Photo: July Pastorello
Words possess a meaning as per the dictionary on the one hand, and significations which they acquire over time as per their usage in daily life on the other. For instance, nationalism, which initially championed that political sovereignty belong to the whole of citizens, since all people are equal, rather than certain social classes only, later evolved into becoming almost synonymous with fascism. So has the meaning of the word “climate” undergone evolution over time. The word klíma(t), which meant “the inclination of the sun’s rays” in ancient Greek, derived into assuming the form of “iklim” (إقليم) as it passed into Arabic, carrying the meaning of “each of the seven belts into which the Earth is divided; land; country”, and thence into Turkish. (1) On the basis of the succession of these seven belts “from the equator to the north pole”, the Earth was divided into seven “climates”, that is, seven strips of land, according to the angle at which the sun’s rays fall onto each. (2)In this light, different climates mean different lands. Otherwise phrased, climate determines social and political conditions. (3)
With the same sense still, the word “climate” made its entry into Western languages from the very same Greek root, although not through Arabic but via Latin instead. However, from the 17th century onwards, a slight inflection caused for the word to begin being used in the specific sense of “the general state of the effects brought onto any given part of the Earth by weather conditions, based on their average over long stretches of time”, and as such, it was once again adopted into Turkish, this time from French, during the 19th century. (4)As it appears, climate, initially a concept which stressed a connection between weather, geography and culture, became solely related to weather conditions over time. It is indubiously far from coincidental that this inflection should have occurred in the 19th century, the very period when the most prominent aspects of the modernisation process came forth. Indeed, modernisation may be defined as the moment when a distinction was made between ontos and logos, or when the realisation that absolute existence is in fact the product of the human mind, and may therefore be divided into parts, occurred. (5) Nevertheless, since old ideas and practices have not (yet) entirely given up the ghost under the pressure of modernisation, that is, since the “old” and the “new” still coexist somehow, the ancient meaning of the word “climate” survives up to this day. Although its chief meaning is now exclusively related to the weather, climate still refers to something close to a “land”, albeit figuratively: in that sense, it signifies “the environment where one particular characteristic is significantly dominant.” (6) Such metaphoric notions as the political climate, social climate, artistic climate and so on must be considered in this context.
“Cloud” (“bulut” in Turkish), a notion intimately related to climate, meaning “a mass formed by the visible condensation of water droplets and ice particles in the atmosphere, whose types are distinguished from each other by their shape, height, and the weather phenomena which they may cause”, derived, in all likelihood, from the words which signify “mist” (“buğu”) and “vapour” (“buhar”) in Turkish. (7) At any rate, what appears certain is that cloud seems related to water. Yet, this word too acquired a new meaning, sometime in the 1990s, entirely unassociated with climate: (8) that of “cloud technology, which allows Internet users to keep their personal data on private server areas instead of their own physical computers.” (9) As it happens, it may doubtlessly be argued that this new "cloud cover" of sorts has given rise to a brand-new artistic “climate”. Thanks to online music platforms, for instance, it is no longer necessary to purchase either printed or digital copies of music albums. So much so that artists now often prefer to release their songs as singles, or EPs (extended plays), rather than albums. Likewise, online film and TV series platforms have deeply transformed the television and cinema industry. A “cinema” film produced by one specific platform may now be screened only on that platform, instead of cinema halls. While episodes of Turkish TV series broadcast on classic television channels typically last 120 minutes each, series intended for platform release may espouse much shorter formats, such as 45 to 60 minutes. Moreover, series which face television broadcast hindrances on political grounds may be aired much more easily on these platforms. As it appears, the medium itself directly impacts both the production process and contents of creations. Furthermore, this artistic climate may also spawn the emergence of new art forms and mediums, such as NFT (non-fungible token). Photographs, animated pictures, video and sound files produced in this format (which is itself online) – more precisely, ownership of the original work itself – may be bought and sold online. That being said, these digital formats represent only one aspect of the current artistic climate. In order to understand the latter’s inner nature, it should prove useful to turn our gaze to the notion of cloud cover, not only in terms of cloud technology, but also as the basic conditions required for the formation of such a thing as an artistic climate, and to artworks as the crops that may be grown under that climate. In order to do so, both the concept of climate and that of cloud ought to be appraised together with each of their meanings.
Although climate change has recently come to be debated as being one of the consequences of the Industrial Revolution, it is now broadly known that climatic transformation has been experienced, very severely so, even in ages when then modern industry did not exist yet. In fact, the Little Ice Age, which lasted roughly between 1350-1850, constitutes one of the major proofs we possess of this fact. Throughout this five-century period, which appears to have been sparked by and ended with volcanic eruptions, agricultural production was direly affected, resulting in famines, riots, wars and revolutions. Despite being often regarded as sui generis, the Ottoman Empire, too, received its share of these impacts. The ostensibly religious – that is, ideologically motivated in the sense that this word would have had at the time – rebellion led by Sheikh Celal in the early 16th century resulted in the insurrections that erupted in the following century being referred to as the Celali Rebellions. The underlying cause behind these uprisings was the fact that the 16th and 17th centuries corresponded to the most severe stages of the Little Ice Age. (10) The conjunction of drought and cold dramatically hampered agricultural production, which resulted in the inability for farmers to pay taxes. When the state insisted on levying uncurbed levels of taxes from the population whose source of income had disappeared, rebellion became inevitable. Of course, climatic transformation was not the only cause that spurred these revolts. Both the social and political conditions in place also had a key impact; however, it does seem that climate constituted the decisive factor. (11) Three conclusions may be drawn from the above: (1) The world forms an organism in and of itself. When the operational behaviour of this organism starts to change as a consequence of material phenomena that are inherent to it, it maintains its existence by attempting to establish a new equilibrium. It follows that the extinction of any given species signifies by no means the downfall of Earth. (12) (2) Industrial development constitutes but one of several causes of the climatic transformation experienced in modern times. This mode of production may affect the severity and duration of climatic transformations, yet the fact that such transformations occurred before the Industrial Revolution alone requires a re-assessment of both the paradigm and practices espoused by climate activism. (3) “Meteorological climate” directly affects the economic, social as well as the political climate. The reason why the above occurs is that, in such straining periods, people face severe threats against their existence, stemming from nature itself. If, due to climatic transformation, the soil is deprived of the rainfall which the cloud cover provides, or if, even in case rainfall does occur, the soil is not warm enough to properly absorb it, agricultural production declines. When culture – in its primary, i.e. agricultural meaning – wilts away, culture in its intellectual sense is bound to follow the same fate and disappear (or at least recede to a rudimentary level). Now, in what ways does climatic transformation, the effects of which we all distinctly feel today, affect the artistic climate?
When considering the last emergence of a genuine movement on the stage of art history, one can only speak, one must admit, of individual artistic endeavours, rather than a climate in the proper sense. On the other hand, that state of things could be accounted for as resulting from the nature of the current artistic climate: a desiccated one. As it happens, that barrenness constitutes one of the manifestations of modernity. Indeed, one of the most prominent aspects of modernisation is the liquidation of high culture, in other words decadence, which is itself closely related to the commodification of every existing valuable, including art. Otherwise put, by scorching the soil where cultural products may sprout, “decadence, i.e. the cloud cover of modernity,” has given rise to the emergence of a desolate artistic climate. Therefore, rather than wondering how climatic transformation affects “that arid climate”, it might prove more pertinent to inquire into that phenomenon’s relations with the current artistic climate.
Climatic transformation appears to be a fruitful theme for contemporary art. For instance, with Cloud Cities (2002-present), a series of large-scale installations and sculptures, Tomás Saraceno draws our attention to the relationship between humankind and nature. Part of this series, the same artist’s Cloud City (2012), exhibited at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (MoMA), was designed to enable people to observe this relationship by mounting on nebular, interconnected metal objects placed at a certain height. (13) With Ice Watch (2014), which he fashioned by placing huge blocks of ice brought from Greenland at busy points in metropolises, Olafur Eliasson calls our attention to the melting of glaciers. Because people are thus made to see the ice melting as it is exposed to heat. Eliasson, a United Nations (UN) goodwill ambassador, also exhibited this work in Paris in 2015, in front of the entrance to the venue which then hosted a UN meeting on climate. (14) We Are Frying! (2020), by the anonymous artist collective Luzinterruptus, known for its political street exhibitions, underscores how autumn leaves may be affected by climate change in the future: in order to suggest that the dried up leaves falling from their branches may become fried by the scorching heat before they even fall to the ground, a circle, a few metres in diameter, drawn at the base of trees and illuminated from underneath the ground, is filled with potato chips! (15) As for Bahia Shehab, she built a pyramid out of blocks of trash so as to point out the amount of waste generated by industrial production and consumer society. Built in Cairo with the help of construction workers and young students, extending 11 metres wide and standing 6 metres tall, Pyramids of Garbage (2020) must have been intended to draw attention to the fact that civilisation, which built immense pyramids in remote ages, is only capable of producing waste nowadays. (16) One could state that the common aim pursued by these works is to “bring the war home”, albeit on the condition that we remember that all great world-historic events appear, so to speak, twice. The first time as tragedy, the second time as farce. The aim of revolutionary organisations, most notably the Red Army Faction (RAF), which staged violent protests against the Vietnam War in Western European countries during the 1960s and 1970s, was to cause for the citizens of Western welfare states to experience the wars being waged by the states they formed the subjects of. Thus, so they hoped, those citizens would understand what the Vietnamese were going through, and stand up against their own state’s policies. (17) Likewise, these installations lay the effects of climatic transformation bare before our eyes, thus effectively bringing the war home and calling on the people to “join the struggle”: use less water for cleaning, cloth bags for shopping, and take action against fossil fuel companies...
From the 19th until the last quarter of the 20th century, attempts were made to reach out to society at large through literature. To what extent these attempts were either realistic or romantic remains debatable; what is certain is that their aim was to connect with society, thus ushering it in the right direction, through art. By contrast, by means of works which revolve around climatic transformation as their main theme, only a very limited, and highly wealthy portion of society may be reached. In such fashion, artists do catch the attention of “some people”, and are able to keep making money out of art. In case the aim is to bring “sustainable” sectors into existence, it may be considered successfully reached, because thus, the “art sector” does indeed perpetuate itself. As for climate activists, the latter often achieve little more than flimsiness; because the result of their actions merely consists of “reminding” what awaits the human species: extinction. Such a caricatural situation leaves the doors wide open for the self-justifications of the group which holds political and economic power, and refuses to take the issue seriously. On the other hand, the “political” acts carried out by spraying soup, paint, or similar materials on famous paintings in museums may be described as relatively more successful. Indeed, notwithstanding the complaints of those who claim that such actions targeting works of art are barbaric, the activists who performed them were perfectly aware that those paintings, being protected by transparent sheets, would not sustain the least damage. All in all, not only did they enable climatic transformation to take centre stage again, if only for the fifteen minutes that followed each of these actions, but they also proclaimed the priority of life over art loud and clear. (18) Yet, even these actions, too, for all their succeeding in grasping attention and appropriateness to be appraised and further developed in a situationist context, fell short of reaching past caricature, because they eventually remained within the system.
The fact that people pay attention to using less water when taking a shower, do not flush the toilet unless absolutely necessary, and try to produce less waste by using cloth rather than plastic bags does not change the situation we are in. The only real issue remains the capitalist relations between production and consumption. Assigning the pursuit of the struggle to individuals while omitting to mention the amount of water used in, or the sheer quantities of waste generated by the industry, amounts to nothing more than performing ritualistic gestures meant to ease our consciences. Besides, how consistent is it to expect self-sacrifice from people living within the capitalist order? After all, since natural resources are commodified, someone being told that they should use less water when taking a shower because the world’s water supply is dwindling may perfectly argue that they are entitled to use as much water as they will because they pay the bill: “Don’t I pay for it?”, might they reply. Climatic transformation, “caused by the actions of human beings”, is not the consequence of the extravagance of individuals, but that of the industry, which emerged as necessitated by the capitalist relations between production and consumption. Furthermore, it has now been established that the industries built by the so-called socialist regimes of the 20th century bear a huge responsibility in the drying up of lakes and depletion of natural resources. Indeed, the aim of these regimes was never to set up such an industry that would be compatible with a climate favourable to human life, but purely to outperform industrialised capitalist countries within the boundaries of economic competition. The fact that the model implemented by these regimes is alternately referred to as state capitalism should be duly noted. Under such conditions, drawing attention to climate change straightforwardly means fighting merely the symptom, not the disease itself.
It is in fact possible to build an industry in harmony with nature; only this requires changing the capitalist relations between production and consumption, which in turn means achieving the revolution. However, as is now well established, once at a particular stage of civilisation, no revolution may occur, even if all the people revolted simultaneously. As a consequence, it appears that what must be done today is sowing the seeds for tomorrow. This can only be achieved by “sparking a new situation”. In order to do so, it is necessary to consider what kind of reactions an action or policy will cause, and devise appropriate moves for the new situations that are likely to arise. Otherwise, insisting on using the same methods again amounts to insisting that nothing change. And what if nothing changes? Perhaps someday, as prophesised by Travis Bickle, a rain will come and wash all the scum off the streets. (19) In such a case, the human species would indeed disappear, but then the Earth would be rid of its most menacing parasite.
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