A Wilderness Science and Art Collaboration

Aldo & Leonardo, a partnership between Colorado Art Ranch and the Aldo Leopold Wilderness Research Institute, is a project to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Wilderness Act. The project is inspired by the scientific wisdom of Aldo Leopold and the artistic genius of Leonardo da Vinci. Our endeavor is an interdisciplinary collaboration of artists and scientists designed to celebrate the lands, resources and opportunities protected by the Wilderness Act. In 2013, we are hosting one-month residencies in six diverse wilderness areas. Artists will work alongside wildland research scientists and gain firsthand knowledge of the wonders, complexities and challenges of our nation's wildest places. The result will be a body of work that creatively illustrates the value of wild areas and honors the scientific efforts to preserve wilderness for the next fifty years.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Around the Center

Artwork and Photograph by Troy Nickle

During my residency I created an intervention titled, “ Around the Center,” which was made in the Superior National Forest on a large stone along a path between the Ranger Station and the Vermillion College.

I started to contemplate the symbolic nature of this work and could relate it to when a stone is thrown in the water and ripples expand outward around the stone’s impact in the water. The stone’s impact creates energy and this energy radiates outward. This to me this also represented the energy created by the artists and scientists when they were able to learn about each other’s disciplines, collaborate and share common interests in nature.
From the creation of this work I began to consider what is at the center of my experiences in this unique place, and what surrounds this center? It is really absurd to try to define this center as a fixed thing because reality is continually changing from moment to moment. All phenomena are impermanent and therefore subject to change. What once was at the center of my experience has since dissolved with each new moment and as I have begun to intellectualize it, it is no longer what it was. Things begin to disintegrate and suddenly we realize that they do not exist in a fixed manner or exist independently but rather they exist in relation to, and in dependence on everything and are therefore interconnected. At the time that I am writing this, the ephemeral artwork that I have created has since devolved back into the environment and is no longer recognizable as an artwork.

The materials that I have used to create this work came from the needles of a White Pine and mosses that were collected from the shady forest floor. These materials could not exist without the elements of nature in balance creating the right conditions for the vegetation to grow. Without the glaciers that deposited this rock some 10,000 to 12,000 years ago I would not have a site to create this work. The White Pine grows in this area because of the well-drained soil and cool, humid climate of northern Minnesota. These beautiful trees provide food and shelter for numerous animals including, forest birds, squirrels, lynx, and wolves. It also provides cool damp shaded areas for a variety of vegetation like mosses and mushrooms to grow. Many people are drawn to this area to experience this unique beauty. Out canoeing on the water or sitting by the lake there is no need to worry about deadlines or being late for a meeting.  Somehow living in the moment and the simple experience of traveling on water by canoe, setting up camp, cooking dinner by fire and enjoying the sights and sounds of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness feels liberating. When we can stop, breathe, and listen to what is around us, we are more open and receptive to the world around us.

While I was in Ely, I learned that an issue central to many people in the area revolved around the developments of a new mine. The town seemed to be polarized between those that supported the mine for their livelihood and those that were worried that the mine would affect the environment by bringing changes to the area that were damaging and irreversible. Many people depend on the area for a variety of things in order to sustain a livelihood. The mining companies depend on the valuable minerals in the bedrock while people who are supported by tourism depend on the landscape and wildlife for recreation activities such as canoeing, backpacking, dogsledding, fishing and hunting.  I began to think since everyone depends on the land and it’s central to the health and livelihood of everyone, isn’t preserving the landscape in everybody’s best interests both sustainably and economically? As Chief Seattle said, “Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.” The development of the mine would permanently alter the landscape; affect water and air quality and take hundreds of years to fully recover. Does this outweigh the benefits that the mine will bring to the community? Are there other ways of creating jobs that won’t negatively affect the environment? And what are the prevailing attitudes that justify the development of a mine in this area? Aldo Leopold writes, “We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.”

As a stone strikes the water and creates energy, this unique residency allowed for artists and scientists to bridge creativity with observation and research.  While residing in Ely, Minnesota during our residency we learned of the complex issues regarding this unique community and have grown from our shared experiences. From our varied perspectives we are creating new energy to move forward to inspire others to be concerned about the future of our planet, to become aware of our environment and to bridge gaps between the divisions that separate us.

Photograph by Lawson Gerdes
A photo of artists Anaya Cullen (left), Troy Nickle (center) and Katherine Ball (right), at Sigurd Olsen's cabin near Ely, Minnesota.

October morning collaboration between Maple, Spruce, Aspen, wicker, wind, water and Anaya Cullen

It's a crisp October morning here in Ely, MN. I'm working outside the Cedar bunkhouse at the Kawishiwi Ranger Station where the three Artists-in-Residence, are staying along with Becca Orf, Biological Plant Technician/Wilderness Ranger, a Wolf Biologist, Firefighter and the occasional surprise visitor.  This is my first time experience the full changing of the color guard in the fall and the colors are eye-popping and ever changing, and contrasting brilliantly with the dark bark of the maple wet from morning rain. I weaving wicker this morning, letting my eyes taken in the color and my mind wander into making movement phrases watching the trees moving in the breeze. The spruce is practicing stillness mostly while the apsen seems to be working on allegro steps when the breeze kicks up. The dampness has actually become a collaborator at the moment, allowing me to weave for longer before the wicker becomes brittle and needs re-soaking. There is something about getting in to a good rhythm with your hands, doing something thumb-over-thumb like weaving, that I love. It’s meditative, and often good brainstorming or daydreaming time. 

I’m reminded of a poem I have loved for years by a Palestinian American Poet, Naomi Shihab Nye called The Man Who Makes Brooms...

The Man Who Makes Brooms
Naomi Shihab Nye
So you come with these maps in your head
and I come with voices chiding me to
"speak for my people"
and we march around like guardians of memory
till we find the man on the short stool
who makes brooms.

Thumb over thumb, straw over straw,
he will not look at us.
In his stony corner there is barely room
for baskets and thread,
much less the weight of our faces
staring at him from the street.
What he has lost or not lost is his secret.

You say he is like all the men,
the man who sells pistachios,
the man who rolls the rugs.
Older now, you find holiness in anything
that continues, dream after dream.
I say he is like nobody,
the pink seam he weaves
across the flat golden face of his broom
is its own shrine, and forget about the tears.

In the village the uncles will raise their kefiyahs
from dominoes to say, no brooms in America?
And the girls who stoop to sweep the courtyard
will stop for a moment and cock their heads.
It is a little song, this thumb over thumb,
but sometimes when you wait years
for the air to break open
and sense to fall out,
it may be the only one.

Beautiful poem, I think, painting strong images with her words, subtle in moments, yet bold in thought.  It’s looking like a downpour now, time to pack up the weaving studio and head for cover. Good morning. Amazing moments and the day is still new.


Tuesday, December 17, 2013

"Walk it Down" and Vela Magazine

by Andrea Spofford

As I'm writing an "update" post--where I've been and what I've been doing after Alaska--I wanted to take a moment and share an essay I wrote about fishing in the Kotzebue Sound. Vela Magazine (an excellent magazine that publishes "creative nonfiction inspired by travel, written by women") was gracious enough to publish my work.

If you have ten minutes take a moment to check it out.

Happy, happy travels.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Ben McCarthy//Benjamin Ceramix :: Canyons of the Ancients Artist in Residence 2013

 I wholeheartedly give thanks to everyone involved with my artist residency at the Canyons of the Ancients National Monument in Colorado, USA. The entire experience was informative, inspirational, and motivating for my artwork. During my time in the Southwest, I worked with several biologists, archaeologists and curators of the Bureau of Land Management Anasazi Heritage Center. We conducted many field observations, which entailed hiking and camping throughout the mountains and valleys of the Monument—giving the artists a clear understanding of the land once inhabited by the ancient people, known as the Ancestral Puebloans, or Anasazi.
 The landscape that was home to the Ancient Ones (Anasazi) is shaped with majestic mountains and canyons made up of astonishing geological formations. The sky constantly reveals a story of vivid color, cloud patterns, and bright stars. On a clear night, one can see far to distant galaxies—deep blue spills behind the constellations. I imagine the life of these people, building sandstone structures into the valley walls and surviving entirely from what Earth has offered them. The architecture truly commanded my attention as an artist, embracing the thought that generations of people can live off of only the earth and its resources, still while developing a strong, resilient, and creative community who have left their traces to be discovered thousands of years later. The bold, angled and curved construction of the cliff dwellings built into the canyons were designed carefully by expert masons of sandstone. Mesa Verde, as well as many other places nearby the Canyons of the Ancients, contains these archaelogical sites that unfold ancient stories through sprawling artwork carved into rock faces, artifacts, and towering pueblos balanced on islands of stone.
 The geometrically painted ceramic vessels made by the Ancestral Puebloans are another essential component to understanding their sense of creation. Not only is the precision and sense of design visually compelling, but one must also take into consideration the daily ritual crafted into the hand built pottery that was being produced by the communities. The process was utilitarian and selfless—no artist signed his or her pieces; however, their fingerprints are embedded into each coil. One can find several shards of black-on-white painted pottery in the piles of midden throughout the canyons—detritus from ancient Native American life: pieces of vessels, dippers, and sharpened arrowheads embedded into the land that have slept for over a thousand years.
 I created several different types of artwork during my residency. I began by making a large piece with a clay I brought from Kansas City, which is called MesaMan, resembling an architectural figure influenced by Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde. When it was raw clay, it acquired the name RainChild. It has now been fired once again and treated with a chrome glaze finish, giving it the final title of PuebloPerson—a sculptural manifestation of an ancient architectural idea. After finding a source of quality clay in the McPhee Reservoir (a prominent archaeological excavation site), I decided to make a few small sculptures with the grey malleable clay from under the ground. They are simple beings—spirits and animals. The clay, once fired at a low temperature, turns to a bright, brilliant orange. If it is fired too high, it melts to a foamy, green goop. I plan attempt more, larger structures using this peculiar clay.
 With countless photographs of the places I visited, I also began to experiment with digitally altering my photos on the computer. My sculptures became able to enter the landscapes and archaeological sites of the Canyons of the Ancients, and the LED pictures started to unfold an exciting story. Using tiles of geological samples, I arranged natural colors and patterns within the rocks and skies into my own tessellations and mandalas. They are sketches and paintings using a new technique and a sense of humor to illustrate future ideas. My artwork continues to be translated into digital media, which has given insight to new possibilities of things to create.
 I was also granted the great privilege of working with Vince MacMillan, an archaeologist with the Bureau of Land Management and the Anasazi Heritage Center. He is currently working on a new method to document and archive artifacts, rock art sites, and Ancestral Puebloan towers with a process called photogrammetry. The technology includes taking hundreds of photos of an object or place from all perspectives of the piece. The photos are then entered into a computer program that renders all of the images together to create a 3D model of the artifact. Photogrammetry is being used to catalogue the museum's collection into a gallery of the art pieces and archaeological sites to be preserved and studied in the future without being affected by weather and decay. I have included a sample video, one of Lightning Tree Tower, and one of my sculptures, called the Volcano Vessel, which have been processed with photogrammetry. I believe this is a new platform for sculptural work, letting the viewer move the object as if it were weightless, zoom into high-definition detail, and experience the sculpture from all angles. Soon, the 3D model of my piece will be available in a downloadable PDF format. I plan to continue applying this technique to my artwork, and am currently incorporating photogrammetry into a computer animation that will be finished by the new year.
 Thank you for your time and the phenomenal opportunity. I hope you enjoy my latest artwork. There is already more in the making, and I will continue to post updates to the Aldo & Leonardo blog!

Ben McCarthy
Colorado Art Ranch
Aldo & Leopold: art + science
Artist in Residence: BLM
 Canyons of the Ancients
September 2013

Reflections on my month at CANM

Storm over Cannonball, encaustic on panel, 24" x 48"

My month was spent at Canyons of the Ancients National Monument (CANM) in far SW Colorado.  It was a month of exploring a desert wilderness filled with archeology since CANM was densely populated by the Ancestral Puebloans until  ~1270 AD when they moved south to areas with more water after a long and severe drought which was at least partially caused by human activities.  My time at CANM was marked by many unseasonable dramatic storms moving across the mesas and canyons, producing flash floods, runoff and very dramatic lightening on the heights. At the same time the Front Range of Colorado was having severe flash flooding resulting in $2 billion of damage - all likely caused by climate change.

Oncoming storm 1, encaustic monotype on kozo, ~ 18 x 24"

I came away from this trip with a heightened appreciation for the power of nature and the reach of human activity to accelerate big weather events. Being in wilderness is making oneself open to nature and also vulnerable to it in ways that in normal life we tend to assume won't happen. Climate change brings bigger more powerful weather events making us vulnerable even when we aren't backpacking in the high desert.

Oncoming storm 2, encaustic monotype on kozo, ~ 18 x 24"
This residency pushed me.  I am an experienced hiker and backpacker but had not backpacked in many years and am in my 50s.  It was physically challenging - I am in good shape but was hiking with people who are younger and fitter than I.  I drove on rougher 4WD roads than I have ever tried and realized that I was more competent than I had given myself credit for being.

Oncoming storm 3, encaustic monotype on kozo, ~ 18 x 24"
It was not a studio based residency given the amount of time we spent in the back country.  I did a lot of photography much of which I have posted previously.  Now that I am back in the studio I am painting and making monotypes - both using encaustic.  Unsurprisingly much of this work is about weather.  Hiking in high desert brings sky, horizon and weather to the forefront of one's experience.

Lowering storm 1, encaustic on cedar shake, ~7 x 10"
I am deeply grateful to Colorado Art Ranch and the Aldo Leopold Wilderness Research Institute for making this experience possible.  It was immensely rewarding and even life-changing.  Working with the wonderful staff at the Anasazi Heritage Center was a pleasure.  We were very supported by their generosity in sharing their expertise with us.

storm/ground, encaustic on panel, 6 x6"

Storm series 5 down, ink & encaustic on partially silver coated kozo, ~15 x 25"

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Interview with artist Tory Tepp: John Muir Wilderness (July 10-August 7, 2013)


Tory Tepp, a native of Wisconsin, received his undergraduate BFA in painting from Parson’s, the New School for Design in New York City with a minor in non-traditional art histories. While at Parson’s, Tory studied painting under Joan Snyder. The following 15 years saw his work expand into printmaking, metalworking and furniture making. In 2009, Tory earned his MFA in public practice as part of the inaugural class of Suzanne Lacy’s community engaged art practice program at Otis College of Art and Design in Los Angeles. These years saw the emergence of art projects sited within specific communities that drew upon urban agriculture, the reclamation of derelict public spaces and the use of earthworks as a means of shaping space. After a temporary relocation to New Orleans, Tory assumed the role of the driver of a vintage armored car for Mel Chin’s Fundred Dollar Bill Project and proceeded on a 19,000 mile journey around the country as the public face for the nationwide public art project devoted to remediating lead contaminated soil in New Orleans. This, in turn, led to the development of an itinerant art practice that has kept him on the road for the past three years, working from project to project in New Orleans, Milwaukee, Los Angeles and Death Valley, until the wheels finally came off in Florida. Now, after completing the inaugural community arts residency for the Atlantic Center for the Arts, Tory continues to develop the two projects started within the New Smyrna Beach community.

Q: Why were you interested in participating at the John Muir Wilderness residency?

T.T. I had been doing projects in Los Angeles and New Orleans that were about the different neighborhoods in relation to the corresponding waterways. I started doing earthworks, so wanting to do an environmental residency has always been a part of the agenda.
It seemed like out of all the residencies that Colorado Art Ranch offered, this one was one I may have been somewhat familiar with. It seemed to really offer some interesting connections between what is going on in the world and my art work. It was interesting because we thought it was going to be in Montana and I know they had to switch partners which ended up in John Muir, CA. So for me I ended up making alternative plans because I didn't think the residency was going to come through. Those plans actually included driving to California just days before the residency started. It was this strange synchronicity between when Grant called and said- well now the residency is in California, so I thought great I am going to be there anyway.  At that point I knew that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Q: Why is the intersection of Art and Science so important to you and your work?

T.T.  I’m not a doomsayer but I feel like the human race is putting a great deal of stress on the planet, its resources, and each other.  I think it’s blatantly obvious everywhere you look whether it’s over population, food shortage, or water shortage.  It seems to be mounting based on quite simply the pressure we put on the planet. Quite honestly it’s our inability to see down the road and find solutions that are a little more sustainable. The fact that we have not been thinking about these things for a long time and it has obviously caught up with us can be hard to deal with. 
 The idea of sitting in a studio making art work was just part of the same commercial system that has lead us down this path and doesn't seem like any viable solution. For me and my art making, it became a search to find a mode of art making that made me feel like I was  part of the solution. Finding ways that could engage with these kinds of issues and social environmental issues that seemed to be emerging became important. Los Angeles was a great spot for that because there are so many problems and it became a petri dish to get involved. That was what really led me into wanting to combine the environmental issues with art making, because in the end, I’m still an artist. So I ended up thinking - well how many ways can I use my art to help in whatever capacity I can? This is when I started thinking about straddling that gap of socio-environmental geographic issues. 
I think one of things that art is really great at and why it’s so important is, it can present information in a different light and recontextualizes information. Art makes issues more digestible or apparent. If you can produce art in a creative and interesting way it draws people in and gets them really thinking about pressing issues. To me that’s why it’s so important to start working in both areas of Science and Art.
There is so much information out there but when it’s in the language of science it can be a bit uncomprehendable. You present it in a way that is irrelevant to many groups of people; by changing the language  from a science base to a culture based platform can result in beneficial outcomes.

Q: What are some of your first reactions to the John Muir Wilderness?

T.T. It was interesting because I got caught on the road- by the road I mean that 30 mile stretch that takes three hours. I happened to catch it at night which was actually better in terms of not looking over the edge. 
It was really wonderful how remote it was, and there were still people up there (Campers, Hikers, Fishermen ect.).  You knew that you were as far as you could go with a vehicle. There was a real sense of - alright this is as far as civilization goes to some extent. The deeper you went on foot was like; you’re really going into fairly unknown territory. That’s what I was surprised on, and that was how many people are actually out in the remote wilderness.
 Being inserted that deep into the wilderness the first few days was awesome. Both Duane and I had some trepidation because we realized we were generating our own mystic about the Rangers that were going be taking us on the trek.  Once we started to assemble our packs and get our bear cans together we started to realize how heavy our packs were. There was a little element of terror involved as we prepared for the big eight day trek.
 I wrote about it in the blog that I had been coming from personally a little bit of a dark place and I really needed this for my soul and my psyche. Duane was a great companion on the trail and he really helped lighten the load for me. Not only was it about his humor, he also is a college professor and brought that to the table out there. He really made the trip educational for me- so that was just another wonderful thing about the residency.

Q: What do you believe to be a highlight to your time spent in the John Muir Wilderness?

T.T.  We were at a place called Lake Marie and it was our last camp before we had to turn back in towards the trail. The hike, the work that we were doing and the exploration was finally coming into the soup. It was that day up there at this perfect camping spot and lake to match where the project just gelled. I remember I took the whole afternoon to just sit up there to contemplate.  It was just this moment that I felt like I was in perfect harmony with the project, my creativity and the surrounding environment. I didn't really do anything but sit, write and sketch that whole afternoon alone.   I thought to myself, this is it…
 It’s amazing how the creativity came forth without it having to be cold out. Sometimes you’re working on a project and your just struggling to find these answers and these ideas and everything was so open in terms of my perception, my ability to receive what I was looking at, and how I was feeling within this environment was all pouring out.

Q: Did the residency make any impact on the way you view the natural world, or facilitate ideas for future work?

T.T. It definitely had some impact on the way I view the natural world. I was surprised how many hikers were up there doing the Pacific crest trail. It’s such an arduous and amazing thing to accomplish, then you realize that every single day you pass 15-20 people that hiking this trail. There are tons or people up there yet it doesn't diminish the awesome nature of the feat.
In essence the whole thing seemed in no way detracting to the natural landscape, and its beauty was still incalculable. In terms of how the Rangers and we interacted, was like a big theme park for outdoor wilderness people. What the rangers do is they maintain the areas of the theme park that allow people to actually access it. It changed how I thought about this wilderness area. It seemed incredibly remote then you realize that it really isn't.  At first I was thinking of the Rangers as druids. I thought of them as these people that have all this knowledge of the wilderness. In reality it wasn't as much about knowledge of the woods as it was about just loving and living the wilderness lifestyle; that to me was what I really thought about the rangers. They’re campers and they’re hikers and explorers. So it wasn't so much about knowledge of the trees, wildflowers and taming this place as it was about having a job that allowed them to exist within this place. 
In terms of my art work, it had some impact because this was one of the most personal projects that I have been able to work with ever. It was a small group of people and they really invested their energy into providing me with the poems and the stories. It was a really nice opportunity for it to be extremely personal for a change.
I just got finished with some very large projects, with them it’s hard to gauge how you feel about the final product. You may be working with 200 kids and you don’t know if they really care about it or not. Half the people you’re trying to get involved end up not giving a shit.
So it’s relieving when you get this beautiful little cocoon of a working group. Working with people on a very personal level made me realize that I don’t need to do these gigantic gestures to make it meaningful. The Aldo and Leonardo initiative was really nice backing off from some of the projects that lead me into it. It was great all the way around for me.

Q: As an artist do you feel like you influenced the Rangers that you worked with?

T.T.  I think it was having Duane and I there. Living in that kind of super intense encapsulated moment was most likely influential. They were rubbing off on us and I’m sure we were rubbing off on them. I say this because here are two completely different groups with different views and expressions on the experience. We were sharing our different paradigm’s which is really great. I think if I had any effect, it was when we completed our project and we interacted with the Rangers. Watching the Rangers go through and take turns reading all of these poems-Several of them came to me and said they never have been able to actually be involved in a piece of art like this.  In terms of both the making it but also they kind of became the tenders or the care takers of this body of art after I left.

As far as influencing them, I think it helped them get an idea that art is more expansive then just someone working alone in their studio making an object. Here is an art that included their whole group and it is something that was very personal to them.  The piece was made public and so I think that had some effect on them. Everyone was giving me these extraordinarily personal poems about their experiences in the wilderness. I think having this communal shared little space that we set up, helped develop new ideas and thought for the future.This project may help others think about how to better express their experiences out there in a different way.  I can’t really speak how it may or may not have influenced them. I do think that the rangers were very into the project. They responded immediately which is surprising. I’m not used to my constituents being so into it. It was a perfect incident because as Rangers they have this really intense relationship with nature. This was a chance for them to express that. Maybe it will spur them to express more now that they have been goaded into producing something of that nature.

Q: Did you experience any absurd situations in the John Muir Wilderness?

T.T.   You mean besides Duane?!  Especially once he got his project rolling, I actually tried to catch up with him the day after he left but it was like trying to find a needle in a hay stack and I never found him. I wouldn't say that I encountered anything too absurd.
The main thing that seemed off about the residency was the whole final two weeks of the residency, it was like a nuclear winter. Literally you couldn't see the mountains through the smoke, ash was falling like snow. I still went out and hiked but it definitely screwed with my lungs. This happened it changed the entire feel; we really weren't in the mountains anymore because you couldn't see the views, you couldn't see the vistas and it was hard to hike. It changed the whole relationship to the landscape by having that strange smoke cover. That actually was pretty out of the ordinary but for me it changed everything. The whole hike was extraordinary.

Q: What were some of the beneficial outcomes of your experience?

  The experience brought  to me a bolder life and a newer life. It really gave me the time to actually work through this project and through all of this strenuous physical activity. So that was one benefit to me.

The project itself was very meaningful to me, not only in terms of process but also I feel like it really helped me become more aware of my own process as an art maker. It helped me realize that it’s okay to be really personal. It’s okay to be emotionally charged. Coming out of academia, sometimes there’s a big push for things to be verifiable and anything that has to do with spirituality is almost looked upon as being nonintellectual. This whole projects foundation seemed to be roots raw and full of mysticism.  It was nice to be able to let that flourish through the project without feeling any constraints.  This was totally different than the art world in LA, where everything is just so cynical and everything is just so cold hard and crisp. It was nice to immerse myself in a project that was a little warm and fuzzy. It was just great to experience that environment before it’s not there anymore.We experienced even on our hikes trying to get to glaciers that were on the map and who knows I don’t think these maps could have been more than 20 yrs. old. When we got to the location that they should have been at they were melted. We thought – how cool is it going to be when we get up there – and to see at the top of these ridges, but most of these glaciers are gone now. You could definitely see the effects of climate change up there.