WORLDS WITHIN has been fuelled by an existential question: “How can an art practice help reduce environmental destruction and lessen the potential threat of an uninhabitable planet for humans and other species caused by human behaviour?”

An incredibly complex and big question, born out of feeling paralysed in the face of the apocalyptic narrative of climate change. However, I was determined to take action. While my thesis research didn’t provide a clear-cut answer, it led me on a journey across scales, revealing the intricate web of interconnections between worlds within worlds. 

As I delved into writing my initial question branched off into a myriad of others: What kind of art could encourage social and environmental awareness? From which perspective is it most desirable to think and create: local or global? What are the limits of human knowledge? How are individual lives, dreams, and ideals influenced by collective narratives? What other life forms do I depend on? How can I visualize breathing, not just as a metaphor for life, but also as an act of sharing?

The further I zoomed out in an attempt to understand the whole world, the more entangled I became in the complexities of being ‘one’ breathing being among countless other life forms. We are all connected, sharing and depending on this planet for our lives. Yet, due to the limitations of our human senses, we’ve never truly seen this planet as a whole (taking 24 astronauts aside), besides through zoomed-out and scaled-down representations. This notion inspired me to reflect on the use of globes in visual environmental discourses. 

Today, terms like globalization, global politics, and global warming have become deeply ingrained in the Western collective narrative. Satellite images of globes are often employed by politicians, corporate policymakers, scientists, and environmentalists to underscore the interconnectedness and individual responsibility for the future of our planet. While seemingly desirable, the globe model can render individual lives invisible, and a unifying global narrative can be dangerous when it overlooks individual differences. 

For example, when corporate policymakers use this narrative to disavow their responsibility for actions that impact the environment on a large scale, by making us believe that we are all evenly responsible for climate change, as T.J. Demos argues in his book Against the Anthropocene: Visual Culture and Environment Today (2017). The assumption that ‘we’, the whole of humanity, are the cause of the eco-catastrophe happening needs to be questioned. Who is the ‘we’? Who is responsible for what? Who is operating on which scale?

Furthermore, imagery of globes can perpetuate the illusion of human (Western) mastery over the planet. It’s noteworthy that the earliest surviving globe was designed in 1492, the same year Columbus embarked on his journey to the Americas. Globes were often bestowed upon rulers as gifts, symbolizing their control over their land. Yet, the unforeseen consequences of our attempts to dominate the earth, such as climate change, challenge the notion of our control.

Instead of subscribing to a collective narrative focused on exerting dominance over our environment, we need more inclusive narratives that acknowledge the importance of non-human lives, as our co-existence is vital to our survival. For example, we share what are commonly perceived as our most private spaces—our bodies and bedrooms—with numerous other life forms. An adult person carries between 1,5 and 2 kilograms of microorganisms in their body, essential for vital processes yet capable of causing illness to the point of death. 

This notion gained greater significance since the emergence of a microscopic virus that has disrupted global systems, illustrating how small ‘invisible’ beings can influence our world at large. While I had just finished my thesis, two weeks before the COVID-19 pandemic began to spread in the Netherlands, it is worth mentioning that the pandemic underscored the interconnectedness of life on Earth, which raises questions about human control over our environment.

The Corona crisis and the climate crisis emphasize that we are all in this together, interwoven in complex ecosystems with unforeseen consequences. Donna J. Haraway aptly describes this interconnection in “Where Species Meet,” (2008) highlighting the intricate layers of reciprocal complexity shaping our world. ‘’We find ourselves in a knot of species co-shaping one another in layers of reciprocating complexity all the way down.’’ (P 42) 

I was surprised to learn that there is only one photograph taken by human hands of a fully illuminated Earth in our collective image archive, known as the ‘Blue Marble.’ Captured during the last lunar mission in 1972, this image has become one of the most reproduced in history.

The ‘Blue Marble’ inspired me to explore the experience of astronauts and the ‘Overview Effect.’ Seeing Earth from outer space evokes interconnected ‘one-world feelings’ and a renewed sense of environmental responsibility. This cognitive shift has been defined as the ‘Overview effect,’ prompting me to consider if a similar experience could be created from a local perspective on the ground.

Could I craft an ‘Inview effect’—an experience that evokes ‘one-world feelings’ while acknowledging individual differences and including other life forms, honoring our co-existence?