Hunter Museum of American Art

Connecting Art and Nature

By Tia Capps

Years ago, people were certain that in this very decade, we would all have flying cars, pet robots and food in pill form.  Although that hasn't happened, we have come a long way technologically. I look at how I spend my free time, for example: If I'm not surfing the net or watching reruns of The Office, I can usually be found updating my iPod, chatting on my cell phone or playing the Wii.

In short, modern conveniences (and inconveniences) infiltrate most of my day-to-day experiences. It's the mark of this era, and I think it's glorious-except for one little problem. Sometimes, when everything gets quiet, I get the nagging feeling that I've become somewhat disconnected from my origins. My existence is so civilized, so computerized. What happened to the days when life consisted of plowing the fields and catching dinner from the great outdoors? Is this really how we're meant to live?

A couple of weeks ago, I got the chance to visit the Hunter Museum's William Morris exhibit, Myth, Object and the Animal. The glass pieces in the exhibition are inspired by archaeology and ancient civilizations and whisper the story of a more primitive way of life-a time when man and Mother Nature were more intimately intertwined. As I strolled around the gallery, those old, familiar questions began pushing their way back to the surface.

I blame this on one piece in particular: Cache. It's a huge arrangement of elephant tusks, bones and skulls that resembles an ancient burial ground. I circled the piece a couple of times before my eyes zeroed in on some of the smaller details in the arrangement-the spears and the human skulls, to be specific. I began fantasizing about the possible pre-skeletal scenario: Man creeps up behind elephant with spear, planning his kill. Elephant senses danger, spots the man and tramples him. Man fights back with spear, but is powerless against the sheer force and weight of his opponent. Battle rages on, both die.

It all seemed so primal. I mean, I've never had to fight an elephant before. I hunt my food with a shopping cart and a credit card.

Then I wondered, just how far removed are we from this type of existence? From our ancestors whose very lives depended on their daily interactions with nature in the raw?

A BBC Wildlife magazine recently polled nine 11-year-olds and found that playing outside was the least popular way they spent their time. The study touched on concerns that the widening gap between children and nature-often the result of adults afraid of the dangers of playing outside, or of damage to the environment-is interfering with kids' social development. So, what does this mean? Are we becoming a culture that lets the wonder of things made by man eclipse the magic of nature?

These were thoughts I never really considered before, but standing in the midst of the exhibit's colorful array of pots, bones, human heads and tiny animals, the questions hit close to home.

Even more interesting to me was that this idea, this question of man's role in respect to nature, is explored through a medium as fragile as glass. As I stared at the bones and spears intertwined within Cache, I had to wonder if the piece was actually hinting at man's battle against his own fragility. Pondering this question, I began to realize just how universal and timeless that battle actually is. Just as the ancient peoples used spears and crude tools to protect themselves from the curious and unrelenting forces of nature, do we use our technologies to create a false of control over the earth?

The Morris exhibition gives no definitive answer to these questions, but only raises them. It presents man's exploration of his relationship with nature and reminds us of our connection to the great, living, throbbing being that is Mother Earth. So if you're feeling a little out of touch with nature or consumed by modern life, take a stroll through Myth, Object and the Animal and see what kinds of questions-or answers-it raises for you.

"I wonder if anyone else has an ear so tuned and sharpened as I have, to detect the music, not of the spheres, but of earth, subtleties of major and minor chord that the wind strikes upon the tree branches. Have you ever heard the earth breathe... ?"

- Kate Chopin

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