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.

The Wood Wide Web – Fruitful Collaboration

Artists Michael Gresalfi and Eva Strautmann‘s collaboration responds to our emerging understanding of the Wood Wide Web that connects trees, fungi and soil: networked communities threatened by our ‘competitive’ view of life and by our industrial forestry practices.


1,580 words: estimated reading time = 6.5 minutes


Eva ‘found’ Michael on ClimateCultures following one of his Creative Showcase pieces and his invitation to foster dialogue and collaborations with fellow members, which we shared in our monthly Re:Culture newsletter. We would like to encourage further sharing of ideas and new collaborations between members.

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An interspecies symbiosis driving biological innovation

Below, Michael discusses the role of the Wood Wide Web. First, he
picks up the story of his and Eva’s collaboration:

When Eva and I began to discuss the continuing degradation and disruption of Earth’s regulating systems, we talked about the loss of habitat, and the largely unseen yet growing damage to co-evolved symbiotic relationships between different species. This discussion, and our shared love of forests, led us to our decision to focus both our attention and our art on the so-called ‘Wood Wide Web’.

We both independently created art that represents our artistic visualisation of this incredible symbiotic relationship between fungus, plants and trees.

The scientific community has confirmed many examples in nature of symbiotic relationships between animals, plants, insects, bacteria and fungi. In fact, we can look inside ourselves and find somewhere between one and three pounds of bacteria within our own large intestine: a relationship that scientists have termed a ‘mutualistic symbiosis’.

The surprise to me, when thinking about the so-called Wood Wide Web is both the complexity and the elegance of this mutualistic symbiosis between such a wide range of disparate species. Over the past 500 million years, fungi have co-evolved, along with plants and trees, to the benefit of all in this mutually supportive network.

I would contend that interspecies symbiosis is not just a common evolutionary path; that it is arguably the dominant engine of biological innovation on Earth. Today, roughly 80% to 90% of all land plants rely on fungal symbioses to survive. Without this cross-kingdom partnership, our forests and agricultural systems would collapse and the web of life itself might not exist.

Unfortunately, humans continue to cause such cross-kingdom partnerships to collapse, including the wood wide web. In fact, we have caused many such interspecies relationships to become ‘dysbiotic’.

Showing a painting 'Wood-Wide Web' by MIchael Gresalfi © 2025: 24" x 30”, mixed media on used, repurposed canvas - oils, acrylics and melted wax.
‘Wood-Wide Web’: 24″ x 30”, mixed media on used, repurposed canvas – oils, acrylics and melted wax. Artist: Michael Gresalfi © 2025

Conversation with trees

Eva shares her reflections on producing her series as part of the collaboration with Michael:

‘Conversation With Trees’ is a very personal and, at the same time, professional way of viewing my surroundings.

Living in the city, in the mountains of stone, is loud, noisy, exhausting and painful. I can not hear any Voice, just ‘Trash’ and ‘Crash!’

Outside, in the countryside, on the sea, and in the forest, you can listen to the silence, to the movement of water, of ice, of the wind and you can listen to the trees.

This is what I have been doing for years and years, this is actually my home and my inner garden.

The movement of one tree or two or three … is telling me about the day, about friends, who are coming or not, the trees tell me about myself. What I wish, why and why not.

And there is one favourite tree right here, next door to my house, he is a bit nervous about my work: Eva, you are working too much. He keeps on telling me what is better for me. Some more coloured trees tell me about my next steps, what I should do.

I do not want to say here and now what I am telling them, but I am always polite and friendly.

Soon my friend Jacob Strautmann from Boston (USA) will write poems to my paintings, maybe he can describe my works.

These three paintings are the beginning of a series ‘Conversation With Trees’, which started in the dialogue with Michael. Our Zoom session and emails were very inspiring and helpful. I am very thankful to Michael and Mark: Thank you!

Showing 'Conversation With Trees 2', (Series) 2025 - 2026 (50 x 100 cm}: Oil on Canvas. Paining by Eva Strautmann © 2025
‘Conversation With Trees 1’, (Series) 2025 – 2026 (50 x 100 cm}: Oil on Canvas. Artist Eva Strautmann © 2025
Showing a pinting, 'Conversation With Trees 2', (Series) 2025 - 2026 by Eva Strautmann © 2025: (50 x 100 cm}: Oil on Canvas.
‘Conversation With Trees 2’, (Series) 2025 – 2026 (50 x 100 cm}: Oil on Canvas. Artist Eva Strautmann © 2025
Showing a painting, 'Conversation With Trees 3', (Series) 2025 - 2026, by Eva Strautmann © 2025 (50 x 100 cm}: Oil on Canvas.
‘Conversation With Trees 3’, (Series) 2025 – 2026 (50 x 100 cm}: Oil on Canvas. Artist Eva Strautmann © 2025

Mutualism & communication: life as an interconnected community

The Wood Wide Web portrays a forest not merely as a collection of competing individuals, but as an interconnected community where cooperation, sharing, and communication play a significant role in the health and resilience of the entire ecosystem. Science has revealed that trees in a forest are linked to neighboring trees by an underground network of fungi that resembles the neural networks in the brain.

These fungi form a symbiotic relationship with plant roots. They extend tiny, thread-like filaments far into the soil, acting as an extension of both tree and plant roots and can link the root systems of multiple trees and plants, often across different species.

The network between fungi and trees acts as a conduit for transferring resources like carbon, water, and nitrogen between neighboring trees. Trees, through photosynthesis, produce sugars (carbohydrates) and transfer some of this essential carbon to the fungi. Plants and other producers convert carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and water into carbohydrates (like glucose) using light energy. This process fixes atmospheric carbon into an organic, usable form.

The core of the Wood Wide Web is a biological partnership called mycorrhiza, which means ‘fungus-root’. Mycorrhizal fungi form a symbiotic relationship with plant roots. They extend tiny, thread-like filaments called hyphae (collectively known as mycelium) far into the soil, acting as an extension of the tree’s root system.

These fungal filaments can link the root systems of multiple trees and plants, often across different species, creating what is known as a Common Mycorrhizal Network (CMN).

The mycorrhizal network is believed to enable several vital functions. Resource exchange (mutualism) is the foundation of the relationship:

    • From tree to fungi: Trees, through photosynthesis, produce sugars (carbohydrates) and transfer some of this essential carbon to the fungi.
    • From fungi to tree: The fungi, in return, use their extensive network of hyphae to scavenge for water and crucial soil nutrients (like phosphorus and nitrogen) that are often inaccessible to the tree’s main roots, and transfer them back to the tree.
    • From tree to tree: The network can act as a conduit for transferring resources like carbon, water, and nitrogen between neighboring trees. For instance, a large, well-lit ‘mother tree’ might transfer nutrients to shaded seedlings or stressed neighbors, including its own kin.

Communication is another feature of the web. Some research suggests that trees can send chemical or electrical distress signals as warnings through the network — for example, when under attack by insects or disease — prompting neighboring plants to increase their own defensive enzyme production.

In essence, the Wood Wide Web portrays a forest not merely as a collection of competing individuals, but as an interconnected community where cooperation, sharing, and communication play a significant role in the health and resilience of the entire ecosystem.

Wood Wide Web research — diversity & resilience

The Mother Tree Project is a large-scale, long-term research and outreach initiative led by Dr. Suzanne Simard at the University of British Columbia. It is essentially a real-world experiment in regenerative forestry, building directly upon her decades of research into the Wood Wide Web.

The project’s goal is to find new, sustainable forest management practices that maintain forest health and resilience in the face of accelerating climate change, wildfires, and other disturbances.

Dr. Simard’s research on the Wood Wide Web and Mother Trees has been one of the most significant forces challenging conventional, industrial forestry practices that were largely based on a Darwinian view of tree competition.

Her field studies revealed that trees are linked to neighboring trees by the underground network of fungi described above, which resembles the neural networks in the brain. In one study, Simard watched as a Douglas fir that had been injured by insects appeared to send chemical warning signals to a ponderosa pine growing nearby. The pine tree then produced defense enzymes to protect against the insect.

Simard’s work proved that our aggressive removal of ‘competitors’ actually harmed the desired trees, as the clearcut seedlings were disconnected from the vital mycorrhizal network and the resources provided by the Mother Trees and neighboring species.

Both plants and fungi associate with multiple symbiotic partners at once, and both plants and fungi are capable of preferentially allocating resources to one partner over another.

Her findings advocate for promoting diversity, keeping a mixed-species forest and protecting the oldest, most-connected trees to ensure the entire ecosystem remains resilient.

Mycorrhizal associations have profoundly impacted the evolution of plant life on Earth ever since the initial adaptation of plant life to land. In evolutionary biology, mycorrhizal symbiosis has prompted inquiries into the possibility that symbiosis, not competition, is the main driver of evolution.


Find more

To inform his and Eva’s collaboration, Michael compiled information on the Wood Wide Web from data extracted using AI (Genesis).

The Mother Tree Project was established in 2015 by internationally acclaimed author and University of British Columbia ecologist Dr. Suzanne Simard, to address the urgent need to steward and safeguard British Columbia’s forests amid intensifying climate threats.

Michael also highlights this paper by Lucette Flandroy & colleagues: The impact of human activities and lifestyles on the interlinked microbiota and health of humans and of ecosystems (Science of The Total Environment, Volume 627, 15 June 2018, pages 1018-1038).

Michael Gresalfi
Michael Gresalfi
An artist who seeks to incorporate art with climate change data, and whose work in encaustic medium, glass paint, oils and acrylics includes 'Our Changing Planet'.
Eva Strautmann
Eva Strautmann
An artist, author and lecturer exploring the question of ecological relationships through themes of nature and animals, physicality and abstraction, with recent exhibitions on climate change.

‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ of Climate Crisis & Poetic Response

Poet Julian Bishop shares three new poems written in response to Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, where dissension between its famous fairy characters plays out in ‘distemperature’ and ruptures in the patterns of nature and affairs of humans.


1,480 words: estimated reading time = 6 minutes


The setting: The Bridge Theatre, London, 2019. The play: A Midsummer Night’s Dream. A fabulously camp romp with a Beyoncé soundtrack and incredible acrobatics. Shakespeare so successfully updated, the same Nicholas Hytner production is revived in 2025. But of all the contemporary resonances, one of the play’s main preoccupations stood out for me as I sat in the audience swaying along to Love on Top at the end: climate change.

Rewind to Titania’s speech in Act II, Scene 1:

And thorough this distemperature we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose,
And on old Hiems’ thin and icy crown
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer,
The childing autumn, angry winter change
Their wonted liveries, and the mazèd world,
By their increase, now knows not which is which.
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension.
We are their parents and original.

The summer of 1594, shortly before the play was written, was famously cold and wet, with crops rotting in the fields and floods that wrecked bridges. But mark the last three lines of Titania’s speech — who or what is responsible for the progeny of evils described above but we, the audience, because of our dissension. The dictionary definition of dissension? A formal term for when a group of people who should be cooperating cannot agree on something. Sounds familiar?

I also latched onto the fabulous neologism ‘distemperature’, which surely deserves a revival, with its dual nods to political distemper and an out-of-sorts temperature — is there a better word to encapsulate our global predicament? Accordingly, I’ve used the word in several poems, including one of those you can read below.

Titania’s speech led me to explore Shakespeare’s eco credentials further and, sure enough, there’s ample evidence throughout the folio to demonstrate that he was aware of issues such as deforestation and the impact of expanding cities on the natural world. By his time, the forest of Arden was more patchy woodland thanks to the booming timber industry, used not just for house-building but England’s almost permanent war footing. A fleet to defeat a Spanish Armada demands a vast amount of timber and there’s no evidence of any active attempts to replant what must have been seen as an infinite resource.

Showig a 1914 Play poster for a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Savoy Theatre. Public domain.
1914 play poster for a production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ at the Savoy Theatre. Public domain.

Golden shovels — poems in conversation

The form I’ve chosen for my poetic response is the Golden Shovel, invented by the American poet Terrance Hayes. He responded to Gwendolyn Brooks’s short but classic poem We Real Cool by using a word from it at the end of every line of his own poem, The Golden Shovel — in order too, so you can read her poem down the right-hand margin of the page.

I also chose this form because it preserves the integrity of the original line and forces a very direct response. Of course, given this is Shakespeare, the language is often archaic, so I’ve had to bridge the difficult gap between authenticity and parody in how I use both syntax and language, probably not always entirely successfully. I also decided each poem’s title should come from a nearby line in the same play that relates to its theme.

Most of the poems are being written while I go for a run outdoors — I hold the relevant quote in my head and repeat it until it starts to generate a response. The tricky bit is waiting until I’m on an empty path to get the words down! There have been a few near-collisions but I’m lucky to live near Green Belt between London and the M25, which can easily accommodate an hour-long run through countryside.

I grew up in Wiltshire countryside which is gradually being eaten away by new houses, golf courses and the like, so these poems are also a kind of elegy as well. When I was a teenager, a friend and I used to catch the bus to Stratford-on-Avon after school on a Friday night and stay in a youth hostel so we could queue up at dawn outside the RSC to get returns for whatever was showing. I’d become obsessed by Shakespeare after my school took our class to a showing of Franco Zefferelli’s film version of Romeo and Juliet — I think it was the first time I became aware of poetry. By the time it came to O Levels (we studied Julius Caesar), I think I’d seen all the tragedies.

And unexpectedly, Macbeth proved initially to be the richest resource for possible Shovels. The setting for the play is a blasted heath, a place of fog and filthy air. After Macbeth murders Duncan — an unnatural act — nature goes haywire, with animals eating one another, appalling weather and at one point the Earth was fev’rous and did shake. It’s all fittingly apocalyptic but I’d like to think that there’s a more hopeful vision for the world than this, which brought me back to A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The circumstances aren’t dissimilar, as Titania’s speech makes clear: she and Oberon are parents and original of the distemperature and chaotic weather by fighting over the custody of an Indian changeling boy rather than attending to their normal duties (whatever it is that fairies do). As the play has it: so quick bright things come to confusion.

The play’s plot mirrors this of course, with Bottom acquiring an ass’s head and mistaken identity almost leading to tragedy among the two groups of young lovers. Significantly, the latter confusion occurs because Puck picks a flower to make a potion — is it too much of a stretch to include this among the acts of environmental destruction too? But in this play there’s a happy outcome: the lovers are reconciled, as are Oberon and Titania, although theirs is something of a forced marriage. There are also plenty of celebrations of the natural world, most famously Oberon’s luscious ‘wild violets’ speech:

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine…

(A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Act II, Scene 1)

Showing William Blake's painting: 'Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing. From William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream' 1786. Public domain.
‘Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing. From William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ by Wiliam Blake, 1786. Public domain.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream — echoing ecological disorder

So, what do I hope this project will achieve? Obviously, I’ll be looking to get some poems published but, more importantly, I’d like them to echo the broader ecological disorder observed by Titania, and indeed Shakespeare himself, when we see floods, fire and seasons alter as a result of our own actions. Just ten years separate the writing of A Midsummer Night’s Dream with its happy ending and Macbeth with its apocalyptic ending…  Let’s hope we get to the end of The Tempest without having to sit through all the tragedies on the way.

Three Midsummer Shovels (from the beginning of the sequence):

Enter Oberon with his train

Once I knew of a bank where the 
nodding violets grew in a spring
hung with dewdrops; I knew the       
scent of wild thyme on a summer    
breeze and eglantine on hill, the          
wild dale and mead, bees chiding      
the roses… but then autumn and 
all the four seasons turned angry, 
mutating to a state of never-winter 
where dithering outpaced change.

Act II, Scene 1

 

Ill Met by Moonlight

Proud Titania attributed the moon, forgeries of jealousy and     
her Lord’s distemper for unsettling the weather, a thorough          
if touch fantastical midsummer flight of airy chiffony for this    
man-stamped disequilibrium she pitched as distemperature, 

citing hoary-headed frost in the fresh lap of rose, of which we 
are parent and original. It begs a question: if a fairy could see 
how all the distemperatured and discombobulated seasons 
changed their liveries, why on earth did humans fail to alter?

Act II, Scene 1

 

Wonder on, till truth make all things plain

In the age before distemperature and tempests, this
melodious plot of lichen’d oak and broadleaf’d green
was backdrop to every scene. So well-made, the plot
never changed. Years hence, what green props shall 
endure to grace our performance? What spirit will be 
left to emerge unseen from still’d wings? One day our 
tumbledown globe will host plays on an empty stage.

Act III, Scene 1

Poems © Julian Bishop 2025


Find more

You can find more of Julian’s poems at his website, Julian Bishop: Writing & Poetry and his previous ClimateCultures posts, We Saw It All Happen and On Green Verges.

The poem that gave this form its name is Terrance Hayes’s The Golden Shovel, which you can read at Poem Hunter.

Julian Bishop
Julian Bishop
A former journalist, environment reporter and tv news editor who writes poetry about eco issues and was runner-up in the 2018 Ginkgo Poetry Prize.

‘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.

Captain Polo in Brazil – A Sneak Peek

Polo in Brazil_cover Image Alan HesseAuthor-illustrator and conservation biologist Alan J Hesse exclusively previews his latest ‘The Adventures of Captain Polo’ graphic novel, showing his creative process as this savvy climate action ambassador explores Brazil’s threatened biodiversity and climate issues and solutions there.


2,380 words: estimated reading time = 9.5 minutes


I am honoured to have been invited to submit an article for ClimateCultures featuring my artistic and cultural work promoting climate literacy. I have chosen to do this by contributing a ‘sneak peek’ into the next book in the Adventures of Captain Polo, an ongoing series of educational graphic novels about climate change. This article refers to the fifth book, titled Polo in Brazil, a work in progress of which I will be sharing a few preliminary page extracts.

Showing the cover of 'Polo in Brazil' Image by Alan J Hesse © 2024
‘Polo in Brazil’ Image by Alan J Hesse © 2024

Educational storytelling: finding the edutainment sweet spot

Contrary to the earliest Polo books, much of the content in Book 5 is purely there for fun, to make the story compelling and a good read. At the end of the day, I want the book to sell. It has to have commercial value beyond classrooms and special donations to schools and climate education projects. After all, the more people ‘outside the choir’, so to speak, who learn something useful about climate change, the better.

If Captain Polo were all work and no play, reading his books would in fact be too much like hard work: fewer people would read them, and this would be an opportunity lost. The need to give Captain Polo commercial value, in this case through fun and funny madcap graphic storytelling thus aligns to the mission of the Captain Polo Academy, which is to “help all those working on biodiversity conservation, climate change and education achieve greater impact”.

When writing a climate road (sea) trip story that includes a stopover in Brazil the obvious content that comes to mind is the Amazon. This region is famous all over the world as a place of high biodiversity that is also highly threatened. This fragile balance is important to portray at length, which is the main reason why I decided to make Book 5 all about Brazil, rather than pursue my original plan to have Captain Polo and Penguin merely pass through on their way to the Antarctic.

The story goes to some length to show the major issues threatening not only Amazon biodiversity and ecosystems but also the well-being and integrity of its indigenous people, who are notoriously abused in Brazil by powerful and usually criminal groups bent upon seizing land to develop yet more agroindustry and mining operations (p. 8).

Climate heroes & villains — character development

Every writer knows that one of the pillars of good storytelling is character development. A good character is seldom static. There are exceptions – Tintin and Asterix come to mind (both major influences of mine I have to add), but a character with a mission does need to evolve to at least discover and own that mission.

Although Cap’n Polo will never be too serious in his adventures, he is a bear on a mission. Ever since through his own travels (see books 1 – 3) it eventually dawned on him that his tangible melting ice problem in the Arctic was actually also the problem of a lot of people and other animals around the world, he has to deliver on his promise to educate his readers about the critical issue of climate change.

Polo’s mission is really the chief force that transforms the original ‘Polo the bear’ trying to get back home to hunt a walrus (if he can) into Captain Polo the seasoned globe trotter and savvy climate action ambassador, honoured guest of governments around the world (championed by the prestigious likes of President Barack Obama, a badly drawn Leonardo DiCaprio and a better drawn Ed Norton – see Book 3, Polo in East Africa) and a celebrity in his own right.

To be honest I’m not sure how to make Polo evolve any further, which partly explains the growing presence of supporting cast characters such as Penguin along with villains Conor O’Connor and Tex Greedyman.

These two archetypal villains first appear as such in ‘Pole to Pole’, the fourth book in the series. Every good story needs a villain of course, but Tex and Conor are actually very different from each other. Whereas Conor is portrayed as a bumbling idiot, a permanent liability to himself and others (largely inspired by Loony Tunes characters Wile E. Coyote, and to some degree Samity Sam), Tex Greedyman as his name indicates is of quite a different ilk. Tex of course personifies oil and gas, the fortress of the fossil fuel industry. He is stereotypically and delightfully Texan, Republican, brash, overweight, bejeweled, hairy-chested, and filthily wealthy.

The eastern Amazon holds bountiful oil reserves, providing a good way to insert Tex into the Amazon-related plot (p.26).

However, even the likes of Tex Greedyman are not beyond redemption, which is another theme I aim to develop further in this series in the spirit of portraying a positive outlook for climate action rather than too much doom and gloom. Readers of Book 5 will see the beginnings of a transformation as Tex, marooned on an island after a helicopter crash, is set up to experience a future epiphany: with nothing to eat or drink but coconuts, this credit card-toting, Havana cigar-smoking, Scotch-drinking oil and gas tycoon begins to reconsider his priorities in life (p.28-29). My plan is to portray a full transformation of Tex in the next book, turning him into a reformed man who uses his wealth and power to promote renewable energy over fossil fuels! The caveat of this plan of course is that I will be left without a proper villain (poor Conor doesn’t really count). But more about this in a future article.

The involvement of criminal groups in illegal logging and land-grabbing devastating the Amazon provided me with a perfect opportunity to have some fun with caricatural ‘baddies’, who both Polo and Penguin get to beat up. Conor being Conor blunders into these characters, an extra opportunity for fun and humour, hopefully making this whole section of the comic come to life (p.16). But Polo’s human encounters in the Amazon are not limited to stereotypical bad guys: he and Penguin also meet and learn from Carla the conservationist and an unnamed indigenous shaman, both strong female characters that allow me to address the crucial role of women in leading climate solutions. 

But Brazil of course is more than just the famous Amazon. There is so much to say about this wonderful country that I couldn’t possibly fit it all in, so I opted to continue the logical geographical progress of our heroes trying to get to Antarctica by having them drop in on the fabled Rio de Janeiro and its Atlantic Forest to later make a final stop in Rio Grande do Sul, where there is an interesting and controversial initiative in place to grow ‘climate friendly cattle’. Many have warned me to stay away from this tricky subject, but I disagree. One of the principles of the Captain Polo adventures is precisely to explore such controversies in order to let my readers make up their own minds. As Captain Polo will find out, there is an argument (that not everyone agrees with) supporting the case that natural grasslands maintaining free range and well managed cattle is actually positive for biodiversity and the climate. I haven’t got to drawing that part yet so it will have to be for a future article.

Storytelling and political messages

At this point I ran into a hitch: it has taken me so long to work on this book that a couple of years have passed since writing the plot, and in that time Brazil’s political landscape has happily changed. The current government is by all accounts making strides in reversing deforestation and many other threats in the Brazilian Amazon.

My original plan was to have Polo beat some sense into the previous president, notorious for promoting the interests of agroindustry, fossil fuel giants and even the thinly veiled criminality in the Amazon and being single-handedly accountable for a devastating return to massive deforestation rates. Given the huge improvements in this regard I had to slightly tweak the plot. Of course, it’s never a good idea to date a book like this, so I have opted to not get Polo too closely involved with any Brazilian government or political figure in particular. He now makes his way to the Sugar Loaf Mountain in Rio to have a chat with the current president, who will happen to be there (unrealistically, I grant you), to “discuss Amazon matters”, without necessarily throwing the president off the cliff (as was the original plan).

This leads us back to an important storytelling element omnipresent in my books: the use of stereotype.

The Rio de Janeiro scenes include quite a few stereotypes. One of these is the cable car fight on the way up to the iconic Sugar Loaf Mountain, where Polo is hoping to have a chat with the President of Brazil. The cable car scene tellingly divulges my age: it is of course inspired by James Bond’s rooftop struggles with bad guy Jaws in Moonraker, starring Roger Moore. However, it also provides a good way of weaving in a bit of extra information about the extent to which indigenous groups get embroiled in the notorious exploitation of the Amazon and its inhabitants. I was surprised to find out from my research that not all indigenous groups are quite as innocent as world media like to make out, and in the interest of providing my readers with truthful food for thought I wanted to include this (p.35).

The other stereotype in Rio is with the beach football game in which Penguin, wearing a No.10 Brazil shirt no less (he must have nicked it), manages to become top goal scorer and is celebrated amid much Samba dancing and carnivalesque merriment. Anyone who knows their football history may also notice a subtle nod to recently departed Pelé in the form of the shoeshine boy on page 38 (Pelé famously started his football career after himself having been a shoeshine boy living in poverty). Penguin benevolently bestows both his shirt and trophy upon this Pelé reincarnation and this was also a neat ploy to quickly get rid of both items as soon as possible (I couldn’t keep drawing Penguin in a Brazil football shirt lugging a massive trophy around!).

What is definitely not a stereotype but in fact quite the opposite is the sequence of events in one of Rio’s infamous favelas, or shanty towns. These cover much of the Rio heights and are still the nest of armed drug-related criminals and street gangs who make Rio a very dangerous city. However, I discovered a paper about a very different story in one particular favela with a wonderful community spirit that includes actual climate actions (p.37 – note the words in blue. This is a system I use to refer the reader to a technical section at the back of the book where the words in blue are explained in a sort of annotated glossary). I wanted to celebrate this in the book, largely to counteract the mostly negative technical content in the Amazon, and this was a perfect opportunity to do so. As so often in Captain Polo’s dialogues, there is also a quick reference to climate justice when Polo’s new friend explains how it is the poorest areas of Río de Janeiro that suffer the worst effects of climate change. Polo’s visit to the favela provides a natural progression to the next few scenes — as yet undrawn — that celebrate more positive news: the stellar work of Brazilian NGOs and conservationists restoring the heavily fragmented and yet biodiverse Atlantic Forest. I recently completed a consultancy with BirdLife International that involved writing a communications article about this work, and this provided me with handy technical information to throw into the comic.

Where next for Captain Polo?

So, what’s next? I aim to publish Polo in Brazil sometime this year, and like Books 1 to 4 it will be available from all major book retailers online. Those wishing to make a pre-order will be able to do so, and I will be posting about this on social media in due course.

This fifth book in the series is taking so long to finish I find it hard to think of its sequel, technically the final book in the second trilogy. However, this book will exist, and it will see our friends Captain Polo and Penguin finally reach the Antarctic, probably stopping over in Argentina. No idea how I will end that story, but you may be sure Tex and his epiphany will be involved, Conor will somehow reappear after a long and life-changing experience being lost in South America, and there will be lots of ice. Oh yes, and probably a new villain.


Find more

Alan is an award-wnning author, with ten children’s books: most of them graphic novels and comics, including the growing and highly acclaimed Adventures of Captain Polo series about climate change. Polo books 1, 2, 3 and 4 have all won awards (the Literary Titan Gold Award for the first three), and Alan’s graphic novel Charles Darwin and the Theory of Natural Selection has won two awards. 

The Captain Polo character is the inspiration behind the Captain Polo Academy as a global brand promoting environmental and climate literacy, helping people and institutions who work on biodiversity conservation, climate change and education achieve greater positive impact.

You can sample more of Captain Polo’s adventures in Pole to Pole, a short feature in our Creative Showcase. And Alan contributed a short piece on Environmental Justice as part of our Environmental Keywords series.

Alan J. Hesse

Alan J. Hesse

An author-illustrator, educator and conservation biologist inspired by nature's majesty and fragility and the need to protect it and who believes that education should be fun.