The Landscape of Absence

In order to understand the themes of The Landscape of Absence, it is essential to first outline—at least briefly—the theoretical and intellectual sources from which the exhibition project and the works of the individual authors draw. As Jiří Sirůček writes in his book Neklidné hranice: Posthumanistická planetární (po)etika (and we take this opportunity to thank him for writing it), over the past twenty years—during which the climate crisis has become increasingly apparent and the far-reaching impact of human activity on our planet has come to light—the scientific community has been discussing the renaming of our current geological epoch from the Holocene to the Anthropocene, i.e., the Age of the Human. Given everything that is happening—ecosystem transformations, species extinction, desertification (i.e., the destruction of natural resources such as soil, water, vegetation), more frequent destructive fires, melting glaciers and permafrost, rising sea levels, temperatures, and ocean acidity, as well as the devastation of traditional habitats accompanied by environmental migration—this era paradoxically brings about a destabilization of the values upon which human (meaning Western) society has been built. We find ourselves in a situation where it is clear that our actions are self-destructive because they are destructive to our environment. We are beginning to re-evaluate our perception of our role in the world, our separation from nature and its processes, and the Enlightenment-born notion of a superior human as the driving force of the world. Through our “industrial hedonism,” we have demonstrably triggered a series of destructive processes. This is related to what is known as environmental grief, referring to “the mourning emotions over worlds that have been irreversibly destroyed by climate or other crises.” Jiří Sirůček recalls a quote by environmentalist Bill McKibben, who argues that “living in the Anthropocene means being born into a world that no longer exists.” However, it is possible to harness this grief as a form of personal activism and an opportunity to help bring about remediation. Generation Z (people born after 1995) is referred to in environmental studies as the “last generation,” as it considers itself—during this critical phase of the climate crisis—to be the final generation capable of preventing the complete destruction of biodiversity. But is it possible to break free from this self-destructive era? What could or should we do to achieve that? Where should this re-evaluation of humanity’s role in the world lead? Posthumanism (or the related term postanthropocentrism or new materialism) can help guide us in this direction. If we reconsider our exalted position on Earth, we will also be able to reevaluate how we perceive the position of all the entities that share it with us, and abandon the idea that our planet is merely an unlimited source of raw materials to satisfy human needs. According to scholar and philosopher Donna Haraway, we must realize “that even processes we often consider exclusively human are, in fact, influenced by the nonhuman world and vice versa.” In this sense, it would then be possible to view our position as part of what Sirůček refers to as more-than-human relations. And this brings us to the term posthumanism, which “does not so much designate a time coming after (post) the Human; the prefix ‘post’ does not aim to eliminate humanity, as some believe, but rather to emphasize its mutual coexistence with the nonhuman.” In this era, the focus would be on empathetic coexistence with other creatures, organisms, and plants, with the entire planet, and perhaps even with the internet and artificial intelligence. From the Anthropocene, we would transition into the Neganthropocene, the age of the nonhuman—that is, a new human “fused” with its environment. The artworks on display reflect on these themes, examining the contemporary world and its trajectory. Artists have been exploring these ideas for some time, arriving at a variety of positions. Yet as the exhibition’s title suggests, they also address visions in which humans no longer inhabit our planet. Questions about the cause of our demise, our culpability, and the shape of a world without the human race allow us to perceive our lived reality in a different light. The objects and images in The Landscape of Absence reflect on the relationship between the rapidly transforming technological world, society, and ecosystems that are quickly losing their stability. In this context, all traditional dichotomies—nature versus culture, organic versus artificial—fade into hybrid forms where biological and synthetic structures seamlessly merge. Here, art functions both as a tool of imagination and as a warning, a catalyst for speculations about a future in which the human perspective loses its former significance and ceases to be the measure of value and meaning.