Artist statement
Anna Bensky
of Martha and her selves
2022
Multichannel image installation
This work explores the restoration of the kaikōmako Manawa Tāwhi (Pennantia baylisiana), one of the rarest trees in the world. The last known wild kaikōmako, a lone female plant, was found in 1945 on the side of a cliff on Great Island (Manawa Tāwhi), one of the Three Kings Islands north of Cape Reinga. It survived by chance and location, with all others destroyed by goats introduced by colonial settlers in the 1890s. Due to the dioecious nature of the species – having distinct male and female plants -, the male counterpart has been lost forever. The process of reviving the kaikōmako has thus been one of repetition, with all plants in existence being clone descendants of the tree on Manawa Tāwhi.
Through the work of plant biologists and with permission from the people of Ngāti Kuri, dozens of trees have been cultivated from this last remaining plant. This was initially through the propagation of a cutting taken from the tree’s trunk, then through artificially induced seed germination from resulting saplings. This finally resulted in the emergence of a tree capable of self-fertilization in the 1980s, which scientists named ‘Martha’.
This installation explores the concepts of replication and speculation surrounding the kaikōmako Manawa Tāwhi and the relationship between nature and technology in its regeneration. Each image on screen is derived from a three-dimensional model created by taking photographs of kaikōmako found on the roof of the Hundertwasser Art Centre, Whangarei, before assembling them through the photogrammetry program Meshroom. The process is imperfect, with the program meshing images together to form a 3D construct and filling in missing photographic information with digital noise to create the form.
Drawing inspiration from the photogrammetry work Flowers for Suzanne Clair (2020) by Lauren Moffatt and the photographic practice of Joyce Campbell, this work attempts to visualize the technological speculation taking place in the kaikōmako's restoration, and the surreal state it now exists in as a species. In blending photographic documentation and 3D rendering into a semi-fictional form, the kaikōmako’s existence as an entity both in stasis and in an ongoing process of artificial regeneration may be visualized.
Citations:
Baylis, G. T. “Pennantia Baylisiana New Zealand's Rarest Tree — Its Discovery and Propagation.” The New Zealand Garden Journal (Journal of the Royal New Zealand Institute of Horticulture) 2, no. 1 (March 1997): 12–13. https://doi.org/10.1080/0028825x.1977.10432558.
“Kaikōmako Manawa Tāwhi (Pennantia Baylisiana) Returned to Iwi.” Manaaki Whenua Land Research, August 19, 2019. https://www.landcareresearch.co.nz/news/kaikomako-manawa-tawhi-pennantia-baylisiana-returned-to-iwi/.
Above: individual images for installation (left to right)
Below: rough installation images
Installation method and considerations
I chose to install this work over multiple screens for several reasons. Initially, my plan was to work with a much larger single screen which would've allowed more immersion and visibility of detail in the chosen LIDAR/3D works, however this option was unavailable to me. On reflection, after deciding to present the kaikōmako works over the pohutukawa hybrids, I decided that a single screen would not be as useful as it would be too limiting and isolated by itself in the room and would not reflect the kaikõmako's unique history and multiplicity properly. I considered the idea of projection, however this washed out the images a lot and I didn't feel anything was conceptually gained from presenting them on a large scale. The screen's border was important for isolating the image in the room, and conceptually distinguishing the speculative digital realm from the viewer's own; it also allows for the reflecting and mirroring of each in the others when standing at certain places in the room, adding I think to the feeling of repetition and things being beyond reach or perception. When tested, moving image felt overly prescriptive as each image was too isolated from the rest of the series as it only appeared by itself, and on a single small screen was too dull and repetitive (just presenting images rather than creating space for contemplation or engagement).
I also considered traditional photography and the idea of printing the images, however I felt the digital element in the screen was an important link to the artificiality of the kaikōmako's regeneration - photography to me has such a long history of documentation as well that I was concerned they would present too literal an image (the three-dimensionality and digitality of the images is clearer on screen than in a printed image, even if the latter is more detailed), or that when printed, the images would appear less like 3D objects and more like crafted digital creations for inspection. Presenting on multiple screens allows me to navigate the artificiality of the kaikōmako's regeneration and history while conveying the idea of repetition that is integral to it. It also allows the viewer to encounter each image individually as well as part of the collective, and allowed me to continue to explore the connection between capture and presentation of nature via imagery and technology that I've been investigating over the past semester.
Technology
Regarding the application of the technology I've chosen, I opted to continue exploring with photogrammetry and digital rendering for a few reasons. One being that this is one of the digital mediums I've been familiarising myself with over the past semester, and another being that the imperfect nature of it - the way the object is not fully formed or subject to shifts in development - is something unique to it in comparison to the video, photography, and moving image explorations I've been working with. The fragmented nature works well, I feel, with the subject matter, and I think the speculative element of the medium is something that resonates with the kaikōmako's story (both in terms of loss and regeneration). The technological aspect of its restoration is crucial to it's narrative, and I feel this medium best reflects that out of those I've trialed.
One small issue I had with the screens is that the colour balance is different than that on my computer - I attempted to correct this by altering the colour of the images slightly, but this caused detail to be lost. The images presented for assessment are unedited, despite the artificial green colour they seem to have. The only editing that has taken place has been the application of a three-point lighting set-up in Blender (used to create the final images) to light the object created in Meshroom, and the adjusting of the Blender camera's focal length.
Title
This is something I alway struggle with, but I found the naming of the first self-fertilizing kaikōmako an interesting element in its story, and given the repetition element it felt like a good anchor point. It marks the point in its development where it shifted from asexual reproduction to sexual reproduction - something not uncommon in many plants, but in this case something a biologist friend of mine described as something "it has no business being able to do". Naming this treet marks the point in its conservation at which human intervention became slightly less necessary - no longer having to spark germination in sterile seeds via hormone treatment, now scientists were able to rely on the tree to produce its own potential clone offspring (a process also known as "selfing", another reason for including the concept of selves in the title beyond the multiplicity element). The idea of naming something, to me, also implies distinguishing one entity from another, but in the case of this plant all cultivated plants are in effect clones of the first unnamed tree on Manawa Tāwhi; those from Martha are made of and from Martha. They are their own entities, but also clones... it's an interesting loop.
This idea of something which is itself yet also comprised of things other than or beyond itself brings up consideration of Timothy Morton's Interdependence Theorem:
...for every A, the existence of A is such that A consists of things that are not not A; the only way to define A is negatively and differentially. Things are only what they are because they are not other things, but things also are derived from things. Nothing exists by itself, and nothing comes from nothing. The theorem describes language, life forms, etc. Everything is linked in some way, shape or fashion
The kaikōmako offers a curious example of this which can be visualised, made perhaps more palpable to those who encounter it (or, I hope, this work) due to its unique existence in Aotearoa/New Zealand.
I think this also connects to a degree with the concept of the landscape and the idea of a viewer and a subject. Naming the subject in this instance I think gives it a sense of personhood; it is not just a plant or forest, it is this specific one.
Semester work
As mentioned above, the idea of ecological interdependence and consideration has been a theoretical underpinning in my practice throughout this semester. The experience, capturing and mediation of nature through the lens of the camera or other digital technology, specifically the imagery of nature, has also been an ongoing investigation. Artists including Joyce Campbell, Emily Simek, Lauren Moffatt, Semiconductor duo and Nicholas Mangan have been key inspirations, among many others - specifically the way each deals with themes around the intersection of ecology, the natural world, humanity and technology in their respective practices.
The concept of nature as a construction or illusion has been a recurring interest in my studio work also, although it is not a core focus of the work here. I'm looking forward to continuing to explore the relationships between technology, digitality, imagery and the conceptualisation nature in future, particularly with more specific examples in mind (i.e. less of a general approach as with previous LIDAR works and more akin to the focused subject matter in the kaikōmako works). What this will look like I'm uncertain of at present...
Some less important general thoughts
Regarding the kaikōmako, it was by chance that I came across it and I'm grateful that at the time I took as many images of it as I did as this is what allowed me to continue investigating the technology I was exploring and to develop this work in studio by delving into the tree's history in combination with it. There's something tragic about the idea of trying to revive this tree knowing that human (specifically colonial) intervention initially did such considerable damage to its legacy; hindsight is 20:20. While it's amazing that the kaikōmako is no longer at risk of extinction, it does feel a bit like treading water - development will always be limited to what is already in existence, and to repetition of the single surviving tree, on and on an on. Still, within this has been seen surprising developments - the chance sprouting of the first flowers from initial cuttings, the success of hormone application in fertilising seeds, and the emergence of a self-fertilising tree seem unbelievable (something a biologist I know described as something the tree "has absolutely no business being able to do"), yet here we are. It feels very science fiction-like to me.
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