Many scientists agree that the pandemic gives a new opportunity for humankind to lead a slower and more sustainable lifestyle. Do you agree? 

 It makes sense these days to think about what might work differently in the novel state after the crisis – if we can talk about sharp boundaries at all. In spite of this, I don’t think it is worth speculating about what returning to the future will be like in a present so hard to live. Focusing on the here and now – as in a therapeutic or meditative situation – may be the most vital part of the concept of slow life. In order to return to an eventually accelerating social life one day and avoid immediately reviving our old habits, we need to start to make changes now both individually and in small communities. Of course, we should not confuse this with this year’s quarantine productivity pressure concerning so many of us, which can also be traced back to the production pressure of the capitalist system. The point seems to be to pay attention to ourselves, attempt to silence our environment (if possible), and think over what difference it makes to live our lives in isolation. This isolated state may confront us with questions and emotions we  could not deal with in depth before because the noise was too much. In my opinion, self-reflection should precede all thoughts on how we can build more sustainable systems together that enhance stability and openness instead of promoting production and growth. 

Obligatory isolation has changed the way we communicate. This process may have advantages in the long run, however, it may also lead to the development of bad practices. In one of Asimov’s novels the inhabitants of a planet only communicate with each other through teleconferences (referred to as viewing in the book), since they find the idea of face-to-face interaction unbearable due to viruses and bacteria (among others). Communication is only one example of major change – in general, shall we hope for a better or worse future?  

From a certain aspect, it is a misconception that our everyday lives have changed radically. It is true though that numerous new rules and official regulations have become part of our lives, together with a continuous sense of fear. Apart from this, I have noticed that everyone, including myself and my environment, faces the same phenomena and tasks as before, but on more extreme levels. I have disabled all mobile notifications on my smartphone, and I am trying to create an environment as relaxing as possible and exclude the chaos prevalent online. What matters the most is that we should not let the online world take control of our lives, but it should always be our individual decision as to whether we are ready to spend time on social media and news sites. I don’t think that we would like to communicate through viewing after the pandemic. The need for human interaction has truly increased during these past months dominated by all the regulations and isolation. If all is clear, we won’t be able to get enough of each other’s company. That might have been the case with Asimov, too. 

Exhibitors of Slow Life – Radical Practices of the Everyday examine both social and economic reasons of the climate and ecological crisis and their possible solutions from different viewpoints. Why did you choose this subject matter for your artwork? 

Anna Zilahi and I turned to new realism and ecological theories simultaneously during our year at the University of Fine Arts – among the old institutional frames of the university these concepts seemed so novel. When we realised this and found out how incomplete this discourse in the Budapest art scene was, we founded an artist group called xtro realm, which Rita Süveges also joined a bit later on. From the very start, our main aim has been to share transdisciplinary knowledge. Anthropocene used to be a vague term three years ago that many people used as a broad and obscure signifier without knowing what it meant. The climate crisis has gained wide publicity since then, and the project we have been building since 2017 has started to attract a much wider audience, which is great. My work exhibited at the Slow Life show dates back to the period when I started to get acquainted with the closely related new realist and ecological theories. I was interested in hyperobjects – a term coined by Timothy Morton – that stand for spatially and temporally dispersed entities that we cannot comprehend as a whole, we can only accommodate one detail at a time. Examples include global warming, the biosphere, or the stock market as a whole. I created a photo series using an infrared filter that gives insight into a radiation spectrum invisible to the human eye. We see an all-encompassing layer of reality that is a basic part of how the world works, yet we can only experience its effects. Healthy flora reflects this radiation during photosynthesis, which results in images where the vegetation appears brighter and comes to the fore. And since I used a long shutter speed, it does so in another temporal dimension. This technology is frequently used for military or agricultural purposes as well. 

How does the current situation explain and situate (or perhaps annul) your selected work for the exhibition? Is there a new project you are working on now? 

My photo series is related to the current situation on numerous levels however, this is true of any artwork focusing on ecological issues. I mainly read these days, and although I do have plans for new projects, at this point it is quite hard to imagine the ways in which presenting these works would make sense later on. Art certainly has a particularly important role in interpreting the crisis. I am quite pessimistic about how this critical situation will affect cultural life though, already in the short term. During the past few years, the art scene has been shrinking, and the opportunities and perspectives of young artists are constantly decreasing. It is quite certain for example that many will leave their artistic careers as a result of the crisis, who could have created and exhibited important bodies of work in a more livable system. 

Is there any topic/problem/phenomenon that you encountered during the quarantine and would like to work on in the future? 

I do not think I would address any particular topic related to the pandemic directly, rather loosely related ones. I have also realised that staying in quarantine and slowing down has a beneficial effect on my relationship with specialised literature. Earlier, the jobs I took in addition to artistic activity didn’t leave much time for reading, but now I’ve lost most of them. And now I’m a little puzzled by how ideal the current situation is for in-depth research and artwork – I have never had such suitable conditions in my life. Deep down, there is a shameful feeling lurking inside me: in some ways, I do not wish this period to end too fast, since I don’t know whether I will experience a similar one later on. I am afraid of how it’ll feel like to get back on track, and I keep warning myself to use this period wisely and make the most of it. 

 

An Interview with participating artist, poet Anna Zilahi
 

A number of scientists agree that the virus may provide an opportunity for a slower and a more sustainable way of life. Do you agree with this statement? 

COVID-19 reveals the most significant weaknesses of the current world order. Its spread to humans can be traced directly to our ill-fated relationship with nature, the destruction on which Western middle-class comfort is premised. Many ask whether we can return to what had been deemed normality; however, it would be worth considering whether we want to return to a normality in which science has been warning of the danger of a pandemic for years, urging us to take action, and then having to watch this nightmare come true. Or should we return to a normality in which the view that lives can be sacrificed to safeguard economic growth is an acceptable political response to the crisis? A “slow life” as pointed out by the exhibition would mean that hundreds of thousands have become unemployed in a matter of weeks, their existence has come under threat, while the lives of others has shifted to struggle to holding one’s ground from dawn to dusk. For example, the lives of parents, health care workers, shelf-stackers, teachers or delivery (wo)men have not slowed down at all, and online interfaces also seem to support a compulsion to continually consume content. (How many self-help podcasts have you listened to while cooking today? What have you learned in the past few weeks? What did you stream in the past two hours? How do you live the gift of time?) 

A slower and sustainable way of life (it may not be worthwhile to use the comparative of the latter) can only be achieved when it becomes attainable for all, not as a prerogative, but as a fundamental right. It can only be achieved, if we spend the gift of time to face social inequalities and think about the mental mechanisms that keep us in motion through desires instated by capitalism. For slowing down should not mean that we have nothing to do, yet we continue to hustle and bustle. The purpose of slowing down should be to have time for activities that allow connections to be formed and bring about change. This can only happen in communities, but the virus isolates us. The question is on what conclusions will a new normality be based: the experience of mutual assistance and interdependence or the fear of the unknown and individual losses. 

Forced isolation has changed our communication habits. This can carry positive impacts in the long run, but can also lead to the formation of bad practices. For example, in one of Asimov’s novels, the inhabitants of a planet only come into contact with each other through “remote viewing” as the idea of a personal encounter is unbearable for them, due, in-part, to viruses and bacteria. Communication is just an example of the immense change, but in general, should we hope for a better or worse future? 

Just before the pandemic broke out, I thought about taking my ancient, albeit barely used tablet home, to my grandparents, setting up a Wi-Fi router, and teaching them how to launch a video call with the touch of a button. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to follow up on this amidst the continuous rush, which I regret in retrospect. However, I have been in a flood of video calls with friends, co-workers, acquaintances, some of whom I have not seen for ages. But is this really necessary? If the crisis has revealed something, it’s how many more meetings I schedule than what would be necessary. These unnecessary in-person meetings have been replaced by Zoom video chats, where we don’t even notice when someone isn’t present, or may have been scrolling through news pages for the past quarter of an hour. This does not help a so-called slowing down at all, it only increases frustration and creates the illusion that one is working less. In fact, however, the boundaries are becoming blurred: if I pick up the phone wearing pyjamas in the morning, it doesn’t count as time at work, but what I’m not dressed later, when I answer next call? Doesn’t this lead to a higher level of self-exploitation through these changes? I yearn to hug my grandmother the most, but at this point, of course, I would be happy, if I could have taught her to turn on the iPad. 

Artists exhibiting at the Slow Life exhibition. Radical Practices of the Everyday examine the social and economic causes and possible solutions of the ecological crisis from various aspects. Why have you turned to this topic? 

Leading geologists at the 2016 International Geological Congress proposed the introduction of the geological epoch they named the anthropocene, which expands the discipline with the idea that, in the current global system, human activity, industrial destruction, and pollution have become primary geological forces. Since it first appeared in the early–2000s, the concept has had a huge impact on cultural public discourse, but it seems that little attention was paid to the subject in Hungary. In 2017, we founded the xtro realm artist group to support the expansion of art, theory and knowledge on climate change and ecological. After massive social crises and transformations in worldviews such as Galileo’s discoveries, the Plague, World War II, or the establishment of the socialist dictatorship, it is no longer possible to conduct art in the same manner, practices and focal points change. However, the climate crisis insidiously brings about constant transformation, which does not prompt an acute response, it does not lead to a critical point, from which everyone agrees that we should go no further. The crisis is here, coronavirus is just a symptom. The question is whether it is possible to respond to the growing challenges through the means of art, and whether the concept of art can be extended to progressive practices that do not fit the capitalist expectations of contemporary art production trends. 

How does the current situation interpret/ situate (maybe annihilate?) your artwork that was selected for the exhibition? 

The River Knows Better (Ophelia Lives) is a poem meditation, a guided piece of sound poetry for inner, bodily sounds. Meditation is the mental space where the pouring of air, the hurtle of blood flow, and the never-ending trains of thought can create a calm liveliness. It is still believed that meditation is a kind of abstract, esoteric and meaningless activity, a culturally alien expropriation of a Far Eastern practice. However, it has been scientifically proven to have an effect on the nervous system that can be measured by monitoring changes in brain waves. The main line of the poem’s chorus, “Slowing down to the rhythm of the river,” means a return to one’s own rhythm. Your pulse changes quickly, adapting to even the most unpredictable life situations, or it can just pick up the rhythm of a techno concert that has been going on for hours. If, on the other hand, we (get to) know our own rhythm, we can calm our thoughts simply by focusing our attention on our essential life functions. It is an excellent tool for stress management and, in the long run, it can fundamentally change our human relationships and thus society. In a few economically vulnerable neighbourhoods in the United States, an experiment was conducted to offering the chance for students with behavioural difficulties to meditate as opposed to punishing or detaining them. These children very soon underwent a spectacular transformation, their anxiety diminished, and they became interested and cooperative with others. Meditation should not be exploited for the sake of productivity. Its potential is, however, transformative at the societal level. 

 Many scientists agree that the pandemic gives a new opportunity for humankind to lead a slower and more sustainable lifestyle. Do you agree? If not, what are your thoughts on the subject? 

To quote Milton Friedman, “Only a crisis – actual or perceived – produces real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around.” The crisis bears within itself a number of unexpected outcomes, and the winning scenario greatly depends on the spirit in which the authorities exercise control over our lives. Is the goal to help those in need and thus create a fairer, more equal and a more sustainable society? The crisis legitimates the state to grow, and authorise itself to issue special rules and regulations. However, if the government does not use them to implement equalization policies, but to enforce exclusionist, corrupt and exploitative actions, then we cannot really hope that the poorer half of the country may stand a chance to get closer to living a worthy human life, in which the need for a slower, more sustainable lifestyle may arise. 

Lifestyle itself seems to be a matter of personal choice, an environment-conscious life being seemingly available for everyone. Still, a number of circumstances take part in the fact that for the end-consumer, the less environmentally friendly option is the cheaper, or at least the more comfortable one. One should not forget that it was capitalism that made us consumers, and its aim is to keep us in that state – and I’m not talking merely about luxury products. Our socio-cultural existence and sense of identity are based on our consumer attitudes – this is true even if we are trying to lead a more environmentally conscious lifestyle: we are avid market-goers, we collect waste selectively, do yoga, resist turning on the air-conditioner, or haven’t drunk a coke in about five years anyway. 

The most forms of being out in nature are invasive too, in accordance with our other consumer habits and activities – be it skiing, the pollution that comes as the traffic side effect of reaching our tropical holiday destinations, or the deceitful reserves shown by our tourist snaps. 

Will governments save the flight companies that go bankrupt? Those flight companies that – due to current reduced taxes – take millions of tourists from one point of the world to another (often to admire far away, exotic natural sights) via the cheapest, but most polluting way? Is it my responsibility as an individual to recognise that I am not entitled to cheap flights for example, even though my ecological footprint is ridiculously way below that of any local or international centre? When will these centres realize that their wealth – which allows them to commit to a sustainable, slow lifestyle – depends on cheap outsourced labour force, externalities and us? 

On a global level, although change would be possible, we are not doing great with our governments in a structural sense. On a personal level, it is hardly expectable from someone in today’s info-communication, mediatised society to leave the paved, neoliberal path of consumerism leading to happiness for a riskier and more uncomfortable junction – with an unknown ending; and to do this mostly alone, swimming against the current.  

Obligatory isolation has changed the way we communicate. This process may have advantages in the long run, however, it may also lead to the development of bad practices. In one of Asimov’s novels the inhabitants of a planet only communicate with each other through teleconferences (referred to as viewing in the book), since they find the idea of face-to-face interaction unbearable due to viruses and bacteria (among others). Communication is only one example of major change – in general, shall we hope for a better or worse future?  

As global supply chains are faltering, some industries have come to a halt altogether. Their restart powered by new investments may take them towards a more environmentally conscious direction (if considered profitable enough by the capital). In the future, economic operators may put forward local aspects more to decrease their dependence on global suppliers (i.e. not to favour local economy, but to serve their well-recognised self-interest). 

In most parts of the planet, the decrease of air pollution is clearly visible at the moment, and electric energy consumption in Hungary alone has decreased by 30%. However, nature’s momentary relief of extreme strain has only been possible through production halt, which resulted in millions of people losing their means of livelihood. 

Many must keep going to work during the pandemic, risking not just their own health but that of their environment too – in order to enable the continuous operation of public services, food and other supply systems, and keep our lives confined within four walls remain safe and comfortable. 

In the meantime, the climate crisis stays a real threat, hugely eliminated from public awareness by the pandemic. Amid the future economic depression, I wonder who will have the intention of redesigning the operation of our lives and that of society in a way that motivates us to give things up instead of pursuing our usual level of comfort. 

Having Google Earth is not enough anymore – our planet is now being rebuilt in Minecraft (rivers and buildings included), and it all will be available to us. In my opinion, the more we lock ourselves up in our own world (in either real or virtual communities), the less chance we have to see anything outside of it. Solidarity actions may bring us closer to those living in our immediate environment – be it the elderly neighbours for whom we do the shopping or the poplar trees in the park that we pass by while taking our constitutional walks. However, in the long run, isolation only separates us even more from the social groups and environmental processes that we encounter at our workplace, our community, our living space – thus outside our comfort zones. This makes being emphatic with them even more difficult, even though that would serve as the basis of social solidarity and environmental consciousness. 

In my personal life, I take communication shifting online really badly as well. Luckily, I share my home with my partner, and for me, the lockdown situation is privileged in a sense that we may slow down and spend our time in ways we previously didn’t. 

What I find concerning is that the digital surveillance systems tested during this crisis may be transformed for further use in an unnoticed manner – location tracking for example, face recognition, different databases about our risk level to infect others, and various other things beyond my scope. 

It is hopeful that all that time spent in home office will make invisible housework visible in the future. Maybe supply systems taken for granted – i.e. healthcare, education or food – will gain a better appreciation after we are all faced with partly having to do their jobs ourselves. 

 Exhibitors of Slow Life – Radical Practices of the Everyday examine both social and economic reasons of the climate and ecological crisis and their possible solutions from different viewpoints. Why did you choose this subject matter for your artwork?  

Nature has always been my main subject. I grew up in the country, in a house with a garden. As children, we played outside all the time and I spent hours observing weeds, insects, worms, our walnut tree, frogs, and crows and sparrows amid bamboo (in a Gerald Durrell manner). We lived with the changing seasons, and peas and apricots and violets grew in our garden. Once, my parents even enrolled me in an environmental summer day camp, organised by the local forestry. 

Although I have been living in the city for over 15 years, enjoying all the advantages – since my communities of friends and professionals are all here, and a variety of cultural programmes are available – I still cannot help but idealise the experiences I went through as a child. 

For this reason, my art soon turned towards the aim to recreate the natural experience, and gained a critical voice during my period of self-education: I research the roots of the separation of nature and culture, and the effects of this worldview to this day – the current climate and ecological crisis is the tip of this iceberg.  

My series out of control focuses on the states and participants of slow and fast carbon cycles. Carbon – the basis of life on Earth, one of its protagonists so to say – is in the state of constant change: by creating compounds with other elements it transforms between the states of living and non-living, solid, liquid or gas states. For us, the time spans of these coal cycles are incomprehensible, but the planet does not mind whether it is inhabited by advanced human or plankton societies. 

Most rocks for example were formed from calcareous remains of once living organisms (limestone), and crude oil was composed of sedimented layers of micro marine creatures, plankton and foraminifera over millions of years. 

By extracting and burning hydrocarbons, carbon joins the fast cycle – the natural elements of which also include the carbon dioxide emitted during photosynthesis and volcano eruptions. Disruption of the carbon cycle dynamics affects global climate balance as well, since the carbon dioxide level of the atmosphere functions as a climate regulating effect. 

The energy surplus of coal, oil and natural gas made the lifestyle of modern societies possible. During the last century, the major driving force of this lifestyle has become the ideology of never-ending acceleration, development and accumulation. We have started to deplete energy and natural resources accumulated in the ecosystem in the past hundreds of millions of years at a horrifying concentration and speed. The Earth has tremendous resources of fossil fuels, and instead of fearing their exhaustion, mankind should rather fear the extinction of its own living conditions due to burning them. 

We cannot disrupt these natural cycles anymore, since the consequences are unforeseeable: together with climate change, extinction of species, vanishing of forests, floods, hurricanes and an ecological catastrophe may await not only nature, but us, human societies as well.