Listening to the lectures ‘Spectacle vivant en transition’ (Live performance arts in transition) and ‘La sobrieté numerique: une nécessité environnementale’ (Digital temperance: an environmental need) led by David Irle at Les Brigittines, in the frame of the In Movement festival, I gained a broader perspective about our responses to climate crises.
When confronted with climate change, the art world was one of the first to put responses in place: trying to improve energy sources, avoiding plastics, selling tote bags, asking artists to travel by train, planting trees… But how to be sure that we’re doing the right thing? The answer might be unexpected: don’t act out of guilt, act out of a sense of power and responsibility.
As dance professionals we deal with complexity every day, and yet we forget that the climate crisis is not at all simple. Looking at it closely, we come to realise that it is not possible to have an impact on all its aspects, but that it is possible to contribute towards solutions. We are invited by our planet to make choices and be co-responsible for its welfare. In short: we can act, so we should act.
If it is true that desperate times call for desperate measures, it is also true that live performing arts and especially dance have been mastering the art of the creative process while allowing space for failure. So let’s treat our response to climate change as a creative process.
First, let’s go back to basics: what is the complex bigger picture of climate crises? What are the responses put in place by the legislation of the country we live in? How can the values that guide us match concrete action? This first step is not risk-free: conservatism and avoidance are easier than action, pointing the finger at others seems to lessen our own burden, giving up is tempting and trying to be perfect is exhausting. So a second step would be to remind ourselves that dance can work on different levels at once: transforming the audience’s imagination on the one hand, while simultaneously keeping track of our real, practical impacts (being aware, for example, that the carbon costs of artist travel are significantly less than the combined effect of audience travel). Are there public transport schemes or car-sharing platforms that you could tap, or encourage? Make this awareness, and decisions based upon it, part of your everyday way of thinking.
Having become aware of our impact, the third step is to rethink our approach, moving from the quick fix to long-lasting sustainability. ’If the organisation is not responsible,’ says Irle, ‘it cannot be sustainable.’
Regarding digital technologies in the arts, Irle shares the importance of a good balance: for example, since the fabrication of our devices is the most polluting part of its life cycle, we should make sure they have a long life and investigate how they can be reused. But he also lists simple things that help create good habits: from keeping cloud storage and mailboxes in order to unsubscribing from unopened newsletters. If you have an audience that mostly uses phones, reduce print materials; if your audience loves print, choose recycled paper. A Zoom meeting is better than a car trip or a flight, but may be worse than a train ride. Playing videos emits much more carbon than listening to audio, so decide if you really need it, and at what resolution. It is cheap to share everything online, but it also takes space and energy to store and to use. Maybe rediscovering the art of simplicity could help communications and the environment, too!
All these small acts create a change of mindset: sustainability is not simply an emergency response, but an organised plan of shared principles that guides projects and actions. Guilt should not be our guide; let us rather foster relationships with experts, scientists, artists and other organisations to build a sustainable dance ecology.