“Land art involves a relationship between art and nature that refuses to separate the two, asserting that art is as much a part of the land as the land itself is a part of art.”
– Lucy Lippard in Landscript 7: Land and Environmental Art, 2007
Christian Bernard Singer’s work is a poetic testament to nature, humanity, and time’s endless cycles in the space between earth and sky. His journey began in a world of movement—as a dancer in the Composers and Choreographers Theater led by Laura Foreman and John Watts, where he developed a profound sense of rhythm and spatial awareness. This early discipline now permeates his visual installations, imbuing them with a silent choreography, a pulse of life that invites viewers to move through his work as they would through a forest, a sacred grove, or a temple. In each piece, Singer merges organic elements with a philosophical framework that underscores the duality of resilience and transience. This synergy becomes a visual language, a dialogue with the earth.
Christian Bernard Singer, born in Paris in 1962 and raised in New York City, embarked on an artistic path that diverged from the norm. His transition from dance to visual art was not a mere shift in career, but a continuous movement towards understanding the natural world as an intimate counterpart to human existence. His academic journey, from earning an AOCAD from the Ontario College of Art and Design to later obtaining an MFA from the New York State College of Ceramics at Alfred University, honed a multidisciplinary approach that bridges art and ecology. His work, exhibited widely across Canada and the United States, often integrates organic materials—moss, pine needles, clay—imbued with the traces of landscapes he seeks to honour and understand.
Singer’s creations resonate with post-anthropocentric ideas, challenging viewers to reconsider humanity’s place within a fragile ecosystem. Rooted in the philosophies of Queer Ecologies and More-than-Human approaches, his work invites reflection on a world where nature’s voice stands equal to the human narrative. This is evident in his series “Pullulate,” where installations embody the breath and life of organic material. These artworks reflect the organic processes of growth and decay, echoing symbiosis between human and non-human realms. They seem to “breathe,” blurring the boundaries between viewer and environment, drawing attention to the cyclical nature of existence.
The notion of memory is also central to Singer’s work. His installations evoke personal and collective memories of the place, blending the intimate with the universal. Using materials that are rooted in particular landscapes, Singer taps into the viewer’s memories of nature, evoking feelings of nostalgia, loss, and renewal.
The Canadian eco-artist explores the intricate relationships between human identity, the environment, and the passing of time in his practice of immersive installations and land art. For Singer, nature is not just a subject to be depicted but a medium that carries its narrative voice. He meticulously uses organic elements such as moss and pine needles to emphasize themes of renewal, decay, and the cycles of life. His installations do not merely showcase these materials; they are acts of creation that resonate with the viewer on a tactile, emotional, and intellectual level, engaging the audience in a profound and personal way.
In Singer’s recent installation, ‘Passage to Earth and Sky,’ as part of a group exhibition from July 20- September 29, 2004, exhibited at No. 9 Gardens, a site dedicated to environmental sustainability, the artist has constructed a transformative experience from the humble material of hay bales. The setting, rich in the sights and sounds of nature, fosters contemplation of nature’s rhythms. The entryway, aligned with the rising sun, becomes a beacon of rebirth, optimism, and quiet resilience, guiding visitors into a narrow passage that opens into a circular chamber—a metaphor for renewal and introspection. This deliberate design emphasizes a communion with the elemental forces that shape our lives, offering a sensory journey that invites visitors to reflect on the life cycles that connect all beings within a shared ecological reality.
Passage to Earth and Sky was built not as a structure that resists nature but one that embraces it. Singer’s process involved surrendering to the site’s challenges, from rotting hay to the presence of snakes, allowing these elements to shape his vision. This adaptability recalls the approach of French land artist Jacques Leclercq-K, whose work with straw and agricultural materials similarly evokes ritualistic reflection and historical memory. Through such methods, Singer and Leclercq-K bring ancient practices of remembrance and reverence into the present, using materials rooted in agrarian life to engage viewers with themes of memory, transience, and resilience.
Singer’s dialogue with the land resonates further through the influence of Bavarian artist NILS-UDO, a pioneer in Land Art whose ephemeral installations transform natural elements into quiet celebrations of transience and harmony. NILS-UDO’s approach mirrors Singer’s use of site-specific materials that echo the delicate balance of life’s impermanence. Like NILS-UDO’s work with stones and petals, Singer’s hay bale chamber is both structural and symbolic. Within the installation, viewers find a sanctuary for reflection, their senses muffled by the hay walls and directed upward toward the sky. This deliberate sensory design offers a contemplative journey, inviting visitors to reflect on the life cycles that connect all beings within a shared ecological reality.
In a world increasingly distanced from nature’s inherent rhythms, Passage to Earth and Sky is a sacred place for contemplation. Its circular chamber, reminiscent of ancient places of worship, calls forth a sense of timelessness that challenges the viewer’s perception of linear time. Singer brings forth an experience that transcends the typical gallery through this chamber, grounding it in a more primal, elemental context. It is a space for personal introspection and a reminder of humanity’s humble place within the vastness of nature—a journey both outward and inward.
Through works like Passage to Earth and Sky, Singer reaffirms his belief in the sacredness of the natural world. His installations engage with environmental concerns, reminding us of our responsibilities as stewards of the earth. This vision extends beyond the personal, serving as a clarion call for harmony between human and non-human worlds. Singer’s art, rooted in organic matter and layered with philosophical inquiry, is an invitation to confront life’s temporal nature, find beauty in transience, and recognize the cycles that unite all existence. In doing so, Passage to Earth and Sky becomes not only an installation but a passage to understanding life’s interconnectedness, a solemn reminder of the enduring power of nature, and a call to rediscover our place within it, fostering a sense of connection and responsibility in the audience.
Beneath a vast expanse of open fields and an overcast sky, we gathered at No. 9 Gardens, a testament to environmental sustainability about 40 kilometres north of Kingston, Ontario. As we explored the site, our dialogue unfolded, revealing the intricacies of land art and the evolution of his creative practice. Below are excerpts from our captivating conversation:
How do you view the current state of Land Art and eco-art? What role do these practices play in addressing today’s environmental challenges?
Necessity breeds new ideas and innovation. This is so with eco-art and art dealing with environmental themes, particularly given the state of the planet. Art has the power to tell stories, which can inspire change. While many artists are responding to climate change as the emergency that it is, some are too didactic and proselytizing. Art is not a communications strategy. Art is a mysterious phenomenon, and this should be embraced. I believe in the power of beauty and how artists can bring about an awareness of the less seen, the unseen, and even the unseeable. For instance, and I paraphrase the words of the British psychiatrist and philosopher, Iain McGilchrist: “Attention is a moral act– it changes the world by helping to bring into existence the experiential world, which is the only world that we can ever know.” Although not currently recognized as such, particularly in Canada and the US, artists are the priests, tricksters and jesters who notice things that the rest of the world may not or may not be able to articulate from the core of their being. I am generally hopeful and refuse to be frozen in fear. Yes, we are witnessing change on a massive scale, but we can also change—in fact, we are now witnessing a transformative consciousness towards this change, which will grow exponentially. What has been lost is lost, but we can honour the science of traditional ways and innovate into the future. Ultimately, it will come down to collaboration between people. Perhaps in the future, we will look back at climate change as the agent that eventually brought about peace. Even difficult change can lead to expansive transformation.
Whose work deeply resonates with you at this stage in your artistic career?
Long before I moved into this art-making area (I used to paint), I was in love with the work of Nils Udo and Andy Goldsworthy. I love their works visually and as forms of poetry, yet they leave little impact on the land. Both bring attention to our connection to the natural world by creating intensely beautiful works and celebrating the ephemeral quality of a single moment. For me, it reflects our temporary passage in this reality. Like a gust of wind that can disrupt and destroy their delicate works, our lives are equally fragile. Their works celebrate the miraculous, for living with consciousness is a phenomenon. I also love the work by the Danish artist Olafur Eliasson, who brings entire ecosystems into the gallery space. I love the experiential quality of the work and how the built environment of the gallery walls and columns reframes it.
How have the shifts in your practice—across materiality, forms, and disciplinary boundaries from crafts to sculpture, installations, and architecture—reshaped your creative vision?
My practice emphasizes impermanence, embracing how natural elements can decay over time. I try to frame this ephemerality as part of the beauty and transformative power of life and death and challenge notions of what we consider “wild” or “tame.”
Similarly, my early experience as a dancer still informs me as a visual artist, where gesture is the bridge between material and meaning, through actual or implied motion to imply change and impermanence. My installations also set a stage in which the viewer’s interaction completes the work, just as a musical score or dance performance only exists fully when performed.
My work also reflects a post-anthropocentric questioning of the separation between humans and the environment, proposing that consciousness extends beyond the self, encompassing nature and the cosmos in a collective experience. I am beginning to embrace the concept of animism, in which all beings have consciousness, and there is the possibility of an exchange. The land and water and their inhabitants know we are here and that there are ways of communicating with them. Anyone who lives with a furry companion has experienced this. In addition to this, the possibility of forest spirits gets even more enjoyable.
However, my starting point is usually material-based. I collect various bits of moss, pine needles, bark, and other elements. Often, they clutter my studio in plain view until I find a way to engage with them. Once I do, my process tends to be very crafts-based and time-consuming, where I allow myself to explore and master its possibilities. For instance, glueing one pine needle at a time or sewing moss is a meditative process akin to working with ceramics or weaving. This slowness of this process can also be frustrating because I can’t move on to other ideas quickly enough.
In my installations, I always consider the architectonic features of a particular gallery space—no exhibition of one work is ever quite the same. In the natural world, I see trees, grasses and spaces as highly architectural. Everything has a reason for being there, and it is my role to integrate my work holistically and collaborate with this space as if it belongs there. My recent move into ephemeral architecture intends to create an experiential space for viewers to consider historical precedents of our misuse of the environment by evoking ancient structures that oscillate between sacred spaces and forgotten archaeological wonders.
Ultimately, these shifts are not merely aesthetic or technical; they represent a continual process of inquiry and adaptation, responding to changes within myself and in the world. They acknowledge that all things—materials, forms, disciplines, and identities—are in a constant state of becoming and that art can serve as a reflection of this ongoing process of transformation.
Can you delve into the journey of Passage to Earth and Sky, exploring the evolution of its making and the conceptual transformations that guided its becoming?
“Passage to Earth and Sky” was intended to explore nature, transience, and spirituality. This artwork, situated at No. 9 Gardens on land dedicated to environmental sustainability, was entirely constructed from hay bales sourced from the site, merging the ephemera of hay with lost-world archaeology. Urgency, history, agency, mourning, and optimism all collide.
Reminiscent of an ancient temple and a bunker (albeit open to the sky), one enters the structure through an opening that faces the rising sun (perfect east), suggesting new beginnings and optimism and greeting the sun’s consciousness. Visitors then pass through a narrow hallway that leads to an intimate circular chamber, indexing a sort of rebirth/reset- a return through the birth canal back to the womb. Sound is muffled in the hay bale walls, creating a silent, insulated environment that encourages deep introspection and a disconnection from the distractions of the present world. The intimate scale of the hallway and chamber alters our sense of time and location, re-situating viewers to something more experientially internal, perhaps even ritualistic. The space, a container for energy, feels like a sanctuary or a portal to ineffable truths.
The design of “Passage from Earth to Sky” emphasized a direct connection to the elemental forces of nature. Upon entering, one can see only the sky above and the hay-covered ground below, with the surrounding trees deliberately blocked from view. This framing simplifies the visual experience, directing attention to the elements of earth and sky (and the space in between).
The creation of this artwork was marked by significant challenges, including working with hay bales that were rotten and riddled with snakes and enduring near-biblical downpours during the installation process. Yet, at the core of my practice, I am concerned with creating works that respond to, rather than impose on, a specific site—as if in an ongoing conversation. Intuitively sensing these adversities to be more like guideposts, I realized that I had to get out of my way and let myself be guided. I shifted my original vision from an architectural ruin to creating a sacred space that seemed to arise from a necessary appeasement/gift/honouring of the gods.
Narendra Pachkhédé is a critic, curator, essayist and writer who splits his time between Toronto, London and Geneva
