We danced for just under an hour. Emerging like an organism from a mineral stone circle, traversing a very mundane human landscape of children playgrounds and picnic areas, following concrete paths laid out flat and smooth. Creating a collective mass movement in the lawn, intertwining our bodies to stand in for a felled beech tree that had stood iconic for decades - until not any longer. The last choreographic score of the show was meant to support the transition into spoken word at the closing gathering, where we would share our visions and ideas for ecological action with each other, and was set in a little groove of trees split in half by a concrete path. I found myself looking straight at this tree, all of my attention focused into intentional presence, drawing me into a small hole on its trunk. I swayed forward, extending my hand towards it on invitation… a robin flew out at me, outraged by the closeness, nipping my palm and drawing a little scratch of red blood. This caused a palpable wave of awe to pass through the audience, like it might have if I had just performed a dangerous stunt or impressive skill. Such moments of enchantment awaken what David Abrams called “the spell of the sensuous”, and help reset what our position to nature is - not separate or subordinate, inert or inane, but spontaneous, mysterious and unpredictable.

What we have been exploring with glanio is a layering of the relationships between the stories of our bodies, the magic of place the piece is conjuring, the inherent stories in all places and their ecology (which can speak as loudly through absence as well as presence). This enmeshment is happening whether we pay attention or not, and inviting people to be part of this work and into a collective experience is part of the enlivening being offered. The Welsh idiom “dod yn ôl at fy nghoed” provides the anchor for the piece and the whole project really: a feeling of belonging to a living landscape is inherent in Welsh culture, and this phrase offers a timely reminder that we all have a place waiting for us with our trees.

Making art for public space is not a decision taken lightly; it creates lots of production challenges, tests equipment and pushes bodies hard. Rain, wind, sun can affect and even call off a performance, artists can be stretched to new limits as they encounter and adapt to the conditions in public space, and these limits must be negotiated moment by moment, each performance risk assessed in turn. Yet this is precisely the most exhilarating component of art making ecologically, this encounter with the animate nature of everything, the awakening of a feeling of aliveness in the fabric of space itself. Agency in this context is not solely in the hands of the artist / performer; indeed the performance extends well beyond the sphere of control of the artist. The public have agency about where to stand, how to move, where to look, and crucially the elements of space and the materials employed have agency as well. This is a good foundation for democratizing art making, and stands in stark contrast to the logic of commodification and financialisation extending from natural capital and ecosystem services through to personal experience and public space, and so accelerating the dispossession and disconnection of people and nature. Reclaiming the distinctiveness of each place and drawing attention to the living beings and relationships present in the space, no matter how every day it feels, can be a useful tool to resist this.

Could we target ecological agents like the nesting robin by audience inclusion measures? Performances in public space are more inclusive by default, and so are likely to reach more diverse audiences - what else could we achieve by design? Will audiences hands reach in to stroke the moss, will noses open up to the smell of soil, eyes soften to the peripheral? What doorways can we open to let the world in? Changing our ways of working can produce direct ecological benefits, either through net biodiversity gain, such as when using installations or living sculptures that create or improve habitats, or by increasing the connection and appreciation that precedes further stewardship. Celebrating urban ecologies, which thrive on vacant space and marginalized land - the same kind of space that is often made available for art use - can be empowering and inspiring for audiences for a long time into the future.

Art work, ecology and public space strike me as being about encounters. I believe bringing together artistic expression and ecological consciousness, at this crucial inflection point that amounts to an epochal challenge, is available to every practitioner and art form. There are metrics and impact assessments, green riders and, crucially, training available now to show pathways for emission reduction in artistic productions. While aligning the whole creation process with ecological values can be extremely challenging, there are striking opportunities to employ methods that inspire awe, foster care and support the stewardship of nature across the whole cycle of work, from the creative and production teams through to relationships with the public and funders. All those difficult conversations make sense when an audience participant tells you they will never look at that nook the same way again.

Fin Jordão

Fin Jordão is a biologist, writer and dancer currently slow touring a co-created ecological outdoor dance work glanio - meaning ‘landing’ in Welsh. They were a contributor to the Arts Council of Wales Culture Shift report and Climate Justice Strategy.