Eternal Forest Sanctuary: Vision to Living Commitment

Artist Evgenia Emets shares the development of her Eternal Forest sanctuary vision into its latest phase as the Seed of Eternal Forest, with opportunities for artists, scientists and thinkers globally to become a movement and mutually supportive network.


2,100 words: estimated reading time = 8 minutes


ClimateCultures editor Mark Goldthorpe has followed Eternal Forest since 2019 and, for this post, shared questions with Evgenia as she was drafting it.

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“Eternal Forest is a living commitment that reminds us across generations: we are nature, and by regenerating forest, we regenerate ourselves.”

Looking back at your decision to start Eternal Forest, what was your inspiration for this, and what did you set out to achieve? How do you feel about that looking back now?

My original inspiration to start Eternal Forest came from witnessing the deep disconnect our culture has created between forests and people. I began Eternal Forest in 2018, six months after moving from the UK to Portugal, and shortly after witnessing the aftermath of devastating fires that destroyed large areas of land here.

These were not just forest fires. They were the result of pervasive monocultures, especially eucalyptus plantations, which have profoundly altered the landscape, increased its vulnerability and reduced its resilience. My initial question was to explore how we might reconnect humans and forests, not only through art, but also through remembering and reactivating our sacred relationship with forests.

Much of my inspiration came from seeing that for millennia, Indigenous and traditional communities across the world have lived in deep reciprocity with their natural environments, holding forests as spiritually significant and relational beings. The understanding that our material and immaterial cultures come directly from forests became a foundation for my work.

Showing artist Evgenia Emets at forest cave. Photograph by Marco Piano, Eternal Forest, 2025
Photograph: Marco Piano, Eternal Forest © 2025

Eternal Forest Sanctuary

In the early years, I created the vision for an Eternal Forest Sanctuary — a physical space (reforested or restored and protected) focused on biodiversity and natural habitats, created through art with communities as long-term stewards of this forest. While my experience and practice are rooted in Portugal, where I live, I see the intentional creation of forest spaces, which we can call sanctuaries, as necessary and timely.

Looking back now, I can say that dedicating my time to Eternal Forest has opened many possibilities in my artistic practice. It revealed new paths of knowledge about forests, showed new ways of learning and being with this wonderful and complex organism. It also opened new relationships with people and organisations: scientists, artists, researchers, and regenerators of many kinds. And artistically it offered me a completely different medium — I started exploring how forest itself can be a methodology and what I could do differently with my art if forest were my studio, my medium, my collaborator and my gallery.

As the project evolved, and as I evolved with it, my perspective also shifted. In the beginning, my focus was more on what was missing and where the gaps were. Gradually, this changed into uncovering and witnessing the beautiful possibilities that already exist in our relationship with forests around the world. Whether we encounter healthy forests or forests in need of restoration, there is always a way to experience joy, to lean into the deep unlearning and receive wisdom directly from the land and its beings.

“We are forest, and we are not separate from it” — this core perspective led me to explore subjects such as forest sentience, plant intelligence, finding ways to communicate with nature and being led by the land while working on projects.

Embodying deep connection

What have you learned so far that was maybe a surprise? Or what have others brought to the project?

One of the most surprising experiences for me last year was realising how deeply we are connected to the land through our bodies, our psyche, our imagination, and our emotions. Intellectually, this is something we already understand, or at least we think we do. But it was only through working closely with the land, especially while walking with the land and designing Eternal Forest in Faia Brava, that this understanding became fully embodied.

Showing Evgenia Emets, Eternal Forest. Photograph by Marco Piano, Eternal Forest, 2025
Photograph: Marco Piano, Eternal Forest © 2025

I began to sense how intrinsically interconnected we are, almost like entangled bodies that, once they have encountered each other, remain in communication. What happens to the land happens to us, and what happens to us also affects the land. When we work with land that has been disrespected or shaped by extractive behaviours, we feel that impact in our own bodies and inner landscapes.

The healing that takes place through restoration and through re-revealing the land’s beauty is mirrored by a healing within our own psyche and physical being. The experience of pain, the witnessing of beauty, the awe of natural phenomena, the sensual moments of being in close touch with the beings of the land, the spiritual closeness of encountering a rare animal — all that goes both ways, it’s a constant conversation. And then how all of that can be woven into practice, into artwork, linked back into the loop of co-regulating and co-evolving.

I am still exploring creative ways to tune more deeply into this field, and to find forms of expression that allow me to transform and alchemise these experiences and share them with others by creating sanctuaries, trails, poetry, and landmarks.

The Seed of Eternal Forest

What is the latest phase of work? What comes next?

One of the latest phases of my work is the creation of the Seed of Eternal Forest in Faia Brava in Portugal. The Seed represents a beginning. It is usually a small-scale intervention that initiates a much longer process of an Eternal Forest Sanctuary on a bigger size land.

In this case, we are working with a conservation organisation in Portugal called Faia Brava, on a very beautiful site along the wild and ancient Côa River, a UNESCO heritage site, with 30,000-year-old engravings of wild animals dotted around the river valley from the hunter-gatherer era. It is such an inspiration for any artist to be connecting with this ancient land. We are working in a context of ageing and declining rural populations, severe deforestation and land degradation, and extremely low rainfall, with conditions that increasingly resemble a semi-desert landscape.

Showing The Eternal Forest 'Seed' image on the ground. Aerial photography by Marco Piano, Eternal Forest, 2025
Photograph: Marco Piano, Eternal Forest © 2025

The first intervention we created is a 30-metre-diameter Seed. This is a symbolic moment that emerges from working closely with the land: observing it, listening to it, and understanding the ecosystem, including which species might arrive and which might remain over time. Our next phase is to go through the process of developing an artistic regenerative design for forest and ecosystem restoration across a much larger area of 10ha, a process that will unfold over many years.

When I approach design, I ask myself: What is the experience people will have when they visit this place? What is the experience of the local community and their relationship to the land? What kinds of experiences can other artists have here, and how might they contribute to the evolution of Eternal Forest and Faia Brava? Another important question is how younger generations will interact with this place, and how they might become stewards and guardians not only of this specific area, but of the wider surrounding landscape, which requires long-term care and attention.

The idea for the design of the Seed in Faia Brava is a symbolic labyrinth, an infinite loop tracing a four-petal meandering path. It takes you through several turns that mirror the inner journey of the pilgrim, the psyche of the land, and the land’s own long story.

The Seed holds trees, bushes and plants chosen for their white blossom, but also being native plants from this area. The idea is that as you visit this Eternal Forest in any season, the Seed always presents itself in colour — a variation of white, where every plant is medicine for the land, animals, and each other. Everything in the Seed is designed to attract biodiversity — pollinators, wildlife — and to create a deep experiential space for humans.

I am further developing designs and possible interventions for different locations. At this point, I am increasingly interested in creating concrete, physical projects that are co-created in collaboration with land and communities, rather than focusing solely on visual artworks.

What follows in the coming months is the formalisation of this work through the organisation Eternal Forest, which was registered in December 2025. Over the past year, and continuing into this year, much of the focus has been on developing projects and creating fundable proposals together with communities, landowners, and land stewards.

What is your vision for Nature Connectedness?

When we speak about nature connectedness, I feel it is important to acknowledge that the term itself already implies separation. To say that we need to ‘connect with nature’ suggests that nature is something outside of ourselves. In reality, we are not separate from nature, but we are living the great illusion, as we have disconnected ourselves from the understanding that we are part of it.

We have moved very far away from seeing ourselves as embedded within natural systems. For me, this is why creating physical spaces is so important. These spaces allow us to create conditions where we can return to harmony with a place, learn directly through practice with the land, and be in direct, embodied relationship with a specific landscape over long cycles of time. Only then we can truly embed ourselves into the land, just like an animal does — find out own paths, find our own rhythm, find our own sacred place, find our own home within the land again.

Inviting all: artists, scientists, thinkers

Is there a way for other ClimateCultures members to reflect on this work? Maybe to get involved?

There are several ways for ClimateCultures members, artists, to reflect on the work and to get involved.

First of all, Eternal Forest is held together by a set of questions that I hold personally and that we also hold collectively as an organisation. This is the first year that Eternal Forest is formally operating as an organisation, and while we are building this new structure, we are also opening the space for reflection and dialogue around these questions.

We are inviting artists, scientists, and thinkers to imagine together with us how Eternal Forest can become a movement and a mutually supportive network. How can artists anywhere in the world catalyse and create their own Eternal Forest with their local communities? And how can the Eternal Forest ‘mother tree’ organisation support them over the long term?

Showing Evgenia Emets planting Eternal Forest. Photograph by Marco Piano, Eternal Forest, 2025
Photograph: Marco Piano, Eternal Forest © 2025

This year in September, we will host an Eternal Forest camp at The Gathering in Portugal, a gathering for regenerative culture. I warmly invite everyone to join. We will release invitations in March, and alongside this, we will be running a series of online conversations. These will be spaces to reflect, contribute, and connect both artistically and philosophically with the community.

In the meantime, people can follow the project by subscribing to our Substack or joining our Telegram channel.

As we establish our first four sanctuaries, we will start opening art residencies.

The success of Eternal Forest depends on people around the world who raise their hand and say, “We have land, with or without forest, that needs protection, and we feel the local community is ready to engage. We want to create a legacy that lasts.”

We are open to collaborating with artists, art foundations, curators, landowners, public institutions, conservation organisations, rewilding initiatives, and tree-planting projects. So I invite everyone who resonates with this work to follow the project, connect with us online for now, and, over time, to become part of this co-creation journey.


Find more

Discover more at Eternal Forest — which includes the short film below on Eternal Forest in Faia Brava 2025 and other videos and art — and on the project’s Substack and Telegram channel.

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From 2026, ClimateCultures is inviting members to say a sentence or two about how they use AI in their work and in their posts for us. We will be exploring this in future posts here and at our ClimateCultures & more Substack.

Evgenia — “I use AI to transcode my speech because the way I write a lot of the time is I speak (sometimes walking in the land!). Then I edit my text. Once in a while, I use AI selectively for research — more technical and comparative. All the stories, images and illustrations are original.”

Evgenia Emets
Evgenia Emets
An artist intersecting land-art, sound and visual poetry through experiences, forests, artist books, calligraphy, performance, objects and community engagement, and whose 'Eternal Forest' integrates ecological thinking.

Thrutopian Fictions: Ways to a Better Future?

Writer Rod Raglin asks if Thrutopian fiction’s solutions-focused approaches to our climate predicaments address the real challenges. How to overcome our reluctance to make the sacrifices needed to get through the hardest times and towards a better future?


1,180 words: Estimated reading time = 4.5 minutes


Thrutopian is described as literature that avoids the pitfalls of both dystopian – paralyzing by depicting bleak futures – and utopian narratives – disconnected from the realities of current challenges. Instead, thrutopian stories are rooted in plausible solutions for getting through difficulties and towards a better future.

But do these thrutopian stories take into consideration economic realities, political expedience and an electorate that only considers their immediate needs? Do they address the reality of climate change that is already having a devastating effect on many parts of the planet?

Facing up to power …

For years, Canada has been struggling to meet the commitments it made in the 2016 Paris Agreement, involving reducing greenhouse gas emissions. The major policy initiative of federal government was to implement a carbon tax, a mechanism that puts a price on carbon emissions, aiming to encourage individuals and businesses to reduce their carbon footprint. A charge is levied on fuels like gasoline, diesel, and natural gas, increasing their cost to consumers to incentivize fuel efficiency and the use of lower-carbon alternatives. 

In addition, it responded to public pressure about the environmental hazards of pipelines and introduced a strict environmental review process that discouraged further expansions.

That was until Donald Trump got elected and declared economic war on his neighbour.

In response to Trump’s tariffs and the impact on the Canadian economy, the first piece of legislation passed by newly elected Canadian Prime Minister, Mark Carney, was to eliminate the carbon tax. His rationale for axing the tax was to “make sure our companies are competitive, and the country moves forward … it’s focused on building this economy.”

Also being reviewed (and likely modified), is the government’s policy to have all Canadian car sales powered by a battery, fuel cell or plug-in hybrid system by 2035.

In addition, old plans to build other energy projects are being revived by giving provincial governments “the environmental authority to approve pipelines”.

Before you could say “what the frack!”, the BC provincial government had passed The Infrastructure Projects Act, giving itself broad powers to override existing environmental regulations and authorities and expedite approval of major projects, public and private.  “We’re not in the business of turning away investment in British Columbia,” said the premier of the province, David Eby.

Just to make sure no investment is being turned away, The Ministry of Energy and Climate Solutions is undergoing a review of the policies and programs of CleanBC, the province’s climate strategy. 

How do environmental principles stack up against economic realities? They don’t.

Nearly three-quarters of Canadians supported getting rid of the carbon tax and the renewal of pipeline projects. Apparently, the threat of becoming the ’51st state’ far exceeds that of a climate catastrophe.

… and climate realities

Though wildfires are a natural part of the Canadian boreal forest life cycle, higher temperatures and drier conditions, caused by climate change have resulted in more frequent and severe fires and a longer fire season.

Showing Haze sun, a photograph by Rod Raglin
Haze sun. Photograph: Rod Raglin © 2025

This year’s fire season — the second worst since 2023 — has seen 3,092 wildfires that have consumed 5.17 million hectares (as of July 12, 2025). Officials with Public Safety Canada say the greatest fire danger is still to come and expected to be in the Northwest Territories, the Yukon and southern British Columbia.

I live on the west coast, and regularly wildfire smoke drifts in from the interior, making the sun appear as an orange ball and creating a haze that burns the eyes and throat. On some days, the air quality in Vancouver is the worst on the planet, and we’re advised to close windows and stay indoors. For inland communities, it’s far worse.

While Canadians worry about how tariffs will impact our economy generally, and their livelihood specifically, it’s not an existential threat, like having breathable air.

Like alcoholics, who must hit bottom before they’re motivated to sober up, Canada appears to not be there yet – environmentally speaking. As the results of our last federal election proved, we are still a society that prefers to pay less to fill up the family SUV than contribute to the mitigation of global warming.

Writing towards a better future

In the midst of this ‘reset’ of environmental priorities has emerged thrutopian literature with its “plausible solutions for getting through difficulties and towards a better future.”

A quick look at a few of the titles suggests that other than the name there’s little difference between this genre and eco-fi or cli-fi – other designations that have emerged for environmental fiction since I began writing it in 2010.

The difference between my books and these newer ones appears to be issues of subtlety and practicality. In my novels, environmental issues are not in the forefront but presented only as a subplot that must eventually be addressed in practical ways for the protagonist to achieve their goal. The few thrutopian titles I’ve reviewed flip this around, presenting the environmental problem foremost and the characterisation secondary. In my opinion, this approach makes the narrative more didactic than entertaining – usually a turnoff for the reader, though time will tell.

And though this new fictional category attempts to present possible solutions to mitigate the environmental crisis, I saw no evidence it addresses how to overcome our reluctance to make the sacrifices necessary to implement them.

This was the issue I set out to answer when researching my novel, The Triumvirate – Love for Power, Love of Power, the Power of Love. What I discovered was it’s a lot harder to create a better future than envision one – human beings notwithstanding. Political and economic issues take precedence over the environment, and it is only when “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold”*, do we realize we’ve made the wrong choice.

I’m sure this new sub-genre will thrive. Who doesn’t want to choose hope over despair, the positive over the negative, delusion over reality? It’s easier to suggest that we still have time to prevent the worst-case scenario even while that scenario is playing out in front of us.

This is the reality of thousands of wildfire evacuees every Canadian summer (actually, fire season is now April through October, depending on where you live) as they idle away the hours in evacuation centres worrying if they’ll have a home, or for that matter, a community to return to. 

* ‘The Second Coming’ by W. B. Yeats


Find more

Rod writes about his novel The Triumvirate in his previous ClimateCultures post, Power, Love, Religion & Climate Fiction: Life Imitating Art, discussing how a story about power, love and religion finds echoes in our unfolding climate crisis and how we try to come to grips with a hostile and uncertain future.

You can read a Writers Rebel interview with novelist Manda Scott about her thrutopian novel, Any Human Power. And ClimateCultures member Denise Baden writes about her own approach to writing to a better future in Social-science fiction or Thrutopia?

Rod Raglin
Rod Raglin
A journalist, publisher of an online community newspaper, photographer and writer of novels, plays and short stories that address the human condition and serious environmental issues ...

‘If I Were a Tree’: Notes for the Pyrocene

In her new exhibition, photographer Joan Sullivan is haunted by a recurring question, “If I were a tree, what would I feel when the flames arrived?” — and confronts the Pyrocene as the world heats to record-breaking levels.


1,610 words: estimated reading time = 6.5 minutes


My new installation, ‘Si j’étais un arbre’ (in English: ‘If I were a tree’), is the second in a series of immersive artworks that give voice to the nonhuman. It is currently on display at the Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent in eastern Quebec, Canada, until 20th December, 2024.

Notes for the Pyrocene: Showing IF I WERE A TREE at the Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent in eastern Quebec, Canada. Photograph by Joan Sullivan © 2024
IF I WERE A TREE at the Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent in eastern Quebec, Canada. Photograph: Joan Sullivan © 2024

While my previous installation, ‘La voix des glaces’ (in English: ‘Ice Voices’) focused on the disappearing ice of Quebec’s Saint Lawrence River, ‘Si j’étais un arbre’ focuses on the fires threatening Canada’s boreal forest. In both works, I cede my voice to the non-human beings (or nonhuman people, as invoked by the philosopher Timothy Morton) with whom we share this magnificent planet.

Black Summers

What would these nonhumans want to tell us before they disappear forever? Would we self-described ‘wise’ humans even be willing to listen to them if they could speak? I became obsessed with these questions in early 2020 following Australia’s ‘Black Summer’ wildfires that killed an estimated three billion nonhuman beings according to scientists.

It was this enormous loss of nonhuman life (rarely mentioned by the media) that pushed me over the edge and changed my artistic practice forever. I could no longer justify using my cameras to document climate change from a human perspective. I felt compelled to learn how to use my cameras in new ways to ‘see’ climate change from the perspective of nonhuman beings threatened by a rapidly warming world.

As described in my earlier ClimateCultures post, Giving Voice to the Nonhuman, Australia’s devastating wildfires triggered my transition away from 25+ years of documentary photography towards a more fluid, non-narrative form of artistic expression. But it would take another three years of research and reflection before the concept for ‘Si j’étais un arbre’ crystalized in my mind: an imaginary forest of burning trees in the middle of a gallery.

Notes for the Pyrocene: Showing "Forest burned in 2018, located north of the tiny crossroads of Labrieville near Lac Pipmuacan, witnessed in October 2024 during my trip to Nitassinan to visit the Innu of Pessamit". Photograph by Joan Sullivan, 2024
“Forest burned in 2018, located north of the tiny crossroads of Labrieville near Lac Pipmuacan, witnessed in October 2024 during my trip to Nitassinan to visit the Innu of Pessamit.” Photograph: Joan Sullivan © 2024

Gallery – Images 1 & 2: “Forest burned in 2023, also located north of Labrieville near Lac Pipmuacan. These were also taken in October 2024 during my trip to Nitassinan, to visit the Innu of Pessamit.” Click on images to enlarge.

In 2023, three years after Australia’s fires, Canada experienced its own record-breaking wildfires that scorched all 13 provinces and territories. By mid-July 2023, there were already 29 megafires burning out of control, each larger than 100,000 hectares. The region where I live – on the southern shore of the Saint Lawrence River in eastern Quebec – was not directly affected by these fires. But we all looked anxiously across the river at the dark ferruginous skies; we all breathed its toxic fumes. Maybe next year would be our turn.

Throughout that summer, I was haunted by a recurring question: “If I were a tree, what would I feel when the flames arrived?” The first half of this question became the title of my current installation.

Gallery – images 3 – 8: from the ongoing series IF I WERE A TREE. “Imaginary photos of the Pyrocene: the age of megafires. Using the technique ‘Intentional Camera Movement’, I move my camera in an agitated manner to imagine a tree on fire. This image was created ‘in camera’ in one single exposure; no images in this series have been manipulated in Photoshop.” All photographs: Joan Sullivan © 2024 Click on images to enlarge.

I imagined myself rooted to the ground, like a tree. I tried to embody the anxiety of a sentient being unable to flee. Using intentional camera movement (ICM), I moved my body in an agitated manner to imitate the flames fanned by high winds whooshing through the parched forest. The resulting images oscillate between representation and abstraction, underscoring our collective ambivalence to the escalating ecological-climate polycrisis.

Gallery – images 9 – 11: from the ongoing series IF I WERE A TREE. Information as above. All photographs: Joan Sullivan © 2024 Click on images to enlarge.

Fifteen imaginary trees ‘on fire’ were printed on silk fabric, each nine-feet long (2.7 meters). By sewing the two longest sides together, I transformed these two-dimensional prints into three-dimensional sculptures that resembled tree trunks. These tree trunks were then suspended from the ceiling, creating a hanging forest ‘on fire’ in the gallery space.

Inspired by the Icelandic-Danish artist Olafur Eliasson, I invite visitors to wander through this silk forest to touch the trees ‘on fire’ while listening to their voices through the music of my friend, James Darling. Can immersive experiences like this decenter ourselves and create empathy towards nonhuman people upon whom we depend for our own survival? According to Eliasson, “It is necessary to unlearn how we see in order to be able to see with our bodies.” 

IF I WERE A TREE in exhibition at Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent, in Rimouski, Québec. Photograph: Joan Sullivan © 2024
IF I WERE A TREE in exhibition at Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent, in Rimouski, Québec. Photograph: Joan Sullivan © 2024
IF I WERE A TREE in exhibition at Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent, in Rimouski, Québec. Photograph: Joan Sullivan © 2024

Welcome to the Pyrocene.

2023 was the hottest year ever recorded in human history, and scientists are “virtually certain” that 2024 will be even hotter. But 2024 will most likely be remembered as the first full calendar year to breach the 1.5℃ limit above pre-industrial levels established in the COP21 Paris Agreement. A dubious honour, a stark warning.

Even Brazil’s Pantanal – the world’s largest wetland – is on fire. And ‘zombie fires’ have become a thing, at least here in Canada.

Gallery – images 12 – 14: IF I WERE A TREE in exhibition at Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent, in Rimouski, Québec. Photograph: Joan Sullivan © 2024 Click on images to enlarge.

Welcome to the Pyrocene – the age of mega-fires

Each artist will respond in his or her own way to this unfolding drama. As a visual artist struggling with ecoanxiety, I have found solace collaborating with other artists, musicians, scientists and even an association representing people who are blind or partially sighted to create tactile and acoustic installations that help us to ‘see’ climate change in non-visual ways.

I am particularly drawn to musicians for collaborative research and creation, especially those projects that give voice to the nonhuman. In my experience, these collaborations have resulted in visceral experiences for the public that resonate at a much deeper level than just a selection of my photos on the wall. 

In the small city where I live, I have had the good fortune to collaborate with two brilliant musicians for my two most recent installations, ‘La voix des glaces and ‘Si j’étais un arbre. For the latter, I commissioned the cellist James Darling to compose music that gives voice to the trees threatened by approaching flames. I have long wanted to collaborate with a cellist — the cello being the instrument closest to the human voice. Its low bass notes have the potential to resonate within the human body. Might this be a way for some visitors to experience, possibly for the first time, embodiment with a nonhuman being?

James Darling performing ‘Artefact’, composed for the IF I WERE A TREE exhibition at Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent, in Rimouski, Québec. Photograph: Katia Fournier © 2024

Inspired by my imaginary photos of burning trees, James created ‘Artefact’, a 13-minute sound sculpture rich in textures and harmonies for 16 cellos. Its title makes reference to archaeology, i.e., objects created by human hands that are left behind and discovered much later. This enigmatic work incites visitors to question what they want to leave behind for future generations.

In addition to the imaginary silk trees, ‘Si j’étais un arbre’ also includes several branches and tree stumps that were burned in the 2018 and 2023 fires. In late October 2024, I crossed the Saint Lawrence River by ferry to visit Nitassinan, the ancestral land of the Innu of Pessamit. With permission from Innu elders, I collected several burnt branches to travel back with me to the south shore of the Saint Lawrence to be included as sacred ‘artefacts’. Mélanie Bellefleur, an Innu Territorial Guardian with the Council of Innu, crossed the Saint Lawrence in November to offer one of these burnt beings during the opening.

Burnt branches from the Nitassinan forest fires in the IF I WERE A TREE exhibition at Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent, in Rimouski, Québec. Photograph: Joan Sullivan © 2024

Finally, two weeks after the opening, I met, quite serendipitously, the choreographer and performer Martine Cardinal. On her first visit to the gallery, Martine felt a strong connection to the silk forest and immediately accepted my invitation to improvise during an upcoming cultural mediation session with the public (which you can watch below). Her performance was breathtakingly beautiful and fleeting.

Like Canada’s boreal forest.

Notes for the Pyrocene:: Showing IF I WERE A TREE in exhibition at Galerie d'art Léonard-Parent, in Rimouski, Québec - with performance by choreographer Martine Cardinal to soundsculpture 'Artefact' by James Darling. Photograph by Joan Sullivan © 2024
IF I WERE A TREE in exhibition at Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent, in Rimouski, Québec – with performance by choreographer Martine Cardinal to soundsculpture ‘Artefact’ by James Darling. Photograph: Joan Sullivan © 2024


Find more

‘Si j’étais un arbre’ (‘If I were a tree’) is on display at the Galerie d’art Léonard-Parent in eastern Quebec, Canada, until 20th December 2024.

You can read Joan’s earlier ClimateCultures post, Giving Voice to the Nonhuman. 

The Pyrocene is explored by Steven J. Pyne in his book, The Pyrocene
How We Created an Age of Fire, and What Happens Next (University of California Press, 2022). In his blog on the term, Pyne says “I coined the term Pyrocene as a catchphrase in a 2015 essay titled ‘Fire Age’ published in Aeon. Since then I’ve started using it regularly, and in 2019 began to propose it as an informing principle (in a literary sense) by which to understand the world our pact with fire has made. I have long regarded all of the Holocene as an Anthropocene. From a fire perspective I now regard the Anthropocene as a Pyrocene.”

Fellow ClimateCultures member and photographer Alan McFetridge has also explored the Pyrocene in his work, Landscape Fire in the 21st Century.

Joan mentions philosopher Timothy Morton in reference to ceding her voice to nonhuman people. There is a review of his book Humankind: Solidarity with Non-Human People (Verso, 2017) in The Guardian: Humankind by Timothy Morton review – no more leftist defeatism, everything is connected.

The quote from Olafur Eliasson — “It is necessary to unlearn how we see in order to be able to see with our bodies.” — is taken from the essay Olafur Eliasson: Interdisciplinary Approaches and their Interplay with his Art by Else Marie Bukdahl, in The Journal of Somaesthetics, No. 1 (2015).

Scientific American was one of many journals that published the finding that 2024 will most likely not “just be the hottest on record—it could be the first to surpass 1.5 degrees Celsius“, as announced by the European Union’s Copernicus Climate Change Service. 

‘Si j’étais un arbre’ was supported by a generous grant from the Canada Council for the Arts.

L’artiste remercie le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien financier, ainsi que le Programme Transformer l’action pour le climat (TAC) à l’Université du Québec à Rimouski (UQAR).
The artist thanks the Canada Council for the Arts for its financial support, as well as the Transforming Climate Action (TCA) Program at the University of Quebec in Rimouski (UQAR).

Joan Sullivan

Joan Sullivan

A photographer, writer and farmer who focuses on climate change and whose abstract, phenomenological approach to photography expresses her ecoanxiety and gives voice to the nonhuman.