The
Climate Renaissance
Symbolo is the root word of symbolism; in latin, it means to throw together.
Diabolo means to throw apart.
A Trappist monk taught this to me, when I asked of the significance of symbolism. I wanted to learn how I could contribute to something greater than I through the visual arts.
‘The Climate Renaissance’ is a symbolism I now choose to use to describe the throwing together of disciplines to respond to climate and human injustice with beauty and service.
The arts, the sciences, philosophy, law, economics, theology, coming together to understand our natural world, and to heal with it.
It is a philosophy of communal flourishing through the throwing together of our gifts.
I seek to serve through my work. And to support a Climate Renaissance.
Babel
The story of this painting, Babel, is an example of the Climate Renaissance in motion.
It was exhibited at the United Nations as part of a Talanoa-style diplomatic dialogue at COP30 of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, in which participants discussed international climate justice through the lens of artistry.
Organized by the Yale Student Environmental Coalition Delegation in collaboration with the Duke Delegation to COP30 of the UNFCCC, students, lawyers, researchers, diplomats, and artists united at a side event to discuss the consciousness needed to address climate migration. We contended with the cultural clashes driving a crisis — and imagined solutions grounded in love.
United Nations side events are typically conducted on a podium, with audience members physically looking upward toward the speakers. Talanoa, the method of discussion we chose, embodies the principle that all knowledge holders have equal value, disrupting conventional conference hierarchies that privilege certain voices. This style of discussion originates from the Pacific Islands and provides opportunities to share authentic knowledge grounded in Pacific values and principles of love, respect, humor, and warmth. We engaged in storytelling and genuine sharing, with pauses for collective reflection and open dialogue where anyone could contribute insights from their own experience.
We wanted to center affected communities as equal partners and consider solutions that are both evidence-based and community-centered. Circle participants were empowered to both ask questions and respond to those presented.
We began our discussion as an invitation to share stories of climate injustice related to climate-induced migration. I placed the Babel painting on the ground, in the center of our circle-style dialogue, and shared my own family's story alongside the significance of the visual symbolism.
The woman in the painting is bowing in humility as the city of hubris topples under the strength of waves. Humility is the foundation upon which we could build again.
We transitioned into a discussion of solutions — how could international law work in tandem with art to protect and culturally defend the human dignity of climate-displaced refugees?
We walked away with a shared remembrance of histories of suffering and a sense of hope for the future.
Babel’s Parable
“The city climbs into its hubris.
Its inhabitants, drunk on the views, reveling in their creation.
They recline in the coolness of their towers, giddy to keep the heat outside.
They confuse the beating sun as attribution to their glory, for they know how to manage.
They speak of domination.
Absorbed in themselves, their tongues lick inwards.
Language is no longer an act of connection, but a grasp for control.
Speak to hear themselves, to savor the melody of genius.
They develop an interior tongue.
Intentions trapped in their skulls, circling, crashing, collapsing.
They look at their neighbor: a point of comparison, a subject of conquest.
They forget what it is like to speak for the sake of connection.
Caged in their flesh.
She foretells the oncoming storms.
She whistles in the winds as they become stronger,
and she nudges with the swells that turn acidic.
But their ears are turned inward,
listening to their internal tongues.
She bows to their deafness,
taking to her mantle of sacrifice.
They see her submission and choose to build upon her.
Vanity compels them to ravage her.
And when the waves come,
when the city topples,
their cries fall on turned ears.
And She?
She maintains her genuflection,
ready to give them her body for when they build again.
Waters fall over her lips,
but it doesn't matter,
since she chose silence long ago.”