Lisa Bloom, Elena Glasberg and Laura Kay,
"Introduction"
(page 3 of 5)
Same Territories, New Strategies
The contributors to this special issue offer a range of alternatives
to the imagination, whether scientific or cultural, of such a
masculinist and western approach to the regions and the challenges of
living and working in them. The contributors attend to the different
ways that time passes in extreme environments; they listen to the
environment—literally to its sounds and figuratively to its meanings;
they photograph their surroundings from unusual angles, sometimes
emphasizing immense expanses and sometimes emphasizing the mundane
minimalism of living in rigidly enclosed spaces. While tourists are
often taken to sites that enhance the Arctic and Antarctic's
"atmospheric" and "well-maintained" pristine image, an anti-colonialist
artist such as Subhankar Banerjee dedicates his conservationist ethics
to show, through his photographs of animal migration patterns, the
urgent environmental problems that face the Alaskan Arctic and its
inhabitants, Gwich'in and Inupiat Americans. Originally trained as a
scientist, since 2001 Banerjee has been working as both an artist and
activist for the protection of the native Inupiat and Athabaskan
Gwich'in against incursion and contamination by the fossil-fuel
industry, which was already dangerously close to the Arctic Wildlife
Preserve in the oil and gas fields known as Prudhoe Bay.
For both the Arctic and Antarctic, photography has been a critical
tool. In the case of Banerjee's work, his images, which serve as both
art and as scientific data, are inspired by Alaska's native people and
the wildlife on which they depend. Banerjee's photographs remind us
that scientific projects also have an aesthetic dimension, perhaps not
apparent in scientific accounts, but which Banerjee is careful to
foreground in his photographs. Unlike other art photographers who were
promoting conservation, such as in the work of Elliot Porter, discussed
in this issue by Elena Glasberg, Banerjee's landscapes
create a different way of seeing landscape that deviates from the norm
of, for example, a Sierra Club coffee table book. Banerjee photographs
the Arctic National Wildlife Preserve as a living space that is home not
only to indigenous people but to thousands of animals that pass through,
rather than as a blank space or wilderness. As Banerjee writes: "My
engagement with the Arctic and its people and wildlife is to create a
visual culture of the often mystified, obscured, unrepresented
connections that make land-as-home."
For Joyce Campbell art also supplements what the maps of official
history leave out. There is a lingering fascination with sublime nature
as awesome, overwhelming, and simultaneously humbling in her work on
Antarctica, which, unlike Banerjee's, records an alien icescape devoid
of humans and wildlife. Campbell's work also uses the genres of gothic
and horror to reinvigorate the sublime, and thus creates tension between
the traditional heroic landscape images and those of the present. If
Campbell uses the sublime to create photographs epic in scale, she also
deliberately documents the cracks, crevasses and pressure ridges to
reveal that something terrible is also happening in this beautiful but
extreme landscape.
Artists such as Jane Marsching,
Connie Samaras, Andrea Polli, Paul
Miller (DJ Spooky), and Marina Zurkow take another direction
altogether and have little interest in reassessing the colonial era, and
generally use less traditional artistic means to confront the issue of
climate change in their work. We have become used to seeing global
warming in polar regions represented though the iconic images of Arctic
polar bears and Antarctic penguin colonies trapped by melting ice floes.
Perhaps even more striking are the scientific visualizations—the
images from space showing the changes in ice surface area and thickness,
the seasonal hole in Earth's ozone layer in polar regions, and the
Manhattan-sized chunks of Antarctica breaking away from the main
continent and drifting off. Some of our contributing artists explicitly
utilize scientific imagery in their work. Jane Marsching's video shows
the effect of possible rising sea levels from melting polar ice caps on
the major populated cities of planet Earth. Andrea Polli and Paul
Miller use the sounds of the ice in Antarctica, combined with images of
scientific data, in their multimedia productions Ground Truth and
Terra Nova: Sinfonia Antarctica. Zurkow's animation shows us an
Arctic space already so disembodied and iconic—the floating iceberg—that
it creates a hyper-real arctic occupied by cherubic kids wielding
automatic weapons and stranded animals. Zurkow's work creates an
apocalyptic commentary on social breakdowns in the lower 48, as well as
discourses of the future sentimentally linked to children. Miller's
poster series for the "People's Republic of Antarctica" looks instead to
the past of Communist revolution. Countering imperialist flag planting,
Miller is interested in the free utopian potential of Antarctica, one
that looks back to historical political models, but like Zurkow and
Polli, towards new media renderings of an alternate "space" of
Antarctica. These new works extend the utopic potential of political and
scientific endeavors, including the IPY and ATS, which have created
Antarctica as an international territory devoted to scientific research
and non-military interaction. Some have even articulated a vision of
Antarctica as a global space for peace.[13] But these artistic
adventures also question the ability of contemporary international
science and geopolitics to maintain a course for Antarctica as a part of
the world system, not a serviceable exception to it.
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