Graham writes, “Critical place-based pedagogy is significant because of its blending of the local and ecological with cultural awareness and social critique” (2008, p. 378). I remember, when I was younger, we did go on nature walks and learn about the environment, but we definitely didn’t connect our immediate place to what we were learning. We were all about recycling (it was the 90s), but that was very whole-world focused, and didn’t critically consider the local community. “Nature” was just kind of a huge monolith, being threatened by “pollution,” another monolith, which could be solved by “recycling,” a third monolith.
Well, though, I can remember a positive too—the mayor of my hometown would come down to the kindergarten every year, dressed up as a faerie named Recycle Rose, and give a presentation about how you can help your family recycle in your own home. I wish I had a picture! I really appreciate the mayor’s willingness to dress up and entertain a whole school worth of kindergarteners just to help us learn more about the importance of recycling.
The students, artists, and community members in Gradle’s 2008 article put into action Graham’s definition of critical place-based pedagogy: utilizing an invasive vine species as material, considering the Native community sensitively and respectfully, and focusing directly on a personal connection with the place. I find myself wondering if my hometown school system has moved on from the “recycle” phase of ecological involvement. And now that I live in Athens, I haven’t gotten to know the community very well because of the pandemic. I’ve started a little rock collection, where if I see a neat little rock, I’ll pick it up and think about where it might have come from and what made it. I’m having a good time looking for little rocks whenever I walk anywhere on campus.
in 2016, I was lucky to get to visit Socrates Sculpture Park in Queens as part of an office outing day. The park used to be a dumping ground, and the exhibition I got to see was specifically about the transformation of space over time, stewardship, and social/ecological structures. I had two favorite pieces. First, Concave Room for Bees by Meg Webster was a giant bowl made of elevated dirt, planted with nice native flowers good for pollinating insects. It was really sunny on the day we went out, and it was actually several degrees warmer in the Concave Room than it was outside of it! It was gorgeous and filled with little bees and butterflies everywhere. It was taller than me so it also obscured my view of the city across the river! I later learned that after the installation, the soil would be dispersed across the park to provide some much-needed topsoil to the area, creating a positive impact on the park and environment even after the piece is dismantled.
Meg Webster, Concave Room for Bees
I think most of the bees visiting the Concave Room came from my other favorite piece right nearby, Fugue in B♭ by Jessica Segall. The artist used a body of a free piano from craigslist as a home for a hive of honeybees, and put a microphone into the body of the piano to amplify the sound of the bees buzzing in the hive. I saw it near the end of the season, though, and the guide told us the bees had unexpectedly built wax caps over the microphone! The sound of the bees was very muffled, but the artist didn’t want to disturb the hive to uncover the mic again. The bees had their own influence in the piece!
Jessica Segall, Fugue in B♭
I was surprised to learn later that this piece, which I mostly thought was a statement on conserving and supporting local bee populations, was also about the community surrounding the sculpture park. That part of Astoria had been built around the Steinway Piano Factory, and the body of the piano was chosen as a place for the hive as an homage to that legacy.
I think these two artists are definitely practicing a form of critical place-based investigation through these pieces, and seeking to make connections between the natural ecology of the park and the people who visit. Both artists created a unique experience for the human viewer, like being submerged in a bowl of flowers or hearing the sounds of a beehive at work, and both artists looked to bring positive impacts to the park with soil, plants, and pollinating insects. I feel so lucky to have gotten to experience these pieces together!
Gradle, S. A. (2008). When Vines Talk: Community, Art, and Ecology. Art Education, 61(6), 6–12. https://doi.org/10.1080/00043125.2008.11652071
Graham, M. A. (2007). Art, Ecology and Art Education: Locating Art Education in a Critical Place-based Pedagogy. Studies in Art Education, 48(4), 375–391. https://doi.org/10.1080/00393541.2007.11650115