Sacred

Throwing Soup

When I visited the Met in New York last spring I was surprised that most of the paintings didn’t seem to have glass over them. I wandered from room to room with a few friends and enjoyed staring at the texture in the brush strokes. Viewing became an act of trust – an implicit contract – don’t destroy this and you can get as close as you want. The access to beauty stuck in my mind, especially when looking at a sunflower painted by Van Gogh.

I have since learned that the Van Gogh painting that Just Stop Oil activists threw soup at at couple of weeks ago was in London, not New York and that painting was covered in glass. The activists said they never would have gone through with the plan if they thought the painting could be hurt. However, when I saw the video circulating on social media my first thought was “Damn, y’all just broke that contract for all of us”.

Having grown up on 5 acers of well-loved woods outside of Seattle Washington, my biggest climate fear is losing access to the beauty of the natural world. I’ve cried over clearcuts and traveled to see melting glaciers and visited all 50 states to see as much of the world as I can before it’s all gone. I hate that the beauty of land is not accessible to everyone, and I hate that beautiful paintings are covered in glass.

Would I throw soup at a Van Gogh? No.

But I’m glad those activists did. It started a conversation and got people talking. And what I saw a lot of people saying was “If you don’t like this action then make your own”. A fair point.

I want climate action that is generative. I want to create, not destroy. I want to treasure instead of yell. I want to protect the sacred and ensure our access to beauty for generations to come.

After throwing soup, the activists asked “What is worth more? Art or life?”. An important question. I would answer with one of my own, “What is life without the beauty of art?”.

So here’s my counter protest: A gallery of moments when beauty was close enough to touch. This world is wonderful and sacred and deserves to be protected. The activist with Just Stop Oil are taking action, and so am I. What are you doing to add your voice?

A woman in a swirled tie-dye sweatshirt and textured jacket stands in the middle of the desert and twists her body to look over her shoulder.
The camp I worked at in California had an unbooked session, so my boss paid for the staff to go on an overnight camping trip to nearby Joshua Tree National Park to make up for the lost income. I didn’t know it then but this was my one chance to go before COVID hit.
A silhouette of a hand points at a swarm of bats flying through the sky.
The University of Florida in Gainesville keeps several bat houses and it is a community event to see the bats fly out each evening. Bat colonies across the East Coast have seen up to 95% loss in population due to white nose syndrome but moments like this offer education and hope.
Three trail workers with tools strapped to their backpacks walk down a trail towards a large glacier.
There is an entire profession of people dedicated to maintaining trails across the US in order to provide access to the beauty of our public lands. This trail crew in Alaska regularly works in view of the many glaciers in the area.
Several teenagers in warm fall layers splash through a shallow creek while holding nets on long polls.
The Smoky Mountains National Park in Tennessee is the most visited national park in the US. It’s accessibility puts it at risk of being “loved to death” but each year thousands of school kids get to explore the outdoors on ranger-lead fieldtrips.
A black and white photo of a hand held in the air as a snail crawls down the thumb.
Touch is such a simple and beautiful way to explore nature. My friend picked up a snail by the coast in Oregon and was fascinated for the next 20 minutes. Becoming intimately familiar with a snail or a leaf provides a sense of wonder for our more than human kin.
A large metal bowl full of sliced apples. In the background a group of people bend over a cider press.
I am constantly amazed by the apples which drop from my wild apple trees every year. We all gather to eat them – my family, the bears, strangers, the deer, friends I invite over, small insects I can’t see. We are all beautifully connected through this small patch of land in Washington.
A woman stands in the front of a small boat and holds a paddle out over the water. The edge of the lake is surrounded by trees with large mountains in the background.
At the end of a hike in South East Alaska there is a lake. And in that lake there is a dock and a small boat which is available for anyone to use to explore the area.
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Kesia Lee

Photojournalist. Working my way across landscapes taking pictures and telling stories as I go. I'm basically living the #InstagramLife but in a more down-to-earth, secondhand shop, accidental vagabond manner.

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