Proposal for a World on Fire, 92x182 cm, linocut triptych, 2017
Iceberg, 46x61 cm, graphite and linocut on paper, 2016
Proposal for a World on Fire (detail), linocut, 2017
Fragment, 60x65 cm, watercolour, graphite and linocut on paper, 2016
Many species of pine need the extreme conditions of a forest fire to germinate; it has to burn before it can grow. In northern Alberta, forest fires are a natural part of the ecosystem, but of course with climate change they’ve become more intense and more frequent. My grandparents’ farm was always a very important place for me growing up, and I watched as it was almost destroyed by a forest fire in 2008. The surrounding forests burned, but the house itself was saved, although it’s since been sold and entirely destroyed so the province can widen the main highway to the Athabasca tar sands mines. These works use the farm, the fires, and the pines to speak about the interconnectedness of growth and destruction; what is underneath, what burns, what is needed for renewal and repair.
Our world is on fire, and if we’re going to respond effectively to the lifeboat ethics and quickly spreading eco-fascism of the right, we need to think about what kind of narratives and stories counter that. It isn’t facts that change minds, it’s the stories we tell ourselves. So what stories do we need to be able to grow, even when the world is on fire?
Text adapted from an interview I did with Brooke Lober in Making Abolitionist Worlds: Proposals for a World on Fire, which took it’s subtitle from this art.