Artists Statement
SPIRITS RISING will address the current environmental crisis facing our world through a series of creative photographs. The goal of the arts is to raise awareness and stimulate conversation. We don’t really have time to lose with climate change. The atomic clock is ticking ever closer to midnight. And all the capital and influence in the world, won’t matter if we don’t make it past the next generation.
While photographing in tribal communities and interviewing people there, I began to hear a common refrain.
"The spirits are rising and leaving the land."
From the coral reef, to the toxic lands and logging, the natural world is under assault. People who walk with the earth, (in contrast to those who of us walk on top of it), realize with pristine clarity that human survival is dependent upon a thriving and healthy natural world; replete with abundant plant and animal life, birds and insects, fish and clean waterways.
But over the years, I listened to worried voices say,
"The spirits are rising and leaving the reef."
"The spirits are rising and leaving the Dreamtime."
"Nature has gone quiet. How will we survive?"
In 2009, I interviewed a Tuareg woman said to be one hundred and ten years old. She lived with her family in the Sahara Desert, not far from Timbuktu. She was very frail. Her great grandchildren told me she only spoke a couple of times a week. When I met her, she laid deep in the shadow of her camel skin hut on top of cool sand. I asked her what she most missed about her life. After several minutes, she spoke in a whisper, "I miss how green the desert used to be, and all of the animals that used to be here."
The new work will focus on animals at the edge of extinction and the relationship they have with their rescuers. From there, I plan to photograph the Mongolian horse culture and examine similar relationship between the ancient horse culture and the wild horses of the steppe. Other places of interest include the Sami (reindeer herders) of the north among other places where people remain connected to nature and the wild places. In 2009, I interviewed a Tuareg woman said to be one hundred and ten years old. She lived with her family in the Sahara Desert, not far from Timbuktu. She was very frail. Her great grandchildren told me she only spoke a couple of times a week. When I met her, she laid deep in the shadow of her camel skin hut on top of cool sand. I asked her what she most missed about her life. After several minutes, she spoke in a whisper, "I miss how green the desert used to be, and all of the animals that used to be here."
Please contact me for further details.
Elisabeth Sunday
IturiSun@gmail.com
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