#: locale=en
## Action
### URL
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LinkBehaviour_E7CF5575_44DC_12E8_41C0_7E513D91F552.source = https://earthpartner.com/
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LinkBehaviour_4A29F7AD_6372_6B29_41C4_F9B227BDA903.source = https://www.unesco.org/en/articles/instituto-zag
LinkBehaviour_10D3D4A2_6332_ADDB_41C1_F080C6FC1F78.source = https://www.unesco.org/en/articles/instituto-zag
## Media
### Audio
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### Audio Subtitles
### Floorplan
### Image
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### Title
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## Skin
### Image
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### Multiline Text
HTMLText_7A969C26_5E7F_6CB3_4180_620441A56876.html = Requiem for the Wreckage: Couture and Sacrifice in the New Era
Patti Huo
China
In my eyes, art is a profound language that transcends time and space, expressing the subtle and complex relationship between humanity and nature.
This series of works explores the intertwining of fashion and ecology, reflecting the challenges and responsibilities we face in this rapidly changing era. Each piece not only pursues beauty but also serves as a deep reflection on ecological impact, urging us to reassess how the fashion industry influences the natural environment.
I used AI as a tool. Through intricate compositions and vivid colors, I hope to guide viewers to reflect on their relationship with nature and our role within the ecological system. Each work is not only an independent visual experience but also part of an overarching symphony — showcasing the fragility and strength of life, and calling for our reverence and stewardship of the natural world.
Through this series of works, I hope to provoke thought and inspire deep reflection on the relationship between humanity and nature, while calling for our collective effort to protect this beautiful yet fragile ecological home. The fusion of fashion and ecology is a responsibility and mission that each of us must embrace.
A Nomad's Plateau
Khenzom
Tibet
“A Nomad’s Plateau” is a collection of paintings that center Tibetan women as powerful guardians of their environment and reimagine Tibet’s threatened landscapes through a lens of hope.
These four paintings explore the interconnectedness of Indigenous peoples and their lands, raising awareness of the environmental crises unfolding across the Tibetan Plateau – an ecosystem often called the “Third Pole” for its immense glacial reserves and its crucial role in sustaining Asia’s major river systems.
The ecological crisis in Tibet is severe: the plateau is warming three times faster than the global average, sacred rivers are being dammed and diverted, unregulated mining continues to expand, and pastoral nomads – the land’s original stewards – are being forcibly removed from their ancestral grasslands.
In my work, Tibetan women appear as protectors, healers, and conduits between the human and natural worlds. I empower them with magical abilities, resisting the real-world challenges in Tibet where human rights abuses and state censorship have silenced Tibetan voices.
“A Nomad’s Plateau” envisions an alternative future. Each painting is a meditation on reclamation. By depicting Tibetan women as magical figures who sustain and restore the earth, I challenge colonial narratives that reduce Tibet to a remote, passive landscape. Instead, the series presents Tibet as alive, sentient, and sacred – a place where people and ecosystems coexist in deep interdependence.
The project draws from my lived experience as a Tibetan woman in exile and my academic background in Environmental Studies. Having never been allowed to visit Tibet, I construct my homeland through imagination, blending environmental knowledge, traditional Tibetan art motifs, and a magical realist style.
Ultimately, this work is both an act of reclamation and a call to awareness. By envisioning alternative futures for Tibet, I invite viewers to reimagine climate futures across the globe.
Moving beyond climate grief, what would a world look like where humans live in harmony with the land? How do artists across the globe imagine sovereign, sustainable futures? My paintings explore these questions through surreal, playful worlds where ecological balance and interdependence are celebrated.
Archive of Fragility
Yi Song
China, UK
This multi-screen installation brings together two types of orchids: those classified as Critically Endangered on the IUCN Red List, and those mass-produced for everyday consumption in supermarkets.
Through data-driven particle simulations and photographic grids, the work explores different forms of botanical fragility—ecological, cultivated, and ethical. Endangered species are rendered as dissolving digital structures, their forms shaped by conservation data. Supermarket orchids, by contrast, are presented in looping image archives—carefully grown, standardised, and often short-lived.
Archive of Fragility does not offer a binary of natural versus artificial, or victim versus culprit. Instead, it presents two kinds of orchids—both fragile, but shaped by different histories, systems, and intentions.
It invites viewers to recognise how humans participate in shaping the conditions of life—through care, through design, and through desire. This is not a critique, but a quiet exposure: of how deeply we are entangled with the lives we try to preserve, and with those we barely notice fading.
Circular Heroes
Ruby Okoro
Nigeria
Circular Heroes is a powerful photographic project that celebrates the young changemakers of Isale Akoka, a Lagos community leading the charge in the global circular economy. Inspired by an initial collaboration with community leader Peter D. Abayomi, Rafael Kouto, and photographer Ruby Okoro, the team has embarked on a mission to elevate the stories of these young heroes who transform waste materials from the surrounding lagoon into innovative products.
Through impactful photography, engaging workshops, and a focus on storytelling, the project aims to capture the ingenuity of the community, raise awareness of their significant contributions to sustainability, empower young people to embrace the circular economy, and provide a platform for Isale Akoka’s heroes to share their stories and solutions.
Okoro’s vision is to showcase the community’s connection to sustainable materials, evoke themes of growth and interconnectedness through light and shadow, and weave a narrative that captures the transformation of both the community and the individuals using these materials.
The anticipated impact is multifaceted — empowering the community, inspiring young people to become active participants, fostering knowledge-sharing and wider adoption of sustainable practices, contributing to the global conversation on the circular economy, and preserving the Isale Akoka community’s unique culture and environment.
Cost of Fashion Waste
Marco Zheng
Italy, China
We cannot afford to be relaxed about fashion waste. Through this project, I have become actively involved in raising awareness about the terrible costs of cheap clothing and fast fashion.
Initially, I was shocked by the massive amount of fashion waste and by learning that fashion is the second-largest cause of pollution in the world. The information I found online strengthened my determination to become an activist and help people realize the devastating impact of fashion waste.
As part of my journey, I also sought to show the hidden beauty in waste. I collected discarded fashion materials and used them to create unique costumes for my model — such as a hat made from waste belts and a skirt crafted from old trouser legs. I photographed these special outfits in natural environments to highlight the environmental damage caused by fashion, in factories to represent production waste, and in stock warehouses to show the overwhelming volume of unused clothing.
My project is an unusual fashion photography project with a powerful message, aiming to raise awareness about the problem of fashion waste.
Overall, my ideas developed from exploring the Chinese immigrant workers in Italy. Seeing the massive fashion waste in Italy’s fashion industry led me to create the second component of my project, which highlights the devastating costs of fashion waste.
Displaced Lands
Albert Słowiński
Poland
In Guangfu, Hualien County, eastern Taiwan, entire neighborhoods were destroyed after Super Typhoon Ragasa struck in September 2025. A landslide-dammed lake on Matai’an Creek overflowed, sending a flood wave that destroyed the Matai’an Creek Bridge, breached embankments, and inundated residential areas.
According to official reports and humanitarian organizations, 19 people were confirmed dead, 6 remain missing, and hundreds were injured. Many residents lost their homes, small businesses, and farms that had been passed down through generations. Clinics, shops, farms, and local workshops were flooded, leaving families without income or the means to rebuild without personal savings. Daily life shifted to temporary housing, shared spaces, and community shelters as cleanup began.
In the weeks following the disaster, several thousand volunteers from across Taiwan arrived to assist with cleanup and rebuilding. The situation in Guangfu reflects broader conditions across eastern Taiwan, where repeated typhoons, earthquakes, and landslides have reshaped the landscape and strained local economies.
In rural and coastal communities, recovery is slow and often dependent on volunteer networks and humanitarian organizations rather than permanent infrastructure or state support. Reconstruction extends over years, with residents rebuilding homes, fields, and livelihoods while living under the constant threat of new disasters.
Distant Dream
Shaghayegh Shayankhah
Iran
Iran hosts approximately six million Afghan migrants, including around one million Afghan children who live without identification.
Shah Mohammad is the father of a seven-member family that migrated to Bushehr, a southern region of Iran, over 25 years ago. Despite the passage of time, his children, Yasamin (3 years old) and Roya (7 years old), have not obtained identification, which leads to an uncertain and precarious future. The photo series portrays the lives of these two young girls who face the challenges of undocumented existence in Iran.
Shah Mohammad initially engaged in gillnet weaving (gargur bafi) upon entering Iran — a traditional craft in Bushehr used by fishermen to catch various marine species. Unfortunately, due to inappropriate fishing methods and high production costs, many gillnet workshops are closing down, contributing to the decline of this ancient industry.
The main reasons include the preference for Afghan labor, non-payment of insurance, lower wages, and the higher efficiency of Afghan workers compared to local ones in gillnet production.
Earth Salvagers
Ismail Odetola
Nigeria
The time we live in is the time of ravagers who are ready to cause extensive and ruinous damage, acting as spoilers and plunderers of the earth.
As a young person and artist, I keep asking myself: what will be left for this generation to come? This question prompted me to create this work — by projecting the younger generation as earth salvagers, armed with the habit and attitude of empathy and repair.
The project was created at an excavated site in my community in Okinni, Osun State, Nigeria. Under the harsh afternoon sun, I exposed the human body to the heat and also duplicated the scars left on the site onto them. This is to highlight the significant dangers in an environment like this — including environmental degradation such as soil erosion and water pollution; physical hazards such as structural damage to nearby buildings and infrastructure; and threats to public health and safety from unstable ground and potential hazards like radioactive materials.
Over the past years, mining and excavation in Osun State, Nigeria, have created significant hazards that have become sources of conflict and health issues. These problems are often left unmanaged, affecting the communities that live and work near them.
The project combines photography and installation to address and foster the right attitude towards land and care. It stretches beyond visual representation itself, expanding on the human habits that can repair the earth for a possible future — using the scars left by humans on the land to preach the notion of empathy and repair.
Earth is better cherished and cared for if we see it as an extension of ourselves.
EarthPartner
Impact Award
This year marks the introduction of a special Earth Partner Impact Award recognising the submitted project that best demostrates the power of the environmental art within communities.
The inagural Impact Award has been granted to DANÇA PAJÉ: FAVEL ANCESTRAL by the Instituto Afro-Aurora Dance, Brazil. A choreography by young people from a favela (slum) created to honour Afrodescendent and Indigenous heritage and emphasize ecological and social struggles in Brazil, giving young people an opportunity to practice art amidst violance.
Feedback Loop
Ruslana Kliuchko
Ukraine
This project explores the ecological consequences of war in Ukraine, focusing on the forests of the Sumy region — the place where I was born and raised.
In autumn 2024, massive fires broke out near my hometown of Khutir-Mykhailivskyi, on the border with Russia, spreading into the Desniansko-Starohutskyi National Nature Park — an area within the active combat zone. Nearly three million hectares of Ukrainian forests have been affected by military operations; around 170,000 hectares have burned, and tens of thousands more have been logged in the occupied territories for fortifications.
Many forests are now inaccessible due to landmines or proximity to fighting. The destruction of forests has long-term impacts: loss of biodiversity, depletion of water resources, soil erosion, and worsening air quality.
Forest fires release vast amounts of carbon dioxide, intensifying the greenhouse effect. This, in turn, accelerates climate change and increases the likelihood of new fires — creating a dangerous “feedback loop” between fire and climate.
From water we created
every living thing
Magnus Johansson
Denmark
The project And We Created From Water Every Living Thing looks into a mostly overlooked natural disaster: the looming death of the Mesopotamian marshlands. Known to many as the cradle of civilization, the marshlands of southern Iraq are drying up due to a lack of influx of water from the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. This is in part caused by dam projects in neighbouring countries, Turkey and Iran, as well as rising temperatures resulting from climate change.
Iraq, facing temperatures well over 50 degrees Celsius, is the fifth most vulnerable country in the world to climate collapse, according to the UN. These conditions have already forced tens of thousands to migrate in recent years, and will likely render the first place humans cultivated unlivable if nothing is done to secure the flow of water into the marshes.
Through this project, we meet some of the people native to the marshes who try to sustain a living there. We meet Abu Nafah, who remembers when the marshes were a source of life, with an abundance of fish and water buffalo. We meet Mustafah, who dreams of teaching his own children how to fish and hunt, as his father taught him. And we meet Sabreen, who, along with her family, has migrated to Al-Chibayish from Al-Midaina, where drought had already made it impossible to grow anything and their buffalo began to die of hunger due to the increasing salinity of the water.
We see the remnants of what is thought to have been the inspiration for the Garden of Eden, and we are reminded that without water, there cannot be life. With this project, I hope to invoke a sense of connectedness — to the people living off the land, to nature, and to our collective heritage. If we lose what is left of this fundamental part of our ecological evolution, we lose a part of ourselves.
It is almost impossible to overstate the fundamental cultural significance this place has for humanity and how we understand the world. It was here that the myths we know from the world’s major religions originated. It was here that the wheel was invented. It was with the reeds from the marsh that the first words were inscribed on clay tablets. It was here that people learned to follow the stars and cultivate the land. Calling it the cradle of civilization is not only a tired cliché, but also a colossal understatement.
Therefore, if the marsh disappears, it is not just a biodiversity crisis and an environmental disaster; it is at least as significant a loss of world heritage.
Human Death is Near
Matin Hashemi
Iran
At its peak — in the last decades of the 20th century — Lake Urmia was the largest inland lake in Iran and one of the largest saltwater lakes in the world, with an area of about 6,000 square kilometers and an average depth of around 16 meters. Its water volume reached about 33 billion cubic meters and played a unique economic and environmental role due to its special habitats for birds, native species of Artemia, and the livelihood of thousands of local households.
However, as a result of a combination of human and natural factors, this huge body of water quickly shrank. The construction of dams and the diversion of incoming rivers, the excessive extraction of surface and groundwater for agriculture, land use change, reduced rainfall, and increased temperatures in the last two decades have drastically lowered the water level.
According to the latest reports (August 1404), the lake's area has decreased to about 581 square kilometers, and the remaining water volume has reached about 500 million cubic meters. The lake’s water level was recorded at 1,269.74 meters on this date. This is while, in some periods, the maximum area was reported to be about 950 square kilometers — mostly the result of temporary rainfall or limited restoration efforts.
The drying up of the lake is not limited to the reduction of water; the salt bed has been exposed, and salt storms now threaten the air quality of the region, public health (causing respiratory and eye problems), agricultural products, and groundwater resources. Tourism, fishing, salt extraction, and agriculture dependent on the lake have faced collapse, and a wave of migration has formed on its periphery. This process carries the risk of the complete collapse of an ecosystem and widespread social and economic disruption.
Island Time Forgot
Igor Furtado & Labō Young
Brazil
Labō Young (Belém, Amazon) and Igor Furtado (Rio de Janeiro) are a Brazilian duo experimenting with photography and wearable sculptures. Labō weaves and styles leaves, creating intricate garments that celebrate environmental abundance. Meanwhile, Igor documents their journey — from unforeseen details to idyllic landscapes.
Their work highlights the richness of global ecosystems, proposing a vision of a world where flora and fauna coexist in harmony, seamlessly intertwined.
The duo’s first series, Corpo Trópico, explores alternative possibilities for image-making and the concept of ecology, which have historically been used as instruments of control in the Global South. By reimagining creative expression as a means of grounding rather than subjugation, they reaffirm the significance of embracing nature as our first ally in self-affirmation and defense.
Labō and Igor’s work is not confined to a single style, ranging from documentary to fantasy. This dynamic range is influenced by photographers such as Lionel Wendt, Sandra Eleta, and Gertrudes Altschul, whose approaches questioned the duality of the ephemeral and the eternal, seeking to redefine how reality itself was perceived — past, present, and future coexisting in a continuous loop.
Island Time Forgot, their most recent project, is inspired by the history of the Cayman Islands and represents a deeper exploration of the intersections between body and habitat. The archipelago was once an isolated seafaring community, surviving through fishing and farming long before establishing itself as a tax haven. Clothing, accessories, and other everyday objects made from the fronds of the Silver Thatch Palm can now be found as tourist souvenirs.
Crafted exclusively with Cayman’s natural resources, the series demonstrates the importance of ancestral knowledge and traditional craftsmanship, enriched by the hundreds of nationalities in transit through the island. These distant yet strangely interconnected memories play a crucial role in creating a utopian narrative where place and time seem suspended.
The project was developed with the support of the Open Palm Residency in Grand Cayman, curated by Keshav Anand. The series had its first exhibitions at the Photo Vogue Festival in Milan and Sheriff Gallery in Paris in March 2025.
Life of Fishermen from Inle Lake
Kyaw Zay Yar Lin
Myanmar
Fishermen capture fish and other animals from bodies of water. Fishing has existed as a means of obtaining food since the Mesolithic period. Fishing work can be seen in various places around the world. Fishing in our country is a basic livelihood and an important form of work.
These are the various activities of fishermen from Inle Lake, Shan State, Myanmar. Many fishermen in our country live on the water in bamboo stilt houses, and they wear their traditional "Shan" ethnic dress. They start their work early in the morning and continue throughout the day for their livelihoods.
They fish in many ways: some use fishing nets, and others use fish weirs. They try many times, throwing their nets and setting their weirs until they are tired. They row their boats using one leg — the famous leg-rowing style of the Shan people. They use great attention and skill in fishing; they are always deft and comfortable in the water.
Early morning is the perfect time for them to fish, and a day with a big catch is a happy day for them. But sometimes, they catch nothing at all. Fishermen work hard from sunrise to sunset for their livelihoods, and they often can’t enjoy the beauty of nature because their minds are focused on fishing.
After fishing, they sell their catch to fishmongers to earn money for their living. Some fishermen sell their fish at the floating market. In the evening, after a whole day of fishing, they rest together on their boats, chatting and relaxing.
Mermomtunré
Soll
Brazil
Surrounded by pastures and soy, the Mermortunré resist in the Amazon of Maranhão — among twisted trees and suffocated territories. In the images: rice from the fields, cattle cast in statue, the grain silo, and the fence that cuts through the land. Each photograph denounces a siege — on the body, the forest, and the climate. What remains green pulses inside the Kanela Indigenous Land, the last refuge amid devastation. A people stained with annatto, fire, and sun, fighting for existence.
This photo essay was created in the Kanela Indigenous Land, located in the municipality of Fernando Falcão (Maranhão, Brazil), where the forest resists alongside the people. To get there, we crossed devastated fields: cattle, soy, silence. There, the red of annatto contrasts with the green that still breathes. But that breath is tight — the fence scars the ground and wounds the bodies. In the midst of the climate crisis, the Mermortunré show that preservation is not a choice: it is urgency, it is survival.
This essay follows a documentary photography approach, capturing scenes through the natural flow of life — without direction, without intervention. The aim was to register bodies in motion and the daily practices of the Mermortunré people as natural expressions of an ancestral relationship with the land. In contrast, the elements of destruction appear as fixed and invasive structures: fences, silos, statues.
This visual tension between the living territory and the controlled territory was central to the narrative. The gaze was guided by respect for the intimacy of those portrayed, prioritizing the territory’s own time and the community’s rhythms over any logic of immediate capture.
One of the central focuses was the color red — present in the soil, in the body paint, and in the skin of the Indigenous people — as a way to mark the deep connection between body, culture, and land. This vibrant, organic red sharply contrasts with the artificial tones and structures of the invaders: grain silos, wire fences, cattle statues.
Each image denounces a siege — on the body, the forest, and the climate — while the green that still pulses resists in this last refuge.
Place of Many Trees
Louise d'Orléans
France
Place of Many Trees is a project that brought together a small team of passionate people, including myself, the director.
With this documentary, we aimed to get our message across in the most authentic and beautiful way, always staying independent from producers or production houses that would want us to sugarcoat a few things or even re-write our story.
This is why Place of Many Trees is how it is: touching, real, intense, and, most importantly, it shows a glimpse of the lives of people who have the courage to fight back for our planet — the local families that live in the Mayan jungle of Guatemala.
With Place of Many Trees, we tried to talk about jungle conservation by actually recording the voices of the people that are at the core of this fight: the Indigenous communities of Mayan people, the park rangers, and the local farmers who live there.
Choosing the documentary format for our project was a way for us of highlighting all the injustice that goes on there — from discrimination all the way to the corruption of the government — whilst keeping it light, beautiful, and touching through the characters that we chose to film.
Us telling this story was a way to bring to the public eye some footage of the wilderness that we are lucky to still have in some remote parts of the planet, and hopefully make people fall in love with the jungle, inspiring reaction and action to protect these endangered but vital ecosystems.
Place of Many Trees is not simply a call to concrete action, but rather a meditative exploration that encourages the viewer to embrace a philosophy of respect and appreciation for our environment — and hopefully inspires a new, conscious perspective on our role as stewards of this planet.
Our movie is what it is not only because of the expression of the team’s creativity, but mostly because we were so inspired and touched by the front-field fighters that risk their lives to protect the jungle. The aim of our project is that, after watching Place of Many Trees, you will be too.
Quelque chose qui cloche (Something Suspicious)
Abandokht Tohidi Moghadam
Iran
Quelque chose qui cloche, or in english, Something Suspicious, is a short stop motion animation I had initially made to participate in the contest "Une minute pour la planète" held by the French embassy in Iran, for which it won the first place prize, a one month linguistic stay in Nice, France. I was very lucky to have the chance to work on a project with this theme, as I am very passionate about environmental concerns.
We had some freedom as to which environmental concern to focus on, so I decided to showcase the greenwashing of recycling by corporations (portrayed by the disgusting claymation factory-creature in my film), and the way they put it above all other environmental efforts (such as reduce and reuse) in the public eye, because it is the least damaging to their flow of production and sales.
For the production of this film, I started with a simple storyboard, then I made stop motion puppets using leftover materials from my time at university, my old childhood clothes, and aluminum wire. For the mountains of trash, I used papier-mâchée, parts of old toys, and of course, trash.
My wonderful online friends from France, Julie, Yann, and Louise lent their voices to my characters and brought them to life; and I had the chance to meet them in Nice, where we visited expositions which were being held at the time around the theme "La mer autour de nous", and discussed our ideas for future projects.
Quiet Sands -
The Tragedy of the Aral Sea
Terézia Suránová
Slovakia
As the fourth-largest lake in the world, the Aral Sea significantly shaped the living conditions of the surrounding communities. The regions of northwestern Uzbekistan and southern Kazakhstan were highly dependent on the Aral’s aquatic ecosystem, which influenced livelihoods, social structures, and local culture.
Thanks to the abundance of fishing, a stable climate, and fertile soil, the communities around the lake were marked by prosperity and self-sufficiency. This balance, however, was drastically disrupted. In pursuit of the Soviet dream to turn Uzbekistan into the world’s largest exporter of cotton, vast river systems were diverted to irrigate endless fields. What began as an ambitious modernization project quickly turned into one of the greatest ecological disasters in modern history.
In 1962, as a result of reckless river diversions and massive canal construction, the once-prosperous island became a peninsula. The Aral Sea’s shoreline receded dramatically year by year until Muynak became part of the newly formed Aralkum Desert. Today, only traces of the water remain — wooden boats and fishing nets scattered across the yards of local fishermen.
The destruction of the ecosystem and the transformation of the Aral Sea — once a regulator of extreme temperatures — into a desert caused drastic climate fluctuations, making the region unsuitable for both living and farming. The only remaining livelihoods are livestock herding or work in the informal economy.
Former fishing communities in Muynak are now excluded from broader structures that could provide social security or employment, leaving them trapped in intergenerational poverty and without a vision of a more prosperous future.
Re-Source Art
Nadya Steare
USA
Re_Source Art is a series of sculptures that addresses the urgency of the global waste crisis and increasing plastic pollution.
Inspired by the Zero-Waste Movement — a challenge to maintain a more sustainable lifestyle — my work is created entirely out of discarded, found, and donated materials. The foundation for each sculpture is a plastic bottle filled with packaging, wrappers, and inorganic micro-trash.
By reintroducing previously unwanted items in a new context, I hope to bridge the gap between what is discarded and what is appreciated, as well as do my part in helping the environment.
The purpose of this body of work is not only to offer a small-scale solution for material waste in the art studio, but also to inspire the viewer to consider further potential in the objects they own.
Salted Earth, Silent Tears
Bipul Ahmed
Bangladesh
In the coastal unions of Gabura and Pratapnagar in Shyamnagar, Satkhira, life was once deeply connected to rivers that nourished both land and people.
But in the aftermath of cyclones Sidr (2007) and Aila (2009), everything changed. The embankments collapsed, and seawater surged in — transforming these once fertile lands into saline wastelands.
Today, climate change and rising sea levels have turned the lifeblood of this region into a slow poison. The soil is cracked, crops no longer grow, and families are forced to abandon their homes. Salinity has invaded not only the earth but also the bodies of those who drink from brackish sources. Women and children walk miles for fresh water, often returning with nothing.
Fishermen cast their nets into dying rivers, and farmers stare helplessly at their barren fields. In these forgotten corners, women labor in shrimp enclosures under harsh conditions, with limited access to education, healthcare, or employment alternatives. Their resilience is quiet but unyielding.
Homes are swallowed by eroding riverbanks. Yet amid this ongoing devastation, the people remain — bearing witness to the betrayal of the very elements they once trusted.
This series captures their silent strength — a testament to survival, dignity, and the human spirit in the face of environmental collapse.
Sana
Alexa Gantous
Mexico
In collaboration with Splice, Sama (formerly Suena) sonically mapped two of the most important natural ecosystems that sustain Mexico City. The first, Xochimilco, is the ancient wetlands of Mexico City and the last remnants of the vast water transport and agricultural system built by the Aztecs. The second, Río Magdalena, is the last living river of the city. Both of these sound libraries are available on Splice’s platform and can be accessed by musicians from around the world to produce sonic compositions.
The project I am submitting was Sama’s launch event: a floating sunrise concert in the canals of Xochimilco. Inspired by the local soundscapes mapped in collaboration with Splice, prolific Mexican pianist and composer Leonardo Heiblum delighted guests with a concert on the water that gave a voice to this fragile ecosystem.
The performance was followed by a culinary experience hosted by Colectivo Amasijo at Arca Tierra. The women-led collective designed a menu that captured the soundscapes of Xochimilco on our plates, inviting deeper reflection among attendees. The royalties from the sound library continue to contribute directly to Arca Tierra’s efforts to bring back ancestral forms of regenerative agriculture and preserve the chinampas.
Secret Zone
Lu Yiran
China
Old bed sheets are used to reflect on "oldness" and consumption. for those most affected yet least represented in global climate discussions.
Symbiosis
Emmanuel Folorunso
Nigeria
Symbiosis tries to reimagine our relationship with nature and the Earth as a whole. From where did our conceptions of this relationship come? Have we ever thought to question the ideas we currently hold?
At a time when the rallying call for sustainability is beginning to receive more attention — in a bid to reverse the damage we've done to our only home — Symbiosis aims to illustrate our inseparability from nature. We are not separate from it, nor are we at its apex; we are part of an intricate and complex organism.
Humanity’s idea of existing separately and independently from nature is merely an illusion, perpetuated by systems of education that disconnect us from the material world at a very young age. What we really are is a feature of consciousness on this planet — we exist as expressions of an intelligent Earth that “peoples” the same way an apple tree apples.
Our relationship with this planet, based on the notion of asserting dominance over it, is one that will ultimately harm us. This intelligent ecosystem could rid itself of us in order to protect its balance — and would go on just fine.
Through this project, I aim to show that our skin is made of the same earth that grows the trees, and that our well-being is inseparable from the well-being of the planet as a whole.
The Finite in the Infinite
Dieter Vlasich Obsermann & Nimie Li
Mexico, China, UK
The Finite in the Infinite reflects on the continuity of ecological wisdom — how, within the infinite passing down of generational knowledge, each finite generation holds the power to preserve, transform, or discard it.
Some of this wisdom disappears under the pressures of colonialism, urbanization, and consumerism, yet some endures — encoded in language, stories, agriculture, and craft. To create is an act of remembrance: to bring into re-existence the practices we value. In doing so, we commit to preserving wisdom with care for those who will inherit it.
The passing down of knowledge is mainly relational; it nurtures community, identity, and sustains vincularidad — the understanding that human life and the natural world are inextricably bound. Yet the thread is weakening. In Yucatán, the disconnect between people and ancestral knowledge mirrors the loss of biodiversity and cultural resilience. Over 60% of biodiversity has vanished in the last century. Maya speakers have fallen from nearly 30% of the state’s population in 2010 to about 23% today (mostly elders), signaling a collapse in transmission.
These erosions intertwine. Language and craft — vessels of ecological wisdom — are endangered by malinchismo (devaluation of the local), the souvenirization of craft, and mass production that replaces tradition with imitation. As craft becomes less viable, youth turn away, and it fades into silence. Still, craft endures as a living archive of intergenerational wisdom.
The hilo contado embroidery, depicted in photographs 1 and 4, embodies this dialogue between nature and making. Its practice recalls rituals where embroiderers touch the rattlesnake’s skin, whose pattern mirrors the “X” of the cross-stitch, symbolically absorbing its wisdom. Threads for ancestral hipiles were dyed with plants, insects, and minerals — embedding stories of flora and fauna and geometric knowledge within the cloth.
Though introduced through colonial exchange, hilo contado became a site where Maya voices and vincularidad persisted, carrying these stories on textiles worn on the body.
This project seeks to reweave these threads and build bridges. Born from ongoing garment and textile collaborations with craftswomen in Pisté, Yucatán — resulting in my graduate collection at Central Saint Martins — and through playful making and styling with the children of the community, this photo series documents the finite acts of one generation that ripple into infinite cultural and ecological renewal.
The Last of Us
Apah Benson
Nigeria
The Last of Us is a photography series documenting the devastating effects of oil spills on communities in the Niger Delta region of Nigeria, with a recent focus on the Okpare community in Ughelli South. As someone who grew up in an oil-producing area, this project holds deep personal significance. It began years ago when I first saw children playing in mildly polluted waters, which later evolved into a broader exploration of the ongoing environmental damage caused by oil extraction.
In Okpare, bunkering activities led to a spill that stretched across a 10km area, devastating the land and water bodies. Trees were burned down, and the spill left vast stretches of land unusable. This series captures the aftermath of the spill—the charred remains of once-thriving landscapes, the burnt trees, and the polluted waters that now cover much of the community's environment.
Yet, amid this devastation, the people of Okpare have shown remarkable resilience. The photographs also document how they have reinserted themselves into the environment, adapting to the harsh realities of their new world. Children are seen playing in polluted waters, unaware of the potential dangers, while others canoe across the tainted water bodies to reach nearby communities. These moments reflect not only the tragedy of the situation but also the human spirit's enduring connection to nature, even in the face of environmental collapse.
The project serves as a powerful visual narrative about the environmental and social impacts of climate change, corporate greenwashing, and the urgent need for climate justice. It highlights the disproportionate burden placed on marginalized communities, where people are forced to live amid environmental ruin caused by industries that extract wealth from their land without regard for their well-being. The Last of Us is both a tribute to these communities' resilience and a call for accountability, urging for regenerative efforts and meaningful climate action. Through this series, I aim to raise awareness about the critical need for climate justice, especially for those most affected yet least represented in global climate discussions.
The Sea Sustains Us
Tianxiao Wang
China, UK
Lamalera, located in the southern part of Lembata Island, Indonesia, is a village where traditional whaling techniques have been passed down for generations. Since the 16th century, villagers have settled along this rugged coastline, adhering to Catholic beliefs and viewing the ocean’s bounty as a divine gift.
Built on steep, rocky cliffs, the village offers limited livelihood options — most men become Lamafa (whale hunters), while women often remain homemakers. Some still practice bartering, an age-old tradition, but as modernization advances, people increasingly need money to buy food, fuel, and school supplies. Jobs are scarce, making it difficult for many to earn enough cash. In recent years, declining whale numbers have further strained the village’s way of life.
The younger generation stands at a crossroads between tradition and modernity. Education and exposure to the outside world have broadened their perspectives, making urban life an appealing alternative. Elders encourage them to seek opportunities beyond the village, recognizing the uncertainty of whaling’s future. Yet many youths feel deeply connected to their heritage and struggle with the idea of leaving it behind.
The growing presence of smartphones and internet access has exposed them to a broader world, intensifying their internal conflict between preserving their culture and pursuing a different future. Meanwhile, whaling faces increasing challenges due to environmental changes and external pressures. Conservation efforts and global opposition to whaling threaten the survival of this centuries-old practice.
Some families have turned to fishing or tourism as alternative sources of income, yet these efforts often fall short of sustaining the community. The village remains in limbo, searching for ways to adapt while holding onto its identity.
Despite these challenges, Lamalera’s spirit endures. The people’s resilience is evident in their faith, their deep connection to the sea, and their determination to navigate an uncertain future. As the waves continue to crash against Lamalera’s cliffs, so too does the question of its fate — will the tide carry its traditions forward, or will they be swept away in the shifting currents of modernity?
The Zág Institute
The Zág Institute was born from the strength of its community and the wisdom of its elders, with the mission of protecting biodiversity and restoring the ecosystems of the Atlantic Forest through an ancestral perspective. Its work goes beyond reforestation — it seeks to reconnect the spirit of the forest with the spirit of the people, cultivating balance between what is natural and what is human.
For the Institute, the araucarias are not just trees. They are ancient beings, guardians of the forest and bridges between the spiritual world and the physical world. Each one carries the spirit of the ancestors and the protective energy that sustains life in the territory. When an araucaria is cut down, it is as if a part of the people has been wounded — because the tree is part of their identity, memory, and survival.
Unfortunately, these sacred trees have suffered centuries of exploitation and export. Araucaria wood, once a symbol of wealth for Brazil, today also represents the destruction of one of the oldest forests on the planet. Currently, less than 1% of the original araucaria forest remains, and if nothing is done, this species could disappear completely in about 40 years. The araucaria is now one of the most endangered trees in the world — and with it, the Laklãnõ Xokleng people face the same risk.
The Laklãnõ Xokleng often say: “We are the araucarias. When they fall, we also fall. When they resist, we also resist.”
In the territory under dispute due to the unconstitutional Marco Temporal thesis — especially in the region known as Bom Sucesso — the conflict has intensified. Although the state park claims to protect the area, what the community finds is the advance of soybean monoculture, cattle, and pine plantations, as well as the selective extraction of native wood. These actions not only harm nature but also violate the spirituality and way of life of the people.
The Zág Institute works under the principle that protecting an araucaria means protecting the planet, for it represents the balance between life, time, and the memory of the Earth.
Their struggle is spiritual, cultural, and political:
Spiritual, because they defend the essence that connects them to the forest;
Cultural, because they keep alive the knowledge of their ancestors;
Political, because they resist a system that tries to erase their rights and their way of existing.
Wellspring of Change:
A Tale of Two Extremes
Ekow Dawsom
Ghana
The northern part of Ghana has two seasons: the dry season and the rainy season. Each brings its own extreme challenges for smallholder farmers.
During the dry season, water becomes painfully scarce. To sustain their crops, young men gather with shovels and sometimes even bare hands to dig deep holes in search of groundwater. These makeshift wells can reach depths of 10 to 20 feet before water trickles through the cracked earth. Days or weeks are spent digging, and even then, the water is rarely enough.
Despite their relentless labor, many farmers are forced to abandon their ancestral lands and migrate south in search of work, leaving behind empty homes and broken continuity in their communities.
But when the rains finally come, relief quickly turns into disaster. Fields become swamps, crops drown, and floods wash away fragile livelihoods. Only rice, resilient to standing water, can grow in such conditions — but the returns are meager. Local rice is undervalued against imported varieties, forcing many families deeper into poverty.
In this tale of two extremes, farmers are caught in a cycle of scarcity and overabundance, surviving at the mercy of the climate.
Wellspring of Change: A Tale of Two Extremes tells this story through photography, oral testimony, and visual archiving. It paints a vivid picture of life in Doba, in Ghana’s Upper East Region, where resilience has become a way of life.
The project is not only about hardship but also about hope. It documents the farmers’ ingenuity as they deploy pressure pumps to direct water to their crops, share labor communally, and find strength in collective survival. The moment water appears in the pits is more than a practical success — it is renewal, a sacred gift that sustains both body and spirit.
This work highlights the intersection of climate change, migration, and food insecurity in one of the regions most vulnerable yet least represented in global climate conversations. The voices of these farmers — often young men and women left behind in rural communities — rarely reach beyond their villages.
Yet their stories are urgent. They reflect global challenges: how marginalized communities bear the brunt of climate extremes, how livelihoods are disrupted by forces beyond their control, and how climate injustice deepens inequality.
By archiving these experiences, Wellspring of Change creates space for empathy, awareness, and dialogue. It insists that ecological justice is not an abstract concept but a lived reality.
Without Warning
Andreu Esteban Sebastiá
Spain
Without Warning is a photographic series created in the aftermath of the cold snap that hit the province of Valencia on 29 October 2024. The resulting flood covered towns in the L'Horta Sud region — including Paiporta, Picanya, Catarroja, and Massanassa — with mud. It claimed 229 lives and caused significant material losses, making it the worst natural disaster in Spain’s recent history.
Despite various warnings from meteorological agencies, life went on as usual that Tuesday. Meanwhile, towns such as Utiel, located further inland in the province of Valencia, experienced flooding that same morning. In Turís, more than 700 litres of rain per square metre accumulated over 24 hours. Eventually, all that water had to reach the ravines and the coast.
In the towns of L'Horta Sud, where there had been almost no rain, no one could have imagined what was about to happen. Gradually, the Poyo ravine — which runs through the centre of several towns — began to fill with water. Residents approached the flooded ravine with curiosity, unaccustomed to seeing it so full.
At 6 p.m., the Poyo ravine overflowed. Although the water was already flooding the streets and sweeping away everything in its path, the population did not receive any warning until 20:11 — by which time it was too late for many.
In the days that followed, when everything was covered in mud, thousands of volunteers from all over the country took to the streets to help without hesitation. Armed with shovels, brooms, food, and clothing, the affected towns became the stage for a parade of solidarity unlike anything ever seen in the country before.
This project seeks to document not only the consequences of the flood in the days that followed, but also to reconstruct what happened on the afternoon of 29 October through the marks left by the mud on the walls. These lines on the walls tell the story of how the tragedy unfolded during those difficult hours — when citizens were consumed by the mud, without warning.
You Wouldn't Harm
What Gives You Love
Sindija Filipusko
Latvia
Through their bark, just like our skin, there’s an otherworldliness — past our consciousness.
London Planes are often known as the Trees of London. Their ability to absorb up to 850 to 2,000 tonnes of harmful pollutant particles (PM10) a year reveals their strength and adaptability in urban spaces.
In response to environmental stress caused by human activity, London Planes develop protective growths on their bark called burls, which act as a natural defence mechanism.
These photographs invite reflection on how we care for trees in our cities, and on the otherworldliness that stress can awaken in all living beings.
Requiem for the Wreckage: Couture and Sacrifice in the New Era
Patti Huo
China
In my eyes, art is a profound language that transcends time and space, expressing the subtle and complex relationship between humanity and nature.
This series of works explores the intertwining of fashion and ecology, reflecting the challenges and responsibilities we face in this rapidly changing era. Each piece not only pursues beauty but also serves as a deep reflection on ecological impact, urging us to reassess how the fashion industry influences the natural environment.
I used AI as a tool. Through intricate compositions and vivid colors, I hope to guide viewers to reflect on their relationship with nature and our role within the ecological system. Each work is not only an independent visual experience but also part of an overarching symphony — showcasing the fragility and strength of life, and calling for our reverence and stewardship of the natural world.
Through this series of works, I hope to provoke thought and inspire deep reflection on the relationship between humanity and nature, while calling for our collective effort to protect this beautiful yet fragile ecological home. The fusion of fashion and ecology is a responsibility and mission that each of us must embrace.
A Nomad's Plateau
Khenzom
Tibet
“A Nomad’s Plateau” is a collection of paintings that center Tibetan women as powerful guardians of their environment and reimagine Tibet’s threatened landscapes through a lens of hope.
These four paintings explore the interconnectedness of Indigenous peoples and their lands, raising awareness of the environmental crises unfolding across the Tibetan Plateau – an ecosystem often called the “Third Pole” for its immense glacial reserves and its crucial role in sustaining Asia’s major river systems.
The ecological crisis in Tibet is severe: the plateau is warming three times faster than the global average, sacred rivers are being dammed and diverted, unregulated mining continues to expand, and pastoral nomads – the land’s original stewards – are being forcibly removed from their ancestral grasslands.
In my work, Tibetan women appear as protectors, healers, and conduits between the human and natural worlds. I empower them with magical abilities, resisting the real-world challenges in Tibet where human rights abuses and state censorship have silenced Tibetan voices.
“A Nomad’s Plateau” envisions an alternative future. Each painting is a meditation on reclamation. By depicting Tibetan women as magical figures who sustain and restore the earth, I challenge colonial narratives that reduce Tibet to a remote, passive landscape. Instead, the series presents Tibet as alive, sentient, and sacred – a place where people and ecosystems coexist in deep interdependence.
The project draws from my lived experience as a Tibetan woman in exile and my academic background in Environmental Studies. Having never been allowed to visit Tibet, I construct my homeland through imagination, blending environmental knowledge, traditional Tibetan art motifs, and a magical realist style.
Ultimately, this work is both an act of reclamation and a call to awareness. By envisioning alternative futures for Tibet, I invite viewers to reimagine climate futures across the globe.
Moving beyond climate grief, what would a world look like where humans live in harmony with the land? How do artists across the globe imagine sovereign, sustainable futures? My paintings explore these questions through surreal, playful worlds where ecological balance and interdependence are celebrated.
This work highlights the intersection of climate change, migration, and food insecurity in one of the regions most vulnerable yet least represented in global climate conversations. The voices of these farmers — often young men and women left behind in rural communities — rarely reach beyond their villages.
Yet their stories are urgent. They reflect global challenges: how marginalized communities bear the brunt of climate extremes, how livelihoods are disrupted by forces beyond their control, and how climate injustice deepens inequality.
By archiving these experiences, Wellspring of Change creates space for empathy, awareness, and dialogue. It insists that ecological justice is not an abstract concept but a lived reality.
Archive of Fragility
Yi Song
China, UK
This multi-screen installation brings together two types of orchids: those classified as Critically Endangered on the IUCN Red List, and those mass-produced for everyday consumption in supermarkets.
Through data-driven particle simulations and photographic grids, the work explores different forms of botanical fragility—ecological, cultivated, and ethical. Endangered species are rendered as dissolving digital structures, their forms shaped by conservation data. Supermarket orchids, by contrast, are presented in looping image archives—carefully grown, standardised, and often short-lived.
Archive of Fragility does not offer a binary of natural versus artificial, or victim versus culprit. Instead, it presents two kinds of orchids—both fragile, but shaped by different histories, systems, and intentions.
It invites viewers to recognise how humans participate in shaping the conditions of life—through care, through design, and through desire. This is not a critique, but a quiet exposure: of how deeply we are entangled with the lives we try to preserve, and with those we barely notice fading.
Circular Heroes
Ruby Okoro
Nigeria
Circular Heroes is a powerful photographic project that celebrates the young changemakers of Isale Akoka, a Lagos community leading the charge in the global circular economy. Inspired by an initial collaboration with community leader Peter D. Abayomi, Rafael Kouto, and photographer Ruby Okoro, the team has embarked on a mission to elevate the stories of these young heroes who transform waste materials from the surrounding lagoon into innovative products.
Through impactful photography, engaging workshops, and a focus on storytelling, the project aims to capture the ingenuity of the community, raise awareness of their significant contributions to sustainability, empower young people to embrace the circular economy, and provide a platform for Isale Akoka’s heroes to share their stories and solutions.
Okoro’s vision is to showcase the community’s connection to sustainable materials, evoke themes of growth and interconnectedness through light and shadow, and weave a narrative that captures the transformation of both the community and the individuals using these materials.
The anticipated impact is multifaceted — empowering the community, inspiring young people to become active participants, fostering knowledge-sharing and wider adoption of sustainable practices, contributing to the global conversation on the circular economy, and preserving the Isale Akoka community’s unique culture and environment.
Cost of Fashion Waste
Marco Zheng
Italy, China
We cannot afford to be relaxed about fashion waste. Through this project, I have become actively involved in raising awareness about the terrible costs of cheap clothing and fast fashion.
Initially, I was shocked by the massive amount of fashion waste and by learning that fashion is the second-largest cause of pollution in the world. The information I found online strengthened my determination to become an activist and help people realize the devastating impact of fashion waste.
As part of my journey, I also sought to show the hidden beauty in waste. I collected discarded fashion materials and used them to create unique costumes for my model — such as a hat made from waste belts and a skirt crafted from old trouser legs. I photographed these special outfits in natural environments to highlight the environmental damage caused by fashion, in factories to represent production waste, and in stock warehouses to show the overwhelming volume of unused clothing.
My project is an unusual fashion photography project with a powerful message, aiming to raise awareness about the problem of fashion waste.
Overall, my ideas developed from exploring the Chinese immigrant workers in Italy. Seeing the massive fashion waste in Italy’s fashion industry led me to create the second component of my project, which highlights the devastating costs of fashion waste.
Displaced Lands
Albert Słowiński
Poland
In Guangfu, Hualien County, eastern Taiwan, entire neighborhoods were destroyed after Super Typhoon Ragasa struck in September 2025. A landslide-dammed lake on Matai’an Creek overflowed, sending a flood wave that destroyed the Matai’an Creek Bridge, breached embankments, and inundated residential areas.
According to official reports and humanitarian organizations, 19 people were confirmed dead, 6 remain missing, and hundreds were injured. Many residents lost their homes, small businesses, and farms that had been passed down through generations. Clinics, shops, farms, and local workshops were flooded, leaving families without income or the means to rebuild without personal savings. Daily life shifted to temporary housing, shared spaces, and community shelters as cleanup began.
In the weeks following the disaster, several thousand volunteers from across Taiwan arrived to assist with cleanup and rebuilding. The situation in Guangfu reflects broader conditions across eastern Taiwan, where repeated typhoons, earthquakes, and landslides have reshaped the landscape and strained local economies.
In rural and coastal communities, recovery is slow and often dependent on volunteer networks and humanitarian organizations rather than permanent infrastructure or state support. Reconstruction extends over years, with residents rebuilding homes, fields, and livelihoods while living under the constant threat of new disasters.
Distant Dream
Shaghayegh Shayankhah
Iran
Iran hosts approximately six million Afghan migrants, including around one million Afghan children who live without identification.
Shah Mohammad is the father of a seven-member family that migrated to Bushehr, a southern region of Iran, over 25 years ago. Despite the passage of time, his children, Yasamin (3 years old) and Roya (7 years old), have not obtained identification, which leads to an uncertain and precarious future. The photo series portrays the lives of these two young girls who face the challenges of undocumented existence in Iran.
Shah Mohammad initially engaged in gillnet weaving (gargur bafi) upon entering Iran — a traditional craft in Bushehr used by fishermen to catch various marine species. Unfortunately, due to inappropriate fishing methods and high production costs, many gillnet workshops are closing down, contributing to the decline of this ancient industry.
The main reasons include the preference for Afghan labor, non-payment of insurance, lower wages, and the higher efficiency of Afghan workers compared to local ones in gillnet production.
Earth Salvagers
Ismail Odetola
Nigeria
The time we live in is the time of ravagers who are ready to cause extensive and ruinous damage, acting as spoilers and plunderers of the earth.
As a young person and artist, I keep asking myself: what will be left for this generation to come? This question prompted me to create this work — by projecting the younger generation as earth salvagers, armed with the habit and attitude of empathy and repair.
The project was created at an excavated site in my community in Okinni, Osun State, Nigeria. Under the harsh afternoon sun, I exposed the human body to the heat and also duplicated the scars left on the site onto them. This is to highlight the significant dangers in an environment like this — including environmental degradation such as soil erosion and water pollution; physical hazards such as structural damage to nearby buildings and infrastructure; and threats to public health and safety from unstable ground and potential hazards like radioactive materials.
Over the past years, mining and excavation in Osun State, Nigeria, have created significant hazards that have become sources of conflict and health issues. These problems are often left unmanaged, affecting the communities that live and work near them.
The project combines photography and installation to address and foster the right attitude towards land and care. It stretches beyond visual representation itself, expanding on the human habits that can repair the earth for a possible future — using the scars left by humans on the land to preach the notion of empathy and repair.
Earth is better cherished and cared for if we see it as an extension of ourselves.
EarthPartner
Impact Award
This year marks the introduction of a special Earth Partner Impact Award recognising the submitted project that best demostrates the power of the environmental art within communities.
The inagural Impact Award has been granted to DANÇA PAJÉ: FAVEL ANCESTRAL by the Instituto Afro-Aurora Dance, Brazil. A choreography by young people from a favela (slum) created to honour Afrodescendent and Indigenous heritage and emphasize ecological and social struggles in Brazil, giving young people an opportunity to practice art amidst violance.
Feedback Loop
Ruslana Kliuchko
Ukraine
This project explores the ecological consequences of war in Ukraine, focusing on the forests of the Sumy region — the place where I was born and raised.
In autumn 2024, massive fires broke out near my hometown of Khutir-Mykhailivskyi, on the border with Russia, spreading into the Desniansko-Starohutskyi National Nature Park — an area within the active combat zone. Nearly three million hectares of Ukrainian forests have been affected by military operations; around 170,000 hectares have burned, and tens of thousands more have been logged in the occupied territories for fortifications.
Many forests are now inaccessible due to landmines or proximity to fighting. The destruction of forests has long-term impacts: loss of biodiversity, depletion of water resources, soil erosion, and worsening air quality.
Forest fires release vast amounts of carbon dioxide, intensifying the greenhouse effect. This, in turn, accelerates climate change and increases the likelihood of new fires — creating a dangerous “feedback loop” between fire and climate.
From water we created every living thing
Magnus Johansson
Denmark
The project And We Created From Water Every Living Thing looks into a mostly overlooked natural disaster: the looming death of the Mesopotamian marshlands. Known to many as the cradle of civilization, the marshlands of southern Iraq are drying up due to a lack of influx of water from the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. This is in part caused by dam projects in neighbouring countries, Turkey and Iran, as well as rising temperatures resulting from climate change.
Iraq, facing temperatures well over 50 degrees Celsius, is the fifth most vulnerable country in the world to climate collapse, according to the UN. These conditions have already forced tens of thousands to migrate in recent years, and will likely render the first place humans cultivated unlivable if nothing is done to secure the flow of water into the marshes.
Through this project, we meet some of the people native to the marshes who try to sustain a living there. We meet Abu Nafah, who remembers when the marshes were a source of life, with an abundance of fish and water buffalo. We meet Mustafah, who dreams of teaching his own children how to fish and hunt, as his father taught him. And we meet Sabreen, who, along with her family, has migrated to Al-Chibayish from Al-Midaina, where drought had already made it impossible to grow anything and their buffalo began to die of hunger due to the increasing salinity of the water.
We see the remnants of what is thought to have been the inspiration for the Garden of Eden, and we are reminded that without water, there cannot be life. With this project, I hope to invoke a sense of connectedness — to the people living off the land, to nature, and to our collective heritage. If we lose what is left of this fundamental part of our ecological evolution, we lose a part of ourselves.
It is almost impossible to overstate the fundamental cultural significance this place has for humanity and how we understand the world. It was here that the myths we know from the world’s major religions originated. It was here that the wheel was invented. It was with the reeds from the marsh that the first words were inscribed on clay tablets. It was here that people learned to follow the stars and cultivate the land. Calling it the cradle of civilization is not only a tired cliché, but also a colossal understatement.
Therefore, if the marsh disappears, it is not just a biodiversity crisis and an environmental disaster; it is at least as significant a loss of world heritage.
Human Death is Near
Matin Hashemi
Iran
At its peak — in the last decades of the 20th century — Lake Urmia was the largest inland lake in Iran and one of the largest saltwater lakes in the world, with an area of about 6,000 square kilometers and an average depth of around 16 meters. Its water volume reached about 33 billion cubic meters and played a unique economic and environmental role due to its special habitats for birds, native species of Artemia, and the livelihood of thousands of local households.
However, as a result of a combination of human and natural factors, this huge body of water quickly shrank. The construction of dams and the diversion of incoming rivers, the excessive extraction of surface and groundwater for agriculture, land use change, reduced rainfall, and increased temperatures in the last two decades have drastically lowered the water level.
According to the latest reports (August 1404), the lake's area has decreased to about 581 square kilometers, and the remaining water volume has reached about 500 million cubic meters. The lake’s water level was recorded at 1,269.74 meters on this date. This is while, in some periods, the maximum area was reported to be about 950 square kilometers — mostly the result of temporary rainfall or limited restoration efforts.
The drying up of the lake is not limited to the reduction of water; the salt bed has been exposed, and salt storms now threaten the air quality of the region, public health (causing respiratory and eye problems), agricultural products, and groundwater resources. Tourism, fishing, salt extraction, and agriculture dependent on the lake have faced collapse, and a wave of migration has formed on its periphery. This process carries the risk of the complete collapse of an ecosystem and widespread social and economic disruption.
Island Time Forgot
Igor Furtado & Labō Young
Brazil
Labō Young (Belém, Amazon) and Igor Furtado (Rio de Janeiro) are a Brazilian duo experimenting with photography and wearable sculptures. Labō weaves and styles leaves, creating intricate garments that celebrate environmental abundance. Meanwhile, Igor documents their journey — from unforeseen details to idyllic landscapes.
Their work highlights the richness of global ecosystems, proposing a vision of a world where flora and fauna coexist in harmony, seamlessly intertwined.
The duo’s first series, Corpo Trópico, explores alternative possibilities for image-making and the concept of ecology, which have historically been used as instruments of control in the Global South. By reimagining creative expression as a means of grounding rather than subjugation, they reaffirm the significance of embracing nature as our first ally in self-affirmation and defense.
Labō and Igor’s work is not confined to a single style, ranging from documentary to fantasy. This dynamic range is influenced by photographers such as Lionel Wendt, Sandra Eleta, and Gertrudes Altschul, whose approaches questioned the duality of the ephemeral and the eternal, seeking to redefine how reality itself was perceived — past, present, and future coexisting in a continuous loop.
Island Time Forgot, their most recent project, is inspired by the history of the Cayman Islands and represents a deeper exploration of the intersections between body and habitat. The archipelago was once an isolated seafaring community, surviving through fishing and farming long before establishing itself as a tax haven. Clothing, accessories, and other everyday objects made from the fronds of the Silver Thatch Palm can now be found as tourist souvenirs.
Crafted exclusively with Cayman’s natural resources, the series demonstrates the importance of ancestral knowledge and traditional craftsmanship, enriched by the hundreds of nationalities in transit through the island. These distant yet strangely interconnected memories play a crucial role in creating a utopian narrative where place and time seem suspended.
The project was developed with the support of the Open Palm Residency in Grand Cayman, curated by Keshav Anand. The series had its first exhibitions at the Photo Vogue Festival in Milan and Sheriff Gallery in Paris in March 2025.
Life of Fishermen from Inle Lake
Kyaw Zay Yar Lin
Myanmar
Fishermen capture fish and other animals from bodies of water. Fishing has existed as a means of obtaining food since the Mesolithic period. Fishing work can be seen in various places around the world. Fishing in our country is a basic livelihood and an important form of work.
These are the various activities of fishermen from Inle Lake, Shan State, Myanmar. Many fishermen in our country live on the water in bamboo stilt houses, and they wear their traditional "Shan" ethnic dress. They start their work early in the morning and continue throughout the day for their livelihoods.
They fish in many ways: some use fishing nets, and others use fish weirs. They try many times, throwing their nets and setting their weirs until they are tired. They row their boats using one leg — the famous leg-rowing style of the Shan people. They use great attention and skill in fishing; they are always deft and comfortable in the water.
Early morning is the perfect time for them to fish, and a day with a big catch is a happy day for them. But sometimes, they catch nothing at all. Fishermen work hard from sunrise to sunset for their livelihoods, and they often can’t enjoy the beauty of nature because their minds are focused on fishing.
After fishing, they sell their catch to fishmongers to earn money for their living. Some fishermen sell their fish at the floating market. In the evening, after a whole day of fishing, they rest together on their boats, chatting and relaxing.
Mermomtunré
Soll
Brazil
Surrounded by pastures and soy, the Mermortunré resist in the Amazon of Maranhão — among twisted trees and suffocated territories. In the images: rice from the fields, cattle cast in statue, the grain silo, and the fence that cuts through the land. Each photograph denounces a siege — on the body, the forest, and the climate. What remains green pulses inside the Kanela Indigenous Land, the last refuge amid devastation. A people stained with annatto, fire, and sun, fighting for existence.
This photo essay was created in the Kanela Indigenous Land, located in the municipality of Fernando Falcão (Maranhão, Brazil), where the forest resists alongside the people. To get there, we crossed devastated fields: cattle, soy, silence. There, the red of annatto contrasts with the green that still breathes. But that breath is tight — the fence scars the ground and wounds the bodies. In the midst of the climate crisis, the Mermortunré show that preservation is not a choice: it is urgency, it is survival.
This essay follows a documentary photography approach, capturing scenes through the natural flow of life — without direction, without intervention. The aim was to register bodies in motion and the daily practices of the Mermortunré people as natural expressions of an ancestral relationship with the land. In contrast, the elements of destruction appear as fixed and invasive structures: fences, silos, statues.
This visual tension between the living territory and the controlled territory was central to the narrative. The gaze was guided by respect for the intimacy of those portrayed, prioritizing the territory’s own time and the community’s rhythms over any logic of immediate capture.
One of the central focuses was the color red — present in the soil, in the body paint, and in the skin of the Indigenous people — as a way to mark the deep connection between body, culture, and land. This vibrant, organic red sharply contrasts with the artificial tones and structures of the invaders: grain silos, wire fences, cattle statues.
Each image denounces a siege — on the body, the forest, and the climate — while the green that still pulses resists in this last refuge.
Place of Many Trees
Louise d'Orléans
France
Place of Many Trees is a project that brought together a small team of passionate people, including myself, the director.
With this documentary, we aimed to get our message across in the most authentic and beautiful way, always staying independent from producers or production houses that would want us to sugarcoat a few things or even re-write our story.
This is why Place of Many Trees is how it is: touching, real, intense, and, most importantly, it shows a glimpse of the lives of people who have the courage to fight back for our planet — the local families that live in the Mayan jungle of Guatemala.
With Place of Many Trees, we tried to talk about jungle conservation by actually recording the voices of the people that are at the core of this fight: the Indigenous communities of Mayan people, the park rangers, and the local farmers who live there.
Choosing the documentary format for our project was a way for us of highlighting all the injustice that goes on there — from discrimination all the way to the corruption of the government — whilst keeping it light, beautiful, and touching through the characters that we chose to film.
Us telling this story was a way to bring to the public eye some footage of the wilderness that we are lucky to still have in some remote parts of the planet, and hopefully make people fall in love with the jungle, inspiring reaction and action to protect these endangered but vital ecosystems.
Place of Many Trees is not simply a call to concrete action, but rather a meditative exploration that encourages the viewer to embrace a philosophy of respect and appreciation for our environment — and hopefully inspires a new, conscious perspective on our role as stewards of this planet.
Our movie is what it is not only because of the expression of the team’s creativity, but mostly because we were so inspired and touched by the front-field fighters that risk their lives to protect the jungle. The aim of our project is that, after watching Place of Many Trees, you will be too.
Quelque chose qui cloche (Something Suspicious)
Abandokht Tohidi Moghadam
Iran
Quelque chose qui cloche, or in english, Something Suspicious, is a short stop motion animation I had initially made to participate in the contest "Une minute pour la planète" held by the French embassy in Iran, for which it won the first place prize, a one month linguistic stay in Nice, France. I was very lucky to have the chance to work on a project with this theme, as I am very passionate about environmental concerns.
We had some freedom as to which environmental concern to focus on, so I decided to showcase the greenwashing of recycling by corporations (portrayed by the disgusting claymation factory-creature in my film), and the way they put it above all other environmental efforts (such as reduce and reuse) in the public eye, because it is the least damaging to their flow of production and sales.
For the production of this film, I started with a simple storyboard, then I made stop motion puppets using leftover materials from my time at university, my old childhood clothes, and aluminum wire. For the mountains of trash, I used papier-mâchée, parts of old toys, and of course, trash.
My wonderful online friends from France, Julie, Yann, and Louise lent their voices to my characters and brought them to life; and I had the chance to meet them in Nice, where we visited expositions which were being held at the time around the theme "La mer autour de nous", and discussed our ideas for future projects.
Quiet Sands - The Tragedy of the Aral Sea
Terézia Suránová
Slovakia
As the fourth-largest lake in the world, the Aral Sea significantly shaped the living conditions of the surrounding communities. The regions of northwestern Uzbekistan and southern Kazakhstan were highly dependent on the Aral’s aquatic ecosystem, which influenced livelihoods, social structures, and local culture.
Thanks to the abundance of fishing, a stable climate, and fertile soil, the communities around the lake were marked by prosperity and self-sufficiency. This balance, however, was drastically disrupted. In pursuit of the Soviet dream to turn Uzbekistan into the world’s largest exporter of cotton, vast river systems were diverted to irrigate endless fields. What began as an ambitious modernization project quickly turned into one of the greatest ecological disasters in modern history.
In 1962, as a result of reckless river diversions and massive canal construction, the once-prosperous island became a peninsula. The Aral Sea’s shoreline receded dramatically year by year until Muynak became part of the newly formed Aralkum Desert. Today, only traces of the water remain — wooden boats and fishing nets scattered across the yards of local fishermen.
The destruction of the ecosystem and the transformation of the Aral Sea — once a regulator of extreme temperatures — into a desert caused drastic climate fluctuations, making the region unsuitable for both living and farming. The only remaining livelihoods are livestock herding or work in the informal economy.
Former fishing communities in Muynak are now excluded from broader structures that could provide social security or employment, leaving them trapped in intergenerational poverty and without a vision of a more prosperous future.
Re-Source Art
Nadya Steare
USA
Re_Source Art is a series of sculptures that addresses the urgency of the global waste crisis and increasing plastic pollution.
Inspired by the Zero-Waste Movement — a challenge to maintain a more sustainable lifestyle — my work is created entirely out of discarded, found, and donated materials. The foundation for each sculpture is a plastic bottle filled with packaging, wrappers, and inorganic micro-trash.
By reintroducing previously unwanted items in a new context, I hope to bridge the gap between what is discarded and what is appreciated, as well as do my part in helping the environment.
The purpose of this body of work is not only to offer a small-scale solution for material waste in the art studio, but also to inspire the viewer to consider further potential in the objects they own.
Salted Earth, Silent Tears
Bipul Ahmed
Bangladesh
In the coastal unions of Gabura and Pratapnagar in Shyamnagar, Satkhira, life was once deeply connected to rivers that nourished both land and people.
But in the aftermath of cyclones Sidr (2007) and Aila (2009), everything changed. The embankments collapsed, and seawater surged in — transforming these once fertile lands into saline wastelands.
Today, climate change and rising sea levels have turned the lifeblood of this region into a slow poison. The soil is cracked, crops no longer grow, and families are forced to abandon their homes. Salinity has invaded not only the earth but also the bodies of those who drink from brackish sources. Women and children walk miles for fresh water, often returning with nothing.
Fishermen cast their nets into dying rivers, and farmers stare helplessly at their barren fields. In these forgotten corners, women labor in shrimp enclosures under harsh conditions, with limited access to education, healthcare, or employment alternatives. Their resilience is quiet but unyielding.
Homes are swallowed by eroding riverbanks. Yet amid this ongoing devastation, the people remain — bearing witness to the betrayal of the very elements they once trusted.
This series captures their silent strength — a testament to survival, dignity, and the human spirit in the face of environmental collapse.
Sana
Alexa Gantous
Mexico
In collaboration with Splice, Sama (formerly Suena) sonically mapped two of the most important natural ecosystems that sustain Mexico City. The first, Xochimilco, is the ancient wetlands of Mexico City and the last remnants of the vast water transport and agricultural system built by the Aztecs. The second, Río Magdalena, is the last living river of the city. Both of these sound libraries are available on Splice’s platform and can be accessed by musicians from around the world to produce sonic compositions.
The project I am submitting was Sama’s launch event: a floating sunrise concert in the canals of Xochimilco. Inspired by the local soundscapes mapped in collaboration with Splice, prolific Mexican pianist and composer Leonardo Heiblum delighted guests with a concert on the water that gave a voice to this fragile ecosystem.
The performance was followed by a culinary experience hosted by Colectivo Amasijo at Arca Tierra. The women-led collective designed a menu that captured the soundscapes of Xochimilco on our plates, inviting deeper reflection among attendees. The royalties from the sound library continue to contribute directly to Arca Tierra’s efforts to bring back ancestral forms of regenerative agriculture and preserve the chinampas.
Secret Zone
Lu Yiran
China
A reflection on "oldness", ecology, memory and consumption through the use of old bed sheets for big installations.
Symbiosis
Emmanuel Folorunso
Nigeria
Symbiosis tries to reimagine our relationship with nature and the Earth as a whole. From where did our conceptions of this relationship come? Have we ever thought to question the ideas we currently hold?
At a time when the rallying call for sustainability is beginning to receive more attention — in a bid to reverse the damage we've done to our only home — Symbiosis aims to illustrate our inseparability from nature. We are not separate from it, nor are we at its apex; we are part of an intricate and complex organism.
Humanity’s idea of existing separately and independently from nature is merely an illusion, perpetuated by systems of education that disconnect us from the material world at a very young age. What we really are is a feature of consciousness on this planet — we exist as expressions of an intelligent Earth that “peoples” the same way an apple tree apples.
Our relationship with this planet, based on the notion of asserting dominance over it, is one that will ultimately harm us. This intelligent ecosystem could rid itself of us in order to protect its balance — and would go on just fine.
Through this project, I aim to show that our skin is made of the same earth that grows the trees, and that our well-being is inseparable from the well-being of the planet as a whole.
The Finite in the Infinite
Dieter Vlasich Obsermann & Nimie Li
Mexico, China, UK
The Finite in the Infinite reflects on the continuity of ecological wisdom — how, within the infinite passing down of generational knowledge, each finite generation holds the power to preserve, transform, or discard it.
Some of this wisdom disappears under the pressures of colonialism, urbanization, and consumerism, yet some endures — encoded in language, stories, agriculture, and craft. To create is an act of remembrance: to bring into re-existence the practices we value. In doing so, we commit to preserving wisdom with care for those who will inherit it.
The passing down of knowledge is mainly relational; it nurtures community, identity, and sustains vincularidad — the understanding that human life and the natural world are inextricably bound. Yet the thread is weakening. In Yucatán, the disconnect between people and ancestral knowledge mirrors the loss of biodiversity and cultural resilience. Over 60% of biodiversity has vanished in the last century. Maya speakers have fallen from nearly 30% of the state’s population in 2010 to about 23% today (mostly elders), signaling a collapse in transmission.
These erosions intertwine. Language and craft — vessels of ecological wisdom — are endangered by malinchismo (devaluation of the local), the souvenirization of craft, and mass production that replaces tradition with imitation. As craft becomes less viable, youth turn away, and it fades into silence. Still, craft endures as a living archive of intergenerational wisdom.
The hilo contado embroidery, depicted in photographs 1 and 4, embodies this dialogue between nature and making. Its practice recalls rituals where embroiderers touch the rattlesnake’s skin, whose pattern mirrors the “X” of the cross-stitch, symbolically absorbing its wisdom. Threads for ancestral hipiles were dyed with plants, insects, and minerals — embedding stories of flora and fauna and geometric knowledge within the cloth.
Though introduced through colonial exchange, hilo contado became a site where Maya voices and vincularidad persisted, carrying these stories on textiles worn on the body.
This project seeks to reweave these threads and build bridges. Born from ongoing garment and textile collaborations with craftswomen in Pisté, Yucatán — resulting in my graduate collection at Central Saint Martins — and through playful making and styling with the children of the community, this photo series documents the finite acts of one generation that ripple into infinite cultural and ecological renewal.
The Last of Us
Apah Benson
Nigeria
The Last of Us is a photography series documenting the devastating effects of oil spills on communities in the Niger Delta region of Nigeria, with a recent focus on the Okpare community in Ughelli South. As someone who grew up in an oil-producing area, this project holds deep personal significance. It began years ago when I first saw children playing in mildly polluted waters, which later evolved into a broader exploration of the ongoing environmental damage caused by oil extraction.
In Okpare, bunkering activities led to a spill that stretched across a 10km area, devastating the land and water bodies. Trees were burned down, and the spill left vast stretches of land unusable. This series captures the aftermath of the spill—the charred remains of once-thriving landscapes, the burnt trees, and the polluted waters that now cover much of the community's environment.
Yet, amid this devastation, the people of Okpare have shown remarkable resilience. The photographs also document how they have reinserted themselves into the environment, adapting to the harsh realities of their new world. Children are seen playing in polluted waters, unaware of the potential dangers, while others canoe across the tainted water bodies to reach nearby communities. These moments reflect not only the tragedy of the situation but also the human spirit's enduring connection to nature, even in the face of environmental collapse.
The project serves as a powerful visual narrative about the environmental and social impacts of climate change, corporate greenwashing, and the urgent need for climate justice. It highlights the disproportionate burden placed on marginalized communities, where people are forced to live amid environmental ruin caused by industries that extract wealth from their land without regard for their well-being. The Last of Us is both a tribute to these communities' resilience and a call for accountability, urging for regenerative efforts and meaningful climate action. Through this series, I aim to raise awareness about the critical need for climate justice, especially for those most affected yet least represented in global climate discussions.
The Sea Sustains Us
Tianxiao Wang
China, UK
Lamalera, located in the southern part of Lembata Island, Indonesia, is a village where traditional whaling techniques have been passed down for generations. Since the 16th century, villagers have settled along this rugged coastline, adhering to Catholic beliefs and viewing the ocean’s bounty as a divine gift.
Built on steep, rocky cliffs, the village offers limited livelihood options — most men become Lamafa (whale hunters), while women often remain homemakers. Some still practice bartering, an age-old tradition, but as modernization advances, people increasingly need money to buy food, fuel, and school supplies. Jobs are scarce, making it difficult for many to earn enough cash. In recent years, declining whale numbers have further strained the village’s way of life.
The younger generation stands at a crossroads between tradition and modernity. Education and exposure to the outside world have broadened their perspectives, making urban life an appealing alternative. Elders encourage them to seek opportunities beyond the village, recognizing the uncertainty of whaling’s future. Yet many youths feel deeply connected to their heritage and struggle with the idea of leaving it behind.
The growing presence of smartphones and internet access has exposed them to a broader world, intensifying their internal conflict between preserving their culture and pursuing a different future. Meanwhile, whaling faces increasing challenges due to environmental changes and external pressures. Conservation efforts and global opposition to whaling threaten the survival of this centuries-old practice.
Some families have turned to fishing or tourism as alternative sources of income, yet these efforts often fall short of sustaining the community. The village remains in limbo, searching for ways to adapt while holding onto its identity.
Despite these challenges, Lamalera’s spirit endures. The people’s resilience is evident in their faith, their deep connection to the sea, and their determination to navigate an uncertain future. As the waves continue to crash against Lamalera’s cliffs, so too does the question of its fate — will the tide carry its traditions forward, or will they be swept away in the shifting currents of modernity?
The Zág Institute
The Zág Institute was born from the strength of its community and the wisdom of its elders, with the mission of protecting biodiversity and restoring the ecosystems of the Atlantic Forest through an ancestral perspective. Its work goes beyond reforestation — it seeks to reconnect the spirit of the forest with the spirit of the people, cultivating balance between what is natural and what is human.
For the Institute, the araucarias are not just trees. They are ancient beings, guardians of the forest and bridges between the spiritual world and the physical world. Each one carries the spirit of the ancestors and the protective energy that sustains life in the territory. When an araucaria is cut down, it is as if a part of the people has been wounded — because the tree is part of their identity, memory, and survival.
Unfortunately, these sacred trees have suffered centuries of exploitation and export. Araucaria wood, once a symbol of wealth for Brazil, today also represents the destruction of one of the oldest forests on the planet. Currently, less than 1% of the original araucaria forest remains, and if nothing is done, this species could disappear completely in about 40 years. The araucaria is now one of the most endangered trees in the world — and with it, the Laklãnõ Xokleng people face the same risk.
The Laklãnõ Xokleng often say: “We are the araucarias. When they fall, we also fall. When they resist, we also resist.”
In the territory under dispute due to the unconstitutional Marco Temporal thesis — especially in the region known as Bom Sucesso — the conflict has intensified. Although the state park claims to protect the area, what the community finds is the advance of soybean monoculture, cattle, and pine plantations, as well as the selective extraction of native wood. These actions not only harm nature but also violate the spirituality and way of life of the people.
The Zág Institute works under the principle that protecting an araucaria means protecting the planet, for it represents the balance between life, time, and the memory of the Earth.
Their struggle is spiritual, cultural, and political:
Spiritual, because they defend the essence that connects them to the forest;
Cultural, because they keep alive the knowledge of their ancestors;
Political, because they resist a system that tries to erase their rights and their way of existing.
Wellspring of Change: A Tale of Two Extremes
Ekow Dawsom
Ghana
The northern part of Ghana has two seasons: the dry season and the rainy season. Each brings its own extreme challenges for smallholder farmers.
During the dry season, water becomes painfully scarce. To sustain their crops, young men gather with shovels and sometimes even bare hands to dig deep holes in search of groundwater. These makeshift wells can reach depths of 10 to 20 feet before water trickles through the cracked earth. Days or weeks are spent digging, and even then, the water is rarely enough.
Despite their relentless labor, many farmers are forced to abandon their ancestral lands and migrate south in search of work, leaving behind empty homes and broken continuity in their communities.
But when the rains finally come, relief quickly turns into disaster. Fields become swamps, crops drown, and floods wash away fragile livelihoods. Only rice, resilient to standing water, can grow in such conditions — but the returns are meager. Local rice is undervalued against imported varieties, forcing many families deeper into poverty.
In this tale of two extremes, farmers are caught in a cycle of scarcity and overabundance, surviving at the mercy of the climate.
Wellspring of Change: A Tale of Two Extremes tells this story through photography, oral testimony, and visual archiving. It paints a vivid picture of life in Doba, in Ghana’s Upper East Region, where resilience has become a way of life.
The project is not only about hardship but also about hope. It documents the farmers’ ingenuity as they deploy pressure pumps to direct water to their crops, share labor communally, and find strength in collective survival. The moment water appears in the pits is more than a practical success — it is renewal, a sacred gift that sustains both body and spirit.
This work highlights the intersection of climate change, migration, and food insecurity in one of the regions most vulnerable yet least represented in global climate conversations. The voices of these farmers — often young men and women left behind in rural communities — rarely reach beyond their villages.
Yet their stories are urgent. They reflect global challenges: how marginalized communities bear the brunt of climate extremes, how livelihoods are disrupted by forces beyond their control, and how climate injustice deepens inequality.
By archiving these experiences, Wellspring of Change creates space for empathy, awareness, and dialogue. It insists that ecological justice is not an abstract concept but a lived reality.
Without Warning
Andreu Esteban Sebastiá
Spain
Without Warning is a photographic series created in the aftermath of the cold snap that hit the province of Valencia on 29 October 2024. The resulting flood covered towns in the L'Horta Sud region — including Paiporta, Picanya, Catarroja, and Massanassa — with mud. It claimed 229 lives and caused significant material losses, making it the worst natural disaster in Spain’s recent history.
Despite various warnings from meteorological agencies, life went on as usual that Tuesday. Meanwhile, towns such as Utiel, located further inland in the province of Valencia, experienced flooding that same morning. In Turís, more than 700 litres of rain per square metre accumulated over 24 hours. Eventually, all that water had to reach the ravines and the coast.
In the towns of L'Horta Sud, where there had been almost no rain, no one could have imagined what was about to happen. Gradually, the Poyo ravine — which runs through the centre of several towns — began to fill with water. Residents approached the flooded ravine with curiosity, unaccustomed to seeing it so full.
At 6 p.m., the Poyo ravine overflowed. Although the water was already flooding the streets and sweeping away everything in its path, the population did not receive any warning until 20:11 — by which time it was too late for many.
In the days that followed, when everything was covered in mud, thousands of volunteers from all over the country took to the streets to help without hesitation. Armed with shovels, brooms, food, and clothing, the affected towns became the stage for a parade of solidarity unlike anything ever seen in the country before.
This project seeks to document not only the consequences of the flood in the days that followed, but also to reconstruct what happened on the afternoon of 29 October through the marks left by the mud on the walls. These lines on the walls tell the story of how the tragedy unfolded during those difficult hours — when citizens were consumed by the mud, without warning.
You Wouldn't Harm What Gives You Love
Sindija Filipusko
Latvia
Through their bark, just like our skin, there’s an otherworldliness — past our consciousness.
London Planes are often known as the Trees of London. Their ability to absorb up to 850 to 2,000 tonnes of harmful pollutant particles (PM10) a year reveals their strength and adaptability in urban spaces.
In response to environmental stress caused by human activity, London Planes develop protective growths on their bark called burls, which act as a natural defence mechanism.
These photographs invite reflection on how we care for trees in our cities, and on the otherworldliness that stress can awaken in all living beings.