Sustainable Systems

SUSTAINABLE SYSTEMS FINAL: SUSTAINABILITY IN FASHION ILLUSTRATION

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When first tasked with creating a seven-series project that effectively promotes sustainability, I admittedly felt overwhelmed. For whatever reason, the notion of sustainability in the context of art and design can feel daunting; I think it’s easy to fall into the misconception that by addressing or promoting sustainability, one must design something that engenders an immediate solution to one or more facets of the multifaceted and complex nature of our damaged ecosystem. After mulling over the project outline for quite some time, I realized that instead of trying to tackle such a pervasive issue through an overly-ambitious project, I should look within to find inspiration. I am not an architect, I am not a fashion designer, I am not an urban planner. I had to consider my own passions, interests, and career aspirations and how I can employ the notion of sustainability into my own practice instead of trying to assume a role I am not suited for. Although I am a first-year student in Parson’s BBA program, I have come to the realization that my interest lays in illustration. I’ve always enjoyed fashion illustration, and since moving to New York, I’ve begun to invest more time in that passion. I began to consider other fashion illustrators ———artists like Blair Breitenstein, whose colorful and stylized sartorial renderings frequently appear on my Instagram feed. I suddenly recognized a disconnect that exists between fashion designers and fashion illustrators; while designers are constantly pressured to consider the implementation of ethical and sustainable practices, this sense of urgency ceases to exist in the world of fashion illustration. Perhaps it’s because the construction and design of clothing affects a much larger demographic, but does that mean illustrators should not be concerned with the declining state of our ecosystem? Should illustrators not be held accountable, or should they not be required to consider the ways in which they can promote sustainability through their work?

In the digital age, fashion illustrators rely heavily on social media platforms like Instagram to develop a platform for their work and, in many cases, to transform a hobby into a profession. In that same vein, fashion illustrators assume a similar role to bloggers and influencers within the digital landscape. Illustrators (again, I’ll refer back to Breitenstein) may partner with brands and create artwork for these brands to sponsor or advertise a new collection, product, and the like. In this sense, shouldn’t illustrators consider the implications of who they choose to partner with? If illustrators themselves have amassed significant followings on social media, should they not consider what it means to partner with and promote inherently problematic designers and brands?

The aforementioned questions and concepts are what drove my creative process throughout the entirety of this project. I sought to implement sustainable notions and practices into a division of the art/fashion world that isn’t necessarily associated with promoting sustainability. Albeit creating “sustainable” illustrations won’t necessarily elicit immediate or significant change, it’s an exercise in applying these practices to a project that is relevant to my prospective career path.

During the creative process, I considered two ways in which I can promote sustainability through my work: through materiality, and through content. Essentially, I sought to “reconsider the process”. How could I reconsider the materials I was working with? In the past, I’d worked on an illustration made entirely with old makeup products. Admittedly, I had done so only because I misplaced my art supplies, but when I thought about it, I realized this was a creative and efficient way to repurpose old products. And so, for my seven illustrations, I relied primarily on old products I had laying around (black and white liquid eyeliner made for an excellent subsitute for acrylic paint; I could use dried mascara, old lipstick tubes, and eyeshadow as well). Initially, my intent was to rely solely on my makeup products for the creation of these pieces. However, I ultimately ended up using old art supplies (on a recent trip home, I dug through my boxes of old supplies and sourced old colored pencils that hadn’t been used in years) to employ color and to compensate for the lack of colorful products I did not have in my makeup collection.

In addition to considering materiality and repurposing old products, I considered the aforementioned role that illustrators play in promoting certain designers. It seemed only natural that for my illustrations, I would highlight the work of sustainable designers and brands.After some consideration, I chose to focus on four in particular: Stella McCartney, Mara Hoffman, Tome, and Brother Vellies. Each of these brands/designers have found a way to effectively implement sustainable practices into their work. And should they not be recognized for their efforts? Three out of my seven pieces function as an homage to Mara Hoffman, a Parsons grad who fairly recently switched to a sustainable business model. McCartney is known for being one of the most well-known designers in the industry who uses her platform and her work to promote sustainability. Her Spring/Summer 2017 collection even featured a cobalt blue tracksuit with blatant phrases like “NO FUR” and “NO LEATHER” written in a bold red font sprawled across the entirety of the garment. Tome is a womenswear label founded by Ryan Lobo and Ramon Martin. The design duo are total environmental advocates, and their designs are a testament to that. The designers consistently monitor their supply chains and produce locally in an effort to cut down on pollution. Brother Vellies, an accesory label founded by Aurora James, relies on a “slow-fashion” model to generate products. The Brother Vellies website features an entire page outlining and chronicling the sustainable nature of the brand.

VIDEO:

WATER PRIVATIZATION: Sitka, Alaska

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Water Privatization

Water is by no means the rarest compound, but it is certainly the most fundamental; without access to water, all life forms would cease to exist. Today, water bears the nickname “blue gold”; water resources are being depleted due to pollution and desertification, while the global population (and therefore the collective demand for water) continues to rise. The term water privatization refers to the process wherein private corporations purchase or operate water utilities, subsequently making a natural resource into an asset controlled by private entities. Water privatization is often suggested as a “solution to municipal budget problems and aging water systems”.¹ In theory, the privatization of water presents myriad economic benefits. In regions with generous water supplies, private companies can engender substantial economic success by tapping into the resources and implementing multi-million dollar industries in such regions. Lamentably, privatization efforts generally pose more risks to water-rich communities than benefits; towns and cities are often subjected to higher water rates, worse service and conditions, and rising unemployment rates as a result of job layoffs.
Sitka is a modest Alaskan city located a little over 100 miles south of Juneau. Although the city maintains a population of less than 10,000 people, it is home to one of the state’s finest natural resources: the Blue Lake. Sitka’s minute population, coupled with its valuable and virtually untouched water supply (6.2 billion gallons of Sitka’s reserves go unused, according to Newsweek),² makes it an irrefutable target for private companies looking to exploit natural resources for profit.
In 2010, news broke that two companies — True Alaska Bottling and S2C Global — intended to siphon roughly 80 million gallons water from Blue Lake water into tankers that are normally allocated for oil. These tankers would be subsequently sent to a bottling facility near Mumbai, India. After reaching the facility in India, the near-100 million gallons would be distributed to various cities throughout the Middle East that are suffering from severe water depletion.² One of the aforementioned companies, True Alaska Bottling had already obtained rights to transfer 3 billion gallons of water annually from the Alaskan lake earlier that year. The other company, S2C Global, was responsible for constructing the water-processing facility in India. Again, from an unknowing perspective, the two companies’ joint objective to distribute water from the Blue Lake to various drought-ridden Middle Eastern cities sounds like an incontestable solution to a critical climate issue. Assuming the companies succeed, they will have brought an estimated $90 million industry to Sitka while also providing safe drinking water to less fortunate cities across the globe³. However, opponents of water privatization argue that the moral and ethical consequences of privatization outweigh the supposed benefits expounded by avid proponents. Once public rights have been signed over to a private corporation, very little can be done to reverse the transferral. Decades have passed since the debate of whether or not Sitka’s water should be privatized began, and the fight for privatization versus public control is ongoing. It seems only time will tell how the prospective privatization will play out, and how the community of Sitka and surrounding cities will be affected.

Works Cited

“Water Privatization: Facts and Figures.” Food & Water Watch, 31 Aug. 2015

Interlandi, Jeneen. “The Race to Buy Up the World’s Water.” Newsweek, 8 Oct. 2010.

2. Walton, Brett. “Sitka, Alaska Still Waits on First Bulk Water Export.” Circle of Blue, Brett Walton, 29 Feb. 2016.

TEN DAYS OF TRASH

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Above: The final roundup of ten days worth of trash. At the end of each day, I would place that day’s trash into its own respective bag and subsequently store all the trash in my closet (gross, I know, but it’s hard to find space for so much waste in such a small dorm room).

Below: This exercise was certainly a testament to how much coffee I drink. All ten (yes, ten! one cup every single day) cups couldn’t even fit into a single frame. Prior to this exercise, I was certainly aware of my addiction to caffeine, but to actually visualize how much coffee I drink in just a little over a week puts things into perspective. It’s unrealistic to suggest that, moving forward, I’ll attempt to curb this addiction, but perhaps I can consider a more sustainable solution to getting my daily coffee fix. I was under the assumption that Starbucks cups can be recycled; I generally toss my empty cups into the designated recycling bins at Starbucks, or into the recycling bin in my building. However, after seeing all my cups laid out on my bed, I had to ask myself, “am I positive these can be recycled?” To no surprise, the internet could not provide me with a definitive answer, but based on what I’ve read, I’m starting to doubt that these cups are actually recyclable. Apparently, the thin layer of plastic that lines the cup renders these cups non-recyclable. Additionally, if a non-recyclable cup is tossed into a recycling bin, it can apparently “taint” the rest of the contents of the bin, meaning that nothing within said bin will end up getting recycled. Now that I’m aware of the fact that Starbucks cups are non-recyclable, I’m going to rethink my approach. Again, it’s unlikely that I’ll abstain from drinking coffee, but I can make a concerted effort to make my own coffee on mornings when I’m not in a rush. I’ve also read online that Starbucks offers discounts to customers who bring in their own reusable mugs/cups. Once I figure out the guidelines for this initiative (because I’m sure they have a narrow vision of what “qualifies” as a reusable cup), I’m going to get into the habit of bringing my own cup.

DAY ONE:
After examining my trash from the first day of this exercise, I felt confident in the limited amount of trash I accumulated over the course of a day. That morning, after spending the night at a friend’s apartment, I opted for a cup of coffee from a cafe in an unfamiliar neighborhood, as opposed to my usual Starbucks. In hindsight, I’m not entirely sure whether or not this particular cup can be recycled, but it does seem to have the same waxy/plastic lining as the Starbucks cup, which leads me to believe it cannot be recycled. Even so, I’m going to hold onto this cup (and the many others), until I can say definitively whether or not they can be recycled. Day One’s trash roundup also included a napkin from the aforementioned cafe (being the clumsy person I am, I had spilled some coffee onto my pants), as well as a receipt from CVS, and a beautiful blood-stained makeup-remover wipe. Generally speaking, I don’t bother taking or asking for physical receipts when I make purchases. However, the self-check out system at the CVS on 1st and 15th throws a fit when you don’t take your mile-long receipt, so I had no other option. I didn’t see it as a big deal, however, because I was sure that after I concluded this ten-day exercise, I could simply recycle the receipt. However, further research led me to the understanding that this is not the case. Only standard matte-paper receipts can be safely recycled, while the waxy, thermal paper receipts (like the ones from CVS) cannot. According to a post on toxicfreefuture.org, “…PPRC’s diligent research team concludes that [recycling thermal paper receipts] wasn’t the safest option. Turns out that recycling thermal paper generates the largest source of BPA entering wastewater treatment plants, which is due to intensive water use during recycling and the free available chemical nature of BPA in paper coatings.” Finally, the good ol’ bloody makeup wipe… I very easily could’ve discarded this particularly disgusting piece of trash after using it, but I figured I should conduct this ten-day experiment as candidly as possible. So, yes. I had a shaving incident. We ran out of toilet paper in my suite, so I haphazardly grabbed a makeup wipe to clean up the subsequent mess. (I’ll get into the details of my harmful addiction to using cheap makeup wipes at the end of this post).

DAY TWO:
This waste-filled vignette is strikingly similar to that of day one: coffee cup, receipts, makeup wipe. Admittedly, this was only my fifth time using the public transit system since I moved here. I can’t stand the stuffiness and the crowds, so I end up just walking everywhere. Besides, in New York, you really can walk just about anywhere (so long as the weather is on your side). Anyways, I really had no idea what to do with this metro card since I haven’t quite mastered the transit system yet; in Boston, students are issued plastic Charlie cards that can be reused and reloaded an infinite number of times. I guess the flimsy nature of this paper metro card left me wondering whether I’m supposed to hold onto it or simply obtain a new one the next time I need to ride the subway. For now, I’m holding onto it, but I did read online that some stations have metal compartments where people can discard old metro cards, which are then refurbished and reissued by the MTA.

DAY THREE:
Ah, yes. Another coffee cup. Another receipt. Another makeup wipe. And some new suspects: three paper shopping bags, some gift wrap/tissue, and a J. Crew catalog that must have been stuffed into my shopping bag when I wasn’t paying attention. Luckily, I’ve read online that all J. Crew catalog paper is Forest Stewardship Certified, and all shopping bags are made of 100% recycled paper. Madewell, which is owned by J. Crew, also distributes recyclable shopping bags to its customers. Zara, an inherently problematic fast-fashion brand I am trying desperately to cut ties with (evidently I’m having some trouble), has actually made some more recent efforts to promote sustainability. 85% of its stores are now eco-friendly; the brand has issued a re-design of the packaging for online orders that uses recycled cardboard, and the brand has increased its incentive for the use of more sustainable fabrics within its collections (now, if only Zara would address its litany of issues regarding poor worker treatment). Anyways, I’m relieved to know I can at least recycle the shopping bags.

DAY FOUR:
Nothing really new here. Coffee cup. Makeup wipes. I normally skip breakfast on week days, but I had a long day ahead of me on this particular day, so I grabbed a bite to eat from Starbucks since I was already there to buy coffee. Although I cannot recycle the cup, I can recycle the paper bag that my food came in (woohoo! tiny victory!). I had purchased a pack of gum a few days prior and, because I’m somewhat of a disorganized mess, the contents of the pack (aka each individually wrapped stick) managed to fall out of the packaging and enter the bottomless pit that is my purse. I decided to add the pack to that day’s trash pile and hope that the sticks of gum would survive without their protective packaging, which I intend to recycle.

DAY FIVE:
The usual suspects: coffee cup and makeup wipes. Oh, and a receipt. I’m actually not 100% sure what to do with this receipt. It doesn’t seem to have the same waxy coating as the non-recyclable CVS receipt, but I can’t say for sure whether it can be recycled. Maybe I’ll hold onto it and use it for some sort of collage? Who knows. I made a trip to a nearby Urban Outfitters to pick up some undergarments after leaving quite a few of mine at home during a recent visit (am I oversharing? Perhaps). Instead of offering paper shopping bags, Urban Outfitters uses non-woven polypropylene (PPNW) to make their shopping bags, which is great because the production cost is about the same as a paper bag, only these bags are reusable. I don’t find myself shopping at Urban Outfitters too often, but in the past, I’ve used these bags to carry my lunch or art supplies to and from school. Apparently, when these bags have maxed out their reuse potential, they can be dropped off at a Whole Foods outlet, where they are subsequently recycled through Preserve’s Gimme 5 program. As of right now, I’m planning on using mine as a bag to carry my laptop, since I never bothered to purchase an actual laptop case. The envelope is from a letter I received from my aunt. More often than not, I keep envelopes and letters and keep them tucked away in my memory box. However, I managed to spill coffee on this particular envelope, so I probably won’t be keeping it and will instead recycle it.


DAY SIX:
LaCroix: the quintessential New York seltzer brand! I finished off a case of seltzer that day (no, not an entire case in one day. I love the seltzer, but not that much. I promise). I have several cases of this particular flavor of LaCroix in my fridge (mainly because it was on sale last time I went to Whole Foods). I’m a sucker for visually appealing packaging, so I almost considered holding onto this and using it for some sort of art project, but I also need to stop using that as a guise for my hoarder-like tendencies. More coffee, makeup wipes, and receipts. Trash, trash, trash, sadly. By this point in the exercise, I was starting to notice the pile-up of trash in my closet, and I started to become a bit more self-conscious about my consumerist tendencies.

DAY SEVEN:
More retail therapy? This time, however, I opted for secondhand shopping, instead of buying fast fashion. Beacon’s Closet is a great spot (conveniently located right by the Parsons building) for self-proclaimed sartorialists who value the art of dressing nicely, but don’t see the need to buy new when there are so many unique (and reasonably priced) secondhand options. I purchased a teal tweed coat, which was tucked carefully into this plastic bag upon purchasing it. Once again, I momentarily considered keeping the bag because I found it visually appealing, but I’ll most likely just end up recycling it.

DAY EIGHT:
Day eight was particularly trash-filled, as evidenced below. I received a pretty hefty care package from my mother, and she took it upon herself to individually wrap each gift within the care package with some very vibrant wrapping paper. I was a bit disappointed to see all this excess wrapping paper, but according to the New York Department of Sanitation website, this can in fact be recycled (another tiny victory!) The care package also included the aforementioned left-behind undergarments contained in a ziploc bag, which can also be recycled.

DAY NINE:
Again, nothing really new here… Except for, well, a Clif bar wrapper. On the morning of day nine, I was running late to my 8:30 AM. I didn’t have time to get a coffee from Starbucks on my way to class (the lines tend to be pretty long at that hour, if you can imagine), but I knew I needed something in my system, so I grabbed this granola bar from Merci Market on 5th ave on my way to class (the lines there are never particularly long, and they accept New Card Cash!) Admittedly, it wasn’t until one of my suitemates informed me that granola bar wrappers cannot be recycled that I actually realized that that was the case. I used to toss them into recycling bins without a second thought. However, since being made aware of this, I’ve made a concerted effort to eat less granola bars (they used to be my go-to breakfast food). On this particular day, I was just a bit desperate. I’m sad to see another piece of garbage get added to my already large ten-day collection, but without this exercise, I wouldn’t be so hypercritical or aware of all the trash I accumulate in such a short time frame.

DAY TEN:
The final vignette… On my final day, I was welcomed once more by my usual suspects. Coincidentally enough, I had also finished off a package of my cheap makeup remover wipes on this day, too! It really wasn’t until the latter half of this exercise that I realized how many makeup wipes I go through in such a short period of time. my mom sent me off to school with an army of these cheap makeup wipes from the Christmas tree shop. They’re great because 1.) they most certainly get the job done and 2.) they’re incredibly cheap, however, they’re not exactly sustainable. These wipes are non-recyclable, so I have to ask myself, “is the cheapness of the brand worth the considerable environmental impact?” I mean, if I were to hold onto every single used makeup wipe for an entire year, there would probably be enough to fit in twenty trash cans. That’s a lot of waste for something so trivial. Into The Gloss published an article last year that lists a whole variety of eco-friendly wipes. I still have a couple packages of my cheap makeup remover left, so I probably won’t invest in a new, eco-friendly brand until I finish thise. However, I’ve bookmarked the article for future reference. All of the listed brands cost quite a bit more than my $1.29 Christmas tree shop wipes, but I reckon it’s a worthwhile investment. If not for my sake, then for the sake of the environment.

No Art With War, No Art As War: An Incomplete History of Protest

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“No art of war, no art in war…” reads a 1967 postcard in the penmanship of Ad Reinhardt, a prominent New York based artist of the mid-twentieth century. The standard-size postcard hangs in a gallery on the sixth floor of the Whitney Museum; the postcard is part of an ongoing exhibition, respectively titled, “An Incomplete History of Protest.” The message inscribed on Reinhardt’s postcard — addressed to the “War Chief” in Washington D.C. — almost runs counter to the exhibition itself. “No art in war”, Reinhardt asserts, and yet, the Whitney has effectively occupied an entire floor with works that, for the most part, function as a reaction (or a visual objection) to the horrors of war. In the context of this exhibition, “war” does not invariably refer to a literal armed conflict between two opposing sides; “war” also refers to the ongoing fight against the AIDS epidemic, the fight against sexism, racism, bigotry and the like.

More likely than not, in stating that there is “no art in war”, Reinhardt was rejecting the glorification of war itself, which is fair. However, “An Incomplete History of Protest” effectively demonstrates that protest and disapproval are often the catalyst for the most powerful and resonant works of art. So, while there may not be art in the act of war itself, there is certainly art in the act of resistance.

Sustainable Systems: “Planetary” Review

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Guy Reid’s Planetary offers a highly introspective attitude towards the destructive relationship between man and nature. The narrative approach of Planetary is markedly different from that of the usual environmental documentary in that it offers very few concrete solutions to such a pervasive issue. While most environmental documentaries expound the undeniable consequences of the human ecological footprint through alarming statistics and quantitative information, Planetary instead takes on a more philosophical approach. The various speakers offer abstract assertions that encourage the viewer to reexamine his or her perception of “self” in relation to the world in which we inhabit.

Most people can agree that humans are, in some way or another, destroying the planet. But how many people actually take accountability for such destruction? We often look beyond ourselves and point fingers at groups we do not identify with — politicians, members of an opposing political party, or past generations. Planetary encourages the viewer to look within himself, and perhaps this is actually the most effective approach. In the age of mass media, it is nearly impossible to process every single strand of information we are subjected to on a daily basis. If we seek to correct our behaviors, the most logical place to begin is with ourselves. Writer Angel Kyodo Williams states that, “the worldview that we currently exist in as a dominant paradigm places human beings above all else… it views the rest of the planet, views all other beings as resources that are to be acquired.” To “look within ourselves” is by no means a concrete resolution, but it may be the first step in counteracting the detrimental habits that are deeply ingrained in our culture.