How did The Legend of Hidden Hollow demonstrate the principle of sustainability? Part 1

As I begin this blog, it is a sunny fall day in Salt Lake City, but two-and-a-half weeks ago, the Saturday when Brolly Arts (http://www.brollyarts.org/) presented The Legend of Hidden Hollow in Sugar House, it was raining hard. Amy McDonald Sanyer and I had been watching the weather reports each day—predictions of sun and low 80s a week before--yeah!-- then a thunderstorm just days in advance. We hoped the report would change again, but, no, Saturday the weatherman predicted rain in the late afternoon and he (or she) was right. At just a little after three, when our multi-arts event began, first it drizzled, then poured. Would the performers run for cover? Would the artists take their installations and go home? Would the audience leave? We expected the worst, but got the best. I guess Utahns are not easily deterred: the performances went on, the art stayed in place, and the audience continued to enjoy the many offerings until the very end. I can’t find the words to say how grateful we were and how magically the artists transformed Hidden Hollow Natural Area—beyond our imaginings. (Photo by Laurie Bray below)

My purpose in beginning this blog, however, is not to extoll Brolly Arts events, but to explore how the much-discussed idea of sustainability might apply to the various arts today. Since I helped produce The Legend of Hidden Hollow, I thought a reflecton on a few of the art works and performances that were included would be a good way to begin thinking about this. I should preface this by saying that the event focused on a place—Hidden Hollow—in

both its ecological and historical aspects, so some of the works were inspired by the natural environment and some by historical events. So I won't be talking about the historically-oriented work, just some of the many works with some immediate connection to nature.

The word "sustainability" has been used so much lately, that first I need to think about what this word means. For now I'll accept the definition of the Brundtland Report of the World Commission on Environment and Development: “meeting the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their needs.” Sort of the Golden Rule applied across generations. The Brundtland Report was referring to development, but doesn't this ethical principal apply to all human activity today? If so, then it must apply to art. But how? For now, I'd like to see if I can adapt the Brundtland language to the arts: to satisfy the established social and psychological roles of art (to uplift, rejuvenate, express beauty and feeling, etc.), but to do this in a way that is mindful of the needs of future generations (for example, to have adequate resources and a healthy environment).

How might such goals translate into sustainable art? This will be a matter for many discussions—by you and by me—but for now I can mention a few. The roles of art have been discussed at length for centuries, so I won't worry about those. Rather I'll consider a few ways that the arts can be mindful of the needs of future generations and then see if any of these can be applied to the works on display at The Legend of Hidden Hollow. One way art corresponds to the sustainability principle is to draw attention to the features of a specific ecology so that we know it better and are motivated to preserve it. Another way is when artists employ used or natural materials, rather than adding to the waste stream with new materials. Were either of these two ways evident in the art works or performances in The Legend of Hidden Hollow? I think they were and so I'll discuss a few of these, bearing in mind that the principle of sustainability may NOT have been the artists’ intention, although often I think it was.

Some of the artworks definitely drew attention to the ecology of Hidden Hollow in a way that might inspire reverence or appreciation. An evident example is Doug Wright’s long poem, “The Hymn of Hidden Hollow,” recited by 17 members of the Westminster College Theater Club in unison as they stood on a bridge over Parley’s Creek (getting drenched by the rain, I might add). The poem paid tribute to the Creek that runs through the Hollow and all the wildlife it supports. A few lines will make the point and give the flavor of the poem: “Here earth/water and air/converse and coalesce,/becoming a place where breath/surges and reaches/through living things/beckoned and sustained/by the grace of the stream.” (Photo by Ashley Haines below)

Near the bridge with the poem reciters, Marie Mortenson recreated a line from Wright’s poem in an art installation, appropriately made of twigs and hemp twine suspended between trees. This work fits both of my tests of sustainable art. (Photo by Ashley Haines below)

I don’t usually think of dance as having a sustainability or environmental focus, but as I watched In the Ivy, choreographed by Natosha Washington and Nicholas Cendese and performed beautifully by RawMoves, I felt a heightened awareness of the specific features of one, little segment of Hidden Hollow. As the nine dancers--like the reciters wet to the skin--moved gracefully through the space, they drew my attention to the far side, then the Creek, then to the sloping rise and trees, an ancient fallen log, and even the poison ivy, which gave rashes to several dancers. (Photo by Laurie Brary below)

In another location, it was music which made me experience the natural setting more intensely. For her Musical Meditation, Cassie Olson sat with her cello on a makeshift platform in the middle of the Creek, improvising music that seemed to echo the flowing water and the serenity of the setting. Climbing down into the Hollow close to her, the encompassing banks of the river created the perfect acoustics for her performance, a reminder that nature is known and appreciated with all our senses. (Photo by Neal Olson on right)

Several art installations also drew attention to the natural features of Hidden Hollow: Trent Thursby Alvey’s Water Meditation, whose tiny floating raft responded to the rising waters of the Creek as the storm progressed (no photo). Shawn Porter’s Impermanence of Containment reminded me of nature's (and art’s) fragility, with plaster balls held within the hollow of a tree by slender branches. (Photo by Laurie Brary below)

Sandy Brunvand’s Hidden Conversations: Stones for Bevan (no photo) offered a brilliant way to make child and adult alike connect to the environment in an intimate and unexpected manner. It’s not the stones with special words painted in gold that was so cool, but the fact that people were asked to take these (or ones they'd inscribed with their own words) and hide them out of sight for someone else, who explored Hidden Hollow really, really closely, to find.

In my next blog, I'll talk about a few works that manifest concern for future generations.

Copyright 2007 Patricia Sanders

For more information see: Maja and Reuben Fowkes, The Principles of Sustainability in Contemporary Art at http://greenmuseum.org/generic_content.php?ct_id=265 and “Environmental Art” in Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Environmental_art