aug 2019 | words on nature
the scale of impact
Micro humans and macro nature in the context of nature photography and social discourse
The Seven Sisters, South England – The Seven Sisters of East Sussex is a formation of undulating chalk cliffs; its grandeur and breathtaking view of the English Channel left me heady under the setting sun. These cliffs, though visited by people everyday, have been left to its own accord to be gradually eroded by the sea.
The Scale of Impact
As admirers, students, and educators, nature photographers strive to capture the essence of the intimate micro and extraordinary macro of the natural world. We photograph creatures on the brink of extinction and landscapes in decay, yet rarely do we include ourselves in the depiction of “nature.” Humans have been detrimental to the environment and the environment has reciprocated in natural disasters. At times, it seems as though adaptation is lost on us. Try as we might to rebuild residences in notorious flood zones or erect dams to reconfigure rivers, nature does not adapt to the tendencies of human nature.
Contemporary climate change has encouraged an introspective thought that, perhaps, it is more the fear that we would not survive in a damaged environment–rather than the fear that nature would not survive us–that has prompted our urgency to address this issue. With photos that seize moments between one human and one nature, “The Scale of Impact” is a showcase of scale. Each photograph is a story of people and the environments they inhabited, altered, and adapted to. Prompting a search for the human subject, “The Scale of Impact” aims to inspire thought into the dynamics between humans and nature.
Iceland: fierce and fragile
The “Land of Fire and Ice.” Straddling the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, Iceland has long been a site of geologic and historical significance, where the unique union of glaciers and volcanoes forged dynamic landscapes, and humans and nature have generated great catastrophes. When the Norse first settled in Iceland in the 9th-century, the landscape underwent dramatic changes. Sheep grazing and foddering, in particular, placed pressure on the local vegetation and, before humans developed rotational grazing strategies, Iceland’s landscape grew barren.
In addition to coping with the consequences of their own practices, the Norse settlers were forced to adapt to Iceland’s fierce landscape. Dense with glaciated volcanoes, an eruption can trigger large floods called “jökulhlaups” (yaw-kuhl-aups). Prior to being better understood, jökulhlaups were disastrous to human settlements, transporting not only torrents through the landscape but also depositing volcanic ash that suffocated cultivated lands. The combination of unrestrained resource use and relentless natural processes tested the Norse’s adaptability in an environment that is at once fragile and fierce. With time and observation, however, the settlers learned to navigate the landscape and Iceland has since become an emblem of environmental and human resilience.
Sólheimasandur, South Iceland – Photographed during a university field trip, my professor is pictured scouting for a route down the hill we ascended to observe our glacio-volcanic study site. Sólheimasandur is formed by glacial erosion and deposition and jökulhlaups triggered by nearby Katla, one of Iceland’s most active volcanoes, and these “Katlahlaups” have rendered Sólheimasandur uninhabitable though remarkable, nonetheless.
greenland: one with nature
As contemporary climate change gains wider recognition, the Arctic entered the spotlight of international affairs. Melting sea ice has opened the isolated Arctic region, generating geopolitical fervor over access to natural resources and creating implications for wildlife, environment, and indigenous communities. However, concerns surrounding climate change have been voiced largely by a non-indigenous population. At least for the Inuit of Qaanaaq, today’s environmental challenges are changes they have been prepared to expect and cope with.
Qaanaaq is an Inuit town in north Greenland, where people have thrived with the knowledge of their ancestors. To remain in the extreme climate and daylight of Greenland, the Inuit have built a tolerance for environmental challenges. Hunters, for instance, still follow their elders’ “circle of life” philosophy, understanding that their own survival depends on the availability and responsible use of natural resources. Instead of using motorboats as hunters do in south Greenland, Qaanaaq hunters continue to use kayaks to avoid disturbing marine wildlife and prevent them from migrating away. Though the magnitude of 21st-century climate change is unprecedented, the Inuit of Qaanaaq are, nonetheless, prepared to navigate environmental challenges.
Qaanaaq, North Greenland – A Qaanaaq hunter feeds his dog team on the sea ice. The bond between hunters and their dogs is mutually dependent and only working together can they navigate the harsh Arctic climate and limited resources.
Ilulissat, South Greenland – Ilulissat is Greenland’s third-largest city and home to Ilulissat Icefjord, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and Jakobshavn Isbrae, the Northern Hemisphere’s fastest-flowing glacier. A hiker foregrounds a colossal iceberg, a scene that left me in wonder that micro humans can accelerate the rate of iceberg calving.
Ilulissat, South Greenland – A kayaker takes to the waters in the dawning dusk and paddles among melted icebergs.
the scottish highlands: a deceptive “pristine"
Long marveled as a place of lore and Scotch mist, the Scottish Highlands have undergone significant transformations under paleo ice sheets and later humans. With more livestock than people, the Highlands is reminiscent of Norse Iceland in that human activity has exerted significant pressure on the landscape. Namely, the extensive hunting of wolves as a means to protect settlements and livestock prompted unforeseen consequences. For a time, it appeared their absence was harmless. But there is always a lag before change is fully realized.
Without wolves, red deer dominated the Highlands. Multiplying at an unnatural and unsustainable rate, deer have threatened native plant populations and biodiversity. In response, a Highland rewilding initiative now seeks to rediscover and recreate equilibrium by reintroducing extinct flora and fauna. Such an effort is not dissimilar to the return of wolves to Yellowstone National Park, though, unlike Yellowstone, the Highlands is not an area meticulously kept pristine. Thus far, rewilding has promise as a conservational approach but not without some cautioning against the use of extreme measures to offset extreme consequences.
Ultimately, are landscapes, such as the Scottish Highlands, considered “natural,” “wild” or “pristine”? And if National Parks, emblems of the natural world and places we seek escape from human nature, are born from meticulous human intervention and design, what does “nature” really mean to us and what influences how we use or protect some landscapes and not others?
Kindrogan, Scotland – Taken in 2015 near Cairngorms National Park, this photo depicts a landscape without buildings, houses, or other signatures of humanity yet the landscape is altered and managed largely by humans. The uniform forest boundary, for instance, is an indication of deliberate sectioning of land for timber production. The grazing sheep is, furthermore, an iconic element of the Highland-scape that was introduced by early settlers.
Featured in the North American Nature Photography Association Blog.