Who will hear a tree fall when all the gods are dead
Photo installation with a poetic narrative; digital print on paper, QR code, facebook page
2023
We believe in science, we cherish reason. We have no time to look at trees, or at art. Our fleeting moments we devote to saving them, or understanding their secrets.
Who can afford idle reverie?
We think pragmatically. We have no time for spiritual
fluff.
Deities fade while the ghosts of blond supermen stir.
24/7, we are constantly busy—consumed by screens, self-promotion, and economic growth.
Hurriedly, we mistake commercialized yoga for
spirituality, trading hand-poured coffee and scarf knitting for true transcendence.
Hearing a tree fall is unimportant; projecting a well-crafted image is key. Likes matter, and reality feels fake without a digital filter.
The screens grow on trees. Trees are important!
Social gatherings are important, offering old-fashioned analogue
networking.
Mycorrhizal networks are important, connecting individual plants together to transfer water, nitrogen, carbon and other stuff of life.
Whether online or in the flesh, nature or city, networks sustain the egos and self-esteem, nourishing forests of individualism.
Who cares if anyone hears a tree fall? Philosophy’s an antiquity, the domain of loners and outcasts unplugged from social media.
Mycelium, that web of life, keeps us connected, enlivened, and growing.
As long as there is a www, there is life.
