A fragment on film of the climate catastrophe
Broken Spectre by Richard Mosse
After entering the rather bland exterior of 180 The Strand, I wasn’t ready for the moist closeness of the atmosphere that filled the room from Mosse’s photography and immersive film. His subject was the Amazon rainforest and the Indigenous people that reside there. More than that, however, he was attempting to encapsulate enormous scalar shifts in single photos.
The ability to represent the massive which is the culmination of a multitude of tiny reasons is addressed by Mosse’s first photo as you enter the gallery. Ultraviolet tones rise up from its surface to greet the eyes. The effect is as if your eyes are the camera that is learning to focus. The colours are seen first followed by what is contained in the image – a Praying Mantis balanced atop a Venus Flytrap. A microcosm of life held within the Amazon rainforest. This helps demonstrate how the slow, almost imperceptible violence that occurs, like the chopping of one tree at a time can effect, quite literally, the bigger picture. Both these creatures encapsulated in the photo are predators but the real predator, man of the Global North, is missing from the photos until the film spotlights his actions. This first photo decentralises the human from the narrative and focuses on what is being destroyed.
The film begins with a bone jolting crack that contrasts with the quiet reverence everyone keeps whilst shuffling through the gallery. As the tree gets sawn down it crashes and fractures across the sky of the rainforest causing bird calls to scatter in distress. The intense score buzzes and hums in the ear, vibrating through the gut and adding to this audial feast, written by composer Ben Frost. The (potentially illegal) logger chops down a tree with a chainsaw, taking a long time and, apart form the sound, it has pretty much no other instantly visible results. However, these culminate in tipping points for the world which can be seen in his other photos. They depict entire sections of previous rainforest completely destroyed – not just from chainsaws but also floods caused by overflowing rivers and fires that spread far and also deep below the surface of the ground due to the soil being so desiccated. Effects that, in one way or another are caused by chopping down one tree. The scale that is impossible to represent is not just size but also time. The separation of cause, chopping a tree, and effect, floods, fire, pollution etc. means that man does not have to gaze his consequences directly in the face. He can hide behind time. This creates an intergenerational issue as it affects the present, previous and most significantly the generations to come.
Mosse’s exhibition brings to attention the fact that the climate emergency that the Global North are waiting to happen is already happening to Indigenous people and the animals that live in the rainforest. This links again to the film to an extended section recording the plea of an Indigenous woman begging to protect her and her children. She asks the people watching – me, hopefully you and anyone else present – to send their armies to protect their river, their life source which is being polluted. Otherwise, what is the point of filming? This call to action was particularly poignant as often there is the separation again between what is visible, the art, and the people, places and animals that are directly affected by it.
Similar to the image of the Praying Mantis, the film switches to microscopic shots of deep down in the rainforest floor. It is mycelium-like in its ability to create connectivity from tree to tree. Everything connected, with purpose. The film explains how gold mining causes mercury poisoning in the river and deforestation causes degradation of the land and water to rise, affecting the human and non-human creatures that reside there.
The Amazon rainforest appears to be the battleground between fire and water. An unbalanced set of elements causing devastation. Left behind after countless trees are felled is this kind of grid-like structure for cattle ranches or palm plantations. These straight lines are man-made inventions that forces nature to fit their pattern and engage with extractivist capitalism. It is also seen in the last shot of the film where parts of driftwood float across the screen in ultraviolet, an abstract scene that causes the wise words of the Indigenous woman to stick uncomfortably to the skin. Send your armies to save our rivers.
Something that I don’t think this exhibition did was provide information on how to help. To respond to this call. The realisation that Mosse did not listen to this woman catches in my throat and so, in my attempt to help in some small way, here are some you can also provide support:
Listen to and appreciate Indigenous knowledge. They are the experts as this is happening to them right now and they will be able to educate you on what exactly is happening to the Amazon Rainforest.
Be a conscious consumer - leather, palm etc. these are all products that are contributing to destruction. If you can’t cut them out completely then cut down.
Spread the knowledge you find, using your talents to help others.