Phillip Keefe’s furniture appears like it might scuttle away in the night. The Chicago-based designer uses traditional techniques like hand-carving and wood joinery to sculpt lively pieces evocative of spiders, crabs, and other creepy, crawly critters.
The Tim Burton-esque furnishings were initially inspired by Keefe’s dog Iggy, who frequently accompanied him to the studio. “His ambitions always exceeded his ability, and what I’m sure began with helpful intentions ended as scatterings of wood shavings all over my shop,” the designer added, noting that Iggy’s most important contribution was serving as a model. Keefe hand-carved iterations of the dog’s legs, which became the basis for a series of chairs and tables named after the pup.
“Iggy No. 5”
The Arthropod collection emerged similarly. As Keefe explored various wood joints, he discovered one method that would allow furniture legs to attach to the side of a piece rather than rest underneath. The resulting bookshelf, a cabinet, and a desk with square skeletal frames and legs that seem primed for movement, as if they might scurry across the room to greet you at any moment.
If you’re in Chicago, catch Keefe’s anthropomorphic works in a pop-up project through October 11. Otherwise, find more on his website and Instagram.
Detail of “Iggy No. 5”“Arthropod No. 3”Detail of “Arthropod No. 4”Detail of “Arthropod No. 2”Detail of “Arthropod No. 2”Detail of “Arthropod No. 2”“Iggy No. 4”“Iggy No. 6”A work in progressKeefe in the studio
Europe’s “wolf problem” is fast becoming a source of social and political tension. Relative conservation success across the continent has led to calls for action from worried politicians and farming and hunting groups. And the European Commission has now proposed a change in their international status, from “strictly protected” to “protected”, which could allow people to hunt wolves.
Instead, perhaps the time is ripe for a renewed focus on learning to live – again – with wolves. Proven prevention strategies, such as fencing and the use of guard dogs, play a critical role in this.
But the question may be fundamentally philosophical. Namely, it boils down to how to coexist – and the cultivation of ethical principles and values which undergird a successful coexistence.
‘Deep ecology’ and the equal right to exist
In this task, the work of Norwegian environmental philosopher Arne Næss (1912-2009) might be of help. Næss is known as the father of “deep ecology”, an ethical theory that contends that all life has intrinsic value. Næss argued that all beings, whether human or nonhuman, have an equal right to exist and flourish, a principle he called “biospherical egalitarianism”.
As this applies to wolves, Næss was clear: wolves have just as much a right to be here as we do.
Næss thought early 20th-century ecological thinking was too shallow and hadn’t reckoned with underlying philosophical problems.
Bård Løken/NTB, CC BY-NC-SA
Næss wrote an essay with biologist Ivar Mysterud stating: “The well-being of the species wolf as part of human and nonhuman life on Earth has value in itself!” As a result, they argued, “humans have no right to reduce this richness and diversity, including wolf habitats and races, except to satisfy vital needs!”
Despite this ostensibly radical challenge to human-centred ethical norms, Næss demonstrated a pragmatic approach in how the principle of biospherical egalitarianism was applied in practice. For example, he considered the important contextual factors of local wolf-human interactions, writing:
For some sheep holders, the need to protect their sheep from wolves or to be in some way compensated is today vital. It means protecting the basis of their economy and home where they have lived for generations.
In addition to human interests, he also took seriously the moral obligation to reduce the suffering of sheep and other domestic animals. This is especially salient as humans have reduced the capacity of these species to evade wolves.
Mouflon, the wild ancestor of domestic sheep, do their best to avoid large predators by fleeing into mountains. In contrast, after thousands of years of selective breeding, modern livestock have fewer genetic defences and are left to fend for themselves in fenced-in fields.
Man has a heart, not just a brain
Næss avoided a one-size-fits-all answer to the question of wolves (a position other scholars criticised him for). But his focus on articulating general ethical principles to serve as a backdrop for contextual decisions may have importance in the increasingly heated and political nature of this rewilding debate.
For example, Næss used the term “mixed community” to denote places which comprise humans and those species who play a clear role in human affairs. Challenging the tendency to define community only in human terms, Næss contended that this framing helps to “break down some of the barriers commonly erected between humans and any other forms of life within our common space”.
In doing so, this can open pathways for increased identification and empathy for nonhuman others – a capacity Næss believed all humans have, stemming from an inherent continuity between human and nonhuman life.
Indeed, as the pioneering American conservationist Aldo Leopold similarly maintained, perceiving ourselves in a community with others is a prerequisite for moral action. In this case, it helps to make concrete the idea of a wolf’s right to exist – they are members of the community just like us.
Applying this ethical framework of “mixed communities” to current EU deliberations can have some benefits. For example, it may inspire the further development of creative, mutually beneficial solutions such as economic compensation for livestock losses – a move which Næss called for – as well as improving wolf-attack prevention. It may also play an effective role in countering the often-baseless fear and hysteria around wolves (Næss blamed the brothers Grimm for the animals’ bad public image).
Perhaps most important of all, though, is the potential for connecting with our emotional elements. As Næss said: “Man has a heart, not only a brain.”
To move towards a sustainable coexistence, it is not enough to appeal to abstractions about scientific benefits or devise perfectly efficient compensation schemes. This must also derive from a sense of solidarity with other species – a full recognition that, in Næss’s words: “Humans are not alone on this planet.”
Interestingly, as a recent study showed, most people living in rural communities in the EU already believe that wolves have a right to exist, corresponding with Næss’s relative optimism about the possibility of mixed communities. This is all the more important to remember in light of the worrying political divisiveness in relation to Europe’s so-called wolf problem.
Nora Ward does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
At the end of Jean-Baptiste Lully’s baroque opera Atys, the titular character is transformed into a tree. This metamorphosis, the result of a spell cast by an agitated goddess, secures Atys’ Earth-bound fate, melding human and plant life into a single body.
French artist Prune Nuorry draws on this mythological allegory in a series that visualizes the hybrid form. Standing several feet tall to be lifelike or larger, a trio of bronze figures emerges through intricate networks mimicking both veins and branches, “fractal shapes that we can find in different scales in nature,” the artist says. Each sculpture references the form’s roots in operatic performance, and Nuorry painted the smooth metal in a trompe l’oeil style so that the works appear as if made of rope, used frequently in stage rigging. This illusory material also alludes to the connection between the infinitely large and infinitely small, a concept often described in the framework of string theory.
Nuorry, who lives and works between New York and Paris, has long been interested in the body and the way it interacts with the environment. She recently completed a massive public work featuring a pregnant mother embedded in the land, and earlier projects include anatomical sculptures that similarly connect vein and branch. In her ongoing In Vitro series that began back in 2010, for example, Nuorry uses laboratory glass to create delicate, sprawling renditions of human lungs and bodies. As a whole, her practice “questions the notion of balance and the ethical issues attached to it: the body and healing process, the dangerous demographic imbalance due to (the) selection of babies’ sex in some countries, the ecosystem, and (the) interdependence between living species,” a statement says.
Last year, the artist collaborated on a performance of Atys, and you can see the massive rope installation she created for that production in the video below. Find more of her corporeal projects on Instagram.
“Atys” at Assemblee Nationale. Photo by Laurent Edeline
Detail of “Atys (1).” Photo by Annik Wetter
“Fractal Lungs” (2019), lab glass, 50 x 60 x 25 centimeters. Photo by Bertrand Huet Tutti
“Atys.” Photo by Annik Wetter
“River Woman” (2019), borosilicate glass, 195 x 75 x 20 centimeters. Photo by Bertrand Huet Tutti
Detail of “River Woman” (2019), borosilicate glass, 195 x 75 x 20 centimeters. Photo by Bertrand Huet Tutti
