There is simply no way in which the words here can ever adequately do justice to all that was David Fleming.

A true luminary, David was a brilliant, insightful, endlessly humble and kind man who touched hearts everywhere he went, leaving behind him a flock of inspired souls with a fervent desire to do more for our world. Shaun’s heartfelt post reflects David’s spirit and love wonderfully; a beautiful relationship I was fortunate enough to witness.

Here is a small collection of images that are special to me and remind me of the man who inspired me to carry on working on this journal; who always made me feel like the most wonderful being in the entire world, even when I knew I was falling short. A true gentleman, an irreplaceable loss.

RIP David Fleming, May your light shine on always.

Edvard Munch, ‘Toward the Forest I’, color woodcut, 1857/1915
David Fleming, Richmond Park, 2010
Two poppies at sunset, 2009
Miriam MacGregor, ‘November, (Apple Tree)’, woodcut, 1997

Please send or let me know of any images, artwork, poetry e.t.c. which are special to you in memory of David and I will add them here. For me, I shall be adding many more.

~

Tithe Farm, 1987, Courtesy Biff Vernon
David Fleming with Shaun Chamberlin, Kew, 2009
Sutton-on-Sea, 2010, Courtesy Biff Vernon
June 2010, Courtesy Sarah Nicholl
June 2010, Courtesy Sarah Nicholl

David Buckland, text Amy Balkin, ‘Going to hell on a handcart.’, Ice Art.

The following was originally written for the collaborative book The Future We Deserve:

“The war that matters is the war against the imagination
all other wars are subsumed in it.”

Diane Di Prima

With each day we move towards a necessary revolution. Resource depletion, mass species extinction and the risk of runaway climate change highlight the great flaws in our current worldview and the society it has built. It is in this nebulous inner realm of intuition and story, that a revolution quietly gathers strength. And it is in this realm that art has a unique power. Its intrinsic nature allows it not only to powerfully mirror ‘the now’, but to inspire and demonstrate a vision of where we can go from here.

However, if society is not engaged with these pressing issues or actively debating the absurdity of the current system, then most artists won’t be either. It has taken a painfully long time for the predominant western civilisation to begin to acknowledge the devastating consequences of its current systems. Perhaps then it is no wonder that a lot of the artwork produced in the 21st century comments on excess, commoditisation, self-immortalisation and isolation.

Artists are a part of society, and once they are aware of or involved in a debate, they will inevitably create works that communicate this understanding, whether through content, creation or presentation. But to ask an artist to respond to something that they have little or no understanding of – or interest in – invariably produces work which is contrived and short lived.

Pablo Picasso, ‘Guernica’, Oil on canvas, 1937.

The greatest and most striking artworks tend to emerge instead from the expression of a tension within the artist, usually without a planned agenda. Take for example Picasso’s Guernica, painted almost immediately after the devastating casual bombing on the town of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War and famous for its depiction of the horrors of war. When asked to explain the symbolical references in the painting, Picasso would often refuse.

“…this bull is a bull and this horse is a horse… If you give a meaning to certain things in my paintings it may be very true, but it is not my idea to give this meaning. What ideas and conclusions you have got I obtained too, but instinctively, unconsciously. I make the painting for the painting. I paint the objects for what they are.”

And herein lies our Catch-22. The urgency with which we need to respond to these issues calls for the inspiration that artists carry with them, which could help to move the debate forward into actualisation. Dr. Gerald Bast describes this well:
“The true beauty of art lies in its ability to move us intellectually, motivate us to follow new paths, shape awareness and character, demonstrate interconnectedness and teach us to employ all the things that surround us in a conscious manner. The achievement of social effectiveness can neither be the aim or the purpose of art. Nonetheless art has a social influence, either in the sense of change, or in the spirit of affirmation and conservation.”

U-n-f-o-l-d: A cultural response to climate change, Cape Farewell exhibition catalogue, 2010, Springer-Verlag/Wei

Yet unless artists themselves are genuinely intimately involved in the exploration, and can escape from the commoditisation of the arts sufficiently to find their true voice, then the need for their distinctive contribution may go unmet.

In a sense, the future we deserve is inevitable – we will reap what we sow. But if artists can be released from their bind, then their ability to unite our hearts, minds and imagination could catalyse the creation of a future we all hope for.

‘Red wine, Lipstick and the World in my hand’, 2009

Lately I have noticed two types of artists. Those who steer away from issues triggered by the ‘climate change topic’, and those who openly (or subtly) discuss it through their artwork. Those who stay away from it, tend to do so timidly. It is not that they don’t understand the importance or feel passionately about it, but that where their artwork is concerned they would rather not be viewed as ‘preaching’. On the other hand, there are those who aren’t afraid of being labelled anarchic, or – dare it be said – brimming on activism. Working as a ‘tool’ to press forward someone else’s agenda is one thing (and not something that I personally encourage), but doing something because you genuinely care – becasue every iota in you moves you towards it and there is no way you can ignore it – is something entirely different. We can learn this from the Russian Wanderers and the Zen monks.

That is not to infer that all artists should be talking about the issues surrounding climate change just as it would be absurd to declare that all artists should address feminism, but that we shouldn’t be quick to criticse those who actually have the guts to stand up and say – ‘well forget what the galleries and institutions dictate – forget what the collectors buy – this is what I believe in, this is what affects me, and this is what i want to communicate’, because it is often these artists who develop some of the greatest changes in art form*.

If art is a mirror to the now, a reflection of the self and a hint at what the future can be, then what is happening in the now is something that simply can not be ignored and the evidence of it will inevitably filter through into anything that is created. Ultimately, it’s about having the courage to stand up for what you believe in, whether it includes climate change or not.

*It should not to be assumed that they will be sensational and shocking – in fact, some of the greatest new movements produced incredibly subtle and simple artworks (the Zen monks circa 14 Century, for example). Personally, the beauty in simplicity together with a deep relationship with nature is what I believe our eyes and soul are aching for.

Cornelia Hesse-Honegger, Left, Eyes of the Drosophila Mutant ey.opt. Black painted eyes with different shapes and part of wings growing out of the eyes, Watercolor, 1987.

Right, Scentless plant bug from Würenlingen, Canton Aargau, Switzerland. Left cover wing is blown up like a balloon, Watercolor, Zürich 1988 – 1989.

Nuclear energy is increasingly featuring on government lists as a viable solution to rising energy demands and peak oil. However, sustainable it is not, neither should it be a viable option and there is much research into why this is.

One of the arguments often used against nuclear energy is the devastation caused from potential accidents and the effects of low level radiation on the surrounding environment. Cornelia Hesse-Honegger is an illustrator who has devoted her life to researching the effects of nuclear fallout on small insects and plants.

Her illustrations show malformations on insects such as true bugs, which she believes have been caused from low level degrees of artificial radiation. Through careful collection, examination and documentation of over 16 000 deformed insects over the last two decades from in and around nuclear power plants, Hesse-Honegger concluded that “low-dose artificial radioactivity has, despite much controversy, a significant impact on the biosphere.”

Increasingly, we have been asking ourselves whether artists should be expected to play a role in depicting climate change, but what is important here is that by painting these insects she is bringing to light what would otherwise tend to stay invisible – whether in statistical data, or to the naked eye. What we then do with this acquired information is up to us.

Hesse-Honegger’s paper published in the Chemistry & Biodiversity journal can be downloaded here.

Reggio & Fricke ‘Koyaanisqatsi – Life out of Balance’, film stills, 1982.

Someone at work asked me if I had heard anything by Philip Glass.

No.

Really?! …Are you sure?

No…

Listen to Koyaanisqatsi.

… Kyoanisaskstski…

-Koyaanisqatsi. Listen to it.

Ok.

And I did; quickly realising that it was a film score, decided to listen to it and watch the film at the same time. A couple of decades behind, I finally witnessed what could be one of the most cinematic, poignant and crucial films of our time. Koyaanisqatsi means ‘unbalanced life‘, the result of which is so obvious now. The genius of Koyaanisqatsi is that by purely showing modern western civilisation as it is, without any need for anything else – dialogue, actors, explanations - it demonstrates so powerfully our reliance on and obsession with technology together with our often destructive involvement with nature. Seeing the images unfolding from the viewpoint of the watcher, it almost begins to feel alien. We have provided the story line, the script, and it’s a dizzying and chaotic one.

“If we dig precious things from the land, we will invite disaster.”
“Near the day of Purification, there will be cobwebs spun back and forth in the sky.”
“A container of ashes might one day be thrown from the sky, which could burn the land and boil the oceans.”

Hopi Prophecy, Koyaanisqatsi, 1982

Ed Ruscha, ‘History Kids’.

Sir Edwin Landseer, ‘Man proposes, God disposes’ 1864.

Landseer’s oil painting really is one of the most curious things I’ve come across this week so far.

What is so striking about this painting is not only the title – a bold remark on the futility of ‘man’s vain efforts‘ in planning for a future who’s outcome is ultimately determined by God, but also the juxtaposition of delicate colouring and composition in a raw and brutal scene; powerful polar bears -one tearing at the ship’s flag, the other crushing a small human bone in it’s jaw and both surrounded by blood and broken equipment in a freezing landscape. The wreck depicted is that from the ill-fated expedition of Sir John Franklin.

I am reminded of a proverb often quoted to me by my darling:

When men speak of the future, the Gods laugh.

Art not only has the capability of powerfully mirroring where we are right now, but also has the innate potential to inspire and demonstrate the vision of where we can go from here. This is the most crucial thing that artists can do right now. Personally, I believe there is the possibility of a beautiful and more satisfying tomorrow. As an artist and as a being who is part of this stunning Earth, it is not only my desire, but my responsibility to explore what this could be like and our journey getting there.

Emma Wieslander, ‘Derwentwater I’