ENVS*3000 season finale - the sunset post🌤
a sunset pic I took during some sacred cottage time on West Lake near Picton, ON
As the course and the semester come to a close, it feels entirely appropriate that we finish this journey off with some mildly existential thoughts about our ethics as interpreters. I think the fact that I’m also in the process of finishing up my degree has me squirreling out a bit as the cherry on top of this introspection.
While we’ve done a lot of soul-searching over this semester, I think one thing has remained, one thing is evergreen — when I think about nature, I think about serenity, peace, sanctuary. I believe that time in nature has the power and (as fantastical as it sounds) the energy to offer healing. It gives space for a quieter mind, a more peaceful soul. Even as I write these words, the stem student in me is cringing a bit - I have no concrete sources to back up these claims!!
But that points to something invaluable that this course has given me — the leeway to not focus solely on the data and the quantitative and the cold-hard-ness of science, and to instead lean into the interpretation, to focus on the feelings and think about what they mean.
I mean, yeah, I believe in science, I believe in its place, and I love what it’s given me: the knowledge and means with which to explore questions and attain answers. But in interpretation, science can’t stand alone.
I believe in art. Interpretation needs art the same way humans do. Not for some absolutely practical or functional purpose, but for an added layer, added interest, added connection to the natural wonders around us. I believe in the duality of nature and think that the point of interpretation should be to explore that push-and-pull relationship between science and art.
Now as for my responsibilities as an interpreter. I thought a lot about this question early in the course. In the beginning, I think I was intimidated by the idea that everyone must be pleased, must be included. And I know that dismissing the idea that “everyone should be included” can come across as harsh. But I think that I landed on the idea that it’s important to strike a balance between doing everything you can AND “staying in your lane”, as it were.
It’s hard to be everything all at once, and we can’t be. It’s valid to have the desire to accommodate every single person, but what is the cost there? What is the end product once you’ve spread yourself so thin? It doesn't mean giving up, in any sense, but instead highlighting your own abilities and lifting up others who fill in those gaps. It's about the net result, it's about interpretation as a community.
But to be an interpreter inherently puts you in a position of authority, of leadership - and that can be daunting.
So I approach this question a little differently now. Yes, I have the responsibility of providing valuable content to people in a way that respects their stories and their backpacks. I have the responsibility of putting out work that I am proud of, as to not take peoples' attention for granted. But up front, I have a responsibility that harkens back to acknowledging myself, my strengths and individuality as an interpreter.
This line of thought sparked questions not like
“how do I make my content valuable to every person?” or “how do I make sure everyone is happy and accommodated?”
“what can I realistically provide in a valuable way? which is the audience that will truly benefit from what I can offer, and how can I make sure that I am putting my focus there?”
The answers to these questions are still being sorted out, I think.
Still, I do know that I am more inclined to cater to the artistic- and abstract- inclined. I don’t necessarily see myself on the cold-hard-science side of academia. As a science student, I’ve pushed a passion for art aside in a lot of ways.
And it’s a tad cheesy, I’d admit, but this course has pushed me to think about why that is, and to imagine reintegrating art. Everything is still a little foggy, but there is a semblance of a clear path, or a few of them. Something in the realm of the visual arts, or even an increased focus on less technical writing feels like my fit.
silly little doodle i did
Thinking about how I could approach nature interpretation, I’m brought back to the ideas about learning styles that we touched on earlier in the course. I mulled it over and landed on the fact that I like working alone, and need it to some extent, and I’m coming to terms with the fact that that doesn’t have to be forever. This stage is about self-discovery, for the purposes that I’ve mentioned – offering true value to the audience that would benefit the most. It’s about exploring myself as an interpreter, the things I have to offer, and giving myself time and space to do so.
But I am passionate about the intimate link between people and nature, and I care about sharing this passion with other people. And again, I think that art is a perfect realm for this sort of work. Building community is part of the art world, but so is introspection and individuality. It offers both sides of the coin: time spent alone with the craft, the creation, and time spent sharing what you discovered and made in that time.
While I’d love to have shared some really confident and concrete answers to these questions, I think the best thing I can do right now is be honest about the uncertainty, about the possibilities, and the little bits of self-assuredness that I do hold with me right now, and carrying on this journey of discovery in spite of it.
If you’ve made it this far into this post (by choice or obligation), I really truly want to say THANK YOU. This was a pretty self-centered entry and sharing all these thoughts has been cathartic, to say the least.