Eline Gaudé-Hanses, Resilience, bronze pigment on driftwood, 2020
“Early on, I began cultivating an unwavering fascination for the things and beings that dwell at ground level. While others may have set their gaze upon cloudless nights, dreaming of distant moons and universes, my gaze was pulled towards smaller – albeit far closer – realms. I firmly believe in the power of wonder, for “[if] facts are the seeds that later produce knowledge and wisdom, then the emotions and the impressions of the senses are the fertile soil in which the seeds must grow” (Carson, 1956/1998, p. 49). My own, ground-related fascination has taught me to tread forest paths with my bare feet, to let my soles collide with soil, sand, rock, and experience the place of meeting between earth and atmosphere. The forest floor has always been of particular interest to me: this microscopic world has an impressive array of tales to tell, and is bursting with wonderful colors, shapes, smells, and sounds. More importantly, it is a world favored by mosses.
When taking a closer look at a living moss carpet, you soon realize that you are not, in fact, facing a uniform weave of vegetation, but an assemblage of species, co-existing and co-evolving side by side (as seen in Figure 1). An approximate of 12,000 species are distributed around the world, with over 900 bryophyte species found in Finland. These typically grow in dense patches, often in dark or shady locations, and can be found in urban and natural environments alike. They are known to aid in soil erosion control, by providing surface cover and absorbing water. They also possess the ability to break down exposed substrata, releasing nutrients used by other vegetation types (Encyclopedia Britannica, n.d.).
I have spent the past three summers treading forest paths in Central and Southern Ostrobothnia, and during that time I began noticing an ongoing dialogue between the trees and the moss: the architecture of the surrounding woodland was mirroring the forest floor, repeating itself in the form of the moss carpet. This dense amalgamation of vegetation was reminiscent of a Prehistoric Forest with its fern-like Ptilium crista-castrensis, broad-leaved Plagiomnium affine or spindly Sphagnum squarrosum. I quickly became enamored with their exquisite features: I marveled at their shapeshifting forms, and watched as their delicate leaves curled and unfurled, a skillful ballet dictated by the vagaries of rain and humidity.
The gracefully orchestrated choreography of moss testifies to its strong affinity for water, which is linked to its status as one of the earliest land plants to emerge from the water some 470 million years ago (Lenton et al., 2012). This incredible attraction is expressed in each of its elements, designed to heighten the attachments of water to the moss and inviting it to linger on (Kimmerer, 2003). Instead of roots, moss has developed thin, hair-like rhizoids; these dainty appendages facilitate water transport and help anchor mosses to their support (Dolan & Jones, 2012), amorously enclosing the shape of trees, rocks, and concrete alike, creating a clever and intimate marriage of vegetal and mineral.
Sensing through moss a connection to a primordial landscape and wanting to perpetuate my experience of wonder, I began to paint a variety of mosses using graphite, ink, and bronze pigment. These paintings, far from being attempts on my part to achieve scientific accuracy, stemmed from a desire to pay homage to the beauty of moss and engage with it from an artistic perspective. This engagement led me to a renewed awareness of their presence and brought a distinct sense of animacy to the more-than-human world, every encounter bringing a startling sense of immediacy and aestheticism. As I step out into the world, a boulder might greet me, sparsely clad in green and copper tufts of Isothecium alopecuroides, enticing me to stop for a moment and lay my palm on its surface. Further on, I notice the lace-like extremities of Pseudoleskeella nervosa unfurling on a young alder; they capture my gaze, beckoning me to lean in and look closer. Without thinking, I start tracing the uneven contours of the moss with the tip of my fingers, a soft caress that I will later repeat using the tip of my brush.”
Gaudé, E. (2022). Yearning for Kinship: An Artistic Exploration of Moss and Embroidery. Research in Arts and Education, 2022(1), 13–22. https://doi.org/10.54916/rae.116992
References:
Carson, R., & Lee, K. (1998). The sense of wonder. HarperCollins Publishers.
Jones, V. A., & Dolan, L. (2012). The evolution of root hairs and rhizoids. Annals of Botany, 110(2), 205–212. https://doi.org/10.1093/aob/mcs136
Kimmerer, R. W. (2003). Gathering moss: A natural and cultural history of mosses. Oregon State University Press.
Lenton, T. M., Crouch, M., Johnson, M., Pires, N., & Dolan, L. (2012). First plants cooled the Ordovician. Nature Geoscience, 5(2), 86–89. https://doi.org/10.1038/ngeo1390
