
More broadly, employing Geddes’ vision from The Making of the Future: A Manifestoand Project as a curatorial concept has bold implications. In the age of international art fairs and biennials acting as a reigning force in the contemporary art world, selecting this theme for the 2017 Edinburgh Art Festival commissions suggests an antithesis to the loud and commercialized aspects of such events. This theme, and the commissioned works that it has evoked, insinuate a worldview that leans towards anti-capitalism rather than profit, and a democratization of art rather than self-referential exclusivity.
The theme also provokes a sense of localization above globalization during a festival season that could easily be criticized for being insensitive to its context and the heritage of Edinburgh. In the month of August, multiple festivals put on thousands of shows, exhibitions, and events in Edinburgh; an ephemeral whirlwind of performers and nearly 3 million visitors from across the world gather in the UNESCO-designated World Heritage Site. The Edinburgh Art Festival’s commission concept is specific, celebrating context and locality in a way not frequently seen during Edinburgh’s festivals.
Though the choice of theme for the Edinburgh Art Festival may not seem like an immediate association for a series of contemporary art works, the fruition of projects like Palm House prove that the theories championed by Geddes maintain their cultural relevance today.
In a world of mass media and internet virality it can be quite easy to think globally.
But it takes intention and subtle confidence to act locally.
The contributors to this round table, including artists, curators, environmentalists, landscape architects, and scientists, have all reflected on what they learned from meeting and working with the Harrisons.
The Harrisons (Helen Mayer Harrison (1927-2018) and Newton Harrison (1932-2022)) are widely acknowledged as pioneers in bringing together art and ecology into a new form of practice. They worked for over fifty years with biologists, ecologists, architects, urban planners, and other artists to initiate collaborative dialogues. The works they made in various places from the second half of the 1970s stand as proposals for putting the well-being of the web of life first. The Harrisons’ visionary projects have, on occasion, led to changes in governmental policy and have expanded dialogue around previously unexplored issues leading to practical implementations variously in the United States, Europe, and Asia.
In writing and inviting people to contribute we sought advice and received extensive help from both the Harrison Studio/Center for the Study of the Force Majeure (CFM); from Kai Resche and Petra Kruse, curators and editors with the Harrisons (and also the Berlin branch of CFM), as well as from David Haley (who was the project manager for Casting a Green Net and Associate artist for Greenhouse Britain: Losing Ground, Gaining Wisdom (2007-09).
We offered the following passage from one of the Harrisons perhaps less well-known works as a prompt, encapsulating their approach
Trümmerflora, or rubble plants and trees, are a special phenomenon unique to heavily bombed urban areas. The bomb acts as a plough, breaking brick, mortar, metal, and wood into fragments and, in a single gesture, mixing these with earth from below. The earth often contains seeds, dormant from the time of first construction on the site, that may have been buried for a century or more. These seeds come to light, and those that can live in this new and special earth, grow and flourish. Other seeds, dropped by wind and by animals, also survive in limited numbers in this new soil, this rubble. Hence the name Trümmerflora, or loosely translated, rubble flowers.
Harrison and Harrison 1990 ‘Trümmerflora: on the Topography of Terrors’ in Polemical Landscapes California Museum of Photography pp 12-13
This 1988 work by Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison during a period of residency in Berlin emerged in response to overlooking the derelict site that had been the headquarter of the Gestapo, Storm Trooper, and Secret Service Operations, i.e. the bureaucratic center for the Death Camps and Labour Camps of the Nazi regime. Earlier attempts by others to create an appropriate monument or memorial to the horrors of this urban site had failed. As Jewish people, this site was hugely significant. However, the Harrisons characteristically turned their attention to a possibility of healing brought about through an ecological understanding of the site, creating a proposal that enfolds this history, the destruction of the infrastructure of terror reducing it to rubble, lending itself to new life through the forces of nature.
The contributors to this round table, including artists, curators, environmentalists, landscape architects, and scientists, have all reflected on what they learned from meeting and working with the Harrisons. For some, this starts with Portable Fish Farm: Survival Piece #III which caused a furore when it was exhibited at the Hayward Gallery in London in 1971. A number of others were involved in various ways (curator, environmentalist, scientist, artist, and project manager) with the Harrisons’ work Casting a Green Net: Can it be we are seeing a Dragon? (1998) made as part of ‘ArtTranspennine98’, a major regional collaboration between the Tate Gallery Liverpool and the Henry Moore Sculpture Trust. Others have much more recent experiences of Newton Harrison as he continued the practice, including curating an exhibition Eco-art Work: 11 Artists from 8 Countries for Various Small Fires in Los Angeles in 2022, and developing the work Sensorium.
Contributors reflect on how working with the Harrisons in various different ways informed, changed, and developed their practices. Some talk about having the strictures of their respective disciplines and working practices lifted and their thinking transformed. Others talk about the love, the love between the Harrisons, and the wider empathy reaching beyond human-centredness that they engendered.
Leslie Ryan’s contribution touches specifically on the Trümmerflora piece as she was working with the Harrisons as a studio assistant during this period. She describes how, having studied Landscape Architecture and encouraged by the Harrisons scepticism of the profession to question of the limitations of her discipline, she was taken on a journey that profoundly changed her understanding of that practice, including “always looking beyond the spatial and temporal boundaries of here and now.”
Lewis Biggs, who was one of the curators of ArtTranspennine98, is one of two contributors who had experienced Portable Fish Farm in 1971. He too comments on the dynamic between Helen and Newton, but he also notes “being impressed with how the artists would pounce on specific words that emerged in the public workshops, and highlight them for further discussion” and their “their Rorschach process to ‘discover’ iconic images from maps.”
The other contributor who saw Portable Fish Farm is Simon Read. Simon Read offers one of the counterpoints or serious questions based on his experiences during the Greenhouse Britain project. Coming from a place-based practice he is somewhat troubled by the Harrisons’ willingness to develop a response to a place without having inhabited it. That being said, he acknowledges the point made by a civil servant at the time, that the Harrisons were “refreshing in that they feel able to unabashedly talk about the big idea.” As authors who also worked on Greenhouse Britain, it is interesting to reflect that the Harrisons’ focus was on the question of climate adaptation and how to draw attention to that, when all policy at that time was focused on mitigation. We worked for 2 years on the project, and the Harrisons visited the UK eight or ten times, each visit lasting perhaps 2 weeks, during that period. The project had been instigated by David Haley through a series of workshops held from Aberdeen to Devon. But in the context of the Lea Valley, one context that was featured in Greenhouse Britain, we knew it far less well than Simon did as a result of his three or more years focusing on it during the Hydrocitizenship project (2014-17).
The various contributions from people involved in Casting a Green Net open up the process. They include Lewis Biggs, curator; Les Firbank, ecological scientist; David Haley, artist and project manager; John Hyatt, artist and educator; Jamie Saunders, futures and policy maker, Richard Scott and Richard Sharland, environmentalists. Casting a Green Net was pre-emptive planning for the area across the North of England, recognising the diversity of soils and making a case for developing diversity of species and landscape types across the region. The work is archetypal of the Harrisons’ practice in the scale (addressing a region), in the timescale (understanding the Romans as part of the story of becoming), and in the ways that different sometimes conflicted voices are brought to bear on the issues. The refrain in the work is also a beautiful example of their poetry,
I said
If not here then elsewhere
You said
If here
then elsewhere will know how to proceed
Les Firbank, a scientist acknowledges not really ‘getting’ the way the Harrisons worked with maps, having students remaking them by hand at scale, until he saw the audience engaging. His observation of the way audiences physically responded to the large-scale maps, moving in and out, very engaged, is what persuaded him that this work was significant.
Richard Sharland, an environmental activist also involved, comments on the Harrisons’ differentiating ‘discussion’ from ‘dialogue’, and their consistent intention to keep the process open. But he goes on to say that planners invited to discuss the work “were surprised and intrigued that these artists from California had much more data about the unsustainability of human life in northern England at their fingertips than they did.”
Richard Scott, with a particular interest in wildflowers and meadows, highlights how the Harrisons’ approach related, amplified, and helped develop the approach of his organisation, Landlife, to developing sites for wildflower meadows.
John Hyatt, who was a Professor of Art at Manchester Metropolitan University (MMU) at the time, draws out the importance and functionality of the title of the work, the conversations and propensities that led to it, and suggests what it did for people, adults, children, experts, who encountered the work. David Haley, just finishing his MFA at MMU at the time, became project manager for the project, weaves the narrative across decades, linking Casting a Green Net with Greenhouse Britain as well as explorations in Taiwan and Central Europe. He positions the term ‘post-disciplinary’ as encapsulating this form of practice.
The issues which drive the need for approaches such as post-disciplinarity are picked up by Jamie Saunders, a policy maker and ‘futures’ practitioner. He talks about the importance of the “preferable, probable, possible, plausible”.
The dynamic between Helen and Newton comes to life in various ways across several pieces. Yangkura talks about a conversation with Newton in 2019 not long after Helen had passed away, a conversation that centred on the power of love to ride both good and bad times. Leslie Ryan and Barbara Benish both draw out the complex and sometimes fractious dynamics—the weaknesses as well as the strengths, Benish remembering, “Newton’s occasional amnesia towards female autonomy or ‘otherness’ in the room, [when] Helen would gently, or forcefully, pull him back in”. David Haley, reflecting on working with the Harrisons over many years, comments that this friction was sometimes performed, allowing an audience to recognise that the issues are conflicted and that disagreement is allowed. Benish describes the deep intergenerational dynamics of the Harrisons’ way of working that has led to the development of art Dialog/Art Mill, a not-for-profit organization working in sustainable education via the arts and sciences in the Czech Republic.
Ruby Barnett, the Harrisons’ Studio Manager, and Senior Researcher from 2017-2021, opens up the Harrisons’ process of ‘morning conversations’, a practice they developed from Adelbert Ames Jr – Ames believed that you should set yourself a problem before going to sleep and that your unconscious mind would work on it providing a solution in the morning. The Harrisons developed their practice of ‘morning conversations’ as part of their process of collaborating—Work Place was their contribution to Arlene Raven’s 1983 exhibition ‘At Home’ documenting ten years of West Coast Feminist art. Work Place was an installation representing the front room of the Harrisons’ own house. They inhabited the installation, beginning “…their day at the museum just as they normally do in their home in San Diego – with a ritual of coffee, meditation, and dialogue”. Ruby Barnett’s contribution also hints at the ways in which the Harrisons understood how, as Donella Meadows put it, dance with systems.
Some of these themes are picked up by Beth Stephens, who with her wife Annie Sprinkle, are artists, academics, and ecosexuals and who worked with the Harrisons on Green Wedding to the Earth (2008). The Harrisons provide the ‘wedding homily’ for this performative wedding. They came together to explore the potential of a Ph.D. program focusing on environmental art but Stephens predominantly recalls the experience of exploratory conversations that connected them in a process of give and take across shared interests.
Another aspect is picked up by Petra Kruse and Kai Resche, curators and editors of The Time of the Force Majeure, the career survey and Harrisons’ autobiography published in 2016. Petra Kruse and Kai Resche adopt the approach the Harrisons used to explain an intertwined story from two perspectives. While some contributors met the Harrisons and had their world re-framed, Kruse and Resche found in the Harrisons’ approach something they had been seeking.
Newton Harrison’s particular turn of phrase is captured in Janeil Engelstad’s contribution. Newton was involved with Billy Klüver’s Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.) initiative at the end of the 1960s (as well as with the Los Angeles County Museum’s Art and Technology project in the early 1970s). Engelstad was co-curator on 9e2 Seattle, a programme revisiting the key questions and ambitions of 9 Evenings: Theatre and Engineering, the one of the iconic parts of E.A.T. Engelstad included a discussion with Newton Harrison reflecting on Billy Klüver’s initiative, during which she reports, “He had it all wrong… and I told him thus…”
Ranil Senanayake is perhaps the longest collaborator who has contributed, having met the Harrisons in 1974. Senanayake introduced the Harrisons to the crab Scylla Serrata indigenous to Sri Lanka’s lagoons. The crab becomes the central ‘character’ of the Harrisons’ seminal work, The Lagoon Cycle, and Senanayake excerpts key passages from that work to narrate his relationship with the Harrisons during that period. He goes on to tell us about working with Newton again in Korea in 2021 and how their approach has informed his work in ‘analog forestry’, an approach he developed, which uses a synthesis of traditional and scientific knowledge to optimize the productive potential forestry. He also highlights EarthRestoration, a blockchain approach to supporting local farmers to grow trees. Using a tradeable digital ledger NFTs are issued providing farmers with an income for incorporating living photosynthetic biomass into their farms.
Aviva Rahmani, another contributor who knew the Harrisons from the early 1970s, highlights their ability to deconstruct power at scale, their support for an interest in her works over a lifetime. Rahmani was one of the artists Newton chose to include in the exhibition he curated for Various Small Fires. Other contributors to the same exhibition had only gotten to know Newton in the past 3 or 4 years. They included Salma Aratsu and Terike Haapoja. Both found their practices shifted by the experiences despite the short period of acquaintance. Arastu attributes to the Harrisons her own development in creating a feminist environmental position that can bridge science, art, and faith. Working with calligraphy she has become able to see a connection between the energy in natural systems and that of the lyrical poetry and patterns of Islamic art and the Qur’an. Haapoja focuses on Newton’s understanding of empathy as ‘feeling for’ and ‘solidarity with’ the more-than-human, particularly evident in the work Apologia Mediterraneo (2019), a work in which Newton addresses the increasing levels of industrial pollution in the Mediterranean Sea. She builds her understanding of empathy through Newton’s early experience of hearing the earth screaming in response to industrial forms of excavation.
Even scientists like Johan Gielis found that Newton Harrison in his late eighties knew the right questions to ask, in this case, whether the study of relations between individual organisms could inform continuity. Gielis, a Belgian mathematician-biologist, works on encoding the shapes and connections between organisms in search of a unified description of natural forms. They shared a starting point in holistic thinking in relation to the web of life, challenging and redirecting the ecocidal direction human society was and is currently taking. Gielis, like the Harrisons, works with metaphor [“switching between [heart] as a cylinder (for transporting blood) and a Möbius strip, a one-sided body for exchanging oxygen in the lungs and cells”], displacing old metaphors for new more appropriate ones. For Reiko Goto-Collins, working with her partner Tim Collins, it is Harrisons’ insights into metaphor as a dynamic critical tool that most struck her about their work. In particular, she retraces their pathway from dysfunctional metaphors, ‘flipping’ these to open up choice in the way we relate to the world around us, here explored through Collins and Goto’s research into the Scots Pine.
Ruth Wallen and Brandon Ballengée, both artists, outline the various ways they have learned from, been inspired by, and worked with the Harrisons. Ruth Wallen’s work for a residency at the Exploratorium in San Francisco was inspired by the Harrisons’ approach. She had followed their Masters and she also raises the importance of metaphor in their work. For example, Serpentine Lattice (1993), seeing a forestry practice as a lattice, identifies crucial points to begin processes of restoration. Ballengée’s current work Memory of a Cajun Prairie uses the same approach as the Harrisons’ Future Gardens works, asking what can adapt and what supports adaptation. It was developed in dialogue with Newton Harrison and embeds ecological research into the process of imagining what ‘scaffolding’ adaptation might mean in the Louisiana context.
Several contributors speak about the Harrisons as teachers in various ways. Tim Collins contributes a piece of writing originally developed in 2000 with the Harrisons, Jackie Brookner (1945-2015), Ruth Wallen (another contributor), and Josh Harrison. This text is a pedagogical proposal focused by the challenge of involving artists in civic discourse. It highlights in particular a lack of capacity in the languages and processes of ecology, politics, and sociology. This pedagogical proposal outlines in broad terms the challenge, “the emerging biological revolution is all but abandoned to the sciences” and outlines the requirements for a new approach to visual art education that would equip artists to participate in the global environment challenges. Twenty years on and whilst there have been multiple attempts at establishing such courses, they remain outliers and many have closed.
The character of this challenge is well articulated by Cathy Fitzgerald, an environmental scientist who has ‘transferred’ to the arts. She sets out her experience and the role of the Harrisons both as models and as empathetic and timely supporters. The lack of interest in the biological revolution and the unwillingness to recognise the value of engaging with the languages and processes of ecology and politics was a challenge for Fitzgerald throughout her studies at Masters and Doctoral levels.
Jo-Ann Kuchera-Morin, a composer and artist working in complex systems research, and her team including Dr. Gustavo Rincon, Dr. Kon Hyong, and Myungin Lee, met Newton in 2021 through the development of Sensorium. Their technology, AlloSphere/AlloLib has developed significant immersive environments engaging the public in matters of concern. Their work with Newton on Sensorium provoked thinking around how such an environment could function as a pre-emptive planning system, among other functions including education. Together they nurtured a culture of respect between researchers, one science the other arts “investigating the lifeweb from true empirical inquiry and truthful interrogation.”
Wu Mali was the instigator of the work that the Harrisons did with David Haley in Taiwan in 2008. Wu, as co-curator of the Taipei Biennial in 2018, included Newton Harrison’s On the Deep Wealth of this Nation, Scotland as a centrepiece of the exhibition. She comments, “many works pointed out the difficulties and challenges faced by the contemporary world, but the Harrisons demonstrated how we could apply wisdom to allow species to coexist and prosper.”
Tatiana Sizonenko, curator of the 2024 exhibition Helen and Newton Harrison: California Work, which will form the keystone of the fourth iteration of Getty’s Pacific Standard Time, highlights how the Harrisons’ approach informs her curating. Sizonenko had previously curated Art as Agency which combined the Harrisons work Peninsula Europe IV with works from younger artists influenced by them.
We have written extensively on the practice of the Harrisons, but this process of hearing the many different perspectives of artists; curators; landscape architects, environmental activists and policy makers; and scientists, has opened up new aspects of their practice. One of the fascinating aspects in the enduring connectivity over very extended periods involving ongoing dialogues as well as collaborations on multiple projects woven through this collection.
The other aspect that becomes clear from these different responses is the ways in which the Harrisons opened up their process to others. From the various contributions we can begin to understand how this enabled individuals to find themselves by being invited into the practice and being involved in the work. The pretty consistently recurring sense is that across the arts and sciences, even those who questioned the Harrisons’ approach, were able to engage with it and understand it, and able to develop their own approaches.
In one of the last published interviews with Newton Harrison he is asked what he would say to younger artists. He offers the following,
Let us forget originality. Let us forget our signature on our work. Let us begin to do what we do best, which is improvise with a new culture that will be covalent with the life web itself, and let’s get together and create. (Harrison, N., and KUPPER, O., 2022. Newton Harrison: Force Majeure. Autre Magazine, 13 Biodiversity. p.257)
Chris Fremantle and Anne Douglas
Ayrshire and Aberdeen
Anne Douglas is a Professor Emeritus, previously Chair in Art in Public Life at the Robert Gordon University, Aberdeen Scotland. She has focused, over the past 25 years, on developing doctoral/postdoctoral research into the changing nature of art in public life, increasingly in relation to environmental change.
Every month we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
show/hide list of writers
Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Salma Arastu, BerkeleyI hear his voice when I read Channeling the Lifeweb again and again. The words echo in my mind every day and night.
Brandon Ballengée, ArnaudvilleThey encouraged me for decades to continue, to go deeper into the research and ask the question ‘how big is here?’, then to follow fearlessly what I discovered.
Ruby Barnett, Santa CruzThe work of the Harrisons caused a shift that has enabled me to embrace complex systems in a more visceral, thorough way than in my previous work.
Barbara Benish, Santa CruzTheir understanding of the consequences of ‘framing’, of giving humans a vision of the earth’s crisis in a way that is not catastrophic but regenerative, was the Harrison’s gift to us.
Lewis Biggs, ShanghaiWe were all impressed with the quality of the research that went into the production of the various maps, and how very thought-provoking their synthetic approach (art-science-text-image) could be. That for me is their significant legacy.
Tim Collins, GlasgowArtists have always critiqued and revealed belief systems, the program we are about to describe will teach artists to be effective agents of change. We seek to define the pedagogy of engagement.
Janeil Engelstad, SeattleAt the center of their work was love and perhaps this is the greatest legacy that the Harrisons leave.
Les Firbank, LeedsOur art/science dynamic was based on mutual respect and talking through different approaches to common questions, rather than the more usual multidisciplinary approach of artists seeking to illustrate the science.
Cathy Fitzgerald, Hollywood ForestFor me, this is the most profound legacy of the Harrisons’ work – understanding how creativity is an essential driver for holistic ecopedagogy across all education.
Johan Gielis, AntwerpenWhat matters is not the individual forms, but how they are connected. Newton’s specific question was whether this would also teach us about ecosystems and continuity. He challenged and inspired me to look more deeply and broadly at ecosystems and our planet.
Reiko Goto Collins, GlasgowThrough this conversation I have learned three things: 1) metaphor can be physical, 2) physical metaphor can be dysfunctional, and 3) a metaphorical flip informs how we understand a functional metaphor.
Terike Haapoja, New YorkFor Newton, this kind of awakening had happened early in life, when he was driving along a highway in California, seeing the broken landscapes under constant, violent human excavation. Suddenly, he said, he could hear the earth screaming.
David Haley, Walney IslandThrough working, touring, and engaging with Helen and Newton, my ecological arts practice continues to be found and like them, I hope to enable others to seek their ecological arts practices.
John Hyatt, LiverpoolI was interested, amongst other things, in how they kept all parties engaged, brought them together, and kept them involved: the creation of an ecology of collaboration.
Petra Kruse, BonnFrom the very first moment the two of us met with Helen and Newton, we were convinced of their ways to work, and felt it to be very similar to the way we wanted ― and finally achieved ― to work.
JoAnn Kuchera-Morin, Santa BarbaraWhat I have learned from the brief time of working with Newton and viewing the work that he and Helen have accomplished is the collaboration of two bio-eco artists who were interested in investigating the life web from true empirical inquiry and truthful interrogation, using their expert artistry and scientific inquiry.
Aviva Rahmani, New YorkWe had parallel interests across many years, but they understood far better, how to platform and establish visibility for those interests.
Simon Read, LondonI can see a lot of connections and regret that I was never to follow up an acquaintance with the Harrisons since they seemed to be operating in a parallel area both conceptually and technically.
Kai Reschke, BonnFrom the very first moment the two of us met with Helen and Newton, we were convinced of their ways to work, and felt it to be very similar to the way we wanted ― and finally achieved ― to work.
Leslie Ryan, Santa CruzListening to the Harrisons talk about repairing our relationship with the land and working ― always ― to advantage of the life web was a watershed moment for me, a siren call that changed everything.
Jamie Saunders, LeedsTheir work stands as a guide. When I remember, when I am provoked, they hold fast to more than the immediate concerns and less-than-life-enhancing work of day-to-day living. The life-web: see it, breathe it, hear it.
Richard Scott, LiverpoolTheir practice was enabling and real and embodied timeless wisdom for people and nature, and these principles and their artworks will stay with me.
Ranil Senanayake, DavisFrom creating a lagoon in a tank with Helen and Newton, I moved on to create a forest in a garden.
Richard Sharland, AltarnunBoth Helen and Newton had this wonderful gift of memory for stories and information and ideas, which they drew upon to evolve their work, to help others to evolve.
Tatiana Sizonenko, San DiegoNewton’s impact, along with Helen’s, on the field of environmental art practice and research, and socially engaged art more generally, is incalculable.
Beth Stephens, Santa CruzNewton and I were friends. Unlikely friends, but friends, nonetheless. Even though we could not have come from two more radically different worlds, we somehow connected and got a deep kick out of each other.
Ruth Wallen, San DiegoWorking in collaborative partnership, the Harrisons’ use of dialogue, with stories unfolding as they augmented or interrupted each other, amplified the generativity and generosity of their metaphors while spawning more.
Mali Wu, KaohsiungThe Harrisons demonstrated how we could apply wisdom to allow species to coexist and prosper. This is what we should learn anew, and that art can contribute to.
Yangkura, CityAfter I encountered Harrison Studio’s works, I was able to redefine my works with an omnidirectional view. I learned that I must be in a position where I can communicate and collaborate with various types of people who have similar thoughts and integrate them.
Chris Fremantle is a producer and research associate with On The Edge Research, Gray’s School of Art, The Robert Gordon University. He produces ecoartscotland, a platform for research and practice focused on art and ecology for artists, curators, critics, commissioners as well as scientists and policy makers.
In Berlin, the Harrisons characteristically turned their attention to a possibility of healing brought about through ecological understanding, creating a proposal that enfolds the destruction of the infrastructure of terror, reducing it to rubble and then lending itself to new life through the forces of nature.
The Harrisons (Helen Mayer Harrison (1927-2018) and Newton Harrison (1932-2022) are widely acknowledged as pioneers in bringing together art and ecology into a new form of practice. They worked for over fifty years with biologists, ecologists, architects, urban planners, and other artists to initiate collaborative dialogues. The works they made in various places from the second half of the 1970s stand as proposals for putting the well-being of the web of life first. The Harrisons’ visionary projects have, on occasion, led to changes in governmental policy and have expanded dialogue around previously unexplored issues leading to practical implementations variously in the United States, Europe, and Asia.
In writing and inviting people to contribute we sought advice and received extensive help from both the Harrison Studio/Center for the Study of the Force Majeure (CFM); from Kai Resche and Petra Kruse, curators and editors with the Harrisons (and also the Berlin branch of CFM), as well as from David Haley (who was the project manager for Casting a Green Net and Associate artist for Greenhouse Britain: Losing Ground, Gaining Wisdom (2007-09).
We offer the following passage from one of the Harrisons perhaps less well-known works as a prompt, encapsulating their approach:
Trümmerflora, or rubble plants and trees, are a special phenomena unique to heavily bombed urban areas. The bomb acts as a plough, breaking brick, mortar, metal, and wood into fragments and, in a single gesture, mixing these with earth from below. The earth often contains seeds, dormant from the time of first construction on the site, that may have been buried for a century or more. These seeds come to light, and those that can live in this new and special earth, grow and flourish. Other seeds, dropped by wind and by animals, also survive in limited numbers in this new soil, this rubble. Hence the name Trümmerflora, or loosely translated, rubble flowers.
Harrison and Harrison 1990 ‘Trümmerflora: on the Topography of Terrors’ in Polemical Landscapes California Museum of Photography pp 12-13
This 1988 work by Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison during a period of residency in Berlin emerged in response to overlooking the derelict site that had been the headquarter of the Gestapo, Storm Trooper, and Secret Service Operations, i.e. the bureaucratic center for the Death Camps and Labour Camps of the Nazi regime. Earlier attempts by others to create an appropriate monument or memorial to the horrors of this urban site had failed. As Jewish people, this site was hugely significant. However, the Harrisons characteristically turned their attention to a possibility of healing brought about through an ecological understanding of the site, creating a proposal that enfolds this history, the destruction of the infrastructure of terror reducing it to rubble, lending itself to new life through the forces of nature.
The contributors to this round table, including artists, curators, environmentalists, landscape architects, and scientists, have all reflected on what they learned from meeting and working with the Harrisons. For some, this starts with Portable Fish Farm: Survival Piece #III which caused a furore when it was exhibited at the Hayward Gallery in London in 1971. A number of others were involved in various ways (curator, environmentalist, scientist, artist, and project manager) with the Harrisons’ work Casting a Green Net: Can it be we are seeing a Dragon? (1998) made as part of ‘ArtTranspennine98’, a major regional collaboration between the Tate Gallery Liverpool and the Henry Moore Sculpture Trust. Others have much more recent experiences of Newton Harrison as he continued the practice, including curating an exhibition Eco-art Work: 11 Artists from 8 Countriesfor Various Small Fires in Los Angeles in 2022, and developing the work Sensorium.
Contributors reflect on how working with the Harrisons in various different ways informed, changed, and developed their practices. Some talk about having the strictures of their respective disciplines and working practices lifted and their thinking transformed. Others talk about the love, the love between the Harrisons, and the wider empathy reaching beyond human-centredness that they engendered.
Click here for a more in-depth reflection regarding this roundtable.
Anne Douglas is a Professor Emeritus, previously Chair in Art in Public Life at the Robert Gordon University, Aberdeen Scotland. She has focused, over the past 25 years, on developing doctoral/postdoctoral research into the changing nature of art in public life, increasingly in relation to environmental change.
Helen Mayer Harrison (1927-2018) and Newton Harrison (1927-2018) were artists that pioneered art and ecology, developing an approach that characterised them also as educators. In their artworks, the Harrisons collaborated with planners, scientists, and communities on bioregional scale projects addressing ecosystem health in the context of climate change and the need for adaptation. Helen brought a perspective from her deep knowledge of literature, psychology, and education. She had held senior roles in Higher Education before beginning to collaborate with Newton. He had studied visual art and was already an acclaimed artist before beginning to collaborate with Helen. Their life's work wove together these different knowledges and experiences, generating a unique and appropriate aesthetic that addressed the wellbeing of the web of life.
Scotland becomes the first country in the history of countries
to intentionally give back more to the life web than it consumes
when the deep wealth of the country is understood
to be in part a vast commons, with the topsoil as vital
The wealth becomes magnified when the topsoil is attended to
beginning by transforming all organic waste into humus
and continuing the regenerating of carbon in the topsoil mat
while banning all inorganic fertilizer
The deep wealth of the country is maintained
by the oxygen that trees give forth
and the COy the trees and all green growing things sequester
When COg sequestering lowers the atmospheric CO2
and the oxygen production is greater than the consumption
the wealth in the atmospheric commons of the country grows
True for all culturally generated CO2 production
but also true for the breath of the 5.3 million people in Scotland
that requires some 1500 square miles of open canopy forest
Assuming 70 trees per acre or 30 trees per person
to compensate simply for the privilege of breathing
Breathing in the country and the consumption of oxygen
and the production of COy equalize as the forest matures
Thereafter wealth grows as the forest commons grow
The moment is urgent….if business as usual continues
Scotland as usual will continue to have
a carbon footprint over three times its physical size
to do nothing risks the death of the life web
to do too little risks near death and a sixth extinction
to do enough we cannot know without the doing of it
The wealth of the country is in its waters especially the rainfall
about 113 cubic kilometers fall a year on average on these lands
If the excess waters that form the aquatic commons of the nation
are redirected into an array of estuarial lagoons
or into drought ridden farming areas
or into bogs and small lakes and wetlands
The redirection expressed in new food that is produced
also the biodiversity of the country increases
and the cost of flood control decreases
So increases the deep wealth of the nation
When the wealth of the Scottish nation becomes great enough
to trade for what it cannot produce
and this wealth springs from the life web in such a way
that the web’s overproduction is harvested
the harvest preserves and can even enhance the system
It is in this way that Scotland becomes
the first nation in the history of nations
to generate its deep wealth ecologically
tuned to the original peoples’ life ways
and the delusion of an invisible hand disappears
The deep wealth of this nation can grow exponentially
when agreement is found in a majority of its 5,300,000 population
to gain a collective responsibility for the well working of the life web
sufficient to stimulate the web to overproduce
in ways that advantage the web and advantage the human community
Scotland has this opportunity
appearing most clearly in the relationship of a modestly sized educated population
to the 30,000 square miles of land variously available
coupled with an initial unity of beliefs at work
Scotland can become the first modern country to stimulate
then put to work the overproduction of the life web as vast public good
In so doing also becoming the first people in modern history
to reach an ecologically informed commons of mind itself a Meganiche
among the multimillion species that nest within the great web of life.
Helen Mayer Harrison (1927-2018) and Newton Harrison (1927-2018) were artists that pioneered art and ecology, developing an approach that characterised them also as educators. In their artworks, the Harrisons collaborated with planners, scientists, and communities on bioregional scale projects addressing ecosystem health in the context of climate change and the need for adaptation. Helen brought a perspective from her deep knowledge of literature, psychology, and education. She had held senior roles in Higher Education before beginning to collaborate with Newton. He had studied visual art and was already an acclaimed artist before beginning to collaborate with Helen. Their life's work wove together these different knowledges and experiences, generating a unique and appropriate aesthetic that addressed the wellbeing of the web of life.
From Peninsula Europe: The High Ground – Bringing Forth a New State of Mind 2002
Is Peninsula Europe at a bifurcation point?
At a point of change and self-transformation?
After all, from the Romans through the Middle Ages
through the Renaissance
the Enlightenment
from Modernity to the Now,
that territory we call Europe
has many times rebuilt its landscape
economically, politically, culturally.
It has rebuilt its belief systems
and rebuilt its ecosystems.
Now we imagine a new set of emergent properties
suggesting that this is indeed a bifurcation point in a state of
becoming
a point of reorganisation of its own complexities
into a new form of entityhood.
If so Peninsula Europe becomes the center of a world.
Peninsula Europe moves towards entityhood
when its boundary conditions become
more permeable
to what it understands
as contributing to its wellbeing
and
less permeable
to what does not.
Peninsula Europe moves towards entityhood
when its discourse
can focus on the carrying capacity of its terrains
for industry, farming, fishing
information production
and cultural divergence.
Peninsula Europe moves towards entityhood
as it transforms its wastes
into that which is useful and valuable
while successively reducing the wastes
that are damaging to itself
and when
its organic waste disposal
becomes a vast topsoil regenerating system
insuring green farming
remodeling its food production systems
on natural systems.
Peninsula Europe moves towards entityhood
when its river systems, estuaries, ocean edges,
forests, wetlands, meadowlands, and eco-corridors
are valued sufficiently
and enabled to co-join
into a complex biodiverse life web
self-sustaining in nature
an eco-net of the whole
and its high ground, grassland, and forest communities
contribute ecological redundancy, continuity, and mass
at a continental scale. Peninsula Europe moves towards entityhood
which its diversity of cultures is protected
and they are valued for themselves
and are encouraged to be seen as self-creating entities
adding improvisation and creativity
diversity and uniqueness to the cultural web.
Entityhood happens when each part feeds value to the whole
and the whole complicates itself
following the natural laws of self-organization
and creating a complex entity.
Helen Mayer Harrison (1927-2018) and Newton Harrison (1927-2018) were artists that pioneered art and ecology, developing an approach that characterised them also as educators. In their artworks, the Harrisons collaborated with planners, scientists, and communities on bioregional scale projects addressing ecosystem health in the context of climate change and the need for adaptation. Helen brought a perspective from her deep knowledge of literature, psychology, and education. She had held senior roles in Higher Education before beginning to collaborate with Newton. He had studied visual art and was already an acclaimed artist before beginning to collaborate with Helen. Their life's work wove together these different knowledges and experiences, generating a unique and appropriate aesthetic that addressed the wellbeing of the web of life.
From Greenhouse Britain: Losing Ground, Gaining Wisdom 2007
The news is not good and it is getting worse
And for this island
Which is a much loved place
the news is not good and is getting worse
For instance
The Greenland Ice Shelf is breaking up
more rapidly than anyone thought
and this alone could cause an ocean rise
of up to 7 metres
Looking at the first two metre rise
Looking at the storm surge thinking about protection
thinking about where monies might come from
to protect land and people
The news is not good and it’s getting worse
animals are on the run plants are migrating
if the temperatures on the average
rise above 2 degrees Celsius one scenario predicts
Europe, Asia, America, and the Amazon
will lose 30 percent of their forests with concomitant extinctions
Looking at the 4 metre rise
Looking at the shape of the storm surge
we examined what a 5 metre ocean rise might mean
and we are looking at
about a 10,000 square kilometre loss of land
with about 2.2 million people displaced
…
Finally understanding
that the news is neither good nor bad
it is simply that great differences are upon us
that great changes are upon us as a culture
and great changes are upon all planetary life systems
and the news is about how we meet these changes
and are transformed by them or in turn transform them
As a woman, artist, and mother, I work to create harmony by expressing the universality of humanity through paintings, sculpture, calligraphy and poetry. Inspired by the imagery, sculpture and writings of my Indian heritage and Islamic spirituality, I use my artistic voice to break down the barriers that divide to foster peace and understanding.
I hear his voice when I read Channeling the Lifeweb again and again. The words echo in my mind every day and night.
I met Newton in March 2021 through my friend Heidi Hardin who was a student of Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison at UC San Diego in the early 70s. I was working on my project ‘Our Earth: Embracing All Communities’ which was inspired by the ecological verses from Quran. I published the book and Heidi Hardin arranged a Zoom meeting presentation about my book and invited pioneer Eco Artist Newton Harrison. I felt honored and was very grateful to learn that he has agreed to attend the Zoom meeting! I thanked Heidi Hardin for this great opportunity to join in conversation with Newton Harrison in this important talk “Women and Web of Life“.
After that first introduction and hearing his encouraging comments, I emailed him my thanks and mailed a copy of my book too. He replied “Very interesting talking with you. I think you have an opportunity to engage your whole country using the Quran’s environmental positions to support your own or what you discover.” He shared his work, and we continued our communications through emails. He kept encouraging me by saying Female empathy and compassion must advance to save all life on Earth. He related an inspiring story of Helen’s compassion and dedication. He offered me to participate in the exhibition Eco-art Work: 11 Artists from 8 Countries at Various Small Fires in Los Angeles which was a great honor for me. I was given another honor to attend his surprise 89th birthday party on November 20th, 2021 with his close friends and that day I told him that I would like to visit him and meet in person. After that, he tried to schedule the time for my visit on March 24th, 2022 and, unfortunately, the cancer diagnosis happened, and the situation changed. I treasure his last email dated 5/17 when he sent me the image of his last work with these words:
“Thanks for your concern and good wishes. My treatments for the cancer have slowed me down. They are radioactive with added chemo. The course of treatment should end in about 2 1/2 weeks, and about 2 weeks after that I might be civil. Don’t want to lose contact. Very much hope things work out with your work and our gallery. Give me a call in about a month and I’ll see if I can’t make an afternoon with you. I am attaching a draft of my most recent work where I briefly become the voice of the Lifeweb, perhaps channeling in such a way that some of the stuff that I said surprised me after the fact.”
All the best, warm regards,
Newton
I hear his voice when I read Channeling the Lifeweb again and again. The words echo in my mind every day and night. My work after our meeting in March 2021 is totally impacted by his teaching. I have followed all projects executed by Helen and Newton Harrison, in particular through their book The Time of the Force Majeure.
I have found myself immersed in research to gain deeper knowledge in science and faith to find remedies to save our planet and its ecosystems. I have found underground network of mycelia that is regenerating, activating, and healing the damaged state of our environment and invisible tiny benefactors Microbes who are an integral and essential part of the web of life. Bridging Science and Faith creates a visual discourse that bridges science, religion, Islamic diversity and diaspora, language engaged with the plight of humanity, the soul, and the soil. Now my artworks juxtapose the ecological phenomena of interconnectedness through mycelial flow with concepts from the Quran as expressed through Arabic calligraphy and Islamic patterns. The new series mirror contemporary issues with possible solutions based on science and spirituality expressed through moving lyrical lines.
Brandon Ballengée (American, born 1974) is a visual artist, biologist, and environmental educator based in Louisiana. Ballengée creates transdisciplinary artworks inspired from his ecological field and laboratory research. Since 1996, a central investigation focus has been the occurrence of developmental deformities and population declines among amphibians and other ectothermic vertebrates.
They encouraged me for decades to continue, to go deeper into the research and ask the question ‘how big is here?’, then to follow fearlessly what I discovered.
Helen and Newton inspired me to open my mind to the possibilities of art moving beyond objects and ideas toward concrete actions that benefit communities ― ecological, biological, and social, and that connection of their special way of viewing challenges with systems thinking.
They also encouraged me for decades to continue, to go deeper into the research and ask the question ‘how big is here?’, then to follow fearlessly what I discovered. Along these lines, Newton encouraged the creation of Atelier de la Nature. Here in 2017, my wife, children, and I purchased heavily farmed land in rural Louisiana. Since this time, we have worked to regenerate the ecosystems from soybean and cane sugar fields into a nature reserve and eco-campus.
As a component of the restoration, Newton along with soil scientist Dr. Anna Paltseva have started a living artwork called Memory in the Life of a Cajun Prairie with the planting of 2.5 acres of native Louisiana “Cajun Prairie”. This type of prairie ecosystem is found nowhere else in the world and is considered an “endangered” habitat with less than 150 intact acres remaining today.
Memory in the Life of a Cajun Prairie is a living artwork that poses three questions. Is Cajun Prairie an effective means of sequestering carbon? As recent studies have shown prairie grasses work better than trees to sequester and store carbon in the soil. How do different types of disturbances affect biodiversity? There is a body of evidence that grazing and annual burning may change species interaction and diversity. Through this kind of collaborative art and science project, can we increase awareness? Can we inspire larger-scale Cajun Prairie habitat restoration?
Memory in the Life of a Cajun Prairie came about through discussions between Newton and me, and our desire to work together on something at the Atelier de la Nature. Between 2017 and 2021, the soil for Memory in the Life of a Cajun Prairie began to be worked by rebuilding topsoil and removal of nonnative species. In February 2022, we seeded over a dozen native prairie plants and took soil samples to record pre-prairie carbon levels. Over the next nine years, the plots of Memory in the Life of a Cajun Prairie will be experimented with by reseeding, carrying out various disturbances to monitor species diversity, and recording the effectivity of carbon sequestering.
Helen and Newton’s ideas will continue to bloom through Memory in the Life of a Cajun Prairie as well as in all of us they inspired so much.
Ruby (Ruthanna) Barnett, Studio Manager and Senior Researcher at the Harrison Studio and Center for the Study of the Force Majeure from 2017-2021. After earning her Ph.D. in Linguistics, she provided advocacy in housing and homelessness, debt, employment, and welfare. As a lawyer in Oxford, she specialized in immigration and human rights.
The Harrisons – Greater than the Sum of their Parts
The work of the Harrisons caused a shift that has enabled me to embrace complex systems in a more visceral, thorough way than in my previous work.
I worked with Newton from 2017 until 2021. In those first months, Helen visited the studio daily and I had the privilege of witnessing their deep love and tenderness. I traveled extensively with Newton and there is an inescapable intimacy accompanying a person in their 80s on long-distance travel. I prepared slides for talks, checked on his insulin supplies, laundered his clothes, drafted abstracts for conference proposals, and made sure his nose was moisturized.
Newton Harrison 11-1-19
Spending time immersed in the works of the Harrisons, as well as being part of the development of new works, has affected me deeply. My perception is forever changed. Newton liked to use Cezanne‘s Mont Sainte-Victoire series to speak on perspective but, for me, the work of the Harrisons caused a shift that has enabled me to embrace complex systems in a more visceral, thorough way than in my previous work. The form and non-form; the category of both-and; creating momentum, energy, from the oscillation between polarities. Understanding humanity as only one small part of the web of life, while at the same time comprehending the value of my own self-realization as an individual. The difficult and the charming. The tolerance and impatience. The compelling use of beautiful metaphor (“every place is the story of its own becoming”) contrasts with stark truths (“a tree farm is not a forest and tree farm floor is not a forest floor”). The duality is often shown as a conversation between elements—sometimes Newton and Helen themselves (Serpentine Lattice, Greenhouse Britain) or between others (the Lagoon Maker and the Witness in The Lagoon Cycle, the male and female voices in the Sacramento Meditations).
Inspiration for these arose from Helen and Newton’s ‘morning conversations’, developed after reading the Morning Notes of Adelbert Ames Jr., a scientist whose work was in vision and later in perception, developed a practice of setting a problem in his mind before bed, allowing his unconscious mind to work on it overnight and finding often that a solution had come to mind by morning. Helen and Newton experimented with this, conversing over coffee each morning to further elaborate ideas. In the later works, after Helen’s passing, Newton sought to call in her thinking, her voice, since they had actively worked to “teach each other to be each other” in the years prior, knowing that one may eventually be required to carry on the work alone.
The Harrisons knew that we can interfere, manage, or guide the life web only in limited aspects and that there may be unintended consequences. At the same time, choosing to take on the work, the only work of value in our urgent times, is balanced by knowing that all work addressing the continuing of the life web will by its nature be ennobling. It will change, benefit, and grow the one seeking to act. Helen and Newton’s fearless approach allowed them to face the stark reality of our likely future, and to plan pre-emptively, accepting some outcomes as inevitable. They maintained deep love, delight, and playfulness enabling them to model their vision and invite us to learn to “dance with the rising waters”. Helen and Newton’s lives and works embodied the whole being greater and other than the sum of its parts.
Barbara Benish is a California-born artist, who moved from Los Angeles to Prague in 1992 as a Fulbright scholar. She founded ArtMill (est.2004) in rural Bohemia, an international eco-art center. From 2010-2015 she served as Advisor for U.N.E.P. in Arts & Outreach, and since 2015 is a Fellow at the Social Practice Arts Research Center, (University of California, Santa Cruz).
Their understanding of the consequences of ‘framing’, of giving humans a vision of the earth’s crisis in a way that is not catastrophic but regenerative, was the Harrison’s gift to us.
Helen and Newton arrived at the University of California, Santa Cruz, in 2009, the same time I did. When the mandatory faculty luncheon serendipitously had us seated next to one another on that warm fall day, overlooking the Monterey Bay, I felt elated to re-meet the pioneers of environmental art, surprised to find them in Northern California. It was an auspicious meeting, as I started a six-month Artist-in-Residence and teaching position at UCSC. We would become friends during that period, sharing Czech meals, (after learning of Helen’s Czech roots), but mainly talking about plants, rivers, maps, and things of the earth and sea. The Harrison’s were always willing to come to speak in my classes, generous with their time, and anxious to connect to the younger generation who would inherit the earth. They were natural teachers, both in and out of the classroom.
Helen and Newton Harrison with Barbara Benish
Their understanding of the consequences of ‘framing’, of giving humans a vision of the earth’s crisis in a way that is not catastrophic but regenerative, was the Harrison’s gift to us. Keenly aware of the connections of western capitalistic extraction, loss of natural resources, and culture, they kept the dialogue poetic and not didactic. During the times of Newton’s occasional amnesia towards female autonomy or ‘otherness’ in the room, Helen would gently, or forcefully, pull him back in. They were not a duet, but created a symphony between them, with their deep love and understanding of the natural world that was contagious.
Newton came to Prague at the invitation of our organization, ArtDialog, to lecture to several rapt audiences in 2019. We’d shown the Harrison’s work at our space, ArtMill in the Czech Republic, taught it in my lectures at the University, and skyped him in for Q and A’s over the years. He connected with my eldest daughter, Gabriela, who is now running our NGO, and listened to him talk since she was 13 years old. Over the past two years, ArtMill has been hoping to expand the Future Gardens project for Central Europe, working closely with Josh Harrison and the Center for the Force Majeure. Fittingly, the next generation will realize that dream.
Helen and Newton Harrison with Barbara Benish
The last visit with Newton, was on his porch in Santa Cruz, California, not far from our home here. It was summer and we were discussing our upcoming show at VSF in Los Angeles which he was curating. He would show his ‘obituary’ piece, an image of which he printed out on his xerox machine to show anyone stopping in. He knew he was dying, and yet still liked a good joke. When he called me to come over on the phone, he said “and bring me some of your cheesecake” (a forbidden treat due to his diabetes). When we talked about the plans for Future Gardens of Central Europe, which he originally wanted to name after Helen (Helenovice, “Helen’s Village”), home of her ancestors, he raised his hand for me to be quiet. “I’ll consult with the Life Web” …. and he closed his eyes. We were silent for many minutes, and it seemed the yarrow in the front yard was breathing with us. “Yes,” he smiled when he opened his twinkling eyes, “it will be good”.
Lewis Biggs is Distinguished Professor of Public Art at Shanghai University (since 2011), and an independent curator (Artranspennine 1998; Aichi Triennale 2013; Folkestone Triennial 2014, 2017, 2021; Land Art Mongolia 2018). He is also Chairman of the Institute for Public Art, a global network of researchers concerned with place creation through culture / art-led urbanism, and supporting the International Award for Public Art.
We were all impressed with the quality of the research that went into the production of the various maps, and how very thought-provoking their synthetic approach (art-science-text-image) could be. That for me is their significant legacy.
I first became aware of ‘the Harrisons’ as a result of the controversy sparked by their contribution commissioned for the exhibition 11 Los Angeles Artists at the Hayward Gallery, London in 1971. Chiefly I recall a curator for whom I had great respect remarking that the artists were ‘charlatans’, which struck me forcibly. Had I paid insufficient attention to my own (still very youthful) enthusiasms for art in deciding which people involved were charlatans and which were not? Where is the line between shaman and charlatan? What is the role of authenticity in art? Is acting an art form? Portable Fish Farm: Survival Piece #III elicited many reactions that were more extreme than ‘charlatan’, and so contributed to the considerable expansion of the frame of reference for art in the following 20 years.
So, when Robert Hopper, with whom I was curating Artranspennine98, suggested in 1996 that we commission Helen Mayer and Newton to contribute to our exhibition, I was delighted to agree. The exhibition invited its audience to travel across the North of England from coast to coast (Hull to Liverpool or vice versa) experiencing around 40 mainly newly commissioned / site-specific artworks or exhibitions in 30 different locations. It was an invitation to artists and audiences to engage with the history and geography of the birthplace of the industrial revolution, the place where the modern understanding and appreciation of ‘landscape’ was invented.
Helen Mayer and Newton were accommodated at Bluecoat Gallery Liverpool, where Bryan Biggs (no relation) the Director was a very welcoming collaborator and host. They were invited to collaborate with local people to explore the possibilities for regeneration in the area and to exhibit the resulting maps at the Bluecoat and on the internet. They proposed that all the rivers should be cleaned, and woods and meadows expanded. That the geological timescale of re-establishing flora and fauna to ‘health’ could be speeded up through better use of existing ‘wastes’ and spoil heaps. The project was titled Casting a Green Net: Can It Be We Are Seeing A Dragon? The image they found in the coast-to-coast map of the country showed the body of the dragon through the industrialised lower ground and valleys, the wings of the dragon in the Pennine hills.
I’m not sure what or whether they contributed to a shift toward social consciousness about the environment. I remember being impressed with how the artists would pounce on specific words that emerged in the public workshops and highlight them for further discussion. A process of simplification presumably resulting from their many years of practice with workshops and focus groups. Bryan remembers how they constantly bickered with each other, and I remember thinking that their approach was aggressively ‘direct’ in that un-English way. But we were all impressed with the quality of the research that went into the production of the various maps, and how very thought-provoking their synthetic approach (art-science-text-image) could be. That for me is their significant legacy, plus the fact that they were gifted communicators: I think of their Rorschach process to ‘discover’ iconic images from maps every time I’m faced by an artist who struggles to find an image or a metaphor that expresses their project.
The Collins + Goto Studio is known for long-term projects that involve socially engaged environmental art-led research and practices; with additional focus on empathic relationships with more-than-human others. Methods include deep mapping and deep dialogue.
Art and Change: The emerging social and ecological impetus
Artists have always critiqued and revealed belief systems, the program will teach artists to be effective agents of change. We seek to define the pedagogy of engagement.
A Dialogue from 2000 – with some edits and approval to publish from 2023.
Original Authors: Jackie Brookner, Parsons School of Design, New York Tim Collins and Reiko Goto STUDIO for Creative Inquiry, Carnegie Mellon University Newton Harrison, and Helen Mayer Harrison Emeriti, University of California, San Diego Ruth Wallen, Artist and biologist, San Diego Josh Harrison, Director, Center for the Study of the Force Majeure, UC Santa Cruz
In 2000, we were engaged with the Harrison’s traveling to their home in San Diego with some regularity. Everyone involved in this discussion was struggling with adjunct, temporary, and year-to-year academic contracts. The Harrison’s proposed a dialogue which we might use to shape our individual and collective futures.
Art and Change Pedagogy
Philosophy: Nature as model, as measure, as mentor
Foundation Concept: Symbiosis and the biological imperative
Program: Ecologically engaged, Politically engaged, Socially engaged.
Emerging Issues: The public realm (social and natural) is in need of interventionist care. The visual arts with a history of value based creative-cultural inquiry are best equipped to take on this role. The long term goal, is to develop a cultural discourse which will:
1. expand the social and aesthetic interest in public space to the entire citizen body,
2. re-awaken the skills and belief in qualitative analysis (versus professional-quantitative analysis), and
3. preach, teach, and disseminate the notion that everyone is an artist.
The Problems: Artists are unprepared to take a productive role in civic discourse. Students graduate without the tools and bridging experience to allow them to learn the languages and process in the areas of ecology, politics, and sociology, and are therefore unable to enter into effective creative communication.
While information technologies is a burgeoning area of technical expertise, theory, and expression in the university setting, the emerging biological revolution is all but abandoned to the sciences. There isn’t a single department in the country with a program area which addresses the changing meaning of nature, restoration ecology, and bio-technology.
The traditional subject matter of art as well as the teaching methods taught in US art schools need an additional layering of information and training to expand the efficacy of an artists voice into these complex realms. Artists have always critiqued and revealed belief systems, the program will teach artists to be effective agents of change. We seek to define the pedagogy of engagement.
An Eco-Cultural Engaged Art: We propose a rigorous program of engagement training, providing artists with the theoretical and practical skills allowing them to productively engage the civic realms of politics and society with a primary focus on ecology/biology. In affect, we seek to transfer the language and skills which will allow artists to engage their colleagues in the professions of planning, design, and policy with equity and efficacy. Furthermore, to meet the challenges of a public realm increasingly challenged by private interests and legacy impact, the position of the artist will be defined in relationship to civic discourse rather than primary authorship.
The proposal includes a Graduate Major structure, an Undergraduate Minor/Concentration and a University Level Interdepartmental Credit Foundation Course. This was classic Newton, as he thought through the economics and the progression of creative/intellectual development which would be necessary for this new course of study. We can ‘hear’ both Helen and Newton’s voices throughout this proposal. We can also feel the love and care they put into this.
Janeil Engelstad is the Managing Director of the Global Innovation and Design Lab and an Embedded Artist and Lecturer at University of Washington, Tacoma. The Founding Director of Make Art with Purpose, Engelstad produces Social Practice projects that address social and environmental concerns around the world.
Helen and Newton Harrison: Re-imagining the Context of Art
At the center of their work was love and perhaps this is the greatest legacy that the Harrisons leave.
The following text recounts one of many experiences I had with Newton and Helen Harrison, as well as a sketch of their creative process. The Japanese term, kenzoku, which literally means family and the presence of the deepest connection, expresses our relationship and exchange.
In October 2016, Newton Harrison came to Seattle to participate in 9e2 Seattle (9e2), a festival that marked the 50th anniversary of 9 Evenings: Theatre and Engineering (9 Evenings). Produced by Robert Rauschenberg and Billy Klüver, the original 9 Evenings was the first of several art and technology projects that would evolve into the non-profit group Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.). 9 evenings consisted of hybrid art performances and video, created by ten recognized artists working with some 30 engineers from Bell Labs performed at the New York City 69th Regiment Armory, from October 13 – 23, 1966. The performances were as much about the new technologies the artists employed to realize their work as the themes being explored.i In contrast, 9e2 examined contemporary themes impacting the way people experience life on Earth, such as climate change, AI, and social justice.
Conceived and produced by Seattle writer and cultural producer John Boylan, 9e2 was organized by a curatorial team from the arts and technology fields. Boylan’s purpose was three-fold: to teach and inform (the history of 9 Evenings was little known among the local tech and creative communities); to build connections between local, national, and international artists and technologists; and to explore ideas about how artists, technologists, and other creatives function in the world. “Underpinning this purpose,” Boylan recalled “were the questions: What are you doing? Why are doing it? How are you doing it and, to an extent, what does new art mean?”ii
As a member of the 9e2 curatorial team, I organized a handful of projects and programs, including a conversation with Newton. He was thrilled to participate, for this was an occasion for him to publicly reflect on his conversations with Billy Klüver around the time that E.A.T. was being organized.iii “He had it all wrong,” Newton recounted, “and I told him thus: artists and engineers should not be focused on creative experiments exploring the impact of technology on the individual and society. Rather they should focus on how technology can be of service to ecology and the planet.”iv The growing impact of climate change, Newton believed, had proved the relevance of the environmentally focused work he had produced with his wife and creative partner, Helen Mayer Harrison and the misdirection of Klüver’s focus.v Additionally, Newton appreciated that the larger purpose of 9e2 connected to the Harrisons’ inquiry into the meaning of art and art making in the latter half of the 20th century, as the impact of commerce, industry, and development on the Earth’s eco-systems were becoming more and more evident.
Throughout their careers, Helen and Newton cultivated a wide creative and scientific community and I would wager that almost everyone in this community could tell dozens of anecdotes like the one I shared about 9e2. Long-time academics, Helen and Newton naturally imparted their experiences, ideas, and wisdom through storytelling and conversation. They were also skilled at asking questions that moved and transformed ideas and thinking into deeper reflection and expanded consciousness.
At the forefront of environmental art and interdisciplinary, collaborative design and production, the Harrisons imagined and were utilizing design thinking before companies like Ideo and Stanford’s d.school brought the process into the mainstream. Making Earth, Then Making Strawberry Jam (1969-1970) begins with Newton’s growing ecological awareness and empathy for earth. Through his research, Newton learned that “the topsoil was in danger in many places in the world. So, I took the decision to make earth . . .,” he wrote about the project.vi
The Harrisons would invest months and sometimes years in the empathy phase of their projects. Researching and meeting with people who had expertise in the history, ecology, and politics of the place and/or problem that a project might address. They sought information and expertise from noted professionals, as well as people on the edges of mainstream thinking and from Indigenous people before it was politically correct to do so. Practicing deep listening, they had conversations with the Earth itself. Then, they would define problems in poetic texts that framed their initial research into inquiries, conversations, wonderings, and proposals, which they sometimes called think pieces, such as Tibet is the High Ground:
Thinking about the greening of Tibet approximately 772,000 square miles
Which is eighty percent of the 965,255-square-mile Tibetan Plateau
We imagined a domain that was about eighty percent savannah
And twenty percent open canopy forest
For a productive, self-sustaining & complicating landscape to develop
Bold experimentation becomes an absolute requirement
For instance with glaciers retreating
We imagined assisting the migration not so much of species
But of species ensembles that form the basis
For a succession ecosystem to form
That follows glaciers uphill
We then imagined a water-holding landscape
Where terrain was appropriate
And subtly terraformed so that rains
Stayed on the lands on which they fell
In order to locate species groupings
that would form the basis for generating
a uniquely functional future landscape
Where harvesting preserved the systems
Also, drawing botanical information from the recent Pliocene
When the weather was the same
As that predicated in the near future
Taking on the problem of inventing an edible landscape
Which will be self-seeding and perennial
A landscape unique in its food-producing qualities
As the harvest preserves the system
And this kind of designing as endlessly repeatable
A green plateau can sequester 3 gigatons of carbon a decade
Tibet is the High Ground, 2005vii
Rich with ideas, metaphors and instructions, Helen and Newton’s texts offer tutelage in communion; setting out on a course of action; prototyping, testing, then putting into place projects around the world; a handful that will continue well into this century.
At the center of their work was love and perhaps this is the greatest legacy that the Harrisons leave. Love of life, love of each other, love of people, and love of the planet. This value fueled courage and gave them the freedom to let go, experiment, and knowingly create work that would come to fruition after they passed. This letting go of ego, creating work where Earth was the client, was critical for the Harrisons and should be for all of us who wish to advance solutions that lessen the impacts of climate change and improve life for humanity and the planet.
* * *
i While a few performances, such as Robert Rauschenberg’s Open Score, were an indirect commentary on contemporary issues such as the Vietnam War, Klüver did not position his curatorial work on the impact of technology on society until the organization of E.A.T. About 9 Evenings he wrote: “It is important to realize (understand) that 9 Evenings was a realistic event. It wanted to achieve very specific practical and social goals. Its development was coincident in time with the spreading mysticism about technology, the McLuhan concept that the communication means were extensions of the body, the psychedelic experience as an element of art! 9 Evenings was none of that. (The artists and the engineers) were rigorous, energetic, and authoritarian and would demand completely controlled situations. That the forces behind 9 Evenings should have converged at that time, must have been separate from political developments of the global art, psychedelic kind of situation.” (foundationlanglois.org)
ii J. Boylan, personal communication, February 2023.
iii One of E.A.T.’s first activities was to organize loose, international groups of artists and engineers, by geography, to potentially collaborate with each other. Newton was an early member of the United States’ West Coast group.
iv N. Harrison, personal and public communication, October 2016.
v N. Harrison, personal and public communication, October 2016.
vi Harrison, Helen Mayer & Harrison, Newton. (2016). The Time of the Force Majeure. Munich, Germany: Prestal
vii Center for the Study of the Force Majeure. (2018). The Center for the Study of the Force Majeure. [Pamphlet]. Center for the Study of the Force Majeure.
Les Firbank is a British ecologist specialising in the sustainable management of land, with a particular focus on European agriculture. He collaborated with the Harrison while working at the Centre for Ecology and Hydrology and then at North Wake Research, both in England. He has recently retired from his chair in sustainable agriculture at the University of Leeds, and is a member of the European Food Safety Authority panel on genetically modified organisms.
Our art/science dynamic was based on mutual respect and talking through different approaches to common questions, rather than the more usual multidisciplinary approach of artists seeking to illustrate the science.
For me, it was about the process and not the product, it was about the collaboration and not the outcome. I’m a professional ecologist (now retired) and first came across Helen and Newton when one of their helpers phoned me up one Friday afternoon to ask for access to some landscape data I had access to. If I had been busier, or if it had been another time of the week, I would have pointed her to our website and left it that. But I was intrigued, Why did you want them? She didn’t know but would get the project leader to call back. Newton called from Manchester and explained they were mapping the north of England. Quite why a Californian artist duo wanted to map England from a base in Manchester baffled me, so I went down to meet them and their team. They were working on the ArtTranspennine98 piece entitled Casting a Green Net: Can it be we are seeing a Dragon? piece, re-imagining the area between Liverpool and Hull. The eventual outcome was a series of hand-coloured large-scale maps of the region. Each showed a different aspect of the area, one with planned housing developments, one with nature areas, and so on. I wasn’t too impressed until I went to the exhibit, and watched people react to the work. They moved in closer and back out, walking from map to map, getting a sense of their area and what was nearby. It was like a GIS but required physical interaction and engagement. For me, the work was the fun. I met with people from the industry, regulators, and the arts, but unlike in most of my meetings, people were able to be open and honest about their thoughts, as it was ‘only’ an arts project. This allowed a level of communication not possible in more formal settings, where the participants have their ‘party lines’ to protect. Communities of practice were set up that persisted long after the project ended.
Gabriel, Helen Meyer, and Newton Harrison on Dartmoor, 2007. Photo by Les Firbank (copyright L. Firbank)
I worked with them again when I moved to Devon in 2007, where with David Haley we started a pilot project to design a sustainable village in the area. We set up a week-long workshop based in an agro-ecological research station in the region, enlisted an environmental GIS specialist Bruce Griffith, and set about our work. We made a good start to the work but, for various reasons, it did not really develop. The story can be found in a book chapter we wrote ‘A story of becoming: landscape creation through an art/science dynamic’ (Firbank, Harrison, Harrison, Haley, and Griffith. In Lobley and Winter (eds)2009, What is land for? Taylor and Francis). Again, the pleasure was the discussions that addressed key questions which academics tended to shy away from, they were too broad. What do we mean by sustainability? How much carbon should one household have access to? Do we need livestock (yes!)? Was this really art? Before I had met the Harrisons I would have said no, this was ecology. But they taught me that anyone has the right to ask these questions and to seek and present answers, framed as they see fit. I framed my work in scientific papers, they used works of art. I used statistical tables; they used poetry and images. They are complementary, reaching different people.
Our art/science dynamic was based on mutual respect and talking through different approaches to common questions, rather than the more usual multidisciplinary approach of artists seeking to illustrate the science. Such questions have since become more widely asked, but tend to be answered too quickly, lacking in rigor. But I have tried to retain this questioning attitude and to pass it on to my students.
Dr. Cathy Fitzgerald, Founder-Director of the global online HAUMEA ECOVERSITY. Empowering creative, cultural, and business professionals for wise, compassionate, and beautiful creativity.
Consultant, international speaker, advisor, and mentor on ecoliteracy & accredited ESD transformative learning Earth Charter educator and Research Fellow on Art & Ecology for the Burren College of Art.
For me, this is the most profound legacy of the Harrisons’ work – understanding how creativity is an essential driver for holistic ecopedagogy across all education.
Helen and Newton Harrison’s work has powerfully influenced my thinking and creative practice since the late 90s. I still clearly remember the afternoon coming across a summary journal article about their work in the library of the National College of Art and Design in Dublin, Ireland. I recall feeling intense relief at finding a comprehensive articulation of the multi-constituent aspects of ecological art practice and over time it shone a light on a path for me to develop similar creative ecological endeavours. The Harrisons’ reflections on their dialogical, participatory, question-led practices helped me understand why integrated, more holistic practices are a radical departure from the conventions of modern art, and why they have the social power to inspire people to live well for place and planet. Today, largely inspired by the Harrisons’ practice over many decades, I would argue ecological insights must inform and guide creative practice—and all our activities—for personal, collective, planetary, and intergenerational well-being.
However, with little college or peer support, my progress to develop and articulate a similar practice to the Harrisons was very slow. Around the late 90s, I was also reading art critic Suzi Gablik’s Re-enchantment of Art and Conversations Before the End of Time. For many years afterwards, I was mystified why the Harrisons’ and Gablik’s work was rarely discussed in my undergraduate or postgraduate art studies, or even during doctoral research that I completed in 2018. Looking back, I believe I came to this topic earlier than most because I had previously worked in science and environmental advocacy. It also took me time to appreciate that illiteracy around ecological understanding, common in current art education, profoundly precludes many from understanding the gravity of humanity’s predicament, and correspondingly why ecological insights insist on a paradigm shift in contemporary art and the dominant culture as a whole.
My difficulties to develop an ecological art practice continued through my doctoral studies; I found it difficult to push past artistic conventions and disinterest that the ecological emergency was a crisis of the dominant culture. Even with my background in science, I had to persist to explain my audacity to explore creative practices that crossed disciplinary boundaries and lifeworld experience. Here the published journal articles on the validity and importance of the Harrisons’ pioneering prescient practice, with others following in similar ways, literally gave me permission to continue my practice and research. I will always be grateful, remembering a particularly difficult time around 2011 when I was considering abandoning my doctoral studies, when Helen and Newton wrote to me out of the blue ‘Dear Cathy, from our perspective, very good work!’
Professor emeritus Newton Harrison with Dr Cathy Fitzgerald in San Deigo, in March 2022. Newton invited Cathy to share her research on the relevance of the Harrisons’ ecological art practice for emergent holistic sustainability education at his workshop for The Web of Life
Today, I feel the relevance of the Harrisons’ work is stronger than ever. I can also confirm that the importance of their journey to develop and articulate ecological practice extends beyond the contemporary art world to contribute to envisioning best practices in broader sustainability education. These realisations arose recently after an unexpected opportunity to learn with leading international sustainability educators at Earth Charter International, which hosts the UNESCO Chair of Education for Sustainable Development (ESD). Looking at their key research insights of emergent holistic education for sustainability —integrated approaches to advance wisdom on how we must live well with others and the wider Earth community— I realise that the Harrisons’ real-world ecological art practices, facilitating communities to creatively question and embrace many ways of knowing, exemplify developed participatory, multiconstituent ecopedagogy. Additionally, the Harrisons provide much insight to sustainability educators on how creative practices, in particular, are essential to make sustainability learning inclusive and inspiring to diverse communities. As our society and the art world becomes more ecoliterate, I believe the Harrisons’ (and similar creative-led ecological practices) leadership will be more appreciated. For me, this is the most profound legacy of the Harrisons’ work – understanding how creativity is an essential driver for holistic ecopedagogy across all education.
Johan Gielis (1962-) is a Belgian mathematician-biologist, originally trained in horticultural engineering and landscaping. He has worked in plant biotechnology for over 25 years, with special focus on mass propagation and molecular and physiological aspects of tropical and temperate bamboos. In 1997 he discovered the Superformula, based on observations in bamboo.
What matters is not the individual forms, but how they are connected. Newton’s specific question was whether this would also teach us about ecosystems and continuity. He challenged and inspired me to look more deeply and broadly at ecosystems and our planet.
My time with Newton Harrison was brief but intense. He had learned of my unified description of natural forms and phenomena and contacted me on December 28, 2021. As an artist, he had worked with Feynman, Murray Gell-Man, and Bohm, so I was surprised that he approached me, a biologist. Initially, he invited me to review his new work in progress Sensorium but, in our email correspondence, we also tried to find common ground (which we both expected might take months or years).
My work, which has its origins in botany, shows that shapes as diverse as starfish, flowers, squares, and cacti, the shape of atomic nuclei, and even our universe itself can be encoded in a geometric transformation called Superformula. So far, we have studied over 40000 individual biological samples, all of which are described by the Superformula; interestingly we found no circles or straight lines, the basic tools of our sciences. Our methods have now become a complete scientific methodology, with surprising new insights into how nature works and speaks to us. The attraction of the Superformula may lie in humanity’s need for a unified and continuous approach to life, nature, and our universe, as opposed to the discrete, random nature of our scientific worldviews.
What matters is not the individual forms, but how they are connected. Newton’s specific question was whether this would also teach us about ecosystems and continuity (he did not think the term sustainability should be used). He challenged and inspired me to look more deeply and broadly at ecosystems and our planet. How can we use these insights to “reshape and redirect the suicidal and ecocidal direction in which our Western civilization has taken us,” as Newton put it.
This is the direction I am currently pursuing with my mathematical friends. It is indeed possible to describe complete systems. The heart, once thought to be a pump, turns out to be a simple helical structure. Furthermore, the entire circulatory system combines the functions of transport with those of exchange, switching between a cylinder (for transporting blood) and a Möbius strip, a one-sided body for exchanging oxygen in the lungs and cells. These models should also work for ecosystems, translating holistic views into precise mathematics, as a language for the sciences and, he hoped, for the web of life.
Like nature, science is a never-ending endeavour, and what is cutting-edge today will be fossilized in the not-too-distant future. The Superformula is seen by many as the linchpin in this evolution. Another realization is that mathematics in its current state is a poor substitute for our deep knowledge. Mathematics is known as the language of science, the science of patterns. It is bad because it fails, as I call it, in its task of describing both patterns and the individual. With the Superformula, we can now study both the general and the particular, and link the discrete and the continuous.
After the publication of my article in the American Journal of Botany, many were excited by the idea of a unified description of the large and the small. This happened earlier in the sciences when the work of Kepler and Galilei inspired Isaac Newton to develop his System of the World half a century later. The American Mathematical Society wrote: “A botanical Kepler waiting for his Newton.”
How fortuitous it then was when Newton H. contacted me. It was not the Newton who would develop an updated world system or theory of everything based on my work. Instead, I got the opportunity to know Newton Harrison, a great artist and human being. However brief, our communication left a deep impression and will continue to be an important inspiration for my work in the sciences.
Goto employs an experimental practice of empathic exchange with people, places, and things. She earned her PhD in Ecology and Environmental Art in Public Places in 2012. Collins is driven by the pursuit of transformative experiences and ideas that can empower people, places and things. He received his PhD in Art, Ecology, and Planning in 2007.
Through this conversation I have learned three things: 1) metaphor can be physical, 2) physical metaphor can be dysfunctional, and 3) a metaphorical flip informs how we understand a functional metaphor.
During my Ph.D., I interviewed Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison Bristol, 2008. The text below is a segment of the conversation.
Helen Harrison: Our normative cultural behaviour, and then you see if there is some way that you can reverse it. When people see the flip, and the reverse, they understand.
Newton Harrison: Let me give you an example. Flood control is a metaphor. Now, what is flood control? Flood control is defined by dams and dikes that hold the river, keep it from flooding and wrecking a town. But the dikes also destroy the river.
Helen Harrison: Flood control is also the destruction of flood plains. Flood plains are meant to be flooding.
Newton Harrison: And the destruction of river life – a lot of destruction in that metaphor. If you flip the metaphor, flood control is the spreading of waters – then you give me the twenty million dollars that you were going to put in the dikes; I will go and buy land above; and a whole load of design will happen which we call ecological design.
Helen Harrison: We will return the flood plain to the river. We will have removed …
Newton Harrison: Reiko is not understanding how one got to begin at the beginning again.
Reiko Goto: Hey, dikes are not metaphor – they are real structures!
(Goto Collins, 2012, p.70).
Through this conversation I have learned three things: 1) metaphor can be physical, 2) physical metaphor can be dysfunctional, and 3) a metaphorical flip informs how we understand a functional metaphor. A metaphorical flip’ is like ‘light and shadow’, ‘pull and resistance’, and ‘joy and sorrow’. It reveals or creates a dual reality.
A dual reality is not imagination, it is also found in the natural environment. For example, Caledonian pine, known as Scots pine (Pinus sylvestris), grows differently in different environments. In forest plantations the competition makes them grow tall and straight.
In open areas, the branches spread out to catch more sunlight.
Both natural events and human actions affect the shape of the tree. The dual reality of the pine tree has two different values: straight-utilitarian value and curvilinear-aesthetic value. Understanding two different values of Caledonian pine can give us choices in how we relate with the tree.
Image left: A small pine forest near Applecross, Scotland. Digital image: Collins + Goto Studio, 2012. Image right: A Caledonian pine in Black Wood of Rannoch, Scotland. Digital image: Collins + Goto Studio, 2013.
Terike Haapoja is a visual artist based in New York. Haapoja’s work investigates the existential and political boundaries of our world, with a specific focus on issues arising from the anthropocentric world view of Western traditions. Animality, multispecies politics, cohabitation, time, loss, and repairing connections are recurring themes in Haapoja’s work.
For Newton, this kind of awakening had happened early in life, when he was driving along a highway in California, seeing the broken landscapes under constant, violent human excavation. Suddenly, he said, he could hear the earth screaming.
Like many, I was introduced to Helen and Newton Harrison’s work in art school. In the early 2000s, when I studied, ecology wasn’t yet trending, and their work seemed like fresh air for someone like me who felt that the most urgent question in the world, the environmental crises, was surrounded by a numbing silence. My own work, however, was video-based and centered on the figure of the animal, and while our works sometimes ended in the same shows, we never met in person.
Then, on one dark evening in 2019, I saw a message request on Facebook, and when I clicked on it I found a message from the legendary Newton Harrison. He had encountered one of my works somewhere and wished to connect. I was delighted and honoured, and we started an exchange that evolved into emails and Zoom calls and lasted until his passing.
One of the first works he sent me was a meditation on sea ecologies called Apologia Mediterraneo. The ten-minute video combines found footage and Newton’s voice-over, reciting a poetic letter addressing the sea and the troubles and pains it has to endure. Newton’s voice radiates empathy and solidarity with the Mediterranean Sea, and this empathy towards and solidarity with the more-than-human world always characterised his attitude and our discussions. He would passionately side with the web of life in our conversations on environmental justice: he wanted to be responsible and accountable to it directly, not to a human political system that represented a species he called ”an ungovernable exotic” that always hoarded resources to ”the human reproductive machine”.
We discussed empathy and what awakens it in people. We agreed that it had to be an embodied, particular experience because one can not convince another to feel for an animal, or an earthworm, or earth itself by rational arguments. For Newton, this kind of awakening had happened early in life, when he was driving along a highway in California, seeing the broken landscapes under constant, violent human excavation. Suddenly, he said, he could hear the earth screaming. From then on, earth was someone, not something.
He talked about his career becoming huge at the age of 88. There was no sign of slowing down, on the contrary: he didn’t want to make compromises or to scale his ideas down, but for the world to change, and his work to become more than a representation of what life on earth could be. He wanted it to be the real thing. Helen’s Town, a homage to Helen in the form of an eco-village with a production timeline of hundreds of years (because that’s how long it takes for trees to grow) was a serious dream and his frustration with curators who instead wanted something gallery size was palpable.
In 2020, when the pandemic had locked all of us in, I invited him to contribute a dialogue with me to a small exhibition I made about art, love, and relationality. My premise was that as artists our practice is always impacted by the relations that carry us, and our muses, whether they are human or more-than-human. In our dialogue he talked about his lifelong work with Helen and their mutual excitement towards their work and life together, and how it was her who had initially led them to the question of climate change. And how everything that he did was and would be informed by her and their work together, and how her perspective still acts as a moral compass to Newton. Because, he said, ”Helen had the best ethical sense of anybody I ever met in my life, with one exception: Eleanor Roosevelt. So I put the bar high.”
I remain grateful for that Facebook message and that I had the honor of befriending this pioneering ecological thinker for these last years. In an email on the 10th of March, 2020, Newton wrote: “If possible I would love to democratize a little bit of hope in what
appears to be an ongoing and increasingly intense array of
catastrophes.”
David makes art with ecology, to inquire and learn. He researches, publishes, and works internationally with ecosystems and their inhabitants, using images, poetic texts, walking and sculptural installations to generate dialogues that question climate change, species extinction, urban development, the nature of water transdisciplinarity and ecopedagogy for ‘capable futures’.
Through working, touring, and engaging with Helen and Newton, my ecological arts practice continues to be found and like them, I hope to enable others to seek their ecological arts practices.
Seeking An Ecological Arts Practice
Seeking an ecological arts practice, my Masters in Art As Environment course at Manchester Metropolitan University (MMU) concluded in 1996 with an invitation to project manage and lead the research for Helen and Newton’s Artranspennine98[1] project, Casting A Green Net: Can It Be We Are Seeing A Dragon? The project gave me the opportunity to develop arts-led, practice-based processes of research that opened new ways of questioning the Countryside Information System of The Institute of Terrestrial Ecology[2], and led to my Ph.D.. Mapping the ecosystems of Northern England became a ‘whole systems inquiry’ that included the environmental terrain, agricultural, cultural, and economic contexts, as well as the map-makers intentions. Satellite and field study data was supplemented by many car journeys back and forth, between Liverpool to Hull, to see the terrain and talk with many people from different disciplines and walks of life. Thanks to Professor John Hyatt, the project itself and the production of the six large maps was based at MMU’s Department of Fine Arts. We had regular ‘Open Studio’ events to generate conversations with academic, industry, and civic experts, and arts and design students.
Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison giving the keynote lecture at Evolving the Future conference, Shrewsbury, 2005. Photo: D. Haley
The exhibition opened at Bluecoat Gallery, Liverpool, and in 2000, thanks to Richard Scott of the National Wildflower Centre, was shown at the Society for Ecological Restoration’s (SER) first World Conference, at the Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. The Harrisons gave a keynote presentation with the work, in the hotel’s capacious lobby. My relationship with SER, as Ecoart Symposium Coordinator/Chair culminated with their World Conference in Manchester in 2015.
In 2005, I was commissioned to curate Evolving the Future, an international three-day conference as part of the Charles Darwin bicentennial celebrations in Shrewsbury. At the end of The Harrisons’ closing keynote lecture, I invited them to consider a project that would focus on mainland Britain as one ecosystem under stress from climate change. We toured the length and breadth of Britain, for a year, meeting many people, to develop a project proposal for potential funders. Finally, Chris Fremantle made a successful application to Defra UK[3], as the Harrisons and I flew to Budapest for a conference. We appointed Chris as Producer and I became Associate Artist. Gabriel Harrison designed and produced the exhibition and the project became Greenhouse Britain: Losing Ground, Gaining Wisdom. It toured six UK venues (2007-2008) and several in the USA (2009-2010), before becoming integrated into the Harrisons’ Force Majeure (2010) works.
At one point, Defra nearly withdrew Greenhouse Britain’s funding, as they perceived the work to have exceeded the Government’s climate change remit of ‘raising awareness’ to include ‘behaviour change’. We renegotiated the terms of the project to comply with the restrictions, letting the poetics carry the impact further. Meanwhile, a friend from Casting A Green Net, Professor Tony Bradshaw, called me one evening, concerning sea level rise mitigation: “…, but the Environment Agency are developing plans for managed retreat.” I explained that ‘managed retreat’ used engineering and military metaphors, while the Harrisons had coined the phrase, ‘graceful withdrawal’ – metaphors of becoming and acquiescence. And this insight chimed with the Tai Chi concept of ‘yielding’ that has grown through my practice – Yield: give way to gain (Haley 2018). Greenhouse Britain also contained several sub-projects and initiatives including, ecological development of the Lea River Valley, a charrette with Professor Paul Selman’s landscape research students at the University of Sheffield, flood strategies for the River Avon and the River Thames; and opportunities for contained ecological housing/food production to protect the headwaters of all the rivers rising in the Pennines. However, the final UK exhibition at London’s City Hall (2008) met with resistance from the incoming new Mayor of London, Boris Johnson, who saw our work as challenging his proposed Tilbury desalination plant. After a week’s stand-off, Boris Johnson backed down when he realised that the Guardian newspaper was writing an article that depicted his first act as Mayor being the banning of an ecological arts exhibition that offered opportunities to save the Capital from sea level rise.
Helen Mayer Harrison & Newton Harrison: Pendle Valley, researching Greenhouse Britain 2007. Photo D. Haley
Through 2007, while working on Greenhouse Britain, the Harrisons and I toured Taiwan to develop the unrealised Greenhouse Taiwan. However, as we toured, we developed the idea of ‘Post-disciplinarity’ ― around a roundtable, all the disciplines sit with equal status while maintaining the integrity of their discipline. Then, the most urgent problem/question of the day is placed at the centre of the table for all to address, together.
We didn’t always agree. And that was one of the ways we learned from each other. They didn’t always agree. And that was one of the ways they learned from each other. Through working, touring, and engaging with Helen and Newton, my ecological arts practice continues to be found and like them, I hope to enable others to seek their ecological arts practices.
References
Firbank, L. Harrison, H. M., Harrison, N., Haley, D. Griffith, B. 2009. A Story Of Becoming: Landscape Creation Through An Art/Science Dynamic in eds. Winter, M. & Loby, M. What is Land for? The Food, Fuel and Climate Change Debate. Earthscan, London.
Haley, D. 2018 Art as destruction: an inquiry into creation, in ed. Reiss, J. Art, Theory and Practice in the Anthropocene. Vernon Press, Wilmington Delaware, and Malaga, Spain.
[1] Artranspennine98 was an initiative between Tate Liverpool and the Henry Moore Foundation, Leeds, to create a corridor of artworks between the two cities. The Harrison saw the ecological opportunity of ‘rhyming the Humber and Mersey estuaries.
[2] The Institute of Terestrial Ecology merged with other environmental research agencies to become the Centre for Ecology and Hydrology.
[3] Defra UK is HM Government’s Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.
John Hyatt is a painter, digital artist, video artist, photographer, designer, musician, printmaker, author and sculptor.
As an artist, Hyatt has exhibited in Australia, Brazil, China, India, Ireland, Portugal, Japan, the UK and the USA. He has a long and varied career and involvement in cultural practices, pedagogy, industry, urban regeneration, and communities. A transdisciplinary theorist, he is a polymath with an interest in arts and sciences.
I was interested, amongst other things, in how they kept all parties engaged, brought them together, and kept them involved: the creation of an ecology of collaboration.
In 1997, I was Head of Department and Professor of Fine Art at Manchester Metropolitan University. I arranged for the Art School to host Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison whilst they were making work for Art Transpennine ’98, a large exhibition across the Northwest of England, curated by Lewis Biggs, Director of Tate Liverpool, and Robert Hopper, Director of the Henry Moore Sculpture Trust in Leeds. I had worked with Lewis previously when, as an artist, I made a large eco-art, climate change installation for New North at the Tate in 1990 and with Robert when I was Henry Moore Printmaking Research Fellow at Leeds Polytechnic 1988/89. Art Transpennine ’98 spanned the M62 corridor: a development zone identified by the EU, which morphed into later development notions, such as The Northern Powerhouse.
The Harrisons worked with us for some months. They used the school as a central space for a region-wide investigation, inviting all sorts of experts to collaborate and contribute to an evolving, largely unspecified ecological art/science inquiry. I was interested, amongst other things, in how they kept all parties engaged, brought them together, and kept them involved: the creation of an ecology of collaboration.
I assigned an eco-art Ph.D. student of mine, David Haley, to look after the Harrisons’ needs and to interface with the participating students. The project began with drawing practice. Drawing is a research methodology common to both art and science. Large O/S maps of the area were coloured and re-drawn with the assistance of MA Art as Environment students. The colouring in was to change the emphases of the maps. For example, one map was altered to show only water and watercourses. Through this process, a second stage emerged. The shape of the geographic area of inquiry was made visible and I remember Newton, in front of a wall-sized altered map in the Holden Gallery, chatting with me about whether we were “witnessing a Green Dragon”. The maps created a place where the question could be legitimately asked. They became scenery for an enactment of dialogue. This new, greener dragon flew to the north of the territory of the Welsh Red Dragon. It was anchored in and extended historic cultural narratives. These early stages evolved into the final project title, still interrogative – Casting a Green Net: Can it be we are seeing a Dragon?
The primary drawing stage can be interpreted as ‘Casting a Green Net’. The image of the net came from Helen. She imagined a giant standing at the mouth of the Mersey throwing a fishing net across the Northwest. I always presumed the net was a philosopher’s net made of curiosity.
Illustration by John Hyatt
The second part of the title, ‘Can it be…’ sets up an open invitation to create with no right or wrong answer: a new receptacle. ‘we are seeing…’ invokes a communal act of perception. ‘… a Dragon?’ makes a metaphorical transference of map shape to mythic beast and is pure art, disarmingly naïve seeming, that invites multiple perspectival input from wherever it may derive art or science. It does not require a subject expertise to engage. It is available to children or adults, amateur or expert. The title question created and still creates a level playing field for access to the project.
I just want to dwell on this naming of the project out of these fundamental stages. It seems like a simple thing and so it is. It is also incredibly sophisticated and complex. What this question did going forward was act as a ‘strange attractor’ in the sense of how the term is used in Chaos Mathematics. A ‘strange attractor’ is a simple equation or fractal set that is a root for a complex structure and the pattern of behaviour of a whole (eco) system. Here, there are characteristics of the solution/response already carefully embedded in factors of the equation/question: greenness, community, imagination, and power. The imagist, folkloric question, ‘Casting a Green Net: Can it be we are seeing a Dragon?’, was an auto-generative, immaterial centre around which the fields of inquiry could find their overlapping shape determined by greenness, community, imagination, and power.
I have taken this experience into my own practice. For example, the regeneration of a derelict district of Liverpool by re-drawing it and naming it the Fabric District, emerging from its history, and organising an art/science festival in 2018 for the new District around an open non-intellectual/intellectual concept, Time Tunnel 1968-2018, asking, in a city known for its history of cultural radicalism, What has happened since May 1968?
Looking back down my own time tunnel, I remember the Harrisons with affection and respect.
Since 1984 work as art historian (PhD) and editor for various publishing houses and museums, among others, as deputy director of the German Bundeskunsthalle (Federal Hall of Fine Arts); responsible management of numerous international projects; since 2001 development of concepts, project management, budgeting, editing, design and production of exhibitions and books for public and private institutions worldwide together with Kai Reschke.
From the very first moment the two of us met with Helen and Newton, we were convinced of their ways to work, and felt it to be very similar to the way we wanted ― and finally achieved ― to work.
Having known, been friends, and worked with the Harrisons for almost 30 years, we discussed, developed, and implemented many projects with them ― exhibitions as well as books: The most important one was probably The Time of the Force Majeure: After 45 Years Counterforce is on the Horizon, a comprehensive retrospective of Helen Mayer Harrisons and Newton Harrisons work (published in 2016).
Wedding ceremony in San Diego: Kai & Petra and their witnesses Helen & Newton, Nov. 7, 2001
Thereafter, we took part in the activities of the Center for the Study of the Force Majeure, joined the board of directors, and founded a European branch of the center.
Newton & Kai on board the historic sailing vessel »Stella« working on the Sensorium project, June 23, 2019Newton & Petra in Santa Monica, in the background the Harrison’s piece »The California Wash – Terminus of Pico Boulevard at the Santa Monica Promenade (1988), Dec. 29, 2019
I, Petra, had the pleasure to meet Helen and Newton in 1994, when they designed ― together with their son Gabriel Harrison ― the initial Future Garden project Endangered Meadows of Europe.
The exhibition opened in 1996 on the rooftop of the Art and Exhibition Hall of the Federal Republic of Germany in Bonn. As a leading member of the museum’s team, I had the privilege to accompany the process of developing this highly complex project from the very beginning up to its realization and the successive projects that derived from it.
To me, this work seems programmatic for Helen’s and Newton’s systematic approach, and it opened my eyes to the complexity and understanding of ecological systems:
Since an increasing number of agricultural areas are being maximized with regard to productivity or turned into building sites, meadows are one of the most endangered biotopes. A 400-year-old meadow from the Eifel area, which would have otherwise been destroyed, was rolled up, transported to Bonn, and unrolled on the museum’s roof. Collectively, the meadow contained 164 species of plants, among them several from the red list of endangered species, where normally there would be 30 to 35.
The roof garden of the museum had been mowed twice a year so that hay and seeds could be harvested which were then applied to more than 10,000 square meters of a meadow area along the Rhine and other places in Bonn: A Mother Meadow for Bonn: Future Garden 2 was created.
Since then, the concept spread, and many Future Gardens of different kinds were and are still being established all over the world.
I, Kai, first met Petra at the Kunst- und Ausstellungshalle in Bonn, where she was deputy director and I curated an exhibition on Alexander von Humboldt, the great 19th-century holistic scholar. She introduced me to the Harrisons in 1999 when the project Peninsula Europe appeared on the horizon.
There was no time to think about the exhibition itself but the development of a catalogue concept seemed practicable and above all most challenging:
The works conceived by Helen and Newton had so many entirely different formats that they could not possibly be squeezed into one book with a defined size without losing their integrity and comprehensibility.
Consequently, we developed a publication which, at first glance, looked like a book but when opened up consisted completely of adjustable foldouts with an individual size for each work.
The Harrisons were enthusiastic, the bookbinder was not ― and the result was convincing.
So was my first encounter with Newton. A vague feeling of being interrogated soon faded into the notion of having found some kind of ‘brother in spirit’ while studying and contemplating Humboldt’s theories and their essence that “everything is interrelating”: A true holistic thinker considering the arts as important as the sciences for communicating the central issues of human interaction with nature.
Petra and I had both reached a point of cognition with former projects where we had purposely been seeking interdisciplinary advice, but never in such a consequent methodical way as the Harrisons did combining a diversity of disciplines with different knowledge, perspectives, and approaches to collaborate and actually provide the basis for perceptions and results which an isolated individual could not generate.
From the very first moment, the two of us met with Helen and Newton, we were convinced of their ways to work, and felt it to be very similar to the way we wanted ― and finally achieved ― to work:
The permanent dialogue between the two of them;
The ability to find advisors, scientists, politicians, and other collaborators or supporters and form and maintain a powerful team;
To start a discussion and continue it without an end in sight;
To integrate new information into an existing concept;
To change plans, if necessary, without losing the objective;
To be convinced of and devoted to this objective;
To remain open and curious;
To never say: It is not possible.
Thus, a mutually beneficial relationship between the four of us started, developed, and remained more than close ― as Newton put it: We were their friends, designers, editors, and thinkers.
Since 1982 work as curator, consultant, designer and organizer of exhibitions on numerous large-scale projects worldwide, many of them emphasizing on arts and ecology; since 1993 lecturing on
book and exhibition design, planning, production, technology, didactics, and evaluation in collaboration with various national and international government agencies and universities; since 2001 development of concepts, project management, budgeting, editing, design, and production of exhibitions and books together with Petra Kruse.
Dr. JoAnn Kuchera-Morin Composer, Director, and Chief Scientist of the AlloSphere Research Facility, is Professor of Media Arts and Technology and Music at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Her research focuses on creative computational systems, multi-modal media content, and facilities design. She created and was Chief Scientist of Digital Media for the University of California.
What I have learned from the brief time of working with Newton and viewing the work that he and Helen have accomplished is the collaboration of two bio-eco artists who were interested in investigating the life web from true empirical inquiry and truthful interrogation, using their expert artistry and scientific inquiry.
I first met Newton Harrison very recently in the fall of 2021, when we were both invited to speak at a National Academy of Sciences Salon regarding our research and creative practice involving the Getty Pacific Standard Time 2024 Biennale integrating Arts and Science. Newton was discussing his and Helen’s work regarding their Sensorium World Ocean Project. The project had gathered a vast amount of information concerning the world’s oceans and the condition that our current environment is in due to the pollution from the land into ocean runoff as well as from the thousands of ships on the ocean floor polluting the waters and the plastics and other pollutants in the sea. The project’s current state at that time was an art installation that also had much science involved due to the tremendous amounts of scientific data that they had collected over many years.
In Newton’s own words, he wanted the Sensorium to become a “fully interactive 3-dimensional human-centered interface, where the floors, walls and even the ceiling act as ‘live’ surfaces, connected to real-time data, information, and modeling/simulation tools. Newton wanted the Sensorium to have a series of functions including education and holistic decision-making, and to allow people to interact directly with the ocean through the interface. Most significantly, Newton wanted the Sensorium to operate as a generalized pre-emptive planning environment where oceanographic problems, mostly of human creation, can be seen and acted upon because their interconnectivity is understood at one glance and all together.” This is exactly what my research and creative practice entail. I am a composer/media artist working on complex systems research and have made a fully interactive/immersive instrument/laboratory called the AlloSphere and complex system software AlloLib that investigates multi-dimensional complex problems through visualization, sonification, and interaction, building immersive installations for artistic/scientific discovery.
Sensorium Project as displayed in the AlloSphere instrument.The beginning for the Sensorium Project as displayed in the AlloSphere instrument.
The AlloSphere instrument can be designed in any shape and size to accommodate any installation space, laboratory, or situation room, and the AlloLib software can scale accordingly from the AlloSphere current size of a three-story 2000 square foot lab that houses 26 projectors, 54 channels of sound, completely multi-user and interactive, to museum-size installations, the desktop, and immersive VR helmets.
Sensorium, developmental sketches, 2023, Courtesy of the Newton and Helen Harrison Family TrustSensorium, developmental sketches, 2023, Courtesy of the Newton and Helen Harrison Family Trust
The AlloSphere instrument and Laboratory is located within the California NanoSystems Institute, where we work with physicists, chemists, biologists, and other scientists in visualizing, sonifiying, and using interactive computation to explore complex systems. My AlloSphere Research Group is now working closely with Newton’s organization, the Center for Study of the Force Majeure, to make a unique and compelling immersive installation for the Getty Pacific Standard Time (PST) 2024 initiative as well as taking this artistic/scientific research to the next level integrating experimental and simulation models into a laboratory dedicated to ocean world research.
What I have learned from the brief time of working with Newton and viewing the work that he and Helen have accomplished is the collaboration of two bio-eco artists who were interested in investigating the life web from true empirical inquiry and truthful interrogation, using their expert artistry and scientific inquiry. They viewed the system holistically and have paved the way for systems solving not just problem-solving.
I include the following media artists/researchers from my AlloSphere Research Group, who are currently working on the Sensorium for the World Ocean Project.
Some of the members of the AlloSphere Research Group:
From left to right: Dr. Gustavo Rincon, Dr. Kon Hyong Kim, Dr. JoAnn Kuchera-Morin, and Myungin Lee.
Dr. Kon Hyong Kim (is Post-Doctoral Researcher with the AlloSphere Research Group at the University of California, Santa Barbara. With a B.S. in Electrical & Computer Engineering from Cornell University and an M.S. and Ph.D. in Media Arts and Technology from UCSB, he focuses on generating various mixed reality environments and high dimensional mathematical artwork. He is the lead Graphics researcher on the Sensorium Project.
Myungin Lee is a Ph.D. candidate in the Graduate Program in Media Arts and Technology at the University of California, Santa Barbara. His research includes digital signal processing and visual/sonic machine learning for interactive computational design. He is one of the lead designers of the content of the Sensorium Project working with the Ocean Health Index database of ocean scientist Dr. Ben Halpern at UCSB.
Dr. Gustavo Rincon Ph.D. Media Arts and Technology, M.Arch UCLA, MFA, CalArts) is a media artist, sculptor, and graphics immersive artist. His research focuses on spatiotemporal architectures and structures, extending from the virtual to the material. As a member of the AlloSphere Research Group his research focuses on shaping spatial structures through self-organizing algorithms. He is the lead in architectural design in the Sensorium project.
Dr. Timothy Wood is Research Director at the Center for Research and Electronic Arts at UCSB and AlloSphere Media Systems Engineer. His research looks at new ways of utilizing human computer interactivity, virtual worlds, and somatic movement practices to deepen and empower our relationship to the body and nature. Dr. Wood received his M.S and Ph.D. in Media Arts and Technology and was a Post-Doctoral Researcher at University of California, San Diego. Dr. Wood is working on human computer interaction for the Sensorium Project.
Dennis Adderton is the Technical Director of the AlloSphere Research Facility and works with Dr. Kon Kim, Dr. Wood and Myungin Lee on hardware systems design.
Aviva Rahmani began pioneering ecological restoration as transdisciplinary artmaking in 1969. She authored, "Divining Chaos," and co-authored, "Ecoart in Action" in 2020. Her "Blued Trees" (2015- present), focuses on how legal insights, expressed as art, can resist ecocide. Rahmani lives and works in Manhattan and Maine and is an Affiliate with the Institute for Arctic and Alpine Research, University of Colorado, Boulder. Her undergraduate and graduate work was at CalArts and her PhD is from the University of Plymouth, UK.
We had parallel interests across many years, but they understood far better, how to platform and establish visibility for those interests.
Newton and his life partner Helen taught me how to deconstruct power at scale. I met them both early in our careers, not as a student, but as an equal in the late sixties in San Diego. What I saw was how they took the necessary steps to go from an eco-art point of view to policy implementation. What I saw over the decades was how valuable it is to understand power. We had parallel interests across many years, but they understood far better how to platform and establish visibility for those interests. As a younger, lone woman, without institutional support, I couldn’t break into the discourse, or find support for radical ideas as easily.
Newton and Helen 1979
I think the practical strategies I was testing, for how far simple ideas might become models for reciprocity and collaborative change, intrigued and inspired Newton. They both helped my career at many crucial turning points. Helen gave me my first job in the UCSD Extension in the late sixties and early seventies. In 1969, Newton asked me to form an ill-fated Dance Department at UCSD. He was an ardent supporter, assembling Eleanor and David Antin, and Pauline Oliveros to promote the project until politics shot it down. Newton and I had a more extensive and complex relationship than I had with Helen. Early on in my career, Newton sent me to connect with seminal art figures, whose collegial interests have remained my aesthetic lodestones in the extended art family I inhabited long after they all passed away: the collector, Stanley Grinstein, Allan Kaprow, who gave me a job as his TA and scholarships at CalArts and remained my mentor till his death, and the legendary gallerist Ronald Feldman. In our sometimes-volatile friendship, I was slowly provoked to aggressively carve my place in the art world.
Newton had a sculptor’s eye for form, which Helen deepened into a poetic narrative, serving them brilliantly in gallery and museum settings to frame concepts. He had a shrewd businessperson’s gift of the gab to narrate compelling visions to donors who allowed him to advance groundbreaking ideas in the art world. This, partnered with Helen’s pragmatism and diplomacy, also enabled advances in policy circles in Europe and the UK. Newton, and in a more muted way, Helen blended fierce competitiveness and professional generosity. Newton was intensely interested in two works of mine, Synapse Reality (1970), which made a social sculptural experiment of a small farming commune in Del Mar, California, and Ghost Nets (1990-2000), which restored a degraded former coastal town dump to flourishing wetlands on Vinalhaven Island, Maine. In 1970, Newton taught a class at UCSD on Strategies, anticipating the need Joseph Beuys also foresaw by forming the Green Party, to engage artists in international environmental policy.
In 2022, after decades of participation in the eco-art dialog (1990-present), I had co-founded, Newton curated and arranged the group show, Eco-art Work: 11 Artists from 8 Countries at Various Small Fires in LA. His hope then was to catalyze a market for the burgeoning international eco-art genre which might carry on the hopes they both had to change the world with art. It was only then that Newton seemed to me to be acting on understanding that the change they sought could only come from a larger community in which they were a part but not the center. It was a project that reflected an understanding of how complex the human parts are that might fit together to save humanity from itself.
Simon Read is a visual artist and Associate Professor in Fine Art at Middlesex University. His practice relating directly to his current coastal and estuarine work, started in 1993 through the offer of a residency upon the Upper Thames leading in 1996 to the public commissioned work for the Thames Barrier: “A Profile of the River Thames from Thames Head to Sea Reach”.
I can see a lot of connections and regret that I was never to follow up an acquaintance with the Harrisons since they seemed to be operating in a parallel area both conceptually and technically.
My first introduction to the Harrisons was Portable Fish Farm in the ‘11 Artists from Los Angeles’ show in 1971 when I was a 2nd year student of Fine Art at Leeds University.
At the time, I was utterly non-plussed by the work since I had little concept of how it was compatible with my understanding of sculpture. I would have been unaware of the prescience of the work despite knowing European contemporaries such as Hans Haacke. However, at the time, I took more away from other artists in the show in particular Larry Bell, Bruce Nauman, Ed Ruscha, William Wegman, and the odd man out, Richard Diebenkorn. I think then I would have been looking more at studio work that was heavily influenced by conceptualism and artists’ use of the photograph. I was probably interested in the different schools of thought coming out of New York and California, where the Californian experience was so much more sensual.
I was very aware of the furore caused by Newton’s fish farm, due mainly to my then professor, Lawrence Gowing, who was vice-chair of the Arts Council and who took some responsibility for the show and wrote a spirited defence of the work in (I think) The Times.
After then, there was a long period when I was not so aware of the Harrisons until the Greenhouse Britain project in 2007 and my amazement at their securing funding from DEFRA. At that time, I had been collaborating with the arts consultants Haring-Woods on another project in Peterborough, who invited me to Gunpowder Park in Enfield to discuss further involvement with the Bright Sparks programme and was currently supporting the Harrisons’ work in the Lea Valley.
Admittedly, my response was sceptical, although I found the principle of a walk-through type of map environment absorbing, I was sorry to have missed the benefit of their presence to animate the project. I was sceptical because I reacted in an Anglo-Saxon way against the somewhat evangelical tone of the project and the belief that you could parachute in and propose a solution for a specific geographic location for which I felt there was insufficient prior knowledge. Although I am instinctively distrustful of proselytising, I can fully appreciate the response of a DEFRA representative that the Harrisons are refreshing in that they feel able to get straight to the point and unabashedly talk about the big idea.
So, upon reflection, I can see a lot of connections and regret that I was never to follow up an acquaintance with the Harrisons since they seemed to be operating in a parallel area both conceptually and technically. My difference lies in the belief that everything must come from somewhere and that the best solutions should be homegrown. This is what lies behind my desire to get under the skin of a project/location and community to be confident that whatever I propose is appropriate to the situation. So, a fundamental difference I’m afraid.
Since then, I have found their Lagoon Cycle project and the watershed works inspiring for their scope and sense of scale and the audacity that it is possible to conceive a project on a continental scale without having to implement it.
I know that Helen had acknowledged the idea of context and influence by saying that the ‘force majeure’ aspect of their operation justifies the use of any strategy, no matter where it comes from. My academic training says that the aspects of culture that you are exposed to and the cultural context that you operate within have a huge bearing on the range of possibilities that you access in the formal strategies that you take. Obviously, nothing is absolutely original and we all pass the same messages around but how we interpret them is crucial.
I was interested to learn that Newton’s early experience was as a painter, just as it was for me, but he was taught by early exponents of abstraction, if not abstract expressionism, and would have been aware of Clement Greenberg’s belief that the autonomy of the artwork was fundamental and that you should not need to look beyond the work itself for justification. Newton would have absorbed the sense that the phenomenological and behavioural characteristics of an artwork were the only narrative necessary to engage with it. I know that there is a strong means and ends argument here but the departure from the artwork as a vehicle for meaning in favour of the integrity of the work itself is also intrinsic to the Harrison’s belief in the primacy of natural processes and the living landscape itself.
There is also no way that Newton will have been unaware of the influence of conceptualism, which would have been a key justification for putting forward impossible ideas on a colossal scale because there is a cultural context to do so. The idea that the idea is sufficient and does not need to be activated is a basic tenet of conceptualism and indeed is the Harrison’s justification for proposing ambitious or even outlandish projects with such panache and certainty.
The early works such as the fish farm were shown in the context of a group of artists who we know had come directly from a conceptual (albeit Californian) mould. Even the pragmatic use of the unadorned paraphernalia of a fish farm allowed for the absence of a necessity for aesthetics and, as in other artists’ production, the opportunity to colonise criteria other than directly aesthetic for the organisation of material. Even with the context of this show, however, it would be fair to say that Newton Harrison’s work comes over as an outlier and already was on a journey somewhere else, clearly as a result of his alignment with Helen’s thinking.
Leslie Ryan is the lead design-researcher for the Future Garden climate-adaptation projects within the Center for the Study of the Force Majeure, a research and educational center established by Helen and Newton Harrison. She is a registered landscape architect and long-time consultant and collaborator on the Harrisons’ projects.
Listening to the Harrisons talk about repairing our relationship with the land and working ― always ― to advantage of the life web was a watershed moment for me, a siren call that changed everything.
When I met Helen and Newton Harrison I was fresh out of school with a degree in landscape architecture. The Harrisons didn’t think too much of landscape architects. As a profession, we were too literal, too focused on staying within property lines, and too beholden to clients, all of which tended in their view to alienate us from the natural world rather than foster respect and caring.
Listening to the Harrisons talk about repairing our relationship with the land and working ― always ― to advantage of the life web was a watershed moment for me, a siren call that changed everything. Their art practice modeled what landscape architecture could and should be: recognizing the land and the more-than-human others on the planet as partners with agency, rejecting framing nature as a set of ecosystem services that cast the natural world as a servant in service to human needs, and always looking beyond the spatial and temporal boundaries of here and now.
I soon left the landscape architecture office and joined them as a lowly graduate student and studio assistant in the Visual Arts Department at UC San Diego. Their support would become instrumental in my receiving the American Academy of Rome Fellowship in Landscape Architecture (1995), and Harrison refrains such as “how big is here and how long is now” and “pay attention to the costs of your beliefs” would reverberate throughout my research project while a Master of Environmental Design student at Yale, Newton’s alma mater.
The Harrisons threw me in the deep end when they asked if, for my first project as their assistant, I would draw the rubble flowers for Trümmerflora: On the Topography of Terrors (1988). I didn’t know which plant species would make sense, the site was haunted by a terrifying past, and the thought of nature improvising with the detritus, seeds, and memories buried in the rubble was overwhelmingly beautiful. Spontaneous urban vegetation has since become a significant field of study and the subject of books, papers, and thesis projects in landscape architecture, but at the time it was uncharted territory. There are common threads running through Trümmerflora and Future Gardens, one of the Harrisons’ final projects, as both focus on adaptation to change, natural regeneration, and the emergence of new ecological assemblages. As part of the Center for the Force Majeure, I continue to carry forward the Future Gardens work, with discussions underway for climate-adaptation projects in Central Europe and closer to home at UCSD/Scripps Institution of Oceanography.
The Harrisons’ work mirrored what they saw in natural systems ― an inherent inventiveness and sustained improvisation and play with what was at hand (the practical and the playful were ever-present in their work). I see the Harrisons’ art as a type of rematriation. The fundamental rule of giving back is that what is returned cannot be broken or polluted, and what has been damaged first must be repaired. Indigenous cultures were a constant model for the Harrisons of cultural practices that work with nature rather than against it and how taking from nature could be done in ways that preserved the system.
Harrison porch in Santa Cruz
Each person at Newton’s memorial service in Santa Cruz had their own stories to tell. The Newton I knew was like the god Jupiter, bellowing from a mountaintop and tossing lightning bolts. Helen matched his thunder ― more than once I had to crawl out of sight as those two clashed. And then it would be dinnertime and only salads would be tossed. While the breadth of the Harrisons’ practice isn’t readily distilled into simple guidelines for living well on earth, there are a few elements that stay with me: the importance of invitations, of scale shifts and scanning for information, of redundancies and multiple perspectives, of imagining the potential consequences of our actions and then acting for the benefit of the life web.
A resident of north Leeds in the Aire Valley, Jamie has worked in a northern local authority since 1992 as a public servant in local government working in strategy, sustainability and regeneration. He is a former trustee of the Permaculture Association (Britain) and a qualified futurist (MA foresight and futures studies, Leeds Beckett University)
Their work stands as a guide. When I remember, when I am provoked, they hold fast to more than the immediate concerns and less-than-life-enhancing work of day-to-day living. The life-web: see it, breathe it, hear it.
It took the eco-artists from far away, the spirited and determined advocates to reveal, remind and offer encouragement… to recentre on what really matters.
A life force for the life-web…
So, where to begin? With Newton, with Helen, with the Harrison Studio, with those ‘agent provocateurs’ and allies of those of us fortunate to have known them.
I can’t remember the first meeting, though this matters so much less than the essence of Newton, with Helen, through David Haley, creating connections across the Pennines. Teasing out a more ecological, more humane, and more progressive future for the North. A counter-point to the ‘business as usual’ of sprawl and expansion, into places and communities that could be woven back into ‘becoming’ as part of the life-web – as the Harrisons said, “every place is the story of its own becoming”. There it is again, that ‘life-web’. From ArtsTranspennine98 we saw a dragon emerging.
And I was ignorant of it in so many ways. It took the eco-artists from far away, the spirited and determined advocates to reveal, remind and offer encouragement—and some serious challenge to personal choices and professional practice—to recentre on what really matters. “How big is here?” they asked. For a north in need of thinking deeply about the future ahead, and not playing catch up with that there London and the South or creating a ‘global mega-city region’ of 15m people, this continues to be a critical question.
We meet again many more times than I realise or really thought likely. Each time adding layers to thinking, linking the long past with the deep futures ahead: preferable, probable, possible, plausible. Trying to better understand the best and worst of the bureaucracy of local administration, of localised politics, of siloed and constrained professions and disconnected communities.
Putting stewardship of place into place to work at the scale necessary for ecological regeneration and care.
Taking on ‘post-disciplinary practice’—with and alongside others—to do the research, to be commercial, to be life-enhancing. To do the work.
And gladly hosting Newton for an English Sunday lunch. And watching from away—as the global-local work of the Harrison Studio expands; from the glaciers, to the watersheds, from the meadows, to the cities, from the uplands to the top of the world. And back from the Pennines to the British Isles as a whole, responding to #astheseasrise. Greenhouse Britain: Losing Ground, Gaining Wisdom—beyond the cleantech and the vested interests and out into the world of deep adaptation, of civic futures and the ‘force majeure’. Getting to grips with what co-evolution really means, over centuries, eras, epochs not just quarterly results, annual reports, and election cycles.
Albion, of many isles, is surrounded by water. As the fundamentals shift and we slowly, furiously, adjust to what is becoming. For our children, our grandchildren. To be more than good ancestors. At the heart of ‘sustainability’—reclaiming the concept from ‘financial viability’ and ‘sustaining the now’ to legacy and the global majority and the ‘more than human world’; of habitats, species, and dynamic complex adaptive systems.
So much more to be grateful for. So much more to reflect on, to embrace, and to share. Far more than ‘artists’, beyond ‘marketable self’ and galleries. Beyond ‘land art’ and environmentally-informed practice. Deep ecological advocacy of the living world. Of a world that will, as Gaia suggests, recalibrate with or without wiser human co-evolution. The American dynamism and bloody-mindedness are challenging, generous, and impatient with many. In later life, an elder when so many need such wisdom for their villages, towns, cities, and places to be post-industrial, post-colonial, post-normal. To be places where we live within the natural world; living well, with health, with care, and with a spirit that speaks to the best of us.
The world is a lesser place for the passing of Helen and Newton and their co-creation and collaborations with family, friends, and strangers. Their work stands as a guide. When I remember, when I am provoked, they hold fast to more than the immediate concerns and less-than-life-enhancing work of day-to-day living. The life-web: see it, breathe it, hear it. It is all around and in conversations, images, poems, and a deep body of work. The echoes and the opportunities remain.
Working through the ethos of life-web advocacy and stewardship may mean we can find the practical, imaginative, creative, collective means of living well in place. Testing out co-existence, beyond the ‘anthropocene’, and living more fully in the ecocene/symbiocene. The eco-art of Newton and Helen is as critical now in guiding those that follow in deep adaptation. Humane, bioregional, and planetary scales would be a fine continued legacy.
Richard Scott is Director of the National Wildflower Centre at the Eden Project, and delivers creative conservation project work nationally. He is also Chair of the UK Urban Ecology Forum. Richard was chosen as one of 20 individuals for the San Miguel Rich List in 2018, highlighting those who pursue alternative forms of wealth.
Their practice was enabling and real and embodied timeless wisdom for people and nature, and these principles and their artworks will stay with me.
At the 1999 Society for Ecological Restoration (SER) Conference in San Francisco, a special art group was formed. David Haley from Manchester Metropolitan University proposed and went on to curate The Harrison Studio to contribute to the 2000 SER Conference in Liverpool. The work they presented and spoke about, Casting a Green Net: Can it Be We are Seeing a Dragon? was the first artwork I had seen that visualised and projected landscape-scale restoration within the context of climate change, poetically describing the need for us to “gracefully withdraw”.
The Harrison’s work was so playful and was the first time I’d seen artists enhance and translate classic ecological methodologies, signaling how we need to be bold. The Dragon highlighted the green East-West corridor between the river estuaries of the Humber and the Mersey. The Ordnance Survey maps hung splendidly on the wall of the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool and made for a very memorable piece because the shape of the biodiversity across the North of England equated to that of a dragon, sparking imagination. Significantly it almost exactly mirrored the original outlines of the proposed new Northern Forest (2018), and it definitely influenced the ambition of our thinking about the Northern Flowerhouse.
Craftivist Peter Carney’s -Weeds to Wildflower Banner- a talisman for sowing. Image Jane McNeil
As the organisation Landlife was closing, our vision for wildflowers as infrastructure and the locally coined ‘Northern Flowerhouse’ took shape, and the Singh Twins designed it up for us. Their art is doubly powerful, as they strengthen each other’s resolve and knowledge base, in the way they depict historic and current exploitation and the way in which they share traditional cultural practices and meanings. Working with my partner, Polly Moseley, enabled me to access and understand more of the calibre and potential of artists on Merseyside and to understand how important the Harrison’s partnership was over time.
In a video conversation, Newton said, “Overburden yourself, reflect and compose and look for original avenues” He talked of “playing catchup”, and spoke of big backyards and massive change ― accommodating the air, the land, the soil, and area ― above all avoiding ‘tower’ thinking of academia, and connecting with and through the citizen. Their work always included messaging, which was accessible and layered, like the messaging through Peter Carney’s banners, which have become our wildflower totems at events. Landlife (1975 – 2017)’s tenet which we attempted to embody was “creative conservation”.
Their Force Majeure “framed ecologically” was about articulating an evolving and boldness of vision ―this theme keeps appearing― and bold vision, and it reminded me of the simple advice from great gardener and writer, Christopher Lloyd, when he witnessed our wildflowers project in Liverpool in 1999, “Be bold” he said. The Harrisons always were direct and unapologetic with their work, including the Endangered Meadows of Europe. They understood the power and symbolism of moving meadow to cover an acre and a half rooftop on the top of the largest and most visited museum in Bonn, Germany, including an opening speech delivered by Angela Merkel. In Liverpool, we have positioned our landmark and gateway sites, around the Everton Lock Up badge, or along much-used trunk roads, and the Mersey Tunnel to achieve visibility, paving the way for a mosaic of habitat, urban or rural. It is about what we can do in different places, together, with real communities of interest, and heart and soul principles, be it Merseyside, Manchester, Cornwall, Morecambe, Dundee, or Auchterarder. And with the irony and humour reflected in Jamie Reid’s “Nature Still Draws a Crowd” (Suburban Press 1977). We worked with Jamie to create a large Ova in a huge field of wildflowers at the Lost Gardens of Heligan last summer. I think the Harrison’s would have approved.
Everton Park- Liverpool fans walk past the meadows on the way to a European Cup match. Image Richard Scott
The Harrisons to me were intriguing, curiosity-raising, and pragmatic. The more you found out about their work, the more depth it offers. Some were shocked by it. Spike Milligan ― a patron of Landlife the charity I worked for for 26 years ― was one. Spike arrived outside the 11 Los Angeles Artists exhibition at the Hayward Gallery in London in 1971 and smashed the Haywards’ glass front doors with a brick! The Harrisons were exhibiting a Portable Fish Farm an ecosystem that could be harvested and eaten. This triggered headlines, Arts Council anxiety, and questions in Parliament. When I discovered this, “Blimey” I thought.
The Harrisons’ philosophy avoids despair and wasting energy. For example, noting Scotland has a million foragers, and every person could have one hectare of land, points towards land reform with poetry and chutzpah. For me, the currency of seed and what you can do with it, experimenting with soil and substrates, and signaling massive change are all vitally important. As ecologists, we should take heart in reflecting on the work of the Harrison Studio, their belief in the power of the spoken word and bardic mystery, and their intolerance of technocracies. With wonderful dialogue of the possible, they brought attention to detail and employed simplicity. For example, in the recreation of Hog Pasture:Survival Piece #IWilma the Pig in 2012, how the Harrisons restaged that with joy, again, featuring meadow pasture and a pig (the pig had been denied by the art gallery the first time round).
Last year in 2022, I launched the Cultural Soil Charter (which grew out of discussion with the Chartered Institute of Ecology and soil advocates across the UK) at the World Congress of Soil Science in Glasgow, and was thrilled this coincided with the British Soil societies staging of Newton Harrison’s On The Deep Wealth Of this Nation, Scotland. I checked back and reflected on Making Earth (1969-70) when Newton made topsoil in front of his studio, and this connected in my mind with Glasgow CCA’s 2022 exhibition of tonnages of live soils. The Eden Project would do this as the origin of their own journey in building a theatre of plants and invite others to observe and participate, to show what we want to do with circular economies for soil, urban substrates, and what we can grow on them.
The Harrisons read this piece on ‘Mixing Mapping and Territory’ (2013):
Where would you begin? Where the terrain permits and the will exists. Choose Your Mountain. That is to say you can begin anywhere.
Their practice was enabling and real and embodied timeless wisdom for people and nature, and these principles and their artworks will stay with me, as Scouse Flowerhouse develops as a co-operative, and the National Wildflower Centre’s creative conservation work grows, in many ways, we will continue to honour and riff off their work.
Ranil Senanayake is a Systems Ecologist trained at U.C. Davis, He has developed Analog Forestry as a rural response to the critical need of restoring the worlds lost forests functions. He has served as Executive Director of the Environmental Liaison Center International in Nairobi, Kenya and as the Senior Scientist for Counterpart international, Washington D.C.
From creating a lagoon in a tank with Helen and Newton, I moved on to create a forest in a garden.
I began my relationship with Newt and Helen in 1972 while I was an undergraduate at Berkeley, my first time in America. My name had been given to them as an aquarist and they invited me to San Diego. That meeting led to a multi-year relationship much of it captured in their work The Lagoon Cycle. I moved from lagoons to rice fields to forests and today look at the Global Commons as the widest canvas.
Extracts From: The Lagoon Cycle’ – Helen Mayer Harrison/ Newton Harrison 1985
From The First Lagoon –
Lagoon Maker and Witness
He said
he knew of a creature a crab
and supposed that it could live under
museum conditions
… He said he was from Sri Lanka where the estuaries the lagoons and the ocean are amongst the richest in the world and if you want to know about lagoons you should go there and see them
From The Second Lagoon – Sea Grant
It was August The first shipment of crabs arrived from the marketplace in Colombo….
…… Those we ate were delicious, those we experimented with were hardy
The Third Lagoon – The House of Crabs
(of human behaviour)
While he expected the information gained to be privileged as he expected the information gained to become profit and we expected the information gained to become public as we expected the information gained to be public and he hoped the crabs would behave more reasonably from his point of view which they did not and as he hoped that we would behave more reasonably from his point of view which we did not and as we hoped he would behave more reasonably from our point of view which he did not the lagoon developed a life of its own about which we knew nothing at all
The Seventh Lagoon – The Ring of Fire, The Ring of water
Sometimes I dream of the water buffalo in its wallow in Sri Lanka the one that ran afoul of the gasoline engine and is being replaced by the tractor Now that the tractor does not replicate itself freely nor provide milk nor utilize the weeds as fuel nor produce fertilizer and fuel with its dung
… though the tractor is not graceful on the land and the buffalo will yield to that tractor although the buffalo finally is more efficient and its dialogue with the land more lucid
Clearly there is something about technology that does not like that which is not itself
Yet this is not
a necessary condition
this unfriendliness
to the land
From creating a lagoon in a tank with Helen and Newton, I moved on to create a forest in a garden where the structure and function of the original forest were used to design for restoration. Analog forestry is the methodology with which to design forest-like human ecosystems that provide the functions that the forest once did.
Looking at forest function, it soon became evident that the entire structure was fundamentally dependent on Primary Ecosystem Services provided by the photosynthetic biomass (leaves) of plants. This is the primary act of life, the Force Majeure, if you may. Meeting Newton again in South Korea; this was serendipitous, I designed a project entailing ‘seed clouds’ from the South to the North with the autumn winds was designed for the DMZ. Because wind is an irresistible force, beyond the control of a state. These ideas have progressed to ‘smart contracts’ to valorize PES into the Global Commons.
The Global Commons, as we discussed so often, was the stage for the Force Majure ignoring it was a reason for the ecological collapse today. In our work, to create value and restore the commons, a new value system to power Biocurrency, driven by the living world (www.restore.earth) is now being generated.
Richard Sharland has worked as an artist, community worker and environmental leader in the U.K. since 1975. Manager, Derby Community Arts ( 1982 - 1985), Director of Lancashire Wildlife Trust (1985 -1994), Director Groundwork St Helens (1994 -1999), National Director then COO at Groundwork U.K. (1999 - 2009), Director, Climate Change Planning, Manchester City Council (2009 - 2013) , Director, Terre Verte Gallery (2015 - current )
Both Helen and Newton had this wonderful gift of memory for stories and information and ideas, which they drew upon to evolve their work, to help others to evolve.
I first met Helen and Newton Harrison towards the end of the last century when they created a piece of work for the Art Transpennine exhibition in Manchester/Liverpool/Leeds/Hull. At that time, I was leading a local environmental organisation focused on ecology, wildlife conservation, and climate change: my background as an artist and community development worker informed an approach to my work that was open to innovation and prioritised engaging people and organisations in different ways. I worked with Art Transpennine as a local environmental leader and was part of Helen and Newton’s relationship networking on their project; subsequently, I met up with them when they were working on one or two other projects in the U.K. and in Aachen.
During one of our first encounters, Newton and Helen and I talked about the difference between ‘discussion’ and ‘dialogue’, and I was warmly reminded of the value of open-ended relating, of taking journeys of ideas whose destination is unknown. I say ‘reminded’ because I was already familiar with this from my youth, particularly from my childhood, but it was not the kind of conversation I had often in my workplace, where ‘adult conversations’ were often linear and closed, rather than open, enquiring and wondering.
“We don’t do discussion. We do dialogue ― you know, from the Greek.” I remember Newton saying, as we conversed. Discussions tend to be narrow and linear, they travel toward a conclusion, something fixed that has been determined as the conversation is begun; dialogue, on the other hand, can evolve in a more organic way and often travels to topics and views not envisaged at the outset. As I began to get to know them, I noticed how much Newton and Helen lived their lives and made their work with this approach, always evolving. There was always this creative interplay around them, in how they related ― to each other, to people in conversation, when talking about their work, when doing and being their work. It seemed to me that this made their art not just a response to a place in the world but also manifestly a living extension of themselves, somehow inseparable from them, and thus always itself unfixed, still growing.
So, when I am asked, “what did you learn from the Harrisons?” I first think of this, this way of being, and of connectedness. For me, this lay at the heart of them and their work. It is something fundamental to ecology, that everything somehow relates to everything else, but it often gets forgotten … even though it is ‘the big picture’. Helen and Newton lived alongside and amongst a lot of linear thinking, as we all do, yet they evolved a way of working and being that manifested ecological thinking, that always ventured into the big picture. And that way of being and working seemed to suffuse their approach to everything, particularly their work, the way it evolved, and the way it related to people. I am still learning from that.
Their northern England project of that time ―– Can it be we are seeing a Dragon? ― was rooted in four large wall maps of the region, each adapted to explore aspects of a more sustainable ecological future. I recall inviting a group of environmentally minded town planners in the region to the studio space where the maps were exhibited to meet Helen and Newton. Newton suggested to them that they were artists just like him, but that his mapping was steered by possibility and an imagination shaped by understanding the limits and opportunities of the ecology of the area, while their mapping was steered by the abstract requirements of policymakers or politicians. In the dialogue that ensued, the planners were surprised and intrigued that these artists from California had much more data about the unsustainability of human life in northern England at their fingertips than they did.
Both Helen and Newton had this wonderful gift of memory for stories and information and ideas, which they drew upon to evolve their work, to help others to evolve. It isn’t something we can all be as gifted in, but the encounter with the planners wasn’t the only one which illustrated their preparedness, their presence. It is something captured by a line from Dylan’s song ‘A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall’ ― “know your song well, before you start singing”.
Tatiana Sizonenko is an art historian and award-winning curator working across the Renaissance, Modern, and Contemporary periods. She received her Ph.D. in Renaissance art history from the Visual Arts Department at UC San Diego while also developing expertise in contemporary art. Ms. Sizonenko currently serves as the project curator for Helen and Newton Harrison: California Work at the La Jolla Historical Society, a project funded by Getty Foundation’s Pacific Standard Time, Art + Science 2024.
Newton’s impact, along with Helen’s, on the field of environmental art practice and research, and socially engaged art more generally, is incalculable.
I am the curator of the exhibition Helen and Newton Harrison: California Work, organized by La Jolla Historical Society and funded by the Getty Foundation’s Pacific Standard Time Art + Science 2024. This exhibition will explore the juncture between art and science, art and ecology, and art and social activism in the work of Helen Mayer and Newton Harrison and will be displayed in four locations around San Diego simultaneously: La Jolla Historical Society (organizer), California Center for the Arts in Escondido, San Diego Central Library Art Gallery in downtown, and Mandeville Art Gallery at UC San Diego.
Newton with Peninsula Europe in the background
I met Helen and Newton in 2015, at the Scripps Institute of Oceanography, during the lecture-presentation on their recent Force Majeure projects. My collaboration with Newton started two years later when I first invited him to participate in the Agency of Art exhibition at the historical Mandeville Gallery of Art at UC San Diego. This exhibition highlighted Newton’s role as the founding member of the Visual Arts Department and the Harrisons’ impact on the multi-disciplinary art practice in the Visual Arts program. The Agency of Art juxtaposed the Harrisons’ Peninsula Europe (2000-7) with works of younger artists from the program. Starting as an assistant professor of painting in 1967 at UCSD, Newton would soon completely change direction and embark on making ecological art in the early 1970s in collaboration with his wife Helen. They then collectively made the decision to do no work that did not benefit ecosystems. During his time at UCSD, Newton was a hugely influential teacher and advisor, mentoring artists such as Martha Rosler and Alan Sekula among many others. He also influenced generations of environmental artists and scholars such as Lauren Bon, Tim Collins, Reiko Goto, Ruth Wallen, and many others. His impact, along with Helen’s, on the field of environmental art practice and research, and socially engaged art more generally, is incalculable. Peninsula Europe was chosen to feature the Harrisons’ approach to visual art as complex objects designed to reframe and re-imagine the critical problems of the environment and society today and so to improve the world and our interactions with it and one another.
Retiring from UCSD in 1993, the Harrisons never stopped working on ecological art projects. In 2009, Newton and Helen, as research professors, founded the Center for the Study of the Force Majeure at UC Santa Cruz’s Digital Arts and New Media Program. After Helen’s death in 2018, Newton continued to work until the last moment of his life. Just two weeks before his passing away, I visited his studio to make final selections of work for this next exhibition. Span across four venues and over the fifty years of their collaboration, 1968-2018, Helen and Newton Harrison: California Work will offer a critical reappraisal of the California-based works and will highlight the Harrisons’ approach to art and ecology often guided by the question “How big is here?” Working with Newton on California Work since 2019, I also encountered in practice their other main guiding principle for making art and establishing a truly ecological society that can be summarized as “listening to the Web of Life.”
The Harrisons proposed to use complex system thinking to treat nature as self-complicating, self-renewing, and self-continuing, a living partner to humans—thus the Web of Life. In our conversations, Newton emphasized that transformative thinking is exciting and works of art can change the world for the better, not just by enriching the life and spirit of those who love it but by proposing new solutions to problems revealed through an artist’s way of seeing combined with science, engineering, and social critique. The Harrisons’ commitment to the Web of Life, which they labelled, rather bluntly, a “Dictatorship of the Ecology,” led them to produce works of art that could act as just such social agents to reshape the world in which we live.
The Harrisons’ intention and guiding presence for listening to the Web of Life will be terribly missed. California Work intends to highlight how the Harrisons used the exhibition format in several ways, often in the sense of a town meeting, but always with the intention of seeing their proposals moving off the walls into planning processes, and ultimately resulting in interventions directed towards social and environmental justice.
San Diego as the Center of a World, Part II and Part IV (1974), photo by the author. Courtesy of the Harrison Family Trust
Elizabeth Stephens, Ph.D., is a filmmaker, performance artist, activist, and theoretician. Stephens gained her MFA at Rutgers in 1992 and completed her Ph.D. in Performance Studies at UC Davis in 2015. She is the Founding Director of the EARTH Lab (Environmental Art, Research, Theory, and Happenings) at UC Santa Cruz.
Newton and I were friends. Unlikely friends, but friends, nonetheless. Even though we could not have come from two more radically different worlds, we somehow connected and got a deep kick out of each other.
Newton, how could you have died on us? It still doesn’t seem possible that you are gone. Who is going to watch over the World’s Oceans, or the Life Web or the High Ground? You reminded me, on a regular basis, that everything is connected but that it is human hubris that destroys these connections; self-interest, capitalism, always looking for a profit instead of a reciprocal give and take. But you allowed for those rare human creatures, that act on behalf of the Earth – and of those, you and Helen were champions.
I initially met the Harrisons in 2007 when I was the chair of the UC Santa Cruz art department. Newton called and told my department manager that he wanted to talk to me. At the time, I was aware of the work of the Harrison Studio, but I didn’t know their work nearly as well as I would. Newton was interested in helping the art department form a graduate program, and Helen was firmly retired from being involved in the UC system. My department had its sights set on creating an MFA—which we have since done—however, Newton and I became convinced that we should create a Ph.D. focused on Environmental Art. I even earned a Ph.D. from UC Davis because the UCSC administration told us that we couldn’t launch a doctoral program because no one in the art department had a doctorate. What a fun adventure!!
The first creative encounter I had with the Harrisons was in Green Wedding to the Earth, (2008) part of a larger collaborative project I created with my wife/collaborator Annie Sprinkle. This performative wedding took place in UCSC’s Shakespeare Glen. Newton and Helen delivered the wedding homily. They instructed me and Annie, at the end of their oration, “And now let us go to the mountains!” I did go to the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia where I grew up. There I made my first environmental documentary, Goodbye Gauley Mountain: An Ecosexual Love Story (2012). That film has had a long and fruitful run. In fact, this morning, someone from Paris emailed me to see if they could screen it. Of course, I said yes.
In addition to work-related memories, I have fond memories of dinners with Helen and Newton, first at their son Gabe’s house. I was astounded and completely impressed when Newton told me he was building a new house at the age of eighty. He designed his house with wide accessible passageways, heated floors, a walk-in tub, spacious art studio, and a room for a caretaker. He built that house for Helen—and I remember the day he told me that Helen suffering symptoms of severe memory loss—likely Alzheimer’s. I watched as he took care of her, powerless to ease her suffering as she entered the last phases of her life. I admired the fierce but tender care that Newton gave to Helen, and I appreciated that he made it possible for her to stay home until the very end. The house that Newton built for Helen accomplished its job. It sheltered her until her death, and it accommodated her caregivers. It allowed Newton to keep doing the work he was compelled to create ― to try to help everyone see and understand the necessary steps to assist our ailing planet and to continue to nurture the “life web.” There I spent hours talking to him about the ideas embedded in his projects, entropy, saving the world’s oceans, and finally, channeling the Earth itself. Although we did not agree on everything, and sometimes we disagreed mightily, we were always able to move beyond our differences, come back to the table, and resume our talks again and again. That house also sheltered Newton in his final days.
Newton and Beth
Newton Harrison was brilliant, and I recognize the huge contributions that he and Helen made to the art world, and especially to environmental art. But honestly, it was those moments of eating together or hanging out on his front stoop, chatting with his neighbors, and petting various dogs that I miss the most. Newton and I were friends. Unlikely friends, but friends, nonetheless. Even though we could not have come from two more radically different worlds, we somehow connected and got a deep kick out of each other. We recognized in the other the desire to try to make a better world than the world that we had inherited, through art. As we watched the Earth sending out increasingly urgent distress signals our mutual recognition created a bond that we recognized and appreciated as we sat together on his stoop and watched his front-yard meadow grow. In a world where the electrifying speed of our lives is exhausting beyond measure, to have a stoop, a little meadow, and a friend to visit, and talk to about art, life, and the state of the Earth, is nothing short of a miracle.
Ruth Wallen is a multi-media artist and writer whose work is dedicated to encouraging dialogue around ecological and social justice. Her interactive installations, nature walks, web sites, artist books, performative lectures, and writing have been widely distributed and exhibited. She was a Fulbright scholar and is currently core faculty in the MFA in Interdisciplinary Arts at Goddard College.
Working in collaborative partnership, the Harrisons’ use of dialogue, with stories unfolding as they augmented or interrupted each other, amplified the generativity and generosity of their metaphors while spawning more.
“Somebody’s crazy, they are draining the swamps and growing rice in the desert…” “What if all of that irrigated farming isn’t necessary?”[i] I first heard Helen and Newton Harrison speak about their work at a lecture at the San Francisco Art Institute in 1977.
As a part-time art student, supporting myself working as an environmental specialist for the National Park Service planning office, the Harrison’s approach, distilling in-depth research into art-into metaphor, story, and performative activism―deeply affirmed my intuition to turn to art to promulgate an ecological ethic. They offered an enormously powerful example of employing art to raise crucial questions, spark imaginations, re-envision, and revitalize relationships between fragmented systems, and pose novel, ecologically sound approaches to environmental planning and policy.
Informed by their work, I received my first commission as an artist-in-residence at the Exploratorium. When I wrote to the Harrisons thanking them for their inspiration, they responded most generously, inviting me to come visit. Eventually, I moved to San Diego to study with Helen and Newton in the MFA program at the University of California, San Diego, (UCSD) and stayed in dialogue with them ever since, as mentors became dear friends, a relationship for which I am forever grateful. Of all that I learned from the Harrisons, perhaps the most important was the use of metaphor as a tool for thought. Influenced by the work of Lakoff and Johnson, the Harrisons understood that human thought is largely metaphorical and that the artistic imagination is crucial to identifying metaphors that can transform ecologies. Indeed, when I was a grad student, the creation of metaphor was a central concept taught in introductory art courses at UCSD. As ecological artists, Helen and Newton identified potent metaphors by listening to the wisdom of place, being attentive to the systems within which the place was embedded, and by naming the patterns that emerged, the configurations of relationships often exposed by studying maps. Maps revealed watersheds, the circulatory systems of the earth, a major subject of the Harrison’s work. Metaphors such as the Serpentine Lattice, or Peninsula Europe served as powerful devices to spark provocative narratives, shift conversations, and guide environmental policies. The Serpentine Lattice not only made visible the network of watersheds of the coastal rain forests draining into the Pacific from Alaska to northern California but through the lattice form identified crucial points to begin processes of restoration. Conceiving Europe as a peninsula highlighted the importance of revitalizing the mountainous spines that housed vital sources of fresh water. Working in collaborative partnership, the Harrisons’ use of dialogue, with stories unfolding as they augmented or interrupted each other, amplified the generativity and generosity of their metaphors while spawning more. The serpentine lattice could be funded through an “eco-security system,” like the social security system of the US. It is not surprising that the voluminous compilation of their work not only presents each project but tells the story behind its creation. Both the work itself and these stories contribute to the process the Harrisons termed “conversational drift,” which envisions their work alive in the world, seeding discussion. A visit with the Harrisons was always an invitation to think in larger terms. Indeed, their naming of the “force majeure” and the development of a center dedicated to its study, came out of their continuing quest. But having named the problem of our times, Newton’s last piece comes back to the simple principle that must guide human actions: “Every species, without exception, must give back as much or more than they take” ― a maxim that the Harrisons certainly took to heart.
[i] Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison, “Sacramento Meditations, 1977,” The Harrison Studio, accessed October, 2022. https://theharrisonstudio.net/sacramento-meditations-1977.
Mali Wu is a socially engaged Taiwanese curator, installation and conceptual artist. She is a professor at the Graduate Institute of Transdisciplinary Art at the National Kaohsiung Normal University (NKNU), Taiwan.
The Harrisons demonstrated how we could apply wisdom to allow species to coexist and prosper. This is what we should learn anew, and that art can contribute to.
When I co-curated the Taipei Biennale in 2018: ‘Post-Nature—Museums as an Ecosystem’, we immediately thought of inviting the Harrisons, a pioneer couple of ecological art, to participate. During the contact process, we unexpectedly learned that Helen had passed away. And now, to our astonishment, Newton has also left us. While I try to remember some opportunities in meeting with them, I also deeply admire and appreciate very much having them as role models in the art.
On the Deep Wealth 2018
The 2018 Taipei Biennale presented On the Deep Wealth of this Nation, Scotland. One can see Harrisons’ consistent working methods. Through the research, cooperation, and dialogues with experts from different fields, to comprehensively understand the natural resources of a place, then, based on the needs of the developments, and from the perspective of environmental ethics, they provide suggestions for the adjustment of the land use and planning.
This creative method that is both scientific and rational, but also full of ecological care and connective aesthetics is different from the traditional way we used to regard art simply as perceptual expression and object production. Through art, they propose a more integrated, cartographic perspective, trying to reverse the way we build the world. This way of creation not only presents images of an ideal world but also uses art as an intervention, expanding our understanding of art. In “Post-Nature”, many works pointed out the difficulties and challenges faced by the contemporary world but the Harrisons demonstrated how we could apply wisdom to allow species to coexist and prosper. This is what we should learn anew, and that art can contribute to.
Newton, Mali, and Helen at Susan’s house in San Fransico 2005
I knew the works of Harrisons from the development of land art, and thanks to the arrangement of Suzanne Lacy I visited San Francisco in 2005 and met many eco-conscious artists from the West Coast of the United States at the house of Susan Leibovitz Steinman. Artists, including founding members of the Women Eco Artists Dialog (WEAD) and Harrisons et al. It was only then that I realized that these artists paid attention to how art, especially ecological art, can respond to real-world issues, rather than simply seeing art as an expression of opinion. Inspired by this, in 2006, I developed an art project By the River, on the River, of the River – a community-based eco-art project, inviting ecological experts, cultural workers, and community colleges to collaborate with and have public discussions.
In 2007, with the help of David Haley, Helen, and Newton were invited by the Taipei Cultural Foundation to give a lecture and exhibit documents of their projects at Taipei International Artists Village. At the same time, they were also invited to Dapu Township, Chiayi County, where the Zengwen Reservoir, the most important water source in southern Taiwan, is located, to conduct a two-day’s Master Workshop. Through the detailed explanation of their projects over the years and the recitation of the poems they created, we could better understand their extremely cross-discipline, integral, educational, dialogical, and poetic methodologies. And these events have brought significant impact and inspirational approaches for Taiwan in the field of contemporary/ecological/public art.
Today, because the climate emergency is being taken seriously, more and more artists in Taiwan are devoting themselves to environmental art. There is no doubt that the Harrisons have set a benchmark for us.
After I encountered Harrison Studio’s works, I was able to redefine my works with an omnidirectional view. And I learned that I must be in a position where I can communicate and collaborate with various types of people who have similar thoughts and integrate them.
Compared with my studies, which are about the ecological society of the area around the Korean Peninsula where I live, the Harrisons Studio’s ecological society has presented enormous research and scientific information over a considerable amount of time and an incomparably broader perspective.
There are so many people who do research, act, and study for the future environment and ecology. However, the target point of all of them is different and this makes for gaps.
Newton Harrison
For example, some say that trees should be planted for the future, while others say that rescuing dying animals and extinct creatures is more important. We know both are important, but this gap sometimes causes significant friction. I think this friction is because of their situations: they are surrounded by limited budgets and time. In other words, the various kind of limitation seems to make friction. So, I feel it’s quite hard to reach the common ideal goals.
Me, as an artist who deals with environment and ecology, which point should I look at? Where should I stand?
After I encountered Harrison Studio’s works, I was able to redefine my works with an omnidirectional view. And I learned that I must be in a position where I can communicate and collaborate with various types of people who have similar thoughts and integrate them.
I want to share a story that is still inspiring me.
The first time I met Newton Harrison was in 2019 at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Jeju Island, South Korea. I invited Newton Harrison to the exhibition that I curated about ocean environments.
After our successful exhibition opening, we had a tea break and conversation while we were on the way to the airport. It was not a long break. But, in that short time, Newton Harrison and I shared a very romantic story and I think this was the most important story that Newton could tell me as a senior artist.
It was the story of the first meeting between Newton and Helen. How the love began—the first feelings—Newton said that he felt 100% sure of love when he first met Helen. And he told me about both the good and hard times of living together as artists.
There were good times when they were spotlighted and invited to a lot of exhibitions. There were also hard times, of course, when there was no work at all. With all these times, being without consciousness of the outside world is important. This was possible because of being with Helen.
Although this was a very brief conversation, I felt that Newton Harrison had very happy and beautiful memories of his longing for Helen and all the things he’d had with her.
This short conversation at that time became the most important message for me, who was struggling with irregular anxiety while living life as an artist. The most important thing is love which is with a soul mate and Newton proved this. I want to live sincerely and faithfully like Newton Harrison’s words and actions.
COVID-19 lockdowns will not only leave a mark in our history books but will obligate us to rethink many aspects of our current way of living—for instance, with nature.
With the massive migration of people from agricultural lands to cities over the last few centuries, an important change came to Earth: our total human population went from being mainly non-urban to being mostly urban at the beginning of the 21st Century1. While the concentration of people in the urban world varies among regions, nevertheless, it is greater than ever before. With the growth of cities and the establishment of new urban centers, natural habitats, and ecosystems are replaced with artificial structures required to fulfill modern urban housing and work expectations. Although such structural changes have been documented to have important effects on wildlife species2, lock-downs and cessation of non-essential activities as measures to mitigate the spread of COVID-19 across the globe have surprised urbanites with unexpected sightings of wildlife species across cities around the world..
Cartoon by Ian MacGregor-Fors
Within days of stay-at-home orders, wildlife have been stunningly and unexpectedly sighted in major urban centers globally—including animals that are threatened or endangered. This has captivated the general public and scientists alike. Mountain lions in the USA, wild boars in Italy, manatees in Costa Rica, a leatherback sea turtle, a jaguar and vulnerable great curassows in Mexico—all of these have been seen in cities and resort towns recently, potentially driven by the lack of humans3–10. And at the same time, some animals who rely on human waste, such as jackals in Israel, and feeding by humans, such as Nara Deer in Japan and macaques in Thailand, have been going further into cities in search of food 11–13. Chronicling these sightings, rigorously examining how animals’ behaviors change as people leave city centers, and then investigating what happens once humans begin re-populating our cities will not only help us answer fundamental questions in animal behavior and urban ecology, but will also help us rethink how wildlife can live within our cities, and how resilient these populations truly are.
Human lockdowns have had positive effects on the one side, controlling the spread of the new SARS-CoV-2 and as side effect, decreasing greenhouse gas emissions, but has also had important negative effects, including the devastation on so many people’s lives through the sheer lack of means for the most basic needs of food and shelter. With the social and economic aftermath of lockdowns being yet unquantifiable, COVID-19 lockdowns will not only leave a mark in our history books but will obligate us to rethink many aspects of our current way of living—for instance, with nature. With the almost immediate responses of wildlife to our absence in cities, many of us start to reconsider the type of world we want to live in, and whether and how that includes the majestic creatures who, for much of the last few centuries, have mostly made their lives around us humans.
Eleanor Diamant, Ian MacGregor-Fors, and Pamela Yeh Los Angeles, Xalapa, and Los Angeles
My lab is interested in measuring, understanding, and predicting the ecological and evolutionary trajectories of populations when they encounter novel environments, particularly environments with multiple disturbances or stressors.
Urban food production is gaining momentum with launching of books, seminars and congresses, websites and social media. Some cities have programs to promote people-nature direct contact through vegetable gardens — common or in allotment gardens. Urban dwellers are becoming more and more engaged in cultivating and collaborating in common public spaces, transforming many underused lawns into productive landscapes.
I have been inspired by these issues and have been investigating and visiting many places in search of interesting examples.
Paris
Paris has been an exciting case not only because it is a large and complex metropolis, but because it also has an important role in people’s imaginations, being one of the most visited cities in the world. Paris attracts visitors from everywhere looking for art, culture, fashion, architecture, and parks and gardens! Yes, Paris has numerous parks and gardens of all sizes, shapes, functionality and vegetative cover. They may be historic, recreational, ecological and are important part of the urban forest, like Bois de Boulogne and Bois de Vincennes.
I have gone to Paris very often for decades. In the last years I have seen a great transformation in how Parisians are dealing with urban nature and opening space for people, biodiversity and food production. It is happening not only in parks and gardens, but in streets, small lots, roofs, in public and private areas. Along the river Seine, in the summer streets are transformed as urban beaches. The city has promoted educational events in all spaces and scales, and my perception is that they are making a silent revolution in the way people value nature and have enhanced the day-to-day interrelation with the river, parks and the urban vegetable gardens.
“Paris Plage” – Paris Beach: in the summer the border of the Seine river is transformed in a beach. Now some parts are closed to vehicles at all times (July 2009). Photo: Cecilia Herzog
In recent years Gilles Clément, a landscape designer and writer, has done a terrific job in changing minds, both of decision-makers and regular people. He has designed and written about landscape and gardens, as the Tier Paysage (Third Landscape — the unmanaged derelict areas that abound in cities and house an expressive biodiversity); and the Jardins en Mouvement (Changing Gardens) — gardens where the designers and the caretakers work with nature so the vegetation can thrive with diversity in surprising ways; among other publications.
My friends Miguel, Pablo Georgieff and Nicolas Bonnenfant are architects and landscape architects working with communities to build gardens together (see the COLOCO website). They explore the urban biodiversity in many ways, sometimes in urban performances with public participation.
The square in front of the Hotel de Ville (City Hall) hosts different events all year long. In the summer I saw an installation of samples of regional ecosystems to educate people about the nature around them. Many new parks have been designed to recreate those ecosystems. For instance, Jardin d’Éole has beautiful small wetlands and sandy gardens where once there was a train track maneuver area.
“Hôtel de Ville” – City Hall: the paved area in front converted into a regional ecosystem demonstration and educational project (July 2009). Photo: Cecilia Herzog“Jardin d´Éole” New park in the Northern side of the city: sandy ecosystem in the right side with a small built wetlands in the extreme right. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
But what strikes me the most is the food planting that is being incorporated in parks and other public and private spaces. It is not a new concept, but today they are part of all the neighborhoods. The public program Jardins Familiaux et Collectifs (Family and Collective Gardens)is more than 100 years old and gives urbanites a chance to keep contact with soil, planting, digging and picking their own food or flowers. There is a long waiting list for a plot of land to explore your own garden, for food production or flowers.
“Jardin Familliaux et Colectifs” Family and Collective Gardens: this is close to the Chemin de l´Île Park along the Seine, in Nanterre – a city neighboring central Paris. Below the electrical transmission lines there are allotment gardens where city dwellers have direct contact with nature. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
The city is developing a former industrial area in the northwestern 17emeArondissement (17th district), Clichy-Batignolles. The strategy was to start with the new park Martin Luther-King. The park has achieved social and ecological goals, with spaces for a variety of activities, a built wetland and a productive garden, as part of the Jardin Partagé – Main Verte city program (Shared Garden – Green Hand ). This is an amazing way to give school kids the opportunity to cultivate food in public areas nearby. Each class has its own plot. The common vegetable garden has signs that show who is planting what.
Martin Luther-King Park offers an array of ambiances combining biodiversity, water natural drainage and filtration, recreation and vegetable garden for school students. Photos: Cecilia Herzog
The Main Verte is not only happening in new parks, it is also in Bercy Park, which is now some decades old (see the map with all locations here). Every year in September, the city promotes a weekend dedicated to the gardens, with an emphasis in food production: it is the “Fête des Jardins” (Gardens Party).
Bercy Park: Vegetable garden during the Fête des Jardins (Gardens’ Party week-end): education, recreation and direct contact with nature. Photos: Cecilia Herzog
Berlin
There is a strong bottom-up movement looking “backwards” to reconnect people with nature in dense urban areas. I was in Berlin last July (2013), and visited two urban gardens that really impressed me: the Prinzessinnengarten at the Moritz Platz, and Tempelhof Park. Both are examples of active social engagement with ecological issues related to food and biodiversity. They are unique places, and have been developed by residents intending to conserve open areas from real estate development. The first is located in the heart of the city, in a former derelict space. An association named Nomadic Green was created and they rented the space from the city and have a restaurant, a café, and a small library. The planting is in portable containers — that’s the origin of their name. In just few years the transformation of the place and people has been absolutely astonishing .
Portable vegetable garden in the Prinzessinnengarten in the heart of Berlin. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Tempelhof Park is a former airport that was converted in a public park in the South of Berlin. It is impressive in its size. People use and love it. Most remarkable to me is the area where the residents created vegetable gardens and “living rooms” in open air made of recycled material. It is a truly hospitable outdoor place. Even with a strong rain at the end of the day, it was pleasant being in a communal tent, with the sound of the water and wind, and nice conversation with interesting people.
Late afternoon last summer at the Tempelhof Park vegetable garden: beer and nice conversation close to nature. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
New York
Talking about large cities and food production, New York City is really impressive. There are numerous community gardens in all boroughs, such as the one in the West Side Community Garden. In the area of the New York University there are two examples of engagement with nature. At LaGuardia Corner Gardens, located next to the New York University, there are people that care for a community garden, working to keep it beautiful and with rich biodiversity. It is under threat, because the “NYU 2031” plan proposes building a new high rise on the site. The university itself has the NYU Urban Farm, and when I was there young students were concluding their work in the garden.
La Guardia Corner Gardens partial view, with the banners against the future development that Will eliminate the garden. Photo: Cecilia HerzogNYU Urban Farm. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
On a commercial scale, the striking innovation is the transformation of gray roofs to urban farms by the Brooklyn Grange. They have two facilities: the first is located in Brooklyn and the second in Queens. They are opened to guided visits on the market days (check the website to see openings that vary according to different seasons. I visited the Queens facility on a beautiful Saturday morning last October (2013). There were a lot of visitors, people buying fresh produce, learning about food planting, appreciating nature on the rooftop of an old building with an astonishing view of Manhattan.
View from the Brooklyn Grange roof top farm at the Queens facility, in NYC: last October in a Saturday morning. The Market is on the left and the view of Manhattan in the back. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
São Paulo
In the city where I was born, São Paulo, Brazil, there is a group called Hortelões Urbanos (Urban Vegetable Producers — in a loose translation) that is transforming places, minds and hearts. It a pro-life movement — in a broad sense — started after two journalists completed a permaculture course and decided to grow their own food. The initial place was at Praça das Corujas (Owl’s Place), located in a nice neighborhood. They took over a lawn in this small park to plant food and flowers, and decorated with recycled artwork. In a short period of time, they were joined by more and more residents and replicated the intervention in other public and private spaces. They started a group on the Internet, and in a year and a half they have more than 6,000 members! It is like a good virus inoculated in urbanites in search of a better quality of life.
Claudia Visoni one of the co-founders of “Hortelões Urbanos” working in the vegetable garden in the financial district of São Paulo, over a tunnel in a central area between an extremely busy street, Avenida Paulista. Photo: Cecilia Herzog“Praça das Corujas” (Owl’s Place): lawn in a small park transformed in a community productive garden in São Paulo, Brazil. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Farmer’s Markets go along with those movements. Producers get together to sell their local production to neighbors. Local small urban farmers are gathering to keep productive properties in urban areas in Rio de Janeiro. They have support of local “eco-chefs” that run fancy restaurants. Local is beautiful because it conserve people’s jobs and relationships, incentivizes attachment to the land and nature, and maintains traditions and culture, and most of all promotes people’s values and emotions.
The benefits are evident: healthy food, people-nature reconnection, better local climate and water quality, more biodiversity and, most important, happier and healthier people. There are many scientific studies that prove the ecosystem services provided by biodiversity and organic food production are essential to maintain life on planet Earth. The recently released book Urbanization, Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services led by Thomas Elmqvist is a must read for people interested in learning more about the benefits of nature in the cities. Productive and biodiverse landscapes should replace lawns and cosmetic gardens with few species, which need costly and constant maintenance. Those areas may be of great importance to build more livable, sustainable and resilient cities.
After years of research, Marco Schmidt (Water Paradigm) eloquently states that extensive land-use change from green to gray, and other uses that cause biodiversity eradication and soil depletion, are important drivers of climate change because there is an alteration in the evaporation cycle that is responsible for the hydrologic cycle which influences local and global climate. This is often ignored. Soils and plants capture carbon and release oxygen, which is fundamental to life; drain and filter water; prevent floods and landslides; cool temperatures and regulate local climate. Urbanization is increasing and so is land-cover change. If we reverse the process, greening and including water in plans and design in many ways in private and public urban areas, we can contribute to build more sustainable and resilient cities. Many of the most pressing crisis may be mitigated and even adapt urban areas for the unexpected challenges that climate change is already bringing to us all, wherever in this planet we may be.
And if public and private lawns were transformed in productive landscapes, planted with food and associated flora for a healthy biodynamic interaction among biodiversity? And if impervious surfaces, such as gray rooftops, sidewalks, parking lots and school yards became green with functional, visible, educational and recreational with water features accessible to all: kids and adults and seniors? And if people, local arts and culture, biodiversity, water bodies and mobility were planned and designed to harmonize communities with plenty of amenities for all ages? What a marvelous cities we would have: livable cities.
These are not dreams. These places exist and people love them, as we have seen above. People have the power to transform the world little-by-little, garden-by-garden, block-by-block, community-by-community.
As Pessoas Tomam Conta da Natureza em suas Cidades com suas Próprias Mãos
A produção de alimentos nas cidades está ganhando momentum com o lançamento de livros, seminários e congressos, websites e mídia social. Algumas cidades têm promovido programas para que haja um contato direto pessoas e a natureza através de hortas – comuns ou em allotment gardens (lotes públicos que são disponibilizados por uma quantia simbólica anual).
Fiquei instigada por essas questões. Por isso, tenho pesquisado e visitado muitos lugares em busca de casos interessantes. Paris tem sido um modelo empolgante, não apenas por se tratar de uma cidade grande e uma metrópole complexa, mas porque também tem um papel importante no imaginário das pessoas sendo uma das cidades mais visitadas do mundo. Paris atrai visitantes de todos os lugares em busca de arte, cultura, moda, arquitetura, e parques e jardins! Sim, Paris tem inúmeros parques e jardins de todos os tamanhos, formas, funcionalidades e cobertura vegetais. Eles podem ser históricos, recreativos, ecológicos e são parte importante da floresta urbana, como Bois de Boulogne e Bois de Vincennes.
Paris
Tenho ido a Paris com frequência por décadas. Nos últimos anos tenho visto uma grande transformação em como os parisienses estão lidando com a natureza urbana e abrindo espaços para pessoas, biodiversidade e produção de alimentos. Isso está acontecendo não apenas em parques e jardins, mas nas ruas, pequenos lotes, tetos, em áreas públicas e privadas. Ao longo do rio Sena, as ruas no verão são transformadas em praias urbanas. A cidade tem promovido eventos educacionais em todos os espaços e escalas, e minha percepção é que estão fazendo uma revolução silenciosa no modo como as pessoas valoram a natureza e têm melhorado no dia-a-dia as suas inter-relações com o rio, parques e hortas urbanas.
“Paris Plage” – Paris Praia: no verão as bordas do Sena são transformadas em praias. Atualmente, partes dessas vias já estão fechadas ao tráfego de veículos permanentemente. (julho de 2009). Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Nos últimos anos Gilles Clément, um paisagista e escritor, tem feito um tremendo trabalho mudando a cabeça das pessoas, tanto de tomadores de decisões como das pessoas comuns. Ele tem projetado e escrito sobre paisagens e jardins, como Tier Paysage (Terceira Paisagem — áreas urbanas não manejadas que se espalham pelas cidades e abrigam expressiva biodiversidade); e Jardins en Mouvement (Jardins em Movimento) — jardins onde o projetista e o jardineiro trabalham com a natureza de forma que a vegetação possa resplandecer com diversidade de maneiras surpreendentes; entre outras publicações.
Meus amigos Miguel, Pablo Gorgieff e Nicolas Bonnenfant são arquitetos e paisagistas que trabalham com comunidades na construção conjunta de jardins (veja o website COLOCO). Eles exploram a biodiversidade urbana de várias maneiras, algumas vezes em performances com a participação do público.
A praça em frente ao Hotel de Ville (Prefeitura) é lugar de diferentes eventos ao longo do ano. No verão, estive numa instalação de amostras de ecossistemas que visavam educar as pessoas sobre a natureza que as rodeia. Muitos parques novos estão sendo projetados para recriar esses ecossistemas. Por exemplo, o Jardin d’Éole tem um belo wetland (ecossistema de área alagada, no Brasil também conhecido como banhado) e um jardim arenoso, no local onde anteriormente abrigou uma área de manobras de trens.
“Hôtel de Ville” – Prefeitura: áreas pavimentadas em sua frente são convertidas em demonstração de ecossistemas regionais com fins educativos july 2009). Photo: Cecilia Herzog“Jardin d´Éole” – Novo parque na zona norte da Cidade: ecossistema arenoso no lado direitor, com pequeno alagado construído na extrema direita. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Mas, o que mais me impressiona são as plantações de alimentos que estão sendo incorporadas aos parques e outros espaços públicos e privados. Não é um conceito novo, mas hoje fazem parte de todos os bairros. O programa Jardins Familiaux et Collectifs(Jardins Familiares e Coletivos)tem mais de 100 anos e dá aos “urbanoides” a oportunidade de manter o contato com a terra, com o plantio e colheita de sua própria comida e flores. Há uma longa lista de espera para um lote de terra que possiblita explorar seu próprio jardim, para produção de alimentos ou flores.
“Jardin Familliaux et Colectifs” (Jardim Familiar e Coletivo): esse é perto do Parque Chemin de l´Île Park que fica ao longo do Sena, em Nanterre – uma cidade vizinha de Paris. As hortas ficam sob as linhas de transmissão de energia, com os allotment gardens onde os moradores podem ter contato direto com a natureza . Photo: Cecilia Herzog
A cidade está desenvolvendo uma antiga área industrial na zona noroeste, no 17emeArondissement (17o. distrito), Clichy-Batignolles. A estratégia foi a de começar com o novo parque Martin Luther-King. O parque atingiu objetivos sociais e ecológicos, com espaços para umq variedade de atividades, um alagado construído (wetland) e jardins produtivos, que fazem parte do programa Jardin Partagé – Main Verte (Jardim Compartilhado – Mão Verde). Esse é um modo inovador de dar oportunidade a alunos – crianças – de cultivar alimentos em áreas públicas em sua vizinhança. Cada classe (ou sala como se diz no Rio de Janeiro) tem seu próprio lote. O jardim comunitário tem sinalização que mostra quem está plantando o que.
Parque Martin Luther-King Park: Oferece uma variedade de ambientes que conciliam biodiversidade, drenagem natural e filtragem das águas das chuvas, recreação e hortas para estudantes. Photos: Cecilia Herzog
Bercy Park: Hortas durante a Festa dos Jardins: educação, recreação e contato direto com a natureza. Photos: Cecilia Herzog
Berlim
Há um forte movimento de baixo para cima (vindo dos moradores) olhando “para trás”, que visa reconectar as pessoas com a natureza em densos centros urbanos. Estive em Berlim em julho passado, e visitei duas hortas urbanas que realmente me impressionaram: o Prinzessinnengarten na Moritz Platz (Praça Moritz), e no parque Tempelhof. Ambos são exemplos de engajamento social ativo em assuntos ecológicos relacionados com comida e biodiversidade. São lugares únicos, e têm sido desenvolvidos pelos moradores com a intenção de conservar espaços abertos da especulação imobiliária. O primeiro é localizado no coração da cidade, em um antigo espaço subutilizado. A associação chamada Nomadic Green (Verde Nômade) foi criada e alugou o espaço público da cidade, onde implantou além da horta, um restaurante, um café e uma pequena biblioteca. O plantio é feito em recipientes portáteis – daí a origem do seu nome. Em apenas poucos anos a transformação do lugar e das pessoas tem sido absolutamente surpreendente.
Portable vegetable garden in the Prinzessinnengarten in the heart of Berlin. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
O parque Tempelhof se situa em um aeroporto desativado que foi convertido em espaço público no sul de Berlim. O seu tamanho é impactante. As pessoas usam intensamente e amam o lugar. A área do parque mais marcante para mim foi a parte em que os moradores se apropriaram e criaram hortas e “salas de estar” ao ar livre. É um lugar acolhedor. Mesmo em final de dia com forte chuva, foi agradável ficar em uma tenda comum com o som das águas e do vento, conversando com gente interessante e amigável.
Final do dia no ultimo verão na imensa horta comunitária no Parque Tempelhof: cerveja e boa conversa perto da natureza urbana. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Nova York
Falando de cidade grande e produção de alimentos, Nova York é realmente surpreendente. Existem inúmeros jardins comunitários em todos os bairros, como o West Side Community Garden (Jardim Comunitário do Lado Oeste), na rua 89. Na região da universidade de Nova York (NYU) existem dois exemplos de engajamento com a natureza. No LaGuardia Corner Gardens (Jardins da Esquina LaGuardia), moradores cuidam do jardim comunitário, trabalhando para mantê-lo bonito e com rica biodiversidade. Está ameaçado pelo plano NYU 2031 que prevê a expansão da área para a construção de mais um edifício no local. Alunos da universidade mantêm a Fazenda Urbana NYU. Quando estive lá os alunos estavam terminando o trabalho do dia.
Vista parcial do LaGuardia Corner Gardens, com os cartazes contra o futuro desenvolvimento que irá eliminar o jardim. Photo: Cecilia HerzogFazenda Urbana NYU: estudantes encerrando o dia de trabalho. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Em uma escala comercial, a inovação espetacular é a transformação de tetos do cinza para o verde nas fazendas do Brooklyn Grange. Ela possui duas sedes: a primeira é a do bairro do Brooklyn e a segunda foi instalada no bairro do Queens. Ambas são abertas à visitação nos dias em que a feira funciona (a programação está disponível no site, pois varia segundo as estações do ano). Visitei a fazenda no Queens em uma bela manhã de outono em outubro passado. Havia muitos visitantes, gente comprando alimentos frescos e orgânicos, aprendendo sobre como plantar, apreciando a natureza do alto do teto de um prédio antigo com uma vista de Manhattan.
Figure 15 – Vista da fazenda Brooklyn Grange em um teto no bairro do Queens, em Nova York: outubro passado emum sábado de manhã. A feira está no lado esquerdo e a vista de Manhattan ao fundo. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
São Paulo
Na cidade em que nasci, São Paulo, há um grupo chamadoHortelões Urbanos que está transformando lugares, mentes e corações. É um movimento a favor da vida – num sentido amplo – começou com duas jornalistas que completaram um curso de permacultura e decidiram cultivar seu próprio alimento. O local inicial foi a Praça das Corujas, na Vila Madalena, um bairro cheio de vida que reúne artistas e muitos jovens. Tomaram conta do que era um gramado (“um deserto verde”) plantando comida e flores, decoraram com arte feita de material reciclado. Em curto espaço de tempo, houve uma adesão significativa de mais moradores. Começaram um grupo na Internet, e em um ano e meio possuem mais de 6,000 membros! É como um vírus do bem que está sendo inoculado nos “urbanoides” que buscam uma qualidade de vida melhor.
Claudia Visoni uma das cofundadoras do “Hortelões Urbanos” trabalhando na horta no distrito financeiro da Avenida Paulista, sobre um túnel central entre vias extremamente movimentadas por carros. Photo: Cecilia Herzog“Praça das Corujas”: gramado transformado em jardim comunitário produtivo na Vila Madalena em São Paulo, Brasil. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Feiras orgânicas acompanham esses movimentos. Pequenos produtores se reúnem para vender a produção local nos bairros das cidades. Um exemplo de resistência às investidas de urbanização desenfreada é o movimento dos produtores rurais da cidade do Rio de Janeiro, que estão se organizado para manter as propriedades agrícolas nas áreas urbanas. Seus sítios ficaram inviáveis por conta do Plano Diretor que designa toda a área da cidade como urbana, tendo que pagar o imposto por metro quadrado. Eles têm o apoio dos “ecochefs” que trabalham em restaurantes e mantêm uma barraca na Feira Orgânica do Jardim Botânico, aos sábados. Produção local é bonita, pois conserva o trabalho e as relações, incentiva laços com a terra e a natureza, e mantém tradições e cultura locais, e mais do que tudo melhora os valores e emoções das pessoas.
Os benefícios são evidentes: comida saudável, reconexão das pessoas com a natureza, melhoria do clima e da qualidade das águas do local, aumenta a biodiversidade e, mais importante, proporciona pessoas mais felizes e saudáveis. Existem inúmeros estudos científicos que comprovam que os benefícios que a natureza e alimentos orgânicos oferecem são essenciais para manter a vida no planeta Terra. O livro lançado recentemente Urbanization, Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (Urbanização, Biodiversidade e Serviços Ecossistêmicos) liderado por Thomas Elmqvist é uma leitura essencial para pessoas interessadas em aprender mais sobre os serviços que a natureza oferece nas cidades. Paisagens produtivas e biodiversas deveriam substituir gramados e jardins cosméticos com poucas espécies ornamentais, que necessitam de manutenção cara e permanente, melhorar a funcionalidade da cidade. Essas áreas podem ser de grande importância para a construção de cidades com melhor qualidade de vida, mais sustentáveis e resilientes.
Depois de anos de pesquisa, Marco Schmidt (Water Paradigm) afirma eloquentemente que a mudança do uso do solo de verde para cinza, e em outros usos que causam erradicação da biodiversidade e perda de solo fértil, é um fator que provoca mudanças climáticas porque altera o ciclo de evaporação que é responsável pela manutenção do ciclo hidrológico, o qual influencia o clima local e global. Isso é frequentemente ignorado. Solos e plantas capturam carbono e produzem oxigênio que é fundamental para manter a vida; drenam e filtram águas da chuva; previnem enchentes e deslizamentos de terra; amenizam as temperaturas e regulam o clima local. A urbanização está aumentando, assim como a mudança na cobertura do solo. Se revertermos esse processo, incluindo vegetação nativa e as águas em planos e projetos de diversas maneiras em áreas urbanas públicas e privadas, podemos contribuir para a construção de cidades mais sustentáveis e resilientes. Muitas das crises mais urgentes podem ser mitigadas e até mesmo adaptar áreas urbanas para desafios inesperados que as mudanças climáticas nos trazem, onde quer que estejamos no planeta.
E se gramados públicos e privados fossem transformados em paisagens produtivas, com alimentos e vegetação associados para manter a interação biodinâmica entre a biodiversidade? E se as superfícies impermeáveis, como tetos, calçadas, estacionamentos e pátios escolares se tornassem verdes com águas visíveis, recuperando as funções da paisagem, proporcionando recreação e educação acessíveis a todos: crianças, adultos e idosos? E se as pessoas, arte e cultura locais, biodiversidade e mobilidade fossem planejadas e projetadas para harmonizar comunidades com muitas amenidades para todas as idades? Que cidades maravilhosas poderíamos ter: “cidades vivíveis”.
Esses não são sonhos. Esses lugares existem e as pessoas adoram, como vimos acima. As pessoas têm o poder de transformar o mundo pouco-a-pouco, jardim por jardim, quarteirão por quarteirão, comunidade por comunidade.
In the Third Millennium, we live in a globalized urban world, where loss of local culture and deep social segregation are happening. Climate is changing faster than predicted, hitting cities and people hard: climate-related floods, landslides, droughts, heat waves, traffic disruption, and food shortage are increasing. For instance, in Brazil, four years of drought affected millions of urban residents in the Southeast, where only about 7 percent of the original Atlantic Rainforest that covered the region remains. This year, the region’s frequent and extremely heavy storms are causing economic, social, and environmental impacts. Flash floods and landslides have paralyzed urban functions almost on a daily basis, besides having caused several deaths.
Transformative civic movements and ecological landscape designs are happening in many cities around the world.
The power to decide the paths of our economies emanates from extremely powerful transnational corporations, and the consequences can be felt all over the world, at all scales. The challenges are many: ecological, social, cultural, political, and economic. In my understanding, they are all interconnected. The interests of the very few rule over the vast majority, and the outcome is the New Dark Age that we are living in now. We are crossing planetary boundaries, and that’s bad news for everyone. But the poor are suffering the most.
In my view, the globalized urban landscape denotes the supremacy of large economic interests over people. It is as if Robert Moses had lost his battle to Jane Jacobs in New York, but had left a legacy of urban expansion based on costly infrastructure that led to ecosystem degradation and the segregation of people in many countries. And, on this path, the landscapes have been tremendously altered in, around, and for car-based cities, not for people.
Brasilia, the Modernist Brazilian capital that was built to drive the growth-at-all costs model, is an excellent example. It was inaugurated in 1960 with the aim of exploring the natural resources (e.g. landscapes, ecosystems, mining) located in the central and northern areas of the country (the Cerrado and Amazonia biomes). In his book Cities for People, Jan Gehl calls urban planning from the top, and from the outside “the Brasilia Syndrome”. Why? The design from the air has the form of an eagle (see photo below). The Federal and institutional public buildings are located in the center, where, from the ground “the space is too large and utterly uninviting, paths are too long, straight and uninteresting, and parked cars prevent pleasurable walking in the rest of the city.” (Gehl, 2010, p.194). The upper classes’ residential, commercial, and service zones are located in the two wings, North and South. The working class lives in the mostly unsafe, unhealthy, and neglected satellite cities that are about 50 km. away from the center, so there is a need for large roadways to transport people every day. This urban form is not good for people or for nature, but quite good for oil-based growth, the business-as-usual model. The excuse is that it creates jobs, right?
Aerial view from Brasilia, the “Eagle” is cut but the Paranoá built lake (48km²) over the Cerrado ecosystem (a dry ecosystem). Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Wrong! This year, we celebrate Jane Jacobs’s 100th anniversary, and all of us should take her lessons home and do something to change our heavily built environment, introducing green infrastructure with and for people where it is gray, lifeless, and including streets and extensive lawns. Actually, we already can see this happening in movements all over the planet. People are getting together to change the world through local actions that aim to restore landscape ecological functions and enhance people’s lives: planting urban forests, growing organic food, building nature friendly spaces incorporating stormwater drainage and water collection on-site, and daylighting and restoring rivers and creeks.
Professional urban planners and landscape architects are being trained to restore landscape and ecosystems processes and functions, working together with biologists, ecologists, hydrologists, and social scientists to build a robust emergent transdisciplinary field.
The landscape has a lot do with how people value nature, and landscape is where there is a tremendous potential to make a real social and ecological revolution.
Why do we love controlled landscapes?
The landscape has been altered since humans started walking from the African savannahs to populate the continents. Domestication of seeds and animals was possible due to the warming of the planet by 2 degrees C, followed by stabilization of the climate, about 10,000 years ago. From then on, human ingenuity and voracity has changed the entire planet forever.
Through the centuries and along our path to “progress,” technologies have allowed massive changes in the thin layer (composed by Pedosphere, Biosphere, Hydrosphere, Cryosphere and Atmosphere) that covers our common home, planet Earth: converting ecosystems into human-dominated landscapes and blocking natural processes and flows has enabled tremendous economic growth. After World War II, the pace of destruction became faster, and the concentration of power also (Wright 2005). In this process, we have become detached from native ecosystems and lost our awareness of how we depend on them and their biodiversity So, it is easy to destroy what we don’t know and don’t emotionally relate to.
Cities were born in Mesopotamia more than 6,000 years ago. The plains along the rivers Tigris and Euphrates were transformed by geometrically aligned irrigation canals and square agricultural fields. Since these early periods, water and introduced plants adorned gardens of the dominant class’ properties. Throughout history, gardens (and urban form) were influenced by the orthogonal design of the ancients. Geometric French gardens are archetypal of power and wealth. Versailles is a world reference for beauty and power. Garden designs from China and Japan that mimicked nature were taken to English gardens and then, in the 1900s, to the public parks of the industrialized cities. In all cases, the urban landscape was deeply modified into look-like-nature scenery. Central Park in New York (an international reference of multifunctional public space) is one of the most prominent examples of built landscapes, and we don’t even notice (Spirn 1995). We got used to them. We learned to appreciate and value them. We take them for natural landscapes.
So, most people don’t see any problem if a remnant ecosystem or wetland starts to be filled to create land for construction. Then, the transformed landscape receives a new look: in general, with a mono-functional, aesthetic-oriented fusion of French, Arabic, and English-designed gardens to adorn the new development on an urban expansion area. Neither do they recognize anything wrong if hills are erased to open a new flyover bridge, or rivers are channelized and buried underground. It is “progress”, it is “growth”, and we need a higher GDP!
Is there a connection between big money and landscape conversion?
I have been writing for this blog since 2012 about what has been happening in the wonderful landscapes of the city of Rio de Janeiro. Since then, the city has gone through a huge transformation to prepare both for the 2014 World Cup and for the Olympic Games that will happen later this year, and it is not over yet. Public money was driven to build new roads and tunnels and to allow more and more expansion over ecosystem remnants to create land for the real estate market to explore. Gated-communities for upper and middle classes were built over some of the last ecosystem remnants (wetlands and restinga—a native dry sandy ecosystem) of the West Zone of the city. Their garden design has no connection with the local landscape, no reference to the richest biodiversity in the world. Water and vegetation play a mere ornamental function.
For the working class, it is even worse. Social housing is being built far away, not only over native ecosystems and productive landscapes with almost no green areas, but far from jobs, served by a deficient and expensive public transportation system (if it comes close to the housing complexes, usually the bus stations are far away).
Last July, I wrote a piece published in The Nature of Cities where I mentioned the disconnection between the science recommendations that had been made and the actual urban transformation taking place in Rio, with the construction of thousands of residential and commercial units in low lands vulnerable to floods and sea level rise. At that time, the real estate market was expecting to make billions off of these unsustainable developments. But, what nobody was expecting was the economic disruption. Yes, Brazil is undergoing a severe economic and political crisis.
On Sunday, March 14, millions of Brazilians marched on the streets to protest against the government and the corruption that is devastating the country and the people.
Actually the country is facing the reverse of the vision of natural resource exploiters (urban sprawl, oil, mining, deforestation, and monoculture) as the solution to indefinite economic growth. It is a very complex situation; corruption and the political schemes that intended to perpetuate the power of big corporations and political leaders are coming under scrutiny by the justice system. Several owners and high staff of powerful corporations and public companies, as well as politicians, are in jail or facing judicial charges. Corruption and improper use of public funds led to losses that scaled up to several billions of dollars. The country is paralyzed; public services are collapsing. People are suffering a great deal, especially the less privileged.
Some of the infrastructure and construction corporations that are being prosecuted in the Federal sphere are responsible for the big urban transformations in the city of Rio de Janeiro. The city is a big business, and our mayor exploits this vision with no shame. Actually, there is pride in the official posture of the administration to build the most out of the land (even if it has high ecological, social, cultural, or historical value)—no matter if they are repeating the same 20th century urbanization mistakes.
Mother Nature in cities
But, Mother Nature sends strong messages: on the evening of March 13, a strong storm hit hard in some areas of Rio de Janeiro. The City’s warning system went on to alert people about the high risk of flash floods and landslides. It happened: the waters retook their place. Lower lands formerly occupied by mangroves and water bodies were flooded, even where engineered solutions were recently built at high costs. In the upper areas, poor people suffered high losses because of the downhill overflow caused by the torrential rain, killing five people. I was stranded for hours because of the floods. Actually, storms are hitting urbanized areas daily in the states of São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, with severe impacts.
Strong storm hitting the favela (slum) of Vidigal: down flow in the stairs that access the higher areas of the hills. Rio de Janeiro, March 13, 2016. Photo: Marcela GonçalvesFlood in Rio de Janeiro—people and business live with contaminated water. March 13, 2016. Photo: reproduction from the internet)
These events are not happening only here, as Haripriya Gundimeda illustrates in her article of The Nature of Cities “Is the Deluge of Urban Areas in India a Natural Phenomenon or Irresponsible Planning?” She gives a list of nature-based infrastructure to help cities adapt and to increase resilience in the face of strong climatic events, which are usually overlooked by short-sighted decision-makers and investors. I believe that the greed and corruption that permeate our consumerist society is one side of the problem. The other side is irresponsible planning backed up by people, who ignore and are disconnected from nature and natural processes.
On Saturday, March 12, people gathered on a piece of lawn located in a central area of São Paulo. With tools, soil, and donated seedlings, they planted the first Pocket Forest of this immense and intense metropolis under the coordination of Ricardo Cardim, a tenacious and enthusiastic botanist who loves and cultivates autochthonous Atlantic Forest vegetation under threat of extinction. People of all ages participated and transformed the small plot; at the same time, they were transforming themselves and setting new standards, instantly inspiring so many people around the country.
In recent years, small movements became viral and became big. I have written about them, because I see them as really transformational, not only at the local scale: they are touching the entire country through social media. The Internet has made us closer; it is a great tool to scale up the transformation.
Pocket Forest planting organized by Ricardo Cardim (Sky Garden) in a central area of São Paulo, March 12, 2016. Photo: Facebook group “Novas Árvores por Aí”
In March, there have been countless events educating people to better relate to Mother Nature and, at the same time, redoing the urban landscape in public and private spaces: rain gardens, ecological garden design, food planting, edible seeds exchange, and tree species identification, to cite some. I am deeply touched by the mobilization and involvement that has been occurring in the last years in the city where I was born. In my piece from October 2013, People Take Over Nature in Cities with their Own Hands, I wrote about transformative civic movements and ecological landscape design that are happening in many cities around the world, including São Paulo.
Also, there are committed civil servants that work harder than usual to convert dreams into reality, in spite of the political will of the moment.
The Olympic Green Corridor (see my 2012 article in TNOC) is being implemented against all odds. Silma Santa Maria, the manager of all Conservation Units of the lagoon system where most of the Olympic events will take place, is carrying out the mission to connect Protected Areas through polluted and degraded canals and lagoons’ riparian corridors. She has the support of colleagues and local residents. It is not the Olympic Green Corridor we dreamt about, but it is the first Green Corridor in Rio de Janeiro. She promoted a workshop in December to enhance public participation and give more visibility to the project.
Green corridor workshop in Rio de Janeiro. Photo: Cecilia Herzog
Isabela Lobato and Roberto Rocha are also militant public servants that have developed the Urban Tree Planting Director Plan, a comprehensive science and technology-based strategic plan to assess, plan, design, implement, and monitor the urban forest of Rio de Janeiro. They have been promoting participative meetings and lectures to debate and push the plan to be formalized in a legal act by the mayor. It has been a tough battle; unfortunately, up to this moment, it is still sitting in the decision-maker’s drawer. At the same time, Celso Junius, the director of urban trees management at Comlurb (yes, the public waste company in charge of the management of all street trees of the city) is assessing and mapping every tree in the streets, in a personal effort with support of residents and technical city staff.
Green jobs are inclusive. People with all backgrounds can be part of a green economy. The Mutirão Reflorestamento (Community-based Reforestation) Program has been going on for more than three decades (from 1984), generating local jobs and people’s environmental awareness in the deprived and vulnerable slopes of Rio de Janeiro. Detroit is an inspiring example. After the plunge of the automobile industry, the city has an on-going greening plan that emphasizes creating a green economy that will be sustainable, reduce consumption, prioritize ecology, and educate and raise awareness of nature.
The revolution is happening, and maybe it doesn’t have the visibility it deserves, but people all over are shifting to value nature in cities, despite the voracious appetite of “big money” for making more money. The controlled landscape is giving way to natural succession in ecological and productive gardens and park areas. Bees’ sanctuaries are been introduced in dense urban settings, as at the roof of the Opera Garnier in Paris, or in the Tijuca National Park in Rio de Janeiro. New landscape design projects, such as the prestigious High Line in New York, are reintroducing native vegetation and aim to “renature” the city. Even the abandonment of derelict areas (Gilles Clément’s “The Third Landscape”) is helping biodiversity to rebound in cities, when the public administration orients investments toward selected development areas. The paradigm of excessive landscape control that transformed our environments into deserts of biodiversity is suffering a public revenge, with people understanding the need of all species close to them so they can have better lives and well-being.
So there is hope, and it comes from the people. There is no revolution made from the top. As Klein says, we need resistance. We need people with knowledge and energy to make the leap to a new world without fossil fuels if we want our kids and grandkids to have a place to live.
This new world, in my vision, has to be green in the deep connotation of the ecological concept (see Chris Reed): has to contemplate all living organisms (biodiversity and people) and the environment—even if we build the environment.
Cities must undergo a deep transformation; the urban landscape matters a lot.
Summarizing my thoughts:
We need healthy landscapes for everyone.
Focus on life: more ecology and participation (science and empowerment of people). Less hard engineering and top-down decision-making (fight corruption).
Ecological landscape design and planning must reorient all new projects, and the renewal and retrofit of the old ones, at all scales for all people.
People must recognize a river as a river, not as an opportunity for drainage or sewage discharge, or a dead paved canal.
Children must get out and play in natural (or not so natural, but with high biodiversity) areas in the city (including safe and green streets), not inside shopping malls.
Streets must be alive and combine places for people, biodiversity, and waters (infiltrating and filtrating); equally importantly, they must offer places for social interaction with economic potential to create green jobs.
Energy cannot be wasted in artificial cooling because there are not enough trees to lower the urban temperature, or because there is too much concrete on roofs that could be green.
Green infrastructure has to replace gray infrastructure.
Ecological education is essential to transform people that transform the environment, and the urban landscape should be a living laboratory accessible to everyone.
Urban ecosystems must be protected and restored to make urban environments more resilient to ever-stronger climatic events bringing too much or too little water, with emphasis on the people living in vulnerable areas.
We have to learn to live with Nature. Fast! There is no other option!
Spirn, Anne Whinston. Constructing Nature: the legacy of Frederick Law Olmstead. In: Cronon, William (ed.). Uncommon Ground: rethinking the human place. Norton, New York, 1995. Available at: http://www.annewhistonspirn.com/pdf/uncommon-ground.pdf viewed on: March, 15th, 2016
In between congested Asian city sidewalks, we found ourselves pulled into urban green spaces.
We walked many treeless roads from Bangkok, Thailand to Samsun, Turkey. On our weekly rest days, when we rambled into cities and found a hotel room where we could sleep in a bed and hang our laundry, we sought out those quiet giants.
This walk we’re on is shifting our preferences.
Before 2016, we would leave our backpacks in the hostel and, with explore-the-world enthusiasm, we would hurry around to see the main sites, the buildings worth seeing, the local hangouts, the things guidebooks recommended.
Now, with greater frequency, we gravitate towards open spaces, parks, and other places where we could get our much-needed dose of flowers, trees and green things. We crave stillness and reprieve in the cities we find ourselves in.
Here are a few of the parks, green spots and bursts of nature we found along the way and remember with fondness. They have helped silence the noise we typically hear when walking through urban areas.
All photos courtesy of Bangkok to Barcelona on Foot.
While we were in Bangkok mapping our route and getting our visa for Myanmar, we went for frequent walks around Lumphini Park, a big city park ringed with palm trees and high-rise buildings.Sirijit Park is the biggest public park in Kamphaeng Phet, Thailand. Like many parks in Thailand, public exercise equipment is a fixture here as well.After a busy day in the pulsing city of Yangon, Burma, it was nice to have a few minutes in Maha Bandula Park. It where locals have been coming to sit on the grass since 1867 when the swampy land was converted to a public recreation ground.We don’t remember the name of this park we stumbled into in Dhaka, Bangladesh, but it was a much needed moment of relaxation away from the traffic we could barely get around in this overcrowded capital city.Being in the Wakhan Valley in the Pamir region of Tajikistan was like strolling through a park every day. Walking alongside some of the world’s most majestic mountains remains among our sweetest memories of our Bangkok to Barcelona journey.The shady pedestrian passageways in downtown Dushanbe, Tajikistan invite locals and visitors to take it easy. They reminded us of similar middle-of-street green-canopied walkways in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan.“Why would you stay in a hotel?” an Iranian woman asked us. “You can just camp in one of the parks. It’s no problem. Everyone does it.” We were tempted a few times to pitch our tents in one of the many parks we found in Iran, but on the few occasions when we needed to camp we found camp spots out of public view.While the seaside promenade in Batumi, Georgia pulses with kitsch touristic restaurants and bars, the park hugging the coastline was where we found our traveling joy.In Turkey, like in Iran, roadside picnicking is a common sight and municipalities have set up areas where people can break out their picnic baskets. We made good use of these green areas along the shoulder to have lunch along the way and to admire the Black Sea.Cities along Turkey’s Black Sea have converted their waterfront areas into parks and promenades. Here in Samsun they have a creative way of hiding functional electricity buildings in one of its parks. Perhaps they see open spaces as a gift to their residences? We certainly do.
Rachenahalli is one of the few living lakes of Bangalore, in the north of the city. It is connected to water bodies upstream and downstream, particularly Jakkur Lake in the northeast. Both of these lakes have been rejuvenated, at substantial cost, by the Bangalore Development Authority over the last decade. A sewage treatment plant with a capacity to treat 10 million litres a day was set up north of Jakkur Lake by the Bangalore Water Supply and Sewerage Board (BWSSB). Water from the sewage treatment plant flows into Rachenahalli when Jakkur Lake overflows during monsoon.
Rachenahalli is an example of a thriving social ecological system—it continues to live and to support life.
Rachenahalli is an example of a thriving social ecological system—it provides natural resources to people living around it, acting as a sink for fisher folk cleaning fish or for women doing Sunday laundry and receiving treated sludge from new residences around the lake, as well as from an upstream sewage treatment plant, the lake continues to live and to support life.
The author and photographer, Sumetee Pahwa, has been living in the vicinity of the lake for the last three years, since her return to India from Cape Town. The lake and its living waters inspire and intrigue Sumetee. More recently, she has taken an active interest in the many ways that people derive resources from the water body and its surrounds.
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Molded fishing boats straddle a bountiful lake as new residential developments herald high-rise living into Bangalore’s peri-urban areas. Treated wastewater from most of these high rises will end up in the lake.Cleansing The Sheep, One. Manjunath, a shepherd from Amruttahalli, throws one of his sheep into the lake before giving it a thorough soap and scrub.Cleansing the Sheep, Two. Manna pulls along the next sheep picked for its sunny Sunday morning fling, dunk, and scrub.High Definition. Clumps of bulrushes rise above the water; clumps of concrete define the boundaries of Karle SEZ (Special Economic Zone) in the distance. The SEZ abuts the Outer Ring Road, connecting Hebbal to KR Puram.Guardians of the Lake. Children of migrant construction workers from Bihar learn Hindi, English, and Kannada in a local school. While their parents work on a new commercial building overlooking the lake, the children play in fresh mud.Stealing a Ride. Rupa and Bhagya in the Royal Enclave property owner welfare association (REPOWA) park. Normally, this park is off limits for domestic helpers and their children, but road upgrades around the lake have unlocked many doors!What’s Under the Pavement? A shop owner throws water beneath the chicken coop, which washes off bird excreta into the drain below. The drain empties into Rachenahalli Lake.Under the Pavement, Two.Blue. Seven drums for seven days of water, which comes from the municipal pipe servicing this residence. Mom, her three sons, and their friends pose alongside the chilies drying atop the drums.Yellow. A wealthier resident draws water from a well on her property. The well water comes from the lake.Fish Market, One. The man weighing the fish runs a thriving business next to the lake, with minimal financial investment.Fish Market, Two. Extra help for cleaning and cutting the fish is needed on weekends, when families buy in bulk for an extra sumptuous meal.Scales Off, Innards Out. Two fishermen prepare their catch for sale at local eateries. They throw the innards of the fish back into the lake, as food for other organisms.Cleaning the Tools. Bags, knives, slippers, feet, and hands are all immersed in the lake waters.Solar Energy. A solar panel charges a night lamp and a cell phone while the fisher folks’ clothes dry in the strong sun. Across the lake is the Mahatma Gandhi Institute for Rural Energy and Development, with solar panels on its roof and wind generators in the compound.Bringing the Bounty Home. Most days, the fish are caught in the early mornings and evenings. But today, the catch and sale warranted an extra midday foray into the waters. The stone embankment in the foreground is part of the 19 crore rupee investment made by BDA into “lake rejuvenation.”Reflections and Perturbations. Two pelicans leave trails behind them on a very still surface that reflects new and old residential complexes. The Godrej apartments on the far right are almost three kilometers away, on the New Airport Road.Succulent Borders. Cows can graze along the idyllic lake shores since the paved areas have soft boundaries with adjoining roads, private properties, and public parks.Safely Docked. Three fishing boats rest for the night, carrying rolled up fishing nets, thermakol seats for the fisherman, and small oars. The waters get rough during extreme rain events, but for most parts of the year, this spot, a few steps down from the fish market, is fairly protected.
This is what a sustainable ecological culture means: It is not about sustainable materials or sustainable economics or sustainable political laws themselves—these all change with the winds—but rather, about figuring out an underlying cultural mindset that helps us to understand who we are, and how we relate to each other and to this living earth.
In the most densely populated city in the developed world, people walk to work through a forest instead of driving in traffic. They take vacations on the metro, family picnics on the edge of a cliff, and routinely walk from their doorstep into a vast urban national park called Bukhansan. This photo essay, originally published at The Possible City, is a reflection on time lived in Seoul, and also an inquiry. It asks what it means to have access to nature, and whether examples from Korea might help other cities become more resilient.
The images in this series were taken over a period of seven years, during which I made frequent visits to Bukhansan. While reading, I suggest the images can serve as points to stop and meditate. Take a deep breath and spend some time with each image, see what you notice, and consider how it makes you feel before continuing. That’s just a suggestion. However you do it, I hope you enjoy the little journey with me!
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View of Jokduribong and the cityscape of Seoul, South Korea in Bukhansan National Park. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
It’s an hour now since the sun was supposed to come up. Outside the apartment window, a low mist hangs around the east side of this small valley. The granite cliffs of Bukhansan National Park poke out through it in places, rising above the tops of several dozen apartment towers.
Later in the day, I have a lunch meeting in the Bulgwang district, about twenty minutes from here on the metro. On this particular morning, however, I throw on a jacket and leave home early. There is something important that needs attending to.
Outside, autumn is waning. The light wind coming down the valley will soon be flicking away the last of the leaves. The metro station is due West of here, but I decide to walk east instead, along the stream and up into the mist at the foot of the mountains.
Getting from here to the Bulgwang district on foot will take a few hours of hiking—through forests, past small farms and mountain Buddhist temples, and across the pass just below Dobongsan—but I will eventually arrive, by my own feet, at the same physical place the subway would take me. I do not always get up early enough for this commute. I much prefer it when I do though.
Sunlimsa Temple on a Winter morning, one of hundreds of temples and hermitages in and around Bukhansan National Park in Seoul. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
The extra time it takes to reach my destination via the mountain may seem ridiculous when compared to driving, or taking the subway, or even walking along a sidewalk — indeed, all of these methods are faster than the mountain path. However, this “hike to work” has never once seemed like wasted time. Instead, it feels more like a gift of time, where I can experience the reality of life on this earth in ways that are not possible through the more rapid means of human movement.
In the forest, this word reality means something different from our typical urban usage of the word. Reality, here, is in the things that might at first seem mundane. It is in the fallen leaf, supporting the health of spores and microbial life that make a healthy soil possible; it is in the mist I walk through, supporting the life of the moss, lichen, and green algae as they absorb atmospheric carbon from their home on a shaded rock; it is in the water that trickles up from a spring, a tributary for all of the life—fish, waterfowl, plant, human, and otherwise—that takes place downstream.
The very freedom of being able to move through this landscape, to experience it, and to take part in these small bits of wonder offers a much-needed dose of ecological reality. However, it is also a privilege that not many urban dwellers are allowed to enjoy.
Partly for that reason, this ecological reality might seem far remote from our own daily realities and struggles. In truth, however, it is far closer than we think. The reality of walking through a mountain is of course different than the reality of our bank accounts, our jobs, our social lives, and appointment schedules, but it is profoundly connected to them, for all of these latter realities, in various ways, rely on the former. Without healthy forest ecosystems, and healthy watersheds within and around them, all life on this Earth suffers greatly.
An uncommonly clear day in Seoul as seen from the northwestern edge of Bukhansan National Park, with the old city center and Soul Namsan Tower in the center. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
The ultimate reality of the forest is that its health allows for the very possibility of a healthy city existing. There are plenty of cities that dismiss such ideas as unimportant and emanating from these cities we find piles of data on the ill effects of such a dismissal. People who live in cities without healthy forests are more likely to suffer from ill health, have higher instances of preventable diseases, tend to die earlier, have higher stress levels, higher blood pressure, and even higher rates of mortality during the pandemic.
Can forests really do that? Apparently, they can, and they do.
The fact that healthy forests, meadows, and riparian corridors are not weaving their way through every neighborhood is a good sign that we are not paying close attention to how absolutely reliant our health is, on the health of ecosystems inside and around our cities.
Making space for resilient, biodiverse, living forests and watersheds inside our cities, and allowing practical access to these spaces, plays a big role not only in human resilience and health but, more broadly, in helping cultivate more ecological mindsets and habits.
Sunlight filters through morning mist in Seoul’s Bukhansan National Park. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
Entering the edge of the forest, I pass Sunlimsa, the first of several Buddhist temples on this walking route. The temple reminds me of something my father-in-law says when he talks of meditation: Every day, every time, you should ask, who am I?
He tells me this repeatedly whenever we visit while holding his hands in a Buddhist meditation pose. Who am I. Who am I.
I like this provocation. It never seems to get old, because who am I is not a question we really ever find a concrete answer to. So far as my father-in-law is concerned, the answer is more a state of acknowledgement, an acceptance of the conditions in each moment, rather than a conclusion.
It can be immensely difficult to wrap our heads around such a concept. Credit much of this difficulty to the human tendency of considering our role in nature only as intellectual beings. We commonly do this through reports, presentations, and meetings, or through data, measurements, and statistics. This is one way of looking at the components of human and earth, and at times it can be very useful. But there are other ways to know our relationship with the earth. A commute through a small, forested mountain shows us something beyond our existence as intellectual beings.
People picnic atop (and along the sides) of a peak in the eastern edge of Bukhansan National Park. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
Here in the mountain, we can see the reality of who we are as ecological beings. Here in the mountain, it becomes clear that the climate movement cannot succeed, the regenerative city movement cannot succeed, no ecological movement will ever truly succeed unless this frame of reference—one where we are all embedded in nature in various ways—becomes part of the story.
Continuing up along a ridgeline, mist dissipates, a bit of sweat emerges. Blue sky above. Looking to the left from atop the ridge, the peaks of Bukhansan rise from the forest, with a Buddhist temple tucked into the foliage. Looking to the right, the densely packed alleys of the old Bulgwang district ramble through their magnificent maze.
We walk the line between two worlds here. A good place to ask that question, who am I?
** Answers Come When We Are Close to Nature **
Standing on this ridge line between the urban and the forest world, I turn to address the mountain with some thoughts. I ask:
This whole deal of walking through the forest and mountain to get to work in the city seems like a fantasy. Should I slap myself? Or, is the fantasy far more likely to be down there? Down in that place where we engage in the dream of endless economic growth, but somehow never really acknowledge the actual human and ecological costs of it. Surely, that kind of economic growth must be the unrealistic fantasy of these ages, and you, Bukhansan, you must be the solid and stable reality.
I wait for an answer. It is calm. No breeze. Somehow not a sound in this moment. The mountain seems to be ignoring my question. Maybe I was a bit fanatical. However, it is, calmly watching over all fantasies as they come and go, Bukhansan offers no judgment.
Looking into Seoul’s Bukhansan National Park from atop the park’s east ridge, about an hour’s hike from the nearest subway station. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
I continue along the ridge, now taking in the view of Seoul’s northern edge. This city has the highest population density in the world among cities in developed countries. It might seem miraculous that in the midst of this mega city, walking through nature is a feasible way to get around. In a way, however, Seoul’s density necessitates access to nature. People need it here more than most. It should be no surprise then, that Bukhansan National Park—the forested mountain area which forms much of the city’s northern edge—is the most visited national park in the world for its size.
Seoul denizens tend to love their nature access, and they use it well, for more than just recreation. People come into the mountain for the spring water, for ceremony and ritual, and we know an 87-year-old woman who still walks here multiple times a year, to forage seasonally as she has done since she was a child. She reminds us too, how the act is one of both giving and taking; it must be done in a way where both sides are enriched.
In most large cities around the world, access to such places—if they even exist—is often restricted or privatized. The ability for urban dwellers to have deep interactions with nature has historically been of trivial concern at best. Yet recently, this world seems to be realizing what so many Korean urban-dwellers have long known: meaningful access and communal care for nature should be a fundamental public right and responsibility in every city.
That statement is more than a feeling.
Over the past several decades, science has well established the need for urban nature for both psychological and physical wellness. Yet local access to nature is not just important to humans; it is critically important for the environment itself, and perhaps most importantly, for the success of movements related to climate, resilience, and the long path we must walk as a global society toward achieving ecological regeneration.
A group of retired women from Seoul returns home down the mountain in the morning. Like many of the elders here, they tell me of their regular walks into Bukhansan for leisure, exercise, and to drink water from one of the many springs. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
If these issues are all so interconnected, and if the roots of sustainability and resilience come from an acceptance of the duty to honor these interconnections—between ourselves and the living environments which support our lives here—then a true large-scale ecological solution can only come from a large scale movement to put ourselves back into these ecologies.
Can we really accomplish something as radical as putting entire cities back into balance with nature?
A bit further on along the ridge is a resting spot. I pour a mug of oolong tea from a tumbler. This is my favorite “café” in the Fall. A simple south-facing seat on a granite cliff, with a few Korean red pines around. The shape of the valley gives it a gentle warm air most days. Miraculously, it seems to be warm and calm here, even when cold gusts are whipping around the apartments back down in the valley.
Our greatest urban planners and builders might not have known my hiking route, but they knew the secrets of my favorite café on the side of a cliff just as well, and they incorporated this understanding into how they built cities. Cities have been built along principles garnered from nature for centuries. Among our most celebrated architects and scientists, the best of them knew that the place to find true ecological solutions is here in nature.
Such a pursuit into the field of nature-based solutions, however, requires a dedicated personal inquiry into nature herself.
When Einstein wrote “Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better,” when Frank Lloyd Wright told us “Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you,” they were not merely being poetic. They were directly pointing us here. The answer to our greatest world issues is always in front of us, but only reveals itself when we take time and effort to remain curious, aware, and engaged with nature.
One of the author’s favorite lunch spots, overlooking the northeastern edge of Seoul city. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
A favorite lunch spot, overlooking the northwest edge of Seoul city. (photo, Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA)
Neither Einstein nor Wright could have claimed “access to nature” as an end-solution. Instead, they claimed something far more profound; that cultivating a relationship with nature is a foundation, a first step in healing our relationship with the rest of this earth, and in coming up with right solutions to our human problems.
This is true whether these problems are related to science, architecture, business, or the general art of building cities. If we don’t have opportunities to be in nature every single day, our ideas quickly stray from the ecological foundations that inform concepts like regenerative design and nature-based solutions. Without nature in our lives, the propensity for anthropocentric concepts to become unhinged from reality is immense. Without an anchor in the real world of nature, even the most well-meaning of projects can float off into fairytale castles, built on clouds of capitalism, materialism, or egotism.
When asked where to start in re-connecting an entire city into the ecosystem then, the answer seems obvious: start by re-connecting individual people to nature in meaningful ways.
Though missteps have been made here, many major Korean cities are lucky to have a large number of active everyday people who demand access to nature. Cities like Seoul offer good examples of urban areas that are trying to move in the direction of nature-connectedness, being helped by a vocal populace.
In many cases, this means un-doing a great amount of damage inflicted by a modern urban planning regime. For decades here, urban development has either ignored nature, destroyed nature, or followed the Corbusian scheme of body-slamming nature, so that it might submit to the image of man. Unfortunately, this path largely continues today in Korea, where the national standard still seems to include leveling entire landscapes to built walls of apartment towers, car-based infrastructure, and grandiose wind-swept public spaces devoid of activity. Even the so-called ‘smart cities’ such as Songdo still follow this paradigm. Yet there are clues of something else here in Seoul, too. In the older parts of the city—places where streams, forest gardens, and urban structures pay attention to and honor the landscape—there are signs of another possibility.
Fall foliage in Naksan Park, where Seoul Fortress Wall runs along the eastern edge of the old city center. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
In much of East Asia, the historical roots of urban planning follow what is sometimes called the feng shui of a city. This concept can still be found in places, embedded in the materiality, shape, and orientation of people and city, growing in relation to the landscape and seasons.
Outside of East Asia, similar concepts have long existed too, from Camillo Sitte’s argument for a ‘natural art sense’ in our building, to the insistence of Lewis Mumford and his mentor Patrick Geddes that cities are natural phenomena, to Christopher Alexander’s Pattern Language. There are countless architects and planners in-between who have said as much about ‘natural design’.
As we look again at our cities today and remind ourselves what we love most about them, so too do we find similar themes. Our most treasured urban spaces are the ones that seem to sing in beautiful harmony, a song between a landscape and its inhabitants.
Fall foliage in the small urban forest at Deoksugung Palace in Seoul. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
Is it too lofty a goal for our cities to sing in harmony with citizens? Can we not again build cities that function in beautiful harmony with the landscape?
For some of us, harmonious cities might be unthinkable. Certainly, in contemporary cities, concepts like feng shui or a city built to artistic fundamentals have been dismissed as nonsense. As a result, buildings in modern cities have no relation with their environment, let alone with each other. Towering structures shout egotistically about themselves. Humans are drowned in a sea of glass and steel. Creeks are paved over without remorse. Meadows are sprayed with weed killer. Mountains and forests are made private or bulldozed from existence. The land in cities is often polluted so badly that humans are routinely poisoned by their own food and water.
How could we possibly start a conversation about urban-nature connection, when our cities and the industries that build them seem to be in such a state of disconnection?
During my own youth, growing up in Silicon Valley of California, the impossibility to walk into an urban field, forest, or mountain seemed like an unhappy reality that just had to be accepted. If anyone really wanted to get into nature from the city, they would need to jump in a car and burn a tank of gas to do it. A dedicated coalition of land stewards has helped to change this situation somewhat since my childhood, and a few tech companies are even helping embrace urban nature. But at times it seems like developing virtual reality still takes precedence over building a connection to actual reality.
Having lived in Korea, Japan, and Scotland during the past decade, the view I held of this reality—and of what it means to have access to nature—has been gently pushed in some amazingly hopeful directions.
** Global Sacred and Cultural Connections to Nature **
In Japan, for instance, there exist deeply rooted social connections to nature. For some thousands of years of recorded history, there have been remarkably constant undertones of seeing forests, mountains, and water sources as sacred.
Traditions that express these undertones have moved delicately through the years. These traditions span multiple disciplines and practices including rituals, cultural legends and stories, arts and crafts but also, ways of foraging, fishing, farming, and building cities. Though on the surface each of these practices is different—and indeed, even within each discipline, the regional differences might appear to be endless—they all rely in their own ways on knowing nature, as a prerequisite to taking action.
Torii gates line a path through the forest at Fushimi Inari Taisha in Kyoto, Japan. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
To know nature is to enter into a relationship with the environment. To know nature is have an intimacy with the materials we use in our work. To know nature is to have an intimacy as well, with the ecosystem which produces those materials. When our jobs continue to rely on this particular kind of relationship and intimacy, we enshrine in that work, an ecological understanding that can be maintained from one generation to the next.
This is what a sustainable ecological culture means. It is not about sustainable materials or sustainable economics or sustainable political laws themselves—these all change with the winds—but rather, about figuring out an underlying cultural mindset that helps us to understand who we are, and how we relate to each other and to this living earth.
This cultural mindset is not something that can necessarily be rigidly dictated or planned. Instead, it must be fluid, and this fluidity seems to happen most effectively when we incorporate ourselves and our work into that nature, as a part of our daily habit. It comes from the practice.
You could call this a spiritual practice. Not necessarily a religious practice, but an individual practice that acknowledges the aliveness—or animating force—of the world, and which seeks to participate fully in this aliveness.
A man stops to photograph the cherry blossoms along the riverside at Minamitenma Park in Osaka, Japan. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
In much of the West, there is sometimes a belief that the spiritual and practical must be at odds with each other. Yet much of the culture that we find so fascinatingly beautiful in places like Japan—or Korea—recognizes the opposite to be true. The importance of relationships between humans and their environments is both practical and spiritual. These two ways of seeing and doing are not at odds with each other but are necessary complements to one another.
In practice, this way of thinking has been chipped away at by many human forces. However, in various ways, natural elements in Japan are still thanked, honored, and cared for to this day.
This accounts for at least part of the reason why, though urban areas here are often extremely dense, you’ll always find nature integrated into tight spaces in unique ways, and the ability to walk, bicycle or take public transit to expansive parks, nature reserves, mountains, pilgrimage trails, forested shrines, rivers, and recreation areas is readily available.
A bridge crosses the small lake in the Botanical Garden at Nagai Koen, Osaka, Japan. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
Similarly in Scotland, the understanding that a balanced human existence requires access to nature is well understood. In fact, it is enshrined in law.
Everyone in Scotland has the right to move respectfully through nearly all public and private land, or even to set up a camp and sleep. This Outdoor Access Code, as it is called, is both a right and responsibility, a pact where those who venture into the landscape are expected to “Respect the interests of others, care for the environment, and take responsibility for their own actions.”
The code was enacted on account of a people who see importance in expanding our connection to and understanding of “natural and cultural heritage.”
A somewhat typical view in the Pentland Hills, sheep and all, near Little Sparta the garden of Ian Hamilton Finlay in Scotland. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
It is liberating, when nature is ample and accessible, where “trespassers will be shot” is not an option for dealing with land access, and where one can literally walk, rest, and enjoy being in nature, almost anywhere, anytime.
Such an access code, however, also requires a cultural understanding. This understanding takes time, it takes willingness, and it takes education of a population from youth through adulthood, about the responsibilities we humans have as members of this earth community. We must know not only how to take, or even how to give, but how to relate with and understand the living world.
In Scotland—as in most of the industrialized world—this understanding has waned, and this waning sometimes creates situations where legislations like the Outdoor Access Code are abused. However, we should be reminded that it is only with such rights in the first place, that an understanding of our responsibilities can truly be rekindled.
The right to access nature is a starting point on the path to sustainable, nature-connected cultures.
Arthur’s Seat, a popular destination for just about everyone who lives in or visits the Scottish capital of Edinburgh. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
You and I have just done a little bit of globe-trotting through Japan and Scotland. Apologies for that. We are supposed to be hiking through a mountain in Seoul, and yet, here we are walking through Shinto shrines and meadows.
Nevertheless, it is telling how similar threads of thought run through these—and many other—cultures, no matter how different they might seem. These threads might be hidden where we live, but they are there, nevertheless. Just waiting to be woven into something beautiful.
But let us get back to Seoul, and our walk through Bukhansan National Park.
Turning to contemporary Korea, we find a country that is probably most well-known for endless rows of Soviet-style apartment towers, overly car-friendly planning, and severe air pollution. There are many urban politicians, academics, and activists making honest efforts, however, to reverse this image.
Some readers might know of the enviable mass transit proliferation, or even of the projects to tear down urban highways and restore the streams that were buried by those highways. In a slightly more subtle but wider scale movement, however, many Korean cities and towns have built thousands of miles of trails to provide public access through urban mountains and forests.
A winter evening walk above the traffic, through Gung-dong Neighborhood Park in Seoul. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
Though there have been plenty of ugly bumps along the way, Korea is quietly becoming a leader in urban nature access. Yet many of their best efforts have been inspired by looking at solutions from other cultures, in societies that are radically different from their own. Foreign concepts are studied, dissected, and then re-imagined, put back together in unique ways which are adapted to fit the local culture and ecological situations.
Another word for this is innovation.
** Dulle-Gil, and Innovations in Nature Access **
One of Korea’s such innovations for urban nature access is the dulle-gil, a kind of walking route that connects city and nature in a way that benefits people, environment, and commerce.
The dulle-gil came about in part because of an existing culture of walking around local mountains and rivers. On weekends, nature walks are something of a national event, with friends, or even three or four generations of a family going together, into the mountain on foot, with a full-out picnic in tow. Residents of Seoul love their local mountain Bukhansan so much, that on a good-weather weekend the mountain seems more like Disneyland—on the popular peaks, the lines certainly look similar.
Weekend hikers gather on one of the lower peaks in Bukhansan National Park in Seoul. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
Over the years, as the city’s population and tourism increased, the mountain became overly busy. The city went on a decades-long campaign to build more trails in other places around the city, many of them following traditional footpaths and foraging areas that have existed for centuries. The result is that today, an interconnected system of trails links the mountains, streams, hills, and forested land throughout the entire Seoul metropolitan area.
Yet even with all of these trails, on a popular weekend, Bukhansan was still overfull.
Part of the response was a new campaign to build a series of easier walking trails called dulle-gil. These dulle-gil avoid the more perilous mountain climbs and instead aim to connect neighborhoods by a mix of easier trails and local pedestrian-friendly streets. Typical dulle-gil routes are not deep in a mountain but instead flirt between the edge of mountain and city. These trails are popular with young and old who want to explore urban nature, yet who might not enjoy the steep vertical climbs and scrambling over cliffs.
Two views on the Eunpyong section of the Bukhansan Dulle-gil. Such trails offer easier routes that weave their way between urban neighborhoods and natural areas. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
These walking trails form a network that includes the 157km-long Seoul Trail, 63km-long Bukhansan Dulle-gil, 19km-long Seoul City Wall Trail, and several others. Such urban trails have spawned an impressive internal-tourism industry, where residents can effectively become tourists in their own city.
It is not unheard of, for instance, to spend a weekend walking directly from one’s own neighborhood, through forest, field, river, and mountain, to the other side of the city along trails like the Seoul Dulle-gil.
During such an all-day walk, one might take a lunch picnic on a cliff, stop at a nature café with a view of the forest in the afternoon, learn about the species in a local creek, and enjoy an outdoor barbeque in the evening. At the end of the day, there are even plenty of options to stay the night in a hillside guesthouse at the foot of the forest. The next day, home is a short and easy subway ride away.
Dokbawi Station is one of 23 subway stations with easy access to the Dulle-gil in Seoul. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
Cars are not needed for these experiences, thanks to the 23 subway stations with easy access to Seoul Trail, and 17 subway stations that will drop you off near the more central Seoul City Wall trail.
This kind of public transit access is one of Korea’s greatest social and environmental strengths. Even more surprising, much of this infrastructure was built only in the past few decades. In many major Korean cities, governments have gone to great efforts to make sure residents and visitors alike can not only get around the city but can also experience the biodiversity that threads its way in and around dense urban areas.
Paths like the dulle-gil are routes from here to there, and yet they are also opportunities. Places for anyone who walks them, to re-connect with the sacredness of the land. Some researchers even claim that walking these paths is a way to recover the authenticity of the human being. Taken in this light, these urban paths begin to feel reminiscent of other modern-day pilgrimage routes being revived around the world.
Indeed, the idea for these dulle-gil trails began not in cities, but in the more rural regions to the south, surrounding the magnificent Jirisan National Park. The success of these more countryside trails has spread widely, igniting a new interest in domestic travel. The experience of walking these trails has also inspired many young people to consider the charm of rural and village life. With so many of the smaller Korean towns and villages struggling to survive—and so many educated young people likewise struggling to find how they fit into the city—it seems a welcome phenomenon.
Stone walls built to calm the local winds line the streets of a village in Gurye-gun, through which the countryside Jirisan dulle-gil trail runs. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
In a way, these trails are helping to mediate some of the more reckless versions of urbanization that typically pay little attention to human and environmental wellness. A few days walking through picturesque old towns in the countryside, if anything, suggests the possibility of another way.
Can we find our way to a balanced flow between urban, rural, and natural systems—both social and ecological?
** Cities Win When They Celebrate Local Nature **
Continuing my own descent from Bukhansan into the city, I pass through a grove of pines along dusty granite rocks, a signature of urban development here. It is a sure sign that we’re close to the city. Passing through the forest, I arrive at Bulgwang an hour or so early. Fresh mind.
After passing the threshold of the forest, and entering the valley of apartment towers, I feel fortunate to have this breathtaking mountain park in my backyard. It is only so, however, because public demand for nature access here has been persistent.
Hikers gather in the forest along the edge of Bukhansan National Park in Seoul, Korea. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
With continued demand for nature access, the rivers that bring water from the mountain into the Han River are also recently coming alive with natural wetland plants, and waterfowl sharing space with humans. Nature’s own regenerative infrastructure designs are starting to replace degenerative concrete lining and highways that once aimed to quickly move vehicles and water through the city.
A new rhythm of urban slowness is developing, slowly.
None of this was easy. Those who visited Seoul in the 1990s saw a city that seemed to pride itself on the destruction of any living thing for a highway, 14-lane road, or apartment tower. Back then, the slightly more environmentally sane Seoul that is emerging today seemed like an impossible dream. Yet here it is. A seedling, perhaps, but one that is sprouting well.
In all of these positive examples, the point of critical importance seems to come back again to the act of knowing ourselves and our cities in relation to local natural landscapes. Could American cities also undertake urban planning projects with such a seemingly radical foundation as nature-connectedness? If we want to become global leaders—and, somehow, I think we do—then the answer can only be yes.
When citizens and leaders decide that they love nature more than they love speed and convenience, they will succeed in building ecological cities.
Although to be fair, some conveniences do just happen to align with local nature. Conveniences like the spring-fed public foot bath in Daejeon—a city 50 minutes by bullet train from Seoul.
Young people and families gather to relax at the outdoor public hot spring in the Yeusong district of Daejeon. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
What are the local nature-based innovations in other cities around the world? There is no replicable plan for successful projects, and no city implements urban nature or access to it in the same way because our local urban ecosystems—cultural and natural—are all unique. This is not a ‘road block’ to scaling up, but instead an opportunity for local creative solutions together with our environments. It is a chance for cities again to reclaim their uniqueness and an exciting, authentic sense of place.
Instead of removing, restricting, or covering up our ecological features, cities benefit immensely when they learn how to highlight them, putting in place programs that enable free public access, and that encourage civic responsibility and care. When done equitably, such urban nature access benefits small businesses, local economies, and human quality of life across age, race, and income levels, while simultaneously benefitting the environment.
An elderly couple cycle alongside the O River, through Minamitenma Park in Osaka, Japan. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon, CC BY-SA
I imagine cities where this narrative continues, and where:
More people choose to walk, wheel, hike, and bicycle through what slowly becomes an urban-nature heaven, and motorized transit, while still available, finds a niche that does not infringe so heavily on social and ecological life
Preserving, restoring, and providing reasonable access to an interconnected network of nature corridors becomes the standard, and highways and roads become the minor exception
Cities learn to celebrate what makes them culturally and ecologically unique, and the practice of bulldozing that uniqueness virtually disappears
In providing meaningful access to nature in cities, we are not solving all of these problems outright, but we are planting the seeds, increasing opportunity for people to discover new ways of growing more resilient, beautiful, ecological urban lives. Lives where people and the environment both win.
It all starts—as Einstein and Wright hinted—by experiencing ourselves in nature, and the nature in ourselves.
Before becoming India’s information technology hub, Bengaluru was known for its numerous lakes and green spaces. Rapid urbanization has led to the disappearance of many of these ecosystems. Those that remain face a range of challenges: residential and commercial construction, pollution and waste dumping, privatization, and so on. Today, Bengaluru’s lakes are principally seen as garbage dumps and sewage ponds that can have either of two fates: one, be transformed into recreational oases to suit the needs of wealthy residential neighborhoods, or two, be encroached upon until none of the original shapes and functions can be traced. But how does this affect the lives of the people living at the very margins of Bengaluru’s beloved yet contested lakes?
As a result of rapid urbanization and environmental change, people’s reliance on local natural resources has substantially decreased in Bengaluru. This decrease is due to contamination of the surroundings, restrictions to access and, for some, the constant threat of eviction. Bengaluru is witnessing a transition from livelihoods dependent on use of these open spaces for activities such as fishing, cattle grazing and domestic purposes, to a cultural use of recreation and visual beauty. People are tending to move away from communal organization—such as taking turns to work on each other’s rice fields, maintaining the village grove, or sharing irrigation and lake management duties—and to move towards private organization when tending to one’s home garden or carrying out religious rituals. While people at the margins of lakes are often blamed for the degradation of lake ecosystems, they are actually preserving and often increasing native biodiversity and open space—acts that are quite uncommon now in a metropolis such as Bengaluru.
These trends are taking shape in line with a shift in lake accessibility. It is becoming harder to gain access to these ecosystems, either because of regulations (only government tendered fishing is allowed), physical barriers (lake fencing), or distance to adequate natural resources. Societal pressures also influence trends (cooking with firewood is old-fashioned). This means that livelihoods have become less location-bound for the ones that can afford it, while the ones who cannot need to find ways to cope with a degraded environment that is increasingly inaccessible. As happens elsewhere, urban open spaces, or urban commons, are being taken over by the elite and middle classes. As a young resident put it: “I do not wish for a park to be constructed, because that means that our houses will be demolished.”
The stories of Bengaluru’s residents represent the casualties of rapid urban growth witnessed by the city, but their voices often remain unheard. To bring back these voices into the debate, we organized a photo exhibition titled “Living at the margins of Bengaluru’s lakes: Untold stories of change, loss and hope” on Oct. 31 to Nov. 1 2015 in Rangoli Metro Art Center in Bengaluru, India. A diverse audience of 900 to 1000 visitors came to the art gallery. People were in awe of the photographs and accompanying stories. “This really is an eye opener for people like us who live in the urban area. I was unaware of how lakes in the city were used by the city’s marginalized, and how severely they are impacted by the pollution of these lakes,” said Priya Dileep, an IT professional in the city. A significant feature of the exhibition was the presence of residents from the lakes, individuals who were themselves the subjects of the photographs displayed. They were astonished to see their portrait on the gallery wall, and proud.
The photographers who worked on the project are Anoop Bhaskar and Arati Kumar-Rao. Anoop, born in Bengaluru, worked in a corporate environment before he decided to become a fulltime photographer. Anoop has been involved from the moment the fieldwork started. He visited all the case study lakes and assisted with the household interviews that were held in Kannada, Tamil or Hindi. During the four months the fieldwork lasted, Anoop took photographs of the people we spoke to and places we visited, because we hoped to organize an exhibition at its end. A link to Anoop’s work is here. Arati Kumar-Rao is an independent environmental photographer & journalist documenting effects of landuse change on lives, livelihoods, species, and landscapes. Her most recent work is here.
We will show the photo exhibition in a few other locations across Bengaluru in the early months of 2016, starting in January at the INSEE conference and the Kaikondrahalli lake festival.
* * * * *
LIVELIHOODS
Saraswathamma—Bhattarahalli Lake
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
Saraswathamma is “over 30 years old” and was born at Bhattarahalli Lake. Back in the day, she and her neighbors enjoyed eating fish from the lake, but today the lake is so polluted she does not dare to touch its fish. She receives Rs.24 for each litre of milk her three cows produce. Her cooking takes place on a kerosene stove, until she runs out of fuel that she receives in her supply of monthly ration, which usually happens after 15 days. She copes by collecting firewood from cut road side trees, or by foraging from her surroundings. Soon she will need to rethink her livelihood strategies, as a demolition order demands her to leave her home ground for rehabilitation elsewhere.
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
Rajamma—Madivala Lake
Rajamma has been living at Madivala Lake for over 20 years. Herding cattle runs in his family, and a year and a half ago, they decided to get four cows and four calves, which provide them with an income from the sale of milk and curd.
Their house is located right at an open drain with an immensely pungent stench. The land bridge that used to connect the settlement to the lake bund has been destroyed after a murder incident.
Today, Rajamma crosses the drain via a makeshift bamboo bridge to take her cattle out for grazing. Restricted access to the lake also complicates the collection of wild soppu (leafy greens) to cook green curry, which the family used to do two to three times a week in the rainy season. Buying soppu costs Rs.15.
Living on the edge—Madivala Lake
Photo: Anoop Bhaskar
A large open drain, several meters wide, flows parallel to the eastern shore of Madivala Lake. From afar, the drain appears to be a nice little creek, but that illusion is ripped apart as soon as one moves closer: the stench is unbearable. Dozens of people live right above this open sewer and, on top of the obvious health risks, have to deal with the daily fear that their children may slip and drown in the muck.
LAUNDRY
Dhobi Ghat—Madivala Lake
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
For decades, Madivala has a working Dhobi Ghat. Dhobis (launderers) washed their loads in a canal next to the lake until about 20 years ago, when the water became too polluted and they resorted to bore well water. The canal turned into a bubbling and reeking sewage drain, which is an eyesore for the entire Dhobi Ghat. Concurrently, the disappearance of open lands and grazing fields has led their donkeys to the garbage dump in search of food. After so many years, their deteriorating environment has made the dhobis lose sight of a bright future.
Patchwork—Madivala Lake
Photo: Anoop Bhaskar
The Dhobi Ghat cannot accommodate everyone, so some launderers enter the lake to wash their clothes. After washing, the laundry is left to dry on the lake bund that turns into an elaborate patchwork of jeans, shirts and towels. People, bikes and cycles move in between the little islands of clothing as if it is the most natural thing in the world.
With no other place to go, this daily sight will probably continue to exist. Yet, they are always in danger of being moved due to increased accessibility restrictions.
Stepping stones—Madivala Lake
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
A man carries his load over the outflow of Madivala Lake. The stone slabs he uses to cross the water serve another purpose in the morning, when a group of launderers gathers here. In the evening, these shallow waters are used by children to bathe, play and catch small fish.
FISHING
Watchman—Madivala Lake
Photo: Marthe Derkzen.
The watchman of the fishermen’s hut at Madivala Lake makes broomsticks from the veins of coconut leaves he collects nearby. He lost his leg after a bus accident. Every day, contract fishermen head out in their coracle boats to fish in the lake and sell their catch in Madivala Park. If the early morning yield is not sufficient, they head back out until lunch. This year’s pelican presence is a sign of fish abundance in Madivala Lake.
Photo: Anoop Bhaskar
Narayanaswamy—Madivala Lake
When hewas younger, Narayanaswamy and his father would fish in Madivala Lake.
Now that all fishing has become contracted, Narayanaswamycan only fish outside of official lake borders, which has led to a tradition of fishing in the canal northeast of the lake.
This fishing technique can be observed only a few times a year, when the canal at the lake outflow fills with water.
Fishermen—Madivala Lake
Photo by: Anoop Bhaskar
The only remaining non-contracted fishing at Madivala Lake is a collaborative effort by a group of men who build a structure of nets, mud and dams made of coconut trunks to create ponds that ensure that the fish cannot escape and grow big. After some weeks or months, men organize themselves and start emptying the ponds with buckets, removing weeds, locating the fish hiding in the mud and catching them by hand—sometimes slinging a water snake over their shoulders. The catch is divided among them, while the exciting event entertains dozens of neighbors and passersby.
MIGRANT COMMUNITIES
Raichur Colony—Vibhutipura Lake
Photo: Anoop Bhaskar
These children live in a settlement of blue tarpaulin shacks northeast of Vibhutipura Lake. Together with their families, they migrated from rural Karnataka to Bengaluru city, fleeing the drought. Here, their fathers work as construction laborers in apartments, while their mothers work as domestic help. Their houses do not have electricity or toilets. On days when they have no water supply, they wash their clothes and vessels in the lake outflow, which is not fenced off like the rest of the lake. They cook on firewood but cannot grow their own vegetables because the land they live on is not their land. And they do not know where they will be living at the start of next school year.
Tarpaulin shacks at Rachenahalli Lake
Photo: Marthe Derkzen
Jalalbe—Puttenahalli Lake
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
Jalalbe, age 14, was born near Puttenahalli Lake after her parents moved from Gulbarga to Bengaluru. The family of six lives in a single room that lacks basic amenities; she lights a lamp every evening and cooks rice on a wood fueled stove in front of the house. Water is fetched from construction sites. Twice a year, they replace the coconut leaves on their roof to prevent it from leaking. Coconut leaves are more water resistant than tarpaulin. On the way back from school, Jalalbe walks along the lake and enjoys the view, birds and fish. She is, however, afraid of the police and security that guard the road, carrying long sticks. At night, she never goes anywhere near the lake. In her ideal world, there would be more nature to compensate for the noise, buildings and roads that surround her at present.
FROM WILD FOOD AND FRUIT GROVES TO RECREATION AND GARDENS
Vibhutipura Lake
Photo: Anoop Bhaskar
Vibhutipura Lake used to be larger, and would flood after heavy rains. Long-time residents remember how brick factory laborers would drink lake water during their lunch breaks, and how they themselves crossed finger millet fields on their way to school. But the most rewarding trips were eastbound to the guava groves behind the paddy fields at the lake’s outflow. Today, the lake’s floodplains are encroached on by settlements, and cows are the only ones to enrich their diets at the lake. After the lake was fenced and cleaned up, it has also seen a new set of visitors: joggers and walkers from surrounding apartments and offices.
Photo: Anoop Bhaskar
Margaret Mary—Vibhutipura Lake
Margaret Mary, age 59, was born near Vibhutipura Lake and still sells spices in the neighbourhood.
In her memory, the area was like a village, where nobody would be out on the streets after 6 p.m. Long gone are the times that she used the lake for domestic purposes.
Nowadays, the aesthetic and recreational benefits are the most important features of the lake for her.
Nevertheless, she feels spiritually connected to the lake, and relates the lake to her everyday happiness.
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
Pushpamma—Puttenahalli Lake
Pushpamma lives with her children at Puttenahalli Lake, where she buried her husband at its eastern side.
For her work as a street sweeper, she collects long grass and reeds to make broomsticks. She did not collect the huge pile of firewood next to her house: she says it is hard to find firewood now that the groves around the lake have disappeared, and she has aged.
Her ability to collect healthy wild soppu (leafy greens) has diminished since the lake became fenced. Instead, she has planted a home garden with banana trees, sweet potato, tulsi, pumpkin, chili and more.
THE FUTURE
Urban representations—Bhattarahalli Lake
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
Bengaluru’s lakes are small-scale representations of the city and its main challenges: a mix of the urban poor, middle-class, and elite, of urban expansion, encroachment, privatization, pollution, ecological degradation, traditional and modern uses, land disputes, and so on. This reflection on Bhattarahalli Lake’s surface shows the rise of a 38-storey lake view apartment next to a soon-to-disappear slum settlement with its coconut, fruit and drumstick trees. In the foreground are the remainders of an immersed Ganesha idol amidst the nutrient-hungry water weeds that are choking so many of this city’s lakes.
Ashwathamma—Puttenahalli Lake
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
Ashwathamma is a very active citizen of the low income community living adjacent to Puttenahalli Lake. Her knowledge of ecological and geographical changes in the landscape around the lake is formidable. She has been a key member in organizing the community to fight for stay orders against eviction. She poses the question: why are there different laws for the ministers living in wealthy neighborhoods than for us?
Three girls—Bhattarahalli Lake
Photo: Arati Kumar-Rao
These three girls spend evenings playing with their friends in the lanes of Bhattarahalli Lake’s settlement. They grow up living at its waterfront. What are the chances that they will continue to see their lake once it is cleaned up and turned into a neat looking park?
* * * * *
The underlying research for this project was carried out between May and October 2015 by Marthe Derkzen from VU University Amsterdam in collaboration with Harini Nagendra and Seema Mundoli from the Sustainability initiative at Azim Premji University, Bengaluru. The project received financial support from an USAID PEER grant to ATREE (Ashoka trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment).
The city carries out a commitment to sustainable development under the motto “Respira Pinamar”, inviting residents and tourists to walk, ride a bike, and meet along a revitalized public space that allows perceiving nature and art through education and community awareness.
In Argentina, as a long weekend arrives many people living in the metropolitan area of Buenos Aires flee from the concrete and asphalt in search of Nature. There are many destination possibilities, but one that is undoubtedly a favorite is a garden city, 370 km south of Buenos Aires, which receives a million tourists in summer.
Its name Pinamar — pine + sea — describes the cultural landscape where sea and forest meet, following the vision of an urban architect 70 years ago. Jorge Bunge, Pinamar’s founder, brought the idea of a garden city from Germany, where he studied Urban Planning at the Polytechnic School of Munich. Upon his return to Argentina in 1939, he began to develop the idea of building a 2,700-hectare garden city.
Thus, Pinamar had an origin that makes it almost unique in Argentina: it was conceived as a private initiative of a company that decided to develop its own land. This development was made with a particular urban vision: respecting the topography of the dunes but transforming the original natural landscape into a human-made one, creating a pine forest on grassy dunes (Fig. 1).
Fig. 1 First plantations to fix dunes (Pinamar SA).
Its strong identity is linked to a way of building a city in the middle of pines, acacias, and eucalyptus forests that completely reject the colonial legacy imposed by the Spanish conquerors in Latin America: cities with very little vegetation arranged in a grid.
In Pinamar, the urban matrix expanded over large lots with garden retreats, curved streets, and tree-lined avenues (Fig. 2). A technical management of the urbanization was also used with a layout that follows the unevenness of the topography, the curves of the dunes, the rain runoff, and areas reserved for parks that include water channels.
Fig. 2 Large lots with garden retreats and curved streets (A.Faggi).
There are very few examples of garden cities in Argentina: Palomar Hills in the Buenos Aires metropolitan area, also built in 1944 by German architects, City Bell in the vicinity of La Plata, and a few other garden neighborhood projects, linked to large industrial companies and designed for the residence of their officials and workers. Almost all of them finally remained as islands surrounded by a dense built-up matrix, under pressures imposed by the advance of growing urbanization. This is not what happened in Pinamar.
The city has kept environmental qualities, especially since it had gradual urban planning designed to achieve harmony with the landscape. Today, the spirit of the garden city is maintained, but not as a static sample based on the garden-city typology that Ebenezer Howard presented in 1898, which over the course of the century in different parts of the world was biased towards transforming neighborhoods for wealthy classes. However, it is necessary to remember that this was not Howard’s motor purpose. His aim was to reform society, claiming a new social organization through an urban and territorial model. Since he was not an architect by profession, he associated with two who were: Raymond Unwin and Barry Parker. Together they built the city of Letchworth, in England, as the first garden city which became an urban model of the 20th century.
Pinamar, a real estate development that was conceived as a vacation place, presents today a lively dynamic, carried out by a young municipal management group committed to sustainability. They keep the garden city identity, through a healthy balance between the origins and image of the city and the need to adapt this built landscape to the current environmental challenges. For this reason, the green is jealously maintained and today reaches 54% of its area with reforestation plans (Fig. 3). There is a forestry compensation strategy: for each pine or eucalyptus extracted, three specimens in 20-liter pots of native trees must be delivered to the municipal forestry bank.
Fig. 3 Forested areas in green (S. Anguiano)
In the planting of new specimens, an attempt is made to recreate a mixed forest where native trees, produced in the municipal nursery, are merged. These plantations provide boulevards and crossroads with greater biological diversity and improve aesthetics throughout the seasons with different textures, colors, and aromas.
The strategy means to discourage the planting of exotic pines, which although they gave the city its identity and name, do not achieve longevity and present a risk of falls by storms, which are frequent at the coast. They stopped planting Australian eucalyptus, for example, which are large trees that require a lot of water, a limited resource for a growing city.
Water for human consumption is a central theme and it is estimated monthly. Sidewalks are transformed into rain gardens to increase infiltration and prevent surface runoff and erosion (Fig. 4). These sustainable urban drainage systems are valuable water management tools. They generate considerable improvements in hydrological processes, strategically integrating runoff control elements into the urban landscape, with attractive aesthetics biotopes creating habitat and food for hummingbirds and insects such as bees and butterflies.
Fig. 4 Rain gardens on sidewalks in a main avenue (A.Faggi)
Fig. 5 Ecological restoration of dunes (A.Faggi).
Another improvement strategy is the ecological dune restoration as well as the revitalization of the public space at the waterfront (Fig.5).
The city carries out a commitment to sustainable development under the motto “Respira Pinamar”, inviting residents and tourists to walk, ride a bike, and meet along a revitalized public space that allows perceiving nature and art through Education and Community Awareness. Urban sculptures, a 5 km linear park as an aerobic corridor, interpretive walks strategically designed to enhance the landscape while incorporating recreation, and leisure areas are valuable landmarks in town. This, perhaps an unintentional and ongoing commitment, honors Howard’s inspiring ideas and underpins the transformative social ideas of the garden city model that inspired him over a hundred years ago. The city goes beyond what was built, a thoughtful set of multiple elements that surprise the length and breadth of the city. Paths, edges, districts, nodes, and landmarks (Fig.6), those elements that Kevin Lynch defined as building the image of a city are in Pinamar exceptional.
Paths
Edges
Nodes
Districts
Landmarks
Fig.6 Distinctive elements that give the city of Pinamar its own image (A. Faggi)
In a past contribution to TNOC in 2022, we mentioned that many families moved to Pinamar.
The city had a demographic growth of 17.5%. Building construction in Pinamar has grown 225%, eight times higher than the country average. Today, the city has 40,259 inhabitants spread over 3520 hectares. In other words, it has 7 times more space per inhabitant than Howard would have allocated for his garden city. This indicates that the growth potential is huge. This opportunity for development should be accompanied by smart and efficient governance so that the city does not lose the character of a garden city in the future.
We wish it to be so!
Ana Faggi and Maria Samanta Anguiano Buenos Aires and Pinamar
On The Nature of Cities
She is a specialist in landscape design with an ecological perspective.
Currently, she is the Secretary of Landscape and Environment in the Municipality of Pinamar.
In urban greening, ecological/environmental and social goals of urban sustainability should be “natural” allies but under current common neoliberal conditions, greening runs the risk to become an instrument of (re)production of inequalities and injustices.
Equity and Sustainability: a history of ideological convergence vs. practiced indifference
The idea that equity is an important and indispensable part of sustainable development has been there from the early days. The intellectual basic for and actions taken towards sustainability are thought to be fundamentally fair and just—a world in which all have access and means to the resources needed for their wellbeing. However, as soon as we get down to the operationalization of the concept of sustainable development, these ideal visions largely disappear or become second rank to a focus on technology, green or smart solutions, and market-driven green solutions that serve for only a few. Hence, we are left with is the notion of the great importance of the concept of equity and fairness that has not much to do with the reality of sustainability interventions.
The reasons for this are well understood. Compelling as it is, the notion of equity is antithetical to a global socio-economic system rooted in market-based exploitation of natural and human resources. The notion of sustainable development in the form of global growth-based capitalism—namely knowledge transfer, technological optimism, consumption etc.—is (literally) melting under our feet with every passing day as we watch “global capital” stall and play for time on the most fundamental issue of our time: climate change. Sustainable development as a concept carries the inconsistencies between global(ized) capitalism, telecoupling, and liberal values and human rights that have been the mark of 20th and early 21st centuries’ international politics.
Leipzig’s Lene-Voigt-Park. Photo: Annegret Haase
Social inequality as it relates to sustainability exists across scales from global to local. In this context, we can identify—at least—a “threefold unfairness” of inequities: (a) the day by day unfairness in access to environmental (recreational, clean air and water) and social (education, good housing, health care) resources; (b) the risk of being affected by the consequences of climate change and other environmental hazards; (c) inequitable access to decision making, including decisions that the first two points in the list, through systematic or inadvertent lack of participatory process.
Economic inequality reduces the chances of the disadvantaged to benefit from global economic upswings. Poor and minority communities suffer, in an intersectional manner, because disadvantages commonly co-occur in a way that compounds vulnerability. For example, low income communities are more likely to be located in proximity to natural and industrial hazards which compounds poverty by placing additional health and safety expenses as well as the physical and mental impacts of coping with hazardous events. Poor and minority communities rarely benefit from the advantaged of new “green cities and neighborhoods”, from smart technologies, or other sustainability strategies, and in fact are sometimes displaced from them through processes of gentrification. Sometimes it seems as if the sustainability debate and related strategies of “smarter”, “greener”, and “healthier” orientates too much towards middle and higher class communities and almost completely overlooks the many who are poor or working class.
Global trends in urbanization mean that the tensions around sustainability are most pronounced in and around cities and will become more problematic within the next decades. Cities around the globe are show rising polarization between rich and poor, more and less vulnerable, advantaged versus disadvantaged, included and excluded people living in close proximity. Making progress towards urban sustainability is an essential part of a global sustainability agenda and has been finally recognized international by goal 11 of the SDGs.
A community garden in Berlin. Photo: Anna Dankowska.
In a recent special issue in the journal Sustainable Cities and Society, we explored the notion that approaches to urban sustainability originate from a multitude of perspectives that influence (and often determine) the outcomes. We found that comprehensive conceptualizations of sustainability, relating social-environmental-technical aspects of sustainability, usually occur in in the context of assessment research rather than in theory or application of sustainability. Concepts of equity are tangent or not at all addressed unless the research is framed from that particular perspective.
In order to fulfill the ideological call in sustainable development to further human wellbeing of all, equity—in terms of fairness, participation, mutual recognition and realization of capabilities—should be an explicit, functional goal, placed at the center of sustainability interventions and particularly at the center of the sustainable urbanization agenda. The long-term provision of social and physical infrastructure, goods and services needed to ensure the wellbeing of all, should be the organizing principle for all levels of governance. Indeed, much guidance already exist in the literature. The equity-based approach to environmental sustainability has deep roots in the environmental justice discussion and requires a focus on fair distribution of environmental benefits and burdens, a meaningful integration of underrepresented and vulnerable groups in decision making and the recognition of different values, wants and needs with respect to benefitting from and engaging with nature and environment. Authors such as Walker and Agyeman demonstrate how equity, social, and environmental justice relate to sustainability. Evans et al. (2019, p. 58) argues that today “smart cities risk marginalizing citizens, prioritizing end-of-pipe-solutions, and driving further economic development that runs counter the stated environmental and social objectives”. In our recent special issue, concerning the use of technology should be guided by socially determined values, goals and policies, Michalec et al. offer that the wealth of data now collected in “smart city” designs, can be used to derive more effective and nuanced sustainability plans and policies. And second, Trudeau argues that programs successful in integrating social equity goals derive buy-in and support from stakeholders by offering clear conceptualization of the relationship between social equity and livability concerns.
Equity-based approach to urban greening—what does it look like?
To the extent that there is potential of urban nature and green spaces to contribute to cities and societies that are more equitable, it has to be carefully planned, crafted, and cared for. Recent experience with plethora of greening initiatives stemming out of urban sustainability plans show that the act of greening itself does not inherently entail equitable outcomes in access or distribution of benefits. Equity-centered greening has to be set up as a policy and planning priority, all the more since our existing cities are full of inequities despite the global debate on Sustainable Development Goals and many local greening programs and strategies. What is described today, for example, as “eco-gentrification” or “social-ecological conflict” relates to historical and current processes of distribution of neoliberal housing market mechanisms. To avoid displacement by greening we now need ideas such as such as those proposed in Just Green Enough, but, at the same time, avoiding upgrading and displacement. What seems to be a social-ecological conflict at the surface, is, at its heart, a conflict based on unequal distribution of power and resources. To deny this context and the fact that any greening of cities happens under conditions of real-world capitalism and real-existing inequalities would mean to play off the social and the ecological against each other.
In a recent paper based on discussion between urban scholars from different parts of the Europe and North America, we focused on trade-offs between social and ecological developments in cities that are initiated and/or come along with greening measures—the rise of housing prices, displacement of low(er) income groups, exclusiveness—which are crucial for the future debate on sustainable cities and a socially balanced and inclusive way of developing our cities for all existing groups of urban dwellers. We believe to achieve equity-based greening the following reflections are necessary:
Consider the social effects of green sustainability strategies and existing trade-offs
Under current conditions, it is indispensable to make interactions between greening and existing market-driven distribution social power relations as well as practices of exclusion more explicit and consider them before setting up greening strategies. As described by the eco-gentrification debate, greening as such is not the problem but its realization under market conditions might lead to undesirable or at least socially non-sustainable results (e.g. displacement of the vulnerable). We must acknowledge that greening programs can be a trigger for decreased social sustainability if context factors are not considered. Especially forms of capitalist, market-driven or technological optimism “sustainability-fixes” should be thoroughly scrutinized. Instead, social goals should become more important as criteria for assessment of “green” measures. Some approaches to mitigate this risk are in connecting green and social housing plans or considering “just green enough” approaches to avoid negative social consequences.
Welcome potential conflict resulting from heterogeneous ideas, wants, and needs
Hitherto participation and “co-production” experiences show that results of such processes do not automatically lead to more inclusion or justice; under these circumstances, they can also reinforce existing social power relations and patterns of exclusion. If social sustainability is to be realized, a recognition of different wants and needs, values and practices—for example, of using public green spaces and ideas of shaping such spaces—should be the basis of action. Conflicts resulting from “true” participation must be constantly negotiated and re-negotiated; conflicts and opposite opinions should be acknowledged as a part of a heterogeneous urban society and a fundamental and ongoing condition for social change.
Include various types and sources of expertise
For equity-based process and results we need to recognize the different types of expertise, including different types of knowledge, which are needed and available. Academic and stakeholder expertise should be coupled with civic society expertise, first and foremost hitherto hidden or neglected knowledge (for example, by marginal groups) must be included. We, as academic experts in this field, recognize our responsibility to develop and express a critical view towards the context-driven and context-sensitive role of greening strategies and policies.
Social sustainability includes questioning current power relations within governance and decision-making
Greening happens not in a power-free vacuum but in an urban space that is determined by political and ownership power hierarchies and their respective impacts. Power impacts may reinforce inequities, for example. of green space accessibility, housing in newly greened areas, participation in greening projects/processes. Research and knowledge-building for social sustainability thus has to develop a critical standpoint to real-world inequalities in cities and their economic and power relations context. Social sustainability will only be realizable when we deliberately embed our research into context and critically scrutinize if not question current power mechanisms and real-world practices of social exclusion.
Finally, achieving equity in future sustainability is deeply connected to global political processes and the actors involved. As we experience political push and pull between ideas of liberal and illiberal democracy, between cosmopolitan and republican understanding of society and place, and the questioning of the idea of democracy itself, the debate about equity in sustainable development hangs in the balance.
The concept of sustainable equity assumes that we view pluralism, cultural and lifestyle diversity, multiculturalism, collaboration, flexibility, care about the most vulnerable in society as necessary and desirable. And it also means questioning some basic logics of market-based, neoliberal capitalism determining the fate of our cities. Social sustainability will not be created by market forces, here we need a balance created by government policy and co-produced steering. Thus, seeking an integrative kind of sustainability is intricately connected to the resistance to any kind of authoritarian, illiberal, non-democratic and anti-cosmopolitan waves rising around the whole globe at the moment.
We need more “commons thinking” in our cities and urban societies with respect to a fair distribution of goods and burdens and a real chance for participation and recognition of all. “Socially attentive greening” could be an avenue to trigger and foster more social equity and inclusiveness where urban nature, urban ecosystems and the services they provide play a role in making our cities more sustainable. In order to achieve more equity and inclusiveness in our urban systems we must reinforce our belief in these values and start to adapt now.
Peleg Kremer, Annegret Haase, and Dagmar Haase
Princeton, Leipzig, and Berlin
Dr. Annegret Haase is a senior researcher at Helmholtz Centre for Environmental Research - UFZ in Leipzig, Germany, at the Dept. of Urban and Environmental Sociology. Her research is focused on sustainable urban development, urban transformations and social-environmental processes in cities.
Dagmar Haase is a professor in urban ecology and urban land use modelling. Her main interests are in the integration of land-use change modelling and the assessment of ecosystem services, disservices and socio-environmental justice issues in cities, including urban land teleconnections.
Story notes: The Nature of Cities was invited to create a session at the 2014 Smart Cities Expo in Barcelona: “Participation and the Role of Green and Open Space in Cities”. This Episode is a back stage conversation among the panelists after the presentations. The session, led by 
Public open and green spaces are declining daily in the world’s cities, largely due to population and development pressures. Yet there is broad evidence of the social, population health, and ecological benefits of open space, and a clear desire among urban populations for such space. The need for thoughtful creation of open space is critical now, as thousands of new cities will be built in the coming decades. Decisions about land use in cities—where the building, roads, and open spaces go—tend to become fixed for decades or even centuries. It is critical to get these decisions correct right from the start. David Maddox spoke about the need to articulate the attributes of the cities that we desire, and that how such cities are built is fundamentally about values—what do we think is important? P.K. Das spoke of building movements, such as 
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