I live in the countryside and I love nature and I think I could not live without the thousand shades of green that pass through the seasons, the sound of birds, the buzzing of bees, the bleating of sheep, the neighing of horses … and I see how the world is changing.
Nature will find a way to survive, it’s resilient, and like a thousand other species have, I’m convinced that we’re doomed to extinction, at least as structured as we are now.
So I wonder if there will be and what will be our future as human beings?
With these words, artist Manoji Yachvili (Onceagain) introduces us to a provocative essay-in-art exploring our relationship with our home world; questions of life within the broader solar system (and by extension, our galaxy as a whole); on the genuine threat of climate change, and questions of our survival as a race, and how we might recall Earth, should we survive the ecological destruction we are actively encouraging each and every day.
Entitled Lost the Last, the installation is particularly provocative for me, as it focuses in part on the questions of life on Mars and the potential for humanity to settle thereon. Or perhaps “dangerous” might be a better term; I’ve been both directly and indirectly involved in the questions related to the human exploration of Mars (up to and including working with Mars analogue environments and looking at questions of human factors), all of which could so easily cause me to superimpose my own commentary on certain things rather than focusing on the installation itself (such as dwelling on the bunkum idiocy of a certain CEO of a commercial space venture and his “plan” for “colonising” Mars).
It is possibly this wider focus on Mars, coupled with our on-going efforts to explore it and seek answers to basic questions as to what happened there to both turn it from a warm, wet planet, possibly harbouring basic life, and what happened to that life;, which caused Manoji to focus on it within this installation. As such, there is perhaps a temptation to critique it in light of the references to climate change on the basis that the latter is unlikely to cause Earth to drift into a Mars-like state of potential frozen stasis, but rather push us increasingly towards the broiling hell we know as Venus.
However, I would venture to suggest such critiques are put aside, as the focus should be on the broader questions asked by the installation, and what any potential colonisation of Mars, coupled with the global failure on the parts of governments and corporations to really work to reverse – or at least slow – the critical overload with are placing on this planet in terms of climate impact and pollution, might mean for this planet.
The installation itself forms two halves. The first – which housed the installation’s Landing Point – presents a barren landscape, seemingly rusted with iron oxides. It carries a very Mars-like feel to it, but it is not Mars. It is a dead (or near-dead) Earth. This is shown by the remnants of a high-rise building to one side of the setting, an old highway information sign and evidence of even old ruins from humanity’s past. The Landing Point sits within a small structure – and I would suggest spending a minute or two examining the contents of this room prior to moving on; they have a lot to say for themselves.
A gallery lies a short walk from the Landing Point, the hazmat figure standing in front of it again suggesting this is in fact Earth, albeit Earth with a clearly noxious atmosphere. Within this gallery lies an exhibition of art carefully crafted to aid in illustrating the idea that we are the architects of Earth’s – and our own – doom. Mixed with the images are 3D pieces by various artists, selected by Manoji, they further underscore the themes of loss and memory.
There are some apparent anachronisms here: The space suited figure apparently cannot survive without their suit and helmet as they explore what is left of Earth, but horses and trees can. However, as we know from Mars, life – admittedly in its more basic forms – is remarkably hardy and able to survive in environments utterly hostile to us. As such, I would suggest the inclusion of horses and trees within some of the images is intended to be a metaphor for this fact: we can more easily relate to life persevering when Nature has turned Her back on us, rather than depictions of more basic life we might not recognise.
On encountering the far wall of this space (walk into it), visitors will be asked to accept a local Experience (if they haven’t in a previous visit). This will teleport them to the second part of the installation: a base on Mars.
Surrounded by a backdrop which put me in mind of the Columbia Hills (not that this is remotely relevant), the base serves as a place where memories of all we have lost are kept alive – at least in miniature: ideas of open homes where we were once free to breathe the air outdoors; places rich in grass where the creatures with which we once shared our home world could wander; a place where water flowed freely, without having to be canned and rationed. It serves as an illustration of what we stand to lose if we persist in making Earth hostile towards us, and all we stand to lose.
Evocative and with much to say, Lost the Last should be seen, explored and considered.
SLurl Details
- Lost the Last (SLEA3, rated Moderate)
Inara Pey: Living in a Modemworld 