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| Recently, I was in Indonesia, working on some upland tea farms. Given that my accent is perhaps becoming more Malaysian and less American, farmers often asked me where I was from. I answered, "Siya dari Obama-Nation!' This line, after repeated a few times, I found, got me through visa lines at the airport when I was carrying bundles of bark for prints, it got me into taxis, it gave me slaps on the back, and I’m certain that it scored me at least a free beer or two. Often, I found the kudos and hand shakes coming most from rural farmers who didn’t speak a lick of English. The conversation would turn, sometimes, especially with farm and forest managers, to the economy. Food prices make everyday news here. And, last I heard, plywood orders shipped to the big box stores in the states from Malaysia are down fifty percent. The world is sobering. Gambles that we take on land, forests, our export driven food-resource economy are piling up like cars on US freeways (or roads at rush hour in Kuala Lumpur or Jakarta or Bangkok). This can be easy to miss, unless it hits you on the head like a mango branch (or stock market) hanging way too low on a forest footpath. Laughing is always a good first response. It’s especially easy to laugh if your laugh is a snort. That snort, which I found can transform entire families of rice field workers into cackles does a lot to relieve immediate embarrassment (yes, this really happened), But the pain always comes afterward. People ask me how people living in the forest are doing. The truth is that I don’t know enough to know. And, I’m not even sure who to ask. But I do know that rural people are acutely experienced with balancing livelihoods with changing markets, seasons, and climate. At least some of the forest experts I work with are very well aware of changing climate. I wonder, in the next year, if I will meet more forest migrants. I wonder about the power of oil palm, and which way that will sway given the fickle global economy. I spent the months of September and part of October in a forest community that had some things figured out. There was a great deal of local forest knowledge. We did mapping and photography and, just like I’ve been doing all along, we made lots of images together and had lots of conversations about the images. This project of mine was a bit different than some of my others. I had a tight deadline to prepare some of our work for an exhibition. At times, like all writers, researchers, and artists we can feel a bit trapped and pressured, like we are sandwiched between competing priorities and sometimes competing economies. So, I rolled with it. Like my counterparts, I abandoned just about all packaged food. We stayed up late, sometimes running a generator to get work done and sometimes just drinking tapioca wine. I remember dancing late one evening during a community celebration; on another moonlight night I photographed moon penetrating community forest footpaths, thin clouds, and the last train of children running home (or, where they running back to celebrate more?). And I finally learned to catch frogs real good. This happened in the rice fields and later, when one frog got away I found myself jumping into an enchanted pool (with new friends) to playfully chase after it. This is a world where people still really embrace trees (you’ll need to see the images to see why). Bridges span humongous rivers and, when walking them at night, I felt as if I was moving in time with a different world. In the not too distant past, the trails I walked were used as historic trade routes. Salt was extremely valuable. I listened to stories concerning those differences. I spoke with healers, firewood gatherers, and the last few families living in one forest community while indigenous research assistants translated. In one of these places I found a lone boy, all by himself, singing a song to a river. That one moment of Dison (the boy on the rock) singing is one image I don’t think I will ever forget. Those kinds of things become thoughts that weave themselves into my dreams, and, I hope, yours. Here, there are signs of conflict and rapid change (read my caption to one of the images about tasting soil); the community is wrestling with co-managing forestlands. No matter how many outside experts and consultants are involved, this is never an easy task. I was working until the very last minute I left that community, taking notes, meeting with forest experts and spending time with people, often just planting rice, listening, trying to participate. I’d spend my free evenings in a sleeping bag making notes; and I would always have new questions for the next day. On the day I was due to leave, everyone was pre-occupied (see the image about Forest Spirits). So, I used a hand draw sketch map to navigate the trails alone. It wasn’t too difficult, and in the communities I walked through, everyone greeted me. By this time, everyone knew what I was up to. Word travels fast in the forest; networks of families and labor are strong and, with all the walking, river crossings, planting, and leech bites, I felt like I had gained both strength and pieces of knowledge that were hard to articulate. The images went over well. But recently, in my own kind of economic crash, I found out that one of my own planned funding sources mysteriously dried up. So, like what a lot of folks around the world have done, I am taking on additional projects and getting new skills. And I’m finding some strength in that; pieces of the puzzle that will help me answer questions about community forests and become more... aware. And, with some things that bang you over the head, whether it’s a mango branch or something like the seed collection I stumbled upon in someone’s forest hut where I slept one night, there is a benefit to learning things on your own, being your own guide, and learning who to reach out to for help, guidance, a slap on the back, and to lend a hand. So, with that, I’ll leave you with one thought. This whole project (and my portfolio) is a human project. People are the landscapes here. You can participate in this landscape by being part of your own communities, buying local, committing to alternative economies, and engaging in the kind of dialogs (and relationships) you think might nurture both dialog and local knowledge. This is can be an overwhelming prospect. You might start by looking at the image of Lugwuii. The answer, ironically, involves both gardening and healing. Happy Holidays, Adventures, Learning, and Peace.  Enter Islands of Trees, Landscapes of People gallery... Some other notes: This work, is the first of my artwork that is being licensed under the Creative Commons Copyright Act. This provides benefits to me, local communities, and some of the organizations I partner with. Sales from this project will be used to fund Forest Voices, an organization of volunteers that documents forest knowledge for the purposes of using it as a framework to build projects with forest communities. There will be more on the website about these two items in the near future. Sales will also fund some additional research and fieldwork for a children's book for some of the areas featured in this latest newsletter and portfolio gallery. If you still would like to give an image for the holidays, you may purchase an art voucher. You can do this through the new shopping cart or, perhaps a bit more simply, by emailing me to receive your voucher certificate. Given that the holidays are already upon us, all the holiday vouchers purchased are good for free shipping of prints from Borneo (the prints take about 10-15 days to arrive). There are some good snapshots of the bark prints and other random events on the New Stuff portion of the website. There are also behind the scenes images from some of the community photography workshops in the “Outakes” gallery. Finally, we are looking for some donations. We are in need of a used Macbook for one of our journalist and research volunteers so we can do more writing, update the website, and stay on top of grants opportunities. Secondly, we are looking for to raise funds to purchase a new camera that can give us capabilities of making particapatory videos with forest experts. And, as always, don’t hesitate to write! Enter Islands of Trees, Landscapes of People gallery... |
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