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A few days ago, I saw my first exhibition since March. While in some spaces social distancing is awkwardly visible, in a gallery it seemed almost normal. I had missed the slow paced movement of people, the way they step towards or away from a painting, almost arbitrarily. I had missed the way strangers scan a room for the next appealing object and dance through space absorbed, floating, as if sleep walking. The exhibition offered a new perspective on our relationship with trees - a welcomed invitation for those of us who have recently spent more time in nature than we could have imagined.
I was reminded of the complex networks that connect forest organisms and of how little we see on the surface. Environment writer Barry Lopez says that woods defeat the viewfinder because they cannot be framed. Similarly, when we think about the systems of connection we are part of, so little is visible to us. Sociologically predisposed (or socially pressured?) to be strong, independent and individualistic, the modern western person is lead to believe that every achievement is a fruit of personal hard work, willpower and grit. But if you dissect any meaningful moment, you will soon find that it's part of a much larger system of events and people. We operate within a confluence of trajectories and legacies. Becoming interested in the systems we are part of and the ones we are affecting is not only important, but necessary. It's only by looking at the fuller picture that we can start understanding the impact - and reach - of our work, words and care. Belonging has a long tail.
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