Photograph by Ruth Clark.

At low tide, a cluster of cages emerge from beneath the recessing waters of Loch Portree. The emptying water gives way to a rocky floor, and with the addition of cushions, the familiar infrastructure of oyster farming in aquaculture is elevated beyond a site for collection to a site of exchange. Facilitating this transformation are Alon Schwabe and Daniel Fernández Pascual of the London-based studio Cooking Sections, who have created this lightweight architectural installation to examine the changing nature of these waters due to historical forms of aquaculture, and to reimagine their potential future. At the installation, the duo leads a series of performative tastings showcasing the preparation of various bivalves and seaweeds to a group of Scottish locals from the Island of Skye. CLIMAVORE: On Tidal Zones is both performance project and a form of responsive eating—a model Schwabe and Fernández have developed as a possible method for adaptation to the precarious conditions of climate change.

The Island of Skye has a long history of aquaculture, one that has become deeply embedded within the island’s culture. The harsh landscape was tamed by coastal dwellers with the introduction of stone walls to rear edible species out of the rough waters. Salmon farming, in particular, has become a significant international import from Scotland, and has contributed to the popularization of Skye as a tourist destination. However, years of this type of farming have contributed to dramatic and harmful changes in ocean chemistry and marine ecology, as well as pressures on social and cultural life.

With CLIMAVORE, Cooking Sections aims to generate interest in various seaweeds and bivalves to promote a pattern of eating “according to a responsive understanding of the current climate,” as noted in the project brief. Their project defies romantic notions of a historical state of nature and climate cycles to which we should strive to return. Rather, they recognize climatic conditions as in a constant state of flux, additionally directed by “human adaptation,” and “power structures that determine the use of the landscape over centuries.” Thus, CLIMAVORE attempts to offer possible avenues for shifting eating habits with changes in climate to more conscientiously support these changes. Through this, the social, economic, and political attachments to food production might also become more adaptive—not only to ecology but also to forms of life and community sustained through these processes.

A central concept behind Climavore is this idea that eating seasonally is something that has become obsolete, that has become a kind of fiction.

Alon Schwabe: When you walk into Supermarkets, you encounter all seasons. Changing diet seasonally is something that has pretty much disappeared.

Climavore came out of our research into the fertilizer industry. We were looking into the consequences of a hyper-fertile world. On the one hand, we are confronted with the issue—or the need—to constantly produce more and more food for a growing population, then the way this is being done, of course, has environmental consequences. So, we started to think, "What are the seasons according to which one could eat today?"

Daniel Fernández Pascual: The usage of labels for “organic food” or “sustainable food” has become so co-opted by agribusiness groups. The fact that something is labeled as “organic” doesn't necessarily mean that this or that has been produced in the right way. There are so many steps in the actual production process that certain parts are only barely fulfilling the requirements while others are not at all. The legal definition of “sustainable” or “organic” or “fair-trade” is a very contested topic. What we're trying to understand is what other practices could we take into consideration that are not just the label. Or how do we move beyond labels?

Previous iterations of the Climavore project had been more research-and performance-oriented, while your latest intervention in Skye collated the collaboration and efforts of many local municipal official and community members. What prompted you to move the project in this direction?

AS: For us, Climavore became quite an operative way to think forward. I think it was also an interesting moment for our practice. We were doing a lot of critical work. But how might this critical work also develop a framework that could do or think about critical propositions? Climavore developed in a more speculative way.

Climavore became quite an operative way to think forward

This is where we did more research project reflections, in a way. Reflections and speculations into various scenarios where, in the beginning, we would do these Climavore dinner performances where you would have a series of dishes from a series of dinners. How would you eat in a drought season? How would you eat in a polluted ocean season? How would you eat in an “invasive” species season? And each one of these tried to react to different environmental, human-induced phenomena.

But then, in Skye, we really started to implement this way of thinking into a mode of operation and action where the whole project was very specified into one specific scenario. This really also responded to what has been happening on the island since the 70s and how the fisheries and the agriculture industries around the island have developed. So, we really worked in a very specific framework and tried to develop new forms and ideas according to that.

On a more practical level, how did the project in Skye come about? What were the different organizations that you worked with, and how did the collaboration happen?

DFP: Well, it's because of Atlas Arts, who commissioned the project. We were invited to do a new commission for the island. But the critical thing about Atlas Arts is that they use the entire island as a venue. It's not that they have a little space, but rather that things happen all across the island depending on the commission. Because Atlas Arts are there, they are really in touch with opening the whole network of people interested in certain environmental concerns that run the island from the perspective of contemporary visual arts. So, slowly, it evolved from there into a conversation about what kind of platform could be useful going forward, to try to contribute to those dialogues.

AS: Through this invitation to develop the project, we started to really think about how Climavore would actually become a framework to work through. First of all, how would you set up structures, which would be physical, but also social structures as well, to start thinking other future scenarios or different––what you might call––aquacultures. “Cultures” in plural—where we could really think of these aquacultures as the culture of the island, its history. And not just the food culture on the island but also the production of different foods along the whole coastline.

Basically we built an installation, which was an oyster table that operated as a dining table everyday at low tides. At high tides, when the oysters were covered in water, they were filtering water. The installation has this dual purpose and dual function that would take place between low tides and high tides. During low tides, over ten days, we staged a series of performances, which also introduced different tastings with Climavore ingredients from around the island, such as different bivalves—clams, oysters, mussels, and scallops—as well as different kinds of seaweeds.

DFP: How do you create a cultural shift? There are the people demanding Scottish salmon—a very problematic product. How can you bring back some of the products that used to be parts of everyday diets, which have now been kind of forgotten? Or the ingredients that actually regenerate the coast in a different way instead of pollute with the chemicals, antibiotics and feed pellets that they're using in open-net salmon farms.

It seems like one of the advantages of working in a place like Skye is that the contemporary industries there––renewable energy, fish farming, even whisky distilleries and tourism—are still very deeply embedded within the unique landscape of the region. How did your interventions contribute to already-existing conversations around environmental protection?

AS: Yes, the landscape is very unique. And yes, the culture is really embedded in these questions of the environment and tourism—but there's also a huge question with infrastructure. A huge question with how the island can withstand the influx of tourists that comes every summer. There are no highways, there are very few two lane roads. There is a lack of infrastructure to support all of the tourists that are arriving and all the cruise ships that are arriving more and more on the island, and that's upsetting the salmon conundrum...It operates in a very similar way.

The people are very much aware of the environmental effects of tourism. But the fragility of the economy on the more domestic scale––I'm not talking about this on the farming level, but on the restaurant level, the bed and breakfasts. You have people saying, “We're moving smoked salmon off your breakfast menu.” Well, that’s a huge thing because this is what people demand. This is what people expect. We learned this in the process of working with ten local restaurants. We needed to see what were the reactions to removing salmon off the menu. It was really fascinating, right? Because it exposes all of these cycles of consumption on different scales and different levels.

We had to consider how to imagine another infrastructure, while also taking into account that the cultural infrastructure has to change 

In a way, it’s a really funny thing: that people go there to eat this local food that local people, most people, don't touch because they know what's going on in the water.

I think this is where, for us, we had to consider how to imagine another infrastructure, while also taking into account that the cultural infrastructure has to change at the same time. So, again, this question of aquaculture in coastal communities has become very important for us.

What was the response from various people who came to the performances?

AS: You had a range of responses from the people that were extremely supportive. But the question around salmon farming in Scotland is not a discussion that started like two years ago. It's something that has been going since the 80s. It was very interesting to talk with some of the food establishments. Some were saying, "You know, when this all started back in the 80s and 90s, we were extremely against it. We would never put farmed salmon on the menu. And then over time, things changed. And we really have to create very quick revenue. And there's a very big demand. So we have to put it on."

DFP: In other places, part of the ambition is that, "No, I don't care about what's going on. I'm here to run the restaurant, and I want a lot of profit." It's fine, that’s their approach. But you have a lot of things at stake, especially with the tourist economy and the amount of people that the island can support. Because it's also this kind of tension or compromise between this remote paradise that you need to have, that people want it to be. And on the other hand, you have to allow tourists to come and provide some income. The figure of how many people should be on the island is also debated and how many tourists are allowed. Because, again, if you start improving certain infrastructures like roads, then that implies that double as many can come.

In that regard, creating this new cultural-social demand that you're talking about treads a dangerous line in terms of the way, historically, new interest in under-consumed foods has also contributed to the imbalance of ecosystems, the exhaustion and exploitation of farming regions––we’ve seen this with sushi, quinoa, avocados. There is a kind of colonial logic at work here, catering to demands of the Global North. There’s even a mainstream interest now in algae.

Cultural heritage will last for a certain period of time and a cycle, and then, you might never eat these ingredients again.

AS: I think, at the core of this, and the way we first started to think about this, is actually the way we have fallen in love––I think throughout the 20th century––with the idea of cultural heritage. And the fact that culture has to be sustained and has to be passed down from generation to generation, as if forgetting history is against the grain of humanity. In that sense, the core of Climavore is: what are these seasons with an expiration date? Cultural heritage will last for a certain period of time and a cycle, and then, you might never eat these ingredients again.

When we were doing some research in the Cayman islands, we were fascinated by the fact that there was a national program put in by the Department of the Environment encouraging people to fish and eat lionfish in order to reduce the astronomic numbers that are challenging other species down in the food chain. You have to dive and spear the fishes. They started creating tournaments all across the island a few times a year to encourage people to fish for it, and then, at the same time, also encouraging restaurants to serve it. So, really, it almost became a known national dish that the government is promoting.

But then, of course, there is a danger. After a couple of years, restaurants started ordering it from Honduras because there were fishermen that were fishing it there for much cheaper. And then the government had to make that stop or try to control that or give, again, higher incentives for people to fish it from around the island to deal with the local ecological imbalance.

Perhaps, in ten years, it will not be a problem anymore. You would never eat a lionfish again in the Cayman Islands when numbers allow a variety of species to coexist.

DFP: That's what seasonality has to do with our adaptability; to be flexible and say, "You need to eat certain ‘invasive’ species to balance the numbers, but maybe five years from now, you cannot eat it anymore." Maybe there comes a point that it's extinct or endangered. That’s the logic of what we understand as cultural heritage with an expiration date.

Are you planning on doing any more iterations of the sort of project you did in Skye?

DFP: We're working in certain places around the coast of the UK, gathering more forms of expertise or starting conversations with people that can expand into future iterations of it. But, for the moment, until the spring, we’re continuing to explore the findings and the conclusions that we extracted. Around the coast of the UK, we’re continuing the project in a smaller format, a more intimate format.

AS: And also the Skye project is going to continue. We're working on something long lasting....

DFP: With some of our oysters there.

Basically, we're working on opening a Climavore Center that will be a more permanent space to discuss these things and also to support residents in the process of opening small businesses to grow and produce different oysters and seaweeds as an alternative to corporate salmon farms.

AS: So, addressing the issue of employment, that there is not enough support for people to set up independent farms.

DFP: Basically, what they have to do is file the same amount of paperwork that some corporation would need to do for a three million fish farm.

It cannot be that you have to do the same amount of paperwork. It's preventing many people from setting up their own initiative. That's the main infrastructural problem now. The paper work. It's not the technology or the means to start the business, but the amount of things that you need to know how to do. So, the idea of the Climavore Center is to facilitate that or even to bring people together to say, "OK, between us five, we set it up." Right? It might be people who know each other, or it might be people that want to work as the investment part, or it might be others that would do the work. So to think of that center as this aggregator of interest in setting them up and helping in the process of changing the eco-cultural landscape. Maybe in the future, people will stop asking for Scottish salmon and instead want to try Skye’s unique oysters or seaweeds.

That brings me to a point you made in your research published on e-flux about the Millions Trees NYC (MTNYC) program in NYC, which was initiated by Mayor Bloomberg in 2007, with regards to participation and collectivization in civic- or privately-sponsored programs for climate change mitigation. In the case of MTNYC, you argue that this idea of environmental stewardship becomes a tool for extracting hard, precise, statistical data for the economic evaluation of the environment, but it also operates as a method for various civic or private actors to conceal more insidious, self-serving motivations as a form of democratic engagement. Could you talk a little bit about how that works and how you have been reimagining or re-articulating participation within your own projects, such as in Skye?

DFP: Well, I think this is a question about concerns of greenwashing, which is more and more common, and has been going on for several decades. It’s this idea of creating a “green” reputation that now most companies have to do because of pressure from shareholders, maybe more than the fact that they might want to do it. This is being appropriated by bigger corporations often—I wouldn't say always, but many times—for the purpose of “offsetting,” which is disguising damage instead of really dealing with an agenda.

AS: It's “nice-setting” or “offsetting.”

DFP: So, yeah, this idea of offsetting is totally part of the greenwashing operations or market.

AS:  I think in that sense, it's just important for us to really understand what are we as a collective, because I think it's not so much about participation as a form of action in our performances or in our projects. Instead, it's like: how do we really think about other modes of engagement or give other platforms or models, which someone can choose in which modes and platforms he/she wants to participate within? I don't think so much our work is participatory in the sense that it invites people to engage with the matter, in a sense. But, again, in the case of Skye: how can we create alliances between different food establishments where people can come and choose to go and experience or take part in these questions at different places? And can we have different experiences through different mediators where we are not necessarily the main stakeholder?

We as citizens have become now caretakers—like with plastic bags and with bottles

In the case of The Offsetted, I think it's a bit different there. There's more of a critical approach to this idea of stewardship. The fact that we as citizens have become now caretakers––like with plastic bags and with bottles. Yes, it's true we all should not use plastic bottles and plastic bags. But is that really the problem? I doubt it. The problems are much, much larger and there are much bigger stakeholders that, again, create these modes of stewardship, which become extremely profitable for many people.

DFP: In the case of Scotland, some local decision-makers are heavily promoting salmon farms but, at the same time, they are openly saying that they are very concerned about environmental issues and that they're going to start a bottle recycling program. So, it's a bit like of the dark side of the LEED certification, and how well the developers find ways to tick the boxes and get all these points. There is debatable agency in crowd pleasing initiatives like recycling bottles, if industries polluting a hundred times more keep on running.

AS: I think this is again where context is also extremely important because, yes, I think in cities bottles are a much larger issue, right? Again, not that that is the main issue necessarily, but what are the battles that we're fighting and in which context, right? Who are the protagonists that are telling the story and that are setting the stage in order to create future frameworks of what sustainable living would be, or how to sustain a world which we can still inhabit and live in together with other agents?

To find out more about the project, get your hands on a copy of Ed #2 The Architecture of Disaster here!