Based on a conversation with four participants
Racconigi Aug 2025
A Decade of Days: Rethinking Art, Nature, and Community
The 10-day creative camp kicked off as a program for twelve artists to explore ecological art, and quickly became a crucible for reimagining their relationships with nature, community, and their own practices. Each artist left with a memory or revelation that reshaped their perspective, some fleeting, others profound.
For some, the turning point came during a conversation with Jared Gardinger, whose radical proposal to center a plant ecosystem, stripping away human needs from the equation, challenged their entire approach. This moment forced them to confront the tension between their desire to create community-centered, politically engaged art and the possibility of surrendering to the elements.
One of the artists reflected on the place making of a former school on the Estonia-Latvia border, that carries layers of history and paradox: a monument to preserve, yet vulnerable to geopolitical instability. The artist grappled with the question: What if the work we invest in today is erased tomorrow? This treath became a living paradox, one they wanted to welcome, to see how it might transform their engagement with the land and the people around it.
Another artist found clarity in the simplicity of a punctuation field, a project by a group of dancers who had transformed a small plot into a biodiverse ecosystem. As they walked through the field, pressing down grass around young trees, they realized that even small, practical acts can be art. The dance of planting, the scratches on their skin from the trees, and the soggy shoes from unexpected water in the soil became symbols of connection. It was a reminder that ecological art didn’t always require grand gestures; sometimes, it was enough to dance with a tree or let nature lead. This moment also highlighted the importance of balancing ambition with humility, recognizing that a garden already exists, and perhaps the role of the artist is to listen as much as to create.
The camp’s structure itself was a revelation. Unlike traditional workshops focused on exchange of knowledge and skill, this program prioritized practice, sensorial experience, care, and openness. There were moments for land connection, like standing barefoot in wet soil, and for sharing struggles, triggers, and tresholds. The artists appreciated the lack of pressure to perform or conform to rigid rules. Instead, they were invited to break norms, whether in gardening, art, or collaboration. One artist noted how the camp’s approach mirrored its content: if the goal was to explore permaculture and queer gardening, then the structure of the days should reflect those values: transparent, adaptive, and radical.
A recurring theme was the tension between human-centered art and nature-centered practice. The artists acknowledged that, as humans, their work would always be filtered through a human lens. Yet, the camp pushed them to see nature as a partner, not just a backdrop or a resource. They discussed the absurdity of feeling the need to “do something” for trees that were already thriving, or the irony of building systems of care while spending hours theorizing about care. The solution? Practical, grounded actions, like the morning circles where everyone could share their thoughts without the pressure of a polished presentation.
The camp also became a space to critique and reimagine the systems that often constrain artistic and ecological work. Funding cycles, institutional logic, and competitive structures were all up for debate. The artists celebrated the camp’s explicit acknowledgment of these contradictions and its encouragement to find “gray zones” or loopholes. As one artist put it, Eastern Europeans are adept at navigating such contradictions. It’s a survival strategy. The camp embraced this mindset, fostering a playful, strategic approach to working within (and around) the rules.
Perhaps the most enduring takeaway was the permission to dream. The artists left with a renewed sense of possibility, whether it was mixing projects, forging international solidarities, or simply allowing themselves to imagine a future where art and ecology could coexist in more generative ways. The camp didn’t provide all the answers, but it created a space where questions could breathe and where soggy shoes, scratched skin, and shared laughter became part of the story.