鈥淕enerally, in the summer I take photographs and in the winter I work on the post-production,鈥 says German photographer Thomas Wrede (b. 1963). 鈥淏ut for the first time, when I got to the computer, I didn鈥檛 feel good sitting in front of my screen, and it was because of what I was seeing.鈥 Wrede is discussing the Glaciers project, currently on display as part of the Vienna Biennale, comprising images of the Rh么ne Glacier in Belv茅d猫re, Switzerland. The glacier has retreated by about 150m between 2011 and 2016. It is now partially covered in white fleece blankets, which are there as an attempt to stop the melt and arrest the decline by reflecting the sun and holding in the cold. Delicately draped and sculptural, these materials have a certain beauty, but they鈥檙e also dirty and ripped; at best they鈥檙e a sticking plaster solution to a much deeper problem, and at worst they鈥檙e introducing a whole new issue by releasing micro-plastics into the environment.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a very dark situation,鈥 says Wrede. 鈥淭he glacier is dying.鈥 Wrede first photographed the Rh么ne Glacier in 2017, keen to show the effects of temperature change in Europe, when images of melting were still largely reserved for 鈥渇araway鈥 landscapes; the idea still so distanced that western audiences would not sit up and take notice. Fast-forward four years and the effects are only too evident everywhere, and so pronounced that Wrede has already missed some planned shots at Belv茅d猫re. 鈥淚 started the series shooting these very grey photographs, so this summer I wanted to go back and show the opposite,鈥 he says. 鈥淏ut it鈥檚 disappeared. I鈥檓 too late.鈥
Glaciers have long been a source of fascination, a popular subject for Romantic writers and artists in the early 19th century 鈥 from the paintings of JMW Turner to the prose of John Ruskin 鈥 and has attracted mass tourism in the centuries that followed. The glacier at Belv茅d猫re, for example, has had additional appeal since 1870. The Carlen family 鈥 who own the iconic Belv茅d猫re Hotel on the Furka Pass (with cinematic cameos in the likes of Goldfinger) 鈥 have carved a grotto deep into the ice, creating a 100-metre long tunnel that glows in a transfixing shade of blue. The Carlens were also responsible for introducing the blankets 鈥 an act that speaks of nurturing, but is underpinned by sharp business sense; each visitor pays nine euros to visit the grotto.
It sounds hard-nosed but, as Wrede points out, the Carlens are far from alone. The Alps are a 鈥渂ig construction project.鈥 Entire communities are supported by its tourism, sports and the complicated architecture that makes it all possible. How- ever, it鈥檚 all being undermined, and fast. Chair lifts that escort passengers up and down the mountains are embedded in permafrost that鈥檚 melting; the foundations are literally being shook. The lifts in question then lead to restaurants whose once-solid footing now seems tenuous. In 2012, the WWF recorded 120 million tourists in the Alps each year. As Wrede points out, the businesses that cater to them 鈥減ut so much money into this industry that they want to keep it.鈥 Temperature rise means they鈥檙e having to invest in more resources, in a kind of self-perpetuating trap or vicious cycle. In future, the Carlens will have to dig the grotto deeper into the Earth.
For Wrede, this corporate approach speaks to our entire perception of the environment, that 鈥渞ather than working with nature, we see it as a resource.鈥 And this is how many cultures look at the planet (predominantly in the western world, of course). One of Wrede’s early projects, Samso (1991-1995), depicts abandoned plastic sheeting used by Danish potato farmers. The sheeting has been used for years promote crop growth, and, in the 1980s and 1990s, it was buried in land- fills after it had been discarded. It鈥檚 now being uncovered slowly by the elements. In the photographs, swaths of white material tangles itself with the landscape, bleak and ghostly.
In his later pieces, Wrede points to the notion of the 鈥渟ublime鈥 鈥 the idea that, far from being able to exploit and con- trol the world, humans will always be faced with forces much bigger than themselves. 鈥淚n one of my triptychs, for example, you can see people, very tiny, in one of the panels. Just as with old paintings, we see the relationship from its relative size.鈥 It鈥檚 easy to see why the triptych has been included in CLIMATE CARE: Reimagining Shared Planetary Futures at the Museum of Applied Arts, Vienna (MAK), and a main contri- bution to the Vienna Biennale for Change. This exhibition hopes to 鈥渋nspire a new relationship with the planet,鈥 explains Biennale curator Marlies Wirth, 鈥渙ne that embraces a caring position towards all species, moving away from human exceptionalism.
The arts can help us take a more-than-human perspective. Wrede鈥檚 series is a perfect example of this, evoking a sense of empathy whilst documenting the relative 鈥榮mallness鈥 of humans in relation to geological forms.鈥 Human exceptionalism, an idea also sometimes evoked by the terms humanocentrism or anthropocentrism, assumes that humans are the central or most important entity in the universe. It鈥檚 a major concept within environmental ethics and philosophy, as it is now often considered to be the root cause of manmade ecological problems. Human exceptionalism is said to underpin the concept that the planet is something to be consumed and, by suggesting other viewpoints and perspectives, art can destabilise this philosophy. It鈥檚 appropriate, then, that CLIMATE CARE is a group show, enabling viewers to manifest a 鈥渕ore-than-human perspective鈥 quite literally through various projects. Wirth continues: 鈥淭hese artists help to convey the relevance of a biocentric 鈥 as opposed to anthropocentric 鈥 worldview, by activating collective imagination and promoting the idea of a planetary community through a shift of proportions and power structures.鈥
This approach underpins the entire Vienna Biennale this year. Subtitled PLANET LOVE: Climate Care in the Digital Age, it combines work by artists, designers and architects to both demonstrate the effects of global heating and suggest differ- ent approaches for alternative futures 鈥 timelines where we slow the damage and rediscover ancient practices. A public sculpture placed in Vienna鈥檚 Karlsplatz, titled Collective Action Viewer, created by Verena Tscherner and Joerg Auzinger, helps viewers to understand how climate change will impact their lives by allowing them to watch a virtual flood sweep over the Karlsplatz square via an adapted telescope.
Meanwhile, EAT LOVE: Tomorrow鈥檚 Food and Food Spaces, a joint initiative between the MAK and the Vienna Business Agency, analyses the entire food cycle, highlighting sustainable solutions to our diets, shopping habits and food produc- tion. Under the motto 鈥淟et’s talk food鈥 the work moves from the fields to the shops and, finally, to our plates 鈥 exploring how urban food supplies might look in future. It takes the form of a prototype petrol station in a post-fossil fuel age. Meanwhile, an immersive installation by SUPERFLUX, titled Invocation for Hope, transports visitors into a future in which human beings are no longer the focus. The immersive installation includes an oasis set in a sparse forest of blackened trees. It builds on environmental philosopher Timothy Morton鈥檚 consideration of the climate crisis as a 鈥淗yperobject鈥 鈥 a phenomenon of such spatial and temporal scale that it is beyond the capacity of the human mind to fully grasp it.
SUPERFLUX notes: 鈥淎fter travelling through a grid-like forest of burnt and blackened pines 鈥 the unexpectedly graceful skeletons of a former time 鈥 you find, at its heart, a resurgent living forest, in which multiple species are in harmony with humanity, offering a promise of a new way of living. In this cradle of biodiversity, you come to a freshwater pool, which reflects, not your own face, but another creature 鈥 a bison, an otter, a bird of prey 鈥 coming to the water to drink.鈥
In every edition of the Vienna Biennale 鈥 be it focused on automation and the future of human labour, artificial intel- ligence or climate care 鈥 the event encourages literacy and agency around the big challenges of the present and near-future. It鈥檚 an interesting context for Wrede鈥檚 work given that, as a photographer, his pieces are rooted in the present, not the future. Each image is a line in the sand, a statement which can impress upon viewers how bleak the situation is already.
Of course, as with all photographs, there is an agenda. Wrede’s Rh么ne Glacier triptych looks particularly apocalyptic at the Biennale, for example, shot as sterile grey compositions in order to provoke an emotional response of desolation and emptiness. Other images from Wrede’s Glacier series, including Blutschnee (2020), depict red snow, which is caused by a species of algae. This phenomenon is naturally occurring but can also increase glacier melt, both by creating 鈥渟un cups鈥 and by darkening snow; Wrede hopes that these images will provoke a visceral reaction in the viewer, 鈥渢he feeling that the environment could be a body.鈥滱nd if he intends to move people, it鈥檚 working. 鈥淲hen I first showed this work in Berlin, the images made audiences very angry,鈥 he says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a provocation, not documentation. I think of it as in-between fiction and reality, though I didn鈥檛 do much post-production. I didn鈥檛 have to change much because the world there is so crazy.鈥
However, by highlighting the futility of a 鈥渜uick-fix solution,鈥 Wrede manages to capture both the landscape and humanity鈥檚 extensive and damaging hubris. He succeeds in showing both the worlds that humans have created and the perspectives that have shaped them 鈥 what鈥檚 out there and the fantasies and desires that have become embedded under the surface. This is true of Wrede’s other projects, which include Manhattan Picture Worlds (2002-2007). Here, New York streets are shown with illusions of large-scale advertising billboards. Meanwhile, Magic Worlds (1997-1998) includes a strange mix of the real and fantastical at amusement parks; or Real Landscapes (2004-present), which disrupts our sense of scale by making model constructions seem 鈥渓ife-size.鈥
Ultimately, the Glaciers project is optimistic through its absurdity. We know that things are currently going one way, but this always has the potential to change. This is evident when staring melting ice in the face. Where the Vienna Biennale asserts that tackling the crisis requires a new perspective, Wrede鈥檚 photography sets the precedent for a brand-new type of thinking altogether. Ultimately, wrapping glaciers in blankets won鈥檛 save the ice, and a piece of art won鈥檛 stop the planet from warming. Photography can鈥檛 change global policy, but, crucially, it can spark a shift in consciousness. 鈥淭he only solution is to change our whole idea of life,鈥 Wrede concludes.
Words: Diane Smyth
CLIMATE CARE, Vienna Biennale for Change 2021 Until 3 October
Image Credits: 1. Thomas Wrede, Rhone Glacier, Ice Cave #1 (2019). 150 x 100 cm. Courtesy of Beck & Eggeling.
2. Thomas Wrede, Rhone Glacier_outside #4 (2019). 150 x 100 cm. Courtesy of Beck & Eggeling.
3. Thomas Wrede, Rhone Glacier #4, 220 x 170 cm (detail) (2020). Courtesy of Beck & Eggeling.
4. Thomas Wrede, Rhone Glacier #2, (2018). Middle part of a triptych, 120 x 390 cm, courtesy of Beck & Eggeling.
5. Thomas Wrede, Rhone Glacier_inside #6, (2019). 150 x 100 cm. Courtesy of Beck & Eggeling.
6.Thomas Wrede, Rhone Glacier, Ice Cave #1 (2019). 150 x 100 cm. Courtesy of Beck & Eggeling.
