Can you start by giving us an overview of your practice and what led you to explore the intersection of biodiversity conservation and care?

As an ‘early career’ artist, albeit one relatively 'long in the tooth', my creative practice builds upon many years as an interdisciplinary academic/teacher/researcher/practitioner working in biodiversity conservation, environmental education, and anthropology. I am also a qualified cabinet-maker and teacher of traditional woodland crafts. In 2020 I took early retirement to exercise my creative muscles, primarily exploring human/nature discourses through a narrative practice engaging with objects (natural and human-made), representation, and a wide range of processes. In so doing, I have hoped to challenge or illuminate some of the prevailing epistemological frameworks and positionalities that underpin the predominant environmental and conservation narratives, and offer novel and interesting ways of engaging with and understanding these discourses. I am comfortable experimenting with almost any materials and ways of making and am keen to collaborate with the like-minded.

For as long as I can remember I have cared about, for and in nature - whether in the context of, for instance: my teaching many biodiversity conservation topics; the simple act of rescuing and releasing a trapped insect; participation in practice-based projects aimed at improving human livelihoods in parallel with those of local wildlife, or, most recently, whilst developing my creative practice e.g. through my L’antscrapes series.

Your creative practice is deeply rooted in the intersections of biodiversity conservation, environmental education, and anthropology. How do these interconnected themes inform and shape your artistic vision and approach?

I endeavour to draw upon my rich seam of knowledge and experience gained over the years across these disciplines to identify and communicate engaging aspects and novel perspectives that the reader can notice and appreciate - although without being didactic in the process. Each process of making can thereby be informed from one or more of these disciplines as they relate to nature and my artistic objective at any one time, as well as emerging from the spaces in which they intersect, or indeed, contradict each other. Often the vision emerges from the approach or the process of making….

In your artist statement, you expressed an intent to challenge existing epistemological frameworks within environmental and conservation narratives. Could you please elaborate on this perspective and how it guides your artistic exploration?

The disciplines and professions concerned with the environment and conservation are dominated by a prevailing epistemology that is ‘positivistic’ – essentially underpinned by the conventional scientific paradigm that defines that which constitutes valid knowledge (‘facts’) about the natural world i.e. knowledge produced through the analysis of data generated by experiment, comparison, and other standardised formulaic procedures. This is all well and good, and indeed, necessary insofar as we need measures by which we can assess processes and interventions. However, my own research, together with my community-based conservation project experience, notably in Mexico, Borneo and India, tells me that spiritual and other affective connections with the natural world are key to how people treat it. For instance, Indian’s value many key species because they deem them to be sacred, and although some anthropologists might understand this to be derived from a deeply, long-held, culturally expressed recognition of important ecological interrelationships, nevertheless the immaterial is key to the Indian cosmology.

Some years ago a colleague observing my work recommended I read the anthropologist Tim Ingold, in particular his book Making, which argues that the process of making constitutes its own form of knowledge production; a unique epistemological process. I did, and I realised that this was what I had been doing for many years without being able to name it. When I am making in a process of seeking to voice some different aspect, nuance, perception or even ‘facts’ about the natural world, I see this as challenging the prevailing epistemology; and hopefully in a way that is effectively communicated to the reader so as to get them thinking……

Can you discuss the concept of "symbiotic collaboration" with the Southern Wood Ant that you've incorporated into your L'antscrape series? What inspired this unique approach to your art-making process?

I must confess that it was another artist who suggested the use of ‘symbiotic’ to describe my L’antscrape series (no apologies for the rather bad pun to describe me as a Lantscrape artist!). I first resisted the idea because I thought symbionts were obligate – they couldn’t exist without each other. However, having checked the dictionary, I realised that my work with the wood ants (with some stretch of the imagination) might be categorised as a ‘long-term, close relationship between two organisms of different species’. It takes 2-3 years to produce a piece, and I am monitoring ‘my’ nests to make sure they are OK, and mapping them to work out how many belong to a single colony and its satellites so as to build a picture of the overall population that can inform the University Estates management of their habitat. And of course I am also publicising these amazing ‘keystone’ and ‘ecological engineer’ species through my making. 

As to inspiration; the idea came to me whilst teaching traditional woodland management and craft skills to students in a small woodland on my university campus. I noticed wood ants’ nests, which are generally best avoided since the ants bite and squirt formic acid in defence, were often associated with a fallen tree or log and that these timbers had been cleaned back to the hardest parts by the action of the ants in creating their thermally controlled compost heap homes. That is when I began experimenting; placing timbers in their nests, then waiting patiently whilst they did their part of the ‘bargain’….. before carefully extracting, treating and mounting the results.

Your work, "Shell Art of War", conveys a message about environmental destruction and survival. How do you navigate the balance between highlighting these critical issues while offering a constructive, pro-environmental perspective through your art?

‘With difficulty!’ is the easy answer. But in all honesty it is a consideration that should be kept in mind and constantly revisited. For instance, my idea for a (sadly, failed) commission bid was to make a significantly larger version of Shell Art of War by referencing a 203mm howitzer shell of the type being used by the Russian army in Ukraine on their 2S7 Pion self-propelled guns (and likely also employed by the Ukrainian army given its previous close ties with Russia). These guns can fire 3 rounds every 2 minutes, with a range of up to 47 kilometres. Notwithstanding the large amounts of carbon oxides released upon exploding (~2000 litres/shell), it is sobering to consider that each has a 'kill radius' of ~50-150m, 'typically' 80m, and a 'danger close' radius of over 500m (serious injury). So, this piece would embody an immediate reference to, and knowledge of, the climate crisis and global warming, together with the human and environmentally disastrous ongoing war in Ukraine and its associated technologies. However, it is difficult to offer a constructive ‘balance’ beyond re-conceptualising shell-art differently from the kitsch. Perhaps the essential darkness of this piece would (and should) suffice……..

Can you tell us more about the submitted work, The Leshy? What narrative or ideas are you aiming to communicate to your audience through this particular work?

Having spent many an hour in woodlands, whether teaching, observing, gathering resources sustainably, or just imbibing the aura, I feel a need, indeed a responsibility, to give voice in some way to the forest and its inhabitants. The idea for the Leshy emerged from a large piece originally selected as one of my L’antscrape series. In being such an impressive piece (and I could hardly lift it!) I decided to mount it at head height up on a post, but when I did, it transformed into a head of a creature that was looking at me! So I crafted a body from an old apple tree trunk in my garden that I had recently cut down because it was coming to the end of its life, and added other pieces to emerge the creature, including a driftwood arm pointing at the observer. 

At the same time, I researched some of the many forest deities that are remarkably ubiquitous across the world, selecting the Leshy because of his power to treat forest users according to the care and respect they give his domain. He points accusingly at us, warning the visitor to act wisely, tread carefully and honour the forest, or face the consequences, which may range from acts of mischievousness to dire punishment or even death. On display (if ever this comes to pass!) Leshy would demand his audience to offer votives pledging good behaviour in his realm.

Is there a specific piece from your portfolio that holds deep personal or meaningful significance for you?

I’m choosing Planet Earth 0, because it both helped me make the transition from academic to creative, and embodies a fundamental understanding of how I see our relationship with the natural world and the nature of representation.

Beyond its critique of Attenborough’s original TV series for having lacked critical engagement with the anthropogenic processes destroying the natural world, it posits the process of technological image capture as reinforcing the idea that nature/landscape/ environment is separate from the human – that we exist outside or in contrast to it. It thereby also honours Magritte’s argument that representation is just that, the ‘Treachery of Images’ that compromises, whilst being fundamental to, the human condition (see also: This is Not Me, Not Smoking, Not a Pipe – 2023; Tribute to Magritte – 2009).

The use of natural materials like timber and shells in your art serves not only an aesthetic purpose but also contributes to environmental conservation. Can you share how you integrate sustainability principles into your creative process?

Virtually all my work involves objects and materials I rework (or ‘upcycle’); mainly natural, though some anthropogenic. Much of this practice results in objects that lock up carbon in materials that would otherwise slowly degrade back into the environment through natural processes (e.g. decaying timbers and eroding sea shells), and I seek to convey this fact in accompanying interpretative text. However, I can’t pretend to be super ‘sustainability correct’, for I do use preservatives, electric tools, and commercial acrylic paints, for example.

Do you believe that engaging in artistic expression is a mode of nurturing? If so, what are the reasons behind this perspective?

Yes. I believe that, at least for me, artistic expression has a double nurturing function. It offers a perspective to others that, hopefully, engages their thinking about some aspect(s) of the natural world, and thereby serves to nurture the discourse to some extent. Yet exercising one’s creativity also nurtures one’s own spirit and imagination, as well as encouraging a self-critical evaluation of one’s work (and perhaps one’s self!), together with ways of improving and developing one’s practice. So yes, very much a nurturing process.

What message or call to action would you like to leave our readers with?

As many do, you can make art that is all about you; even art that expresses something that even you do not know what it is. Yet you might instead seek to give voice to those beings and entities less able to express themselves, or to an idea that might cause others to think a little differently about the world – particularly the natural world. But whatever you do, exercise your creative muscle. Otherwise, it will wither away! 

Find more about the artist here.

Cover image: Sentinals by Ian Bride. Image courtesy of Ian Bride.

See Below - Ian Bride with Planet Earth 0. Image courtesy of Ian Bride.