Jennifer Ladino, Erin James, and Teresa Cavazos Cohn are the Co-Founders of the Confluence Lab. Jennifer Ladino LAB CO-FOUNDER Professor, English Department University of Idaho jladino at uidaho.edu Erin James LAB CO-FOUNDER Professor, English Department University of Idaho ejames at uidaho.edu Teresa Cavazos Cohn LAB CO-FOUNDER Associate Professor, Department of Natural Resources & the Environment, University of New Hampshire; Climate Change Fellow, Harvard Divinity School teresa.cohn at unh.edu FELLOW IN RESIDENCE Environmental Humanities, University of Idaho, lhampton at uidaho.edu Leah Hampton's website Leah Hampton PRE-DOCTORAL FELLOW Doctoral Candidate , Environmental Science, University of Idaho Sasha Michelle White PROJECT AFFILIATE Regional Fire Specialist: Willamette Valley/North Cascades, OSU Extension Fire Program Kayla Bordelon GRADUATE RESEARCH ASSISTANT Doctoral Candidate, Environmental Science, University of Idaho Jack Kredell GRADUATE RESEARCH ASSISTANT Doctoral Candidate, College of Natural Resources, University of Idaho Phinehas Lampman Devin Becker PROJECT PARTNER Program Head Library, University of Idaho Devin Becker's website Ruby Fulton PROJECT PARTNER Composer and Musician Ruby Fulton's website Kristin Haltinner PROJECT PARTNER Associate Professor of Sociology, Director of the Academic Certificate in Diversity and Inclusion Jeffrey Hicke PROJECT PARTNER Professor of Geography, University of Idaho Stacy Isenbarger PROJECT PARTNER Mixed-media Artist Associate Professor of Art + Design , University of Idaho Stacy Isenbarger's website Benjamin James PROJECT PARTNER Clinical Assistant Professor, Film & TV studies, University of Idaho Leda Kobziar PROJECT PARTNER Associate Professor, Wildland Fire Science, Director, Master of Natural Resources Dilshani Sarathchandra PROJECT PARTNER Associate Professor of Sociology , University of Idaho Evan Williamson PROJECT PARTNER Digital Infrastructure Librarian, University of Idaho Evan Williamson's website RESEARCHER Creative Writer, Bellingham, WA North Bennett GRADUATE RESEARCH ASSISTANT MFA, Art + Design, University of Idaho Megan Davis website Megan Davis GRADUATE RESEARCH ASSISTANT MFA, English / Natural Resources, University of Idaho Kelsey Evans GRADUATE RESEARCH ASSISTANT MFA, English, University of Idaho Emily Holmes GRADUATE RESEARCH ASSISTANT MFA, English, University of Idaho Daniel Lurie GRADUATE RESEARCH ASSISTANT MFA, English, University of Idaho Isabel Marlens John Anderson AFFILIATED MEMBER Professor, Virtural Technology Lab Co-Manager, University of Idaho Bert Baumgaertner AFFILIATED MEMBER Associate Professor of Philosophy University of Idaho Kerri Clement AFFILIATED MEMBER Postdoctoral Fellow, History Department, University of Idaho Rob Ely AFFILIATED MEMBER Professor, Department of Mathematics and Statistical Science, University of Idaho Matthew Grindal AFFILIATED MEMBER Assistant Professor, Department of Culture, Society & Justice, University of Idaho Leontina Hormel AFFILIATED MEMBER Professor of Sociology University of Idaho Graham Hubbs AFFILIATED MEMBER Associate Professor of Philosophy, Chair of Politics and Philosophy, University of Idaho Ryan S. Lincoln AFFILIATED MEMBER Assistant Clinical Professor of Law, University of Idaho Markie McBrayer AFFILIATED MEMBER Assistant Professor of Political Science, University of Idaho Ryanne Pilgeram AFFILIATED MEMBER Professor of Sociology, University of Idaho Aleta Quinn AFFILIATED MEMBER Assistant Professor of Philosophy, University of Idaho David Roon AFFILIATED MEMBER Clinical Assistant Professor of Ecology and Conservation Biology, University of Idaho Scott Slovic AFFILIATED MEMBER University Distinguished Professor of Environmental Humanities, University of Idaho Rochelle Smith AFFILIATED MEMBER Reference & Instruction Librarian, University of Idaho Alexandra Teague AFFILIATED MEMBER Associate Chair, Professor of English, Co-Director of Women's, Gender & Sexuality Studies, University of Idaho Alexandra Teague's website Lee Vierling AFFILIATED MEMBER University Distinguished Professor, Director of the Environmental Science Program and Department Head, Natural Resources and Society, University of Idaho

Fire Humanities Theory and Practice Establishing a new interdisciplinary field of study Initially funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities Contributors Include: Jenn Ladino and Erin James (editors) Karin Bolender Teresa Cavazos Cohn Nigel Clark Ashley Cordes Nick Earhart Gretel Evans Greg Garrard Jessica Horton Mica Jorgenson Gavin Kroeber Stephanie LeMenager David Lewis Brett Milligan Miriam Morrill Jesse Oak Taylor Lenya Quinn-Davidson Andreas Rutkauskas Emily Schlickman Jennie Sekanics Bruno Seraphim and Chook Chook Hillman Sasha Michelle White Fire Humanities is a book project, an interdisciplinary and multi-institutional collaboration, and the name of an emerging field of study. Growing out of collaborative projects in the Confluence Lab—most recently, a grant funded by the National Endowment for the Humanities , awarded in August of 2024 and defunded in April of 2025—the fire humanities takes as a foundational premise that learning to live well with more fire is not just a matter of educating people about preparedness or conducting more fuels reduction projects. We need to understand fire’s human dimensions. While fire science draws on quantitative data analysis, digital modeling, and remote sensing to predict fire behavior and ecological effects, the fire humanities add qualitative methods to fire research by foregrounding the dynamic historical, cultural, and aesthetic relationships humans have with fire. In an essay for the Fire Adapted Communities Learning Network , Sasha Michelle White coined the phrase “fire humanities” and explained that “reckoning with landscape fire means reckoning with cultural fuels as well as ecological ones. Effective fire adaptation will require that the cultural ‘fuel loads’—the stories, values, beliefs—and ‘fuel ladders’—the social networks, partnerships, and trust or lack thereof—that have contributed to the current wildfire crisis be examined, and that new ‘loads’ and ‘ladders,’ in which fire is recast as an ally and progenitor of community strength, be created.” Fire Humanities as a book project aims to both expose and shift the dominant paradigm that has fomented the current wildfire crisis, including the demonization of fire, the criminalization of Indigenous fire practices, and the preeminence of fire-phobic settler cultural values. We take several sets of questions to heart. The first set is about how humanities and arts practitioners can make the cultural dimensions of fire more legible, both exposing unhelpful representations and creating or amplifying better ones. We ask: How can the humanities and arts make legible the cultural dimensions of fire? How can humanities scholarship expose and challenge the violence(s)—historical and ongoing—related to fire? What narrative and aesthetic forms might be harnessed, amplified, or created to support more nuanced understandings of landscape fire, whether wild, prescribed, or cultural? The second set of questions demonstrates a commitment to being self-reflexive about our own disciplines and methodologies in the process. With that in mind, we ask: How does fire challenge the methodologies of humanities scholarship? What is humanities knowledge in a world increasingly understood as in crisis? How are our methodologies useful, and how do they need to change? How can humanist scholarship avoid re-inscribing dominant paradigms of fire, and how can western-trained and Indigenous scholars collaborate meaningfully? How might humanities knowledge and methods be enhanced by learning from practitioners who specialize in applied research and fieldwork, including “boots on the ground” fire scientists and fire practitioners? Fire Humanities project team members have shared our work-in-progress at the 2025 ASLE Conference, Penn State’s “Heat and the Humanities ” event and, most recently, a public panel discussion and conversation at the Burke Museum, in Seattle. We hope the book will be in print in 2027 and that this emerging field will continue to build momentum.

projects LAB who we are The Confluence Lab engages in creative interdisciplinary research projects that bring together scholars in the arts, humanities, and sciences, together with community members, to engage in environmental issues impacting rural communities. Scan here to donate! Fire Humanities a book of original essays that launches an emergent interdisciplinary field Narrative Science training in narrative and emotional literacy for science practitioners Fire Lines: A Sto ries of Fire project nonfiction essay combining archives and original writing Stories of Fire: Pacifi c Northwest Cli mate Atlas community-sourced project that hopes to reimagine our shared wildfire story and future fire resilience Stories of Fire: Integrative STEM Learning through Participatory Narratives interdisciplinary project that explores personal narratives of wildland fire and informal STEM learning in rural Idaho Storying Extinction: Responding to the Loss of North Idaho’s Mountain Caribou deep map consisting of oral histories, trail camera footage, nonfiction essays, and historical documents Our Changing Climate: Finding Common Ground through Climate Fiction conversations about climate change in four Idaho communities Internship Program professional development opportunities for undergraduate and graduate students Artists-In-Fire residency an immersive residency for artists and writers Stories of Fire Online Exhibition Series visual artwork highlighting the manifold ways artists and designers are marking, mapping, and engaging with wildfire Where there is Smoke... crowd-sourced digital map that documents experiences of wildfire smoke in the Pacific Northwest and further afield Wilderness Suite: Music, Video, & Rephotography using science and art to explore the Frank Church River of No Return WIlderness Change in Frank Church Wilderness: Collaborative Rephotography using photographs and oral histories to understand change in the wilderness Nature and Nuance of Climate Change Perceptions understanding climate change perceptions and skepticism in Idaho, Washington, and Oregon

AIF crew 2024 Adam Huggins Galiano Island, BC, Canada Adam Huggins is an artist, podcaster, practitioner of ecological restoration, teacher, and naturalist living in the Salish Sea of southwestern British Columbia, on Galiano Island - the unceded lands and waters of Hul’qumi’num speaking people. As an environmental professional, he implements watershed-scale ecological restoration projects for the Galiano Conservancy Association and teaches a class in the Restoration of Natural Systems program at the University of Victoria. As a storyteller and musician, he produces and co-hosts the Future Ecologies podcast, which is currently wrapping up a 5th season of long-form audio pieces at the intersection of the human and more-than-human worlds. Out of the Green, Into the Black: A Journey into Cultural Fire Adam Huggins Cover art by Ale Silva for episode 6.9 of the Future Ecologies podcast I stand on the edge of the narrow, one-lane road, staring down a steep, brush-filled slope. Harsh sunlight filters down through the canopy of Douglas-fir, arbutus, and black oak, illuminating a dense tangle of hazel, bay, and huckleberry in the understory. I’m already sweating under the weight of my pack in my borrowed NOMEX clothing, shifting back and forth trying to break in a very expensive and uncomfortable new pair of thick-soled leather boots. “What’s your burn experience like?” asks the nearest crew member on the fire line. “None” I say. “This is my first time.” He nods and murmurs a polite response. I pause for a moment, adjusting my hardhat, and then venture, “I am amazed at how steep this site is, and how much material is still on the ground.” He grins. “Yeah, you’re like whoa, there’s a lot of fuels on the ground, and it’s steep.” “That’s my impression,” I say, eyeing the precipitous slope with mounting trepidation and thinking, ‘are we actually going to attempt to burn this today?’ “Yep.” He laughs, a twinkle in his eye. “Welcome to the Klamath!” CFMC Burn block for September 26, 2025, featuring thick underbrush on a very steep slope - - - This past September, I returned to the northwest corner of California for the first time in nearly a decade. I followed the Klamath River, liberated from the four dams that until recently blocked the passage of its once-famed salmon runs, from the arid steppe of southern Oregon down to the rugged coastal forests of Yurok territory. For three days, I would be a guest of the Yurok-led Cultural Fire Management Council, or CFMC (https://www.culturalfire.org/ ) as a representative of the Artists-In-Fire program, an artists residency created by the Confluence Lab at the University of Idaho (https://www.theconfluencelab.org/artists-in-fire-residency ). Months of wading through the online classes and field exercises required to become a ‘Wildland Firefighter Type II’ had brought me at last to that one-lane road perched narrowly above the river below. My goal: take part in a cultural burn, and document the experience for the Future Ecologies podcast (https://www.futureecologies.net/listen/fe-6-9-on-fire-out-of-the-green-into-the-black ). With a pulaski in one hand and a microphone in the other, I gathered my senses and steeled myself for the trial by fire to come. - - - A short distance away, the assembled crew of 30 awaits the lighting of the test fire. It’s an eclectic mix of Yurok elders, youth, and settlers, goofing around and relishing a bit of down time between the prep work and the burn itself. A hush falls over the group as Rick O’Rourke steps forward, holding a long bundle of aromatic silvery-green wormwood. We’re about to burn 2 acres of Rick’s family land. He lights the bundle and then brings it gently to the ground, igniting the dry oak leaves and fir needles that blanket the soil, murmuring a prayer: “Creator, we’re here to put fire on the ground in a good way. Please look after all of our people who are here to do your service. Help them heal our land, heal our people, bring back our animals, create balance. It’s an honour.” He takes a deep breath as the leaves begin to crackle and hiss, then turns around to face the crew. “It’s receptive!” A moment passes, and then one of the young Yurok crew members arches his back and lets loose a feral yelp. Soon, other members of the crew pitch in, releasing a chorus of fierce howls, guttural cries, and excited yips. As the collective catharsis comes to an end, we find our respective squad members and make our way down the seemingly near-vertical lines cut through the duff to give a boundary to the fire. The burn has begun. Rick O’Rourke offers a prayer as he lights the test fire on his family’s land - - - I have been periodically interviewing people involved in prescribed fire since 2018, and have had a keen interest in the topic since at least 2013. That was the year I lived on the Klamath, just upriver in Karuk territory, and was first exposed to the practice by my neighbors on Butler Flat after nervously witnessing the Orleans Complex fire consume over 20,000 acres, including a chunk of the remote rural town I was living in. But none of these conversations and experiences prepared me for the exhilaration of actually participating in a prescribed burn myself. Smoke over the Klamath River from the Orleans Complex Fire in July of 2013 That first day, the fuels are indeed receptive. As the flames quickly spread, the crew kicks into action, manning water lines and drip torches. I’m forced to drop my microphone as a hose is shoved into my hand, and I’m immediately in the thick of it, spraying water on a “catface” at the base of a venerable black oak, preventing the fire from entering the wound and harming the tree. A sign of my inexperience, black smoke kicks back into my face, clogging all of my senses at once and instantly demonstrating why firefighters often say “eating smoke” instead of “breathing smoke.” I’m forced into a hasty retreat, and a helping hand steps in to take my hose. On this crew, there’s always a teammate ready to step in when you can’t take the heat. After a few hot minutes, the fire settles into a gentle backing burn, creepingly slowly downhill in graceful arcs. Members of the firing team shuffle back and forth just below the trail of flame, mostly watching with satisfaction as it burns merrily away. Occasionally, they offer encouragement in the form of small dots of incandescent fuel from their drip torches. Along the top and sides of the burn, members of the holding team make sure the fire stays within the boundary, immediately snuffing out the few embers that manage to float across the fire line. I watch the flames consume a kinky hazelnut shrub, the leaves slowly curling and the bark blistering under the low-intensity fire. After the burn, as we move through the ashy landscape to wet down any remaining hot spots, Rick will explain that the blistering tells him they generated just the right intensity of fire to ensure that the hazel will resprout with long, straight shoots - perfect for weaving the baskets that the Yurok people are famous for. Beautiful, gentle backing fire consumes understory fuels but leaves trees unharmed - - - The reader may wonder, as I did, what distinguishes ‘cultural fire’ from ‘prescribed fire.’ In reality, they share many characteristics, but the key difference is that prescribed fire is typically applied by settler authorities and organizations to reduce fuel loads and achieve ecological objectives, while cultural fire is applied by Indigenous peoples to sustain a wide variety of cultural values, from improving habitat for game to restoring traditional oak prairies. Ideally, cultural fire and prescribed fire can be applied in concert at a landscape scale, allowing communities at the wildland-urban interface (or the ‘WUI’) to reduce the mounting risk of wildfires, improve the health and productivity of ecosystems, and uphold long-held cultural values. On the second day, as we shepherd the fire through the understory of a black oak woodland, I corner Annelia Norris with my microphone. She’s a Yurok basketweaver, and as we sit underneath a hazel bush, hypnotized by the fire, she tells me, “There are a lot more weavers coming along and coming up. And so there's a need for it, like we need to take care of our materials.” In reality, it takes a healthy cultural landscape to produce a single basket. Vigorous hazelnut shoots are joined by spruce root, maidenhair fern, and even porcupine quills to create a wide variety of functional pieces of art, from the open-weave baskets that cradle Yurok babies to the watertight baskets used for leaching tannins from acorns. She continues, “Our lands have seen trauma. Our people have seen trauma. So when you think about fire, it's cleansing, you know? It cleanses the land. And so when we're talking about healing this is very healing for us.” Beaked hazelnut (Corylus cornuta californica); inset shows blistering of bark at base of plant Later, I will speak with Yurok Elders who will reference the challenges that they and their ancestors faced through generations of fire suppression, when keeping traditional fire practices alive meant risking imprisonment or even death at the hands of agents of the Californian government. Today, their children are leading the way in restoring healing fire to their territory, and teaching anyone willing to lend a hand how to do so safely and effectively. Annelia concludes, “We've normalized the cultural burning. Like, we've really taken leadership in asserting ourselves and our culture and our land management. You know, it just started catching fire.” Annelia Norris stands on the fire line, separating the unburned ‘green’ from the ashy ‘black’ - - - At the end of three days, we had applied cultural fire to over 30 acres - an impressive feat. We would burn through the night into the early hours of the morning, the flames and starlight merging into conflagrations of stunning beauty. On the morning I was scheduled to leave, as an early fall deluge quenched the landscape, I woke up completely exhausted, with blistered feet and chapped hands, wishing that there had been time for just one more burn. As Rick had told me the day before, “Now you’re addicted and afflicted!” As I returned to my home on Galiano Island in the Salish Sea of western Canada, I reflected on just how similar the ecosystems I work in as a professional biologist are to those I helped to burn in California. We too enjoy a dense green canopy of Douglas-fir, arbutus, and scattered oak, with an understory of huckleberries, blackberries, and the occasional hazel. Our community also faces unprecedented fuel loads and an elevated risk of wildfire due to generations of fire suppression and a spiralling climate crisis. This land shares a long evolutionary history with fire and a rich cultural legacy of Coast Salish peoples burning to maintain camas prairies, oak woodlands, and village sites. Why then, are the Yurok and Karuk restoring fire to thousands of acres of their territories, while we wring our hands with worry at each escalating wildfire season, “eating” smoke as a staple of our diet for months during the summer drought? Why had I needed to travel south of the border for the opportunity to take the first steps in my fire journey? There are a variety of answers to these questions, manifesting as a series of cultural, ecological, and regulatory hurdles which must be approached to bring good fire back to small rural communities like mine. But my experience in Yurok territory showed me that these hurdles are not so high as they may seem. The CFMC started out 10 years ago as a volunteer effort by a rag-tag group of Knowledge Holders cobbling resources together, and now they’re a well-oiled professional unit employing dozens of community members. Over the winter, Joe Gilchrist of the Interior Salish Firekeepers made a tour of coastal British Columbia, stopping on Galiano Island to speak with me, my colleagues, and Indigenous community members. We stood together overlooking the Salish Sea, sharing stories and talking about bringing good fire home to the Salish Sea. Surveying the steep, brushy slope below, he looked at us and said, “Oh yes. You could definitely burn this.” After my time on the Klamath, I now knew it was possible. And I felt that, in good time, we would return fire to this place. As Annelia told me before I left, “This is our purpose. This is why we're here, and this is what we need to be doing.” The author, helping to extinguish the last remaining embers after the fire passes through QR Code for episode 6.9 of the Future Ecologies podcast Chat back to AIF residency Chat

featured artist Gerard Sarnat Portola Valley, CA Poet-aphorist Gerard Sarnat is widely and internationally published. He has been nominated for a Science Fiction Poetry Association Dwarf Star Award, won San Francisco Poetry’s 2020 Contest/Poetry in Arts First Place Award/Dorfman Prize, and has been nominated for handfuls of Pushcarts and Best of Net Awards. Gerry is widely published in academic-related journals (e.g., University Chicago, Stanford, Oberlin, Brown, Columbia, Harvard, Pomona, Johns Hopkins, Wesleyan, University of San Francisco ) plus national (e.g., Gargoyle, Main Street Rag, New Delta Review, MiPOesias, American Journal Of Poetry, Poetry Quarterly, Free State Review, Poetry Circle, Poets And War, Cliterature, Qommunicate, Indolent Books, Pandemonium Press, Texas Review, Brooklyn Review, San Francisco Magazine, The Los Angeles Review and The New York Times) and international publications (e.g., Review Berlin and New Ulster ). He’s authored the collections Homeless Chronicles (2010), Disputes (2012), 17s (2014), Melting the Ice King (2016). He is a Harvard College Medical School-trained physician who has built and staffed clinics for the disenfranchised, a professor at Stanford and a healthcare CEO. Currently he devotes his energy/resources regarding climate-justice by serving on Climate Action Now’s board. Gerry’s been married since 1969 with his progeny consisting of four collections (Homeless Chronicles: From Abraham To Burning Man, Disputes, 17s, Melting Ice King ) plus three kids/six grandsons — and looks forward to potential future granddaughters. featured work Not So Wide Or Hard-Hitting Home-Hardening Town Center organized an Earth Day symposium On how to mitigate fire risks In forest-rich Northern California Portola Valley. I’m impressed & overwhelmed With expert gung-ho-ness DIY Preparedness Panel Neighbors spending $75K easy. TMI sesh, which sadly was attended on Zoom by 7 Includes few presenters/looks like Less than 5 in-person, clearly didn’t reach masses. At end when wrapping up, emcee Who didn’t seem to mean or appreciate her humor Queries, Any burning questions? Man asks if large animals evac’ed to Cow Palace. (Slide said to be borrowed from City of Beverly Hills) responding to SIGHTLINES My hybrid piece dwells on our local difficulty in dumbing-down actions so they are practical for wide-scale, strong-as-the-weakest-community-link implementation and includes an image with sightlines for wildfire resistance. more from Gerard's perspective These are a variety of indoor and outside sightlines from Gerry's Northern California home on 2.3 acres in a wild oak forest. His family's fire risk is very high: the local fire chief, who inspects the property every few years, says fire's approach is a matter of WHEN and not IF so they are mindful to prepare the landscape nearby. Chat back to exhibition Chat

featured artist Martina Shenal Tucson, AZ Martina Shenal is a Professor of Art in the Photography, Video & Imaging area at the University of Arizona, Tucson. She earned her MFA from Arizona State University and BFA from Ohio State University. She has received grants and fellowships including a Faculty Collaboration Grant for her project Space + Place from the UA Confluence Center for Creative Inquiry; WESTAF/NEA Regional Fellowship; Visual Art Fellowship from the Tennessee Arts Commission; Professional Development Grants from the Arizona Commission on the Arts; and a Contemporary Forum Material Grant from the Phoenix Art Museum. Her works examine human interactions within the landscape–highlighting the ways humans alter, mediate, and represent it. Since 2019, she has focused her work on framing the rapidly changing climate and the accelerating pace and impact of rising seas, hurricanes, super typhoons, and wildfires. featured artwork "Slash Piles 07" archival pigment print, 28.25in x 22.25in, 2022 "Slash Piles 06" archival pigment print, 28.25in x 22.25in, 2022 "Slash Piles" archival pigment print, 28.25in x 22.25in, 2022 responding to Fuel Loading Over the course of the past decade, I've been engaged in fieldwork in the Newberry National Volcanic Monument in central Oregon. In the fall of 2020, as a respite from the fires that had been burning for 7 weeks in the Santa Catalina mountains here in Tucson, I made my way to Oregon, crossing the border just as the numerous wildfires there began burning. The photographic work for the series 20/20 (notes on visibility) was produced over multiple weeks as smoke from fires burning in California, Oregon, and Washington accumulated in the high desert. The series traces a line from the central high desert westward to the coast, moving from the impacts of smoke to coastal fog. The images included here were made in late November 2022, when I began photographing large slash piles that were staged for upcoming prescribed burns near La Pine, Oregon. I was struck by the sheer size and scale of the accumulated material–it felt like I was entering a series of dwellings or villages. My research led me to read about current efforts to create healthy forest ecosystems by reducing fuel loads during the winter season and reverse the decades-long fire suppression strategies that, in combination with drought-related climate warming effects, beetle infestations and the proliferation of non-native vegetation growth, have left the forests vulnerable to intense wildfires. more from Martina's perspective The slash piles are concentrations of leftover materials associated with ongoing forest management to help maintain and restore healthy ecosystems while reducing hazardous fuels loading. La Pine, Oregon. Also from the series 20/20 (notes of visibility) Smith Rock State Park (collapsed crater), Terrebonne, Oregon. Images made in early September 2020 amid wildfires burning in the west, including CA, WA, MT, & OR Markers in area of ongoing thinning and tree removal, La Pine, Oregon Also from the series 20/20 (notes of visibility), Devil’s Chain (rhyodacite flow), Cascade Lakes Highway, Oregon The series 20/20 (notes on visibility) bears witness to the effects of 2,027 raging wildfires that were burning in the west while doing fieldwork in the Newberry National Volcanic Monument in central Oregon. The title references the ability to see with perfect vision, but the chronology of images produced on this trip reflects just the opposite. The air quality in the high desert was deemed the most hazardous in the world at that time, as similar conditions were playing out across the West, fueled by a mega-drought, high temperatures, and strong winds. Chat back to exhibition Chat

featured artist Enid Smith Becker Bellevue, WA Enid Smith Becker lives and works in the Seattle area. Inspired by the complex dynamic between humans and the surrounding world, her paintings remind us of how our interactions with nature can transform ourselves and the land. Enid studied art at the University of Washington and has taught art in secondary school. Her paintings are in numerous collections around the US and abroad. In her work for this show, Enid presents a fluid, multifaceted experience that mirrors our own interactions with place and time as we frame our experiences through the screen of a mobile device. The sharp edges of the planes within the painting represent the human influence on the land. The layering of multiple perspectives invites the viewer to see the world through shifting lenses of time, scale, and space. The work is painted in acrylic on canvas. featured artwork "Witness" acrylic on canvas, 30in x 48in, created in response to the Maple fire that burned on the Olympic peninsula in 2018 responding to Ground Truths Witness was created in response to the Maple fire that burned on the Olympic peninsula in 2018. This is a painting of contrasts- the contrast of the organic of the old growth forest and the sharp cut edges of the windows of fire (representing the human impact), the contrast of the cool green of the woods and the hot orange of the fire. If ground truthing establishes the veracity of a map, I see my painting as a verification of reality -a kind of map that asserts the veracity of climate change. Like all my paintings, there is an intentional beauty in the depiction of the natural space in order to draw the viewer in. But the beauty of the old growth forest is broken by the windows of fire. A reminder of what has happened and what will happen if we don't work to protect our natural world. The painting presents a kind of ground truthing for the future- both a warning and an admonition. As a native Washingtonian almost all of my paintings are inspired by the pacific northwest. It's a place I know well and love. I spend a lot of time outdoors. The places I explore and the photos I take are the starting point for my paintings. Within each painting the windows I create tell a story about the place be it a change of season, a new perspective or an event such as a wildfire. more from Enid's perspective Salish Tides, acrylic on canvas, 48in x 72in The Salish Sea, Hood Canal, is a place Enid often goes. Her one room cabin is surrounded by old growth forest. The beach view is the one you see here. It was also from this perspective that Enid watched the Maple fire burn on the Olympic peninsula in 2018, inspiring the painting, Witness. Spring Stream, acrylic on canvas, 24in x 48in This work is inspired by an area that Enid hikes through, just east of Seattle. As is often the case in Enid’s paintings, the sharp edges of the frames within the image represent the human view and action upon the land. Winter Woods , acrylic on canvas, 48in x 72in Enid painted this work a year ago, inspired by a winter storm and how snow drains color from the land it covers. The trunks of the Douglas firs are brown and their branches are dark green, but the effect is one of a black and white landscape. Brighter Haze , acrylic on canvas, 30in x 40in This painting was inspired by the song “Brighter Haze,” written by Enid’s friend, the singer songwriter Kristin Chambers. Chambers wrote it while watching the color of the sky change during a forest fire. Chat back to exhibition Chat

featured artist Katie Kehoe Tallahassee, FL Katie Kehoe is a multidisciplinary artist who creates survival architecture, objects and wearables which are used in performances and site-specific installations. Her work is designed to engage the public to reflect on changing climate and sustainability and has been presented across the US and Canada, including The Hirshhorn Museum (Washington, DC), The Contemporary Museum (Baltimore, MD), Center for Maine Contemporary Art (Rockland, ME), RedLine Contemporary (Denver, CO), Emerge Art Fair (Washington, DC), Arlington Arts Center’s Inaugural Regional Biennial (Arlington, VA), SummerWorks Festival – LiveArt Series (Toronto, ON) . She has had solo shows at VisArts (Rockville, MD) and Type Books Gallery (Toronto, CAN) and is a member of the Atlantika Collective and Cultivate Projects artist collectives. As an artist, Katie values cross-disciplinary collaboration and recently worked with Dr. Jagadish Shukla, one of the nation’s leading climate scientists, to create Breaching Waterways with Provisions Research Center for Arts and Social Change for CALL/Walks. Katie was raised in Cape Breton, Canada, completed an MFA from the Mount Royal School of Art at the Maryland Institute College of Art in Baltimore, Maryland, and is currently based in Tallahassee, Florida, where she is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Art at Florida State University. featured artwork "Wildfire Shelters for Small Animals" 35.66754°N, 105.43550°W, Santa Fe National Forest, NM, photographic documentation of site-specific installation, 2023 responding to SIGHTLINES Climate change and extreme weather have been the subject of my work since 2016 and for the past two years, I’ve been specifically addressing the increased instances and intensity of wildfires resulting from climate change. During an artist residency at the Santa Fe Art Institute, I created a series of wildfire shelters inspired by New Mexico’s largest recorded wildfire: the 2022 Calf Canyon and Hermit's Peak fires merged to burn over 340,000 acres east of Santa Fe. After creating the shelters, I installed them in areas where the fire burned and documented them with digital photography. I think of the wildfire shelters I create as “survival architecture”: they have the appearance of providing protection from flame, heat, and smoke exposure, but are sculptural objects intended to be symbolic and engage the viewer to consider the implications of climate change. Are we approaching a time when it will be necessary to carry these sorts of lifesaving devices around with us from day to day? more from Katie's perspective Katie in Santa Fe National Forest, 35.65350N, 105.42818 W, when carrying out a temporary site-specific installation featuring three portable wildfire shelters she created. To locate installation sites, Katie drove in and out of dirt roads leading in and through Santa Fe National Forest where the Calf Canyon and Hermits Peak wildfire burned a year before. This map documents the area burned when the Calf Canyon and Hermits Peak fires merged to become the largest wildfire in New Mexico’s recorded history. My feet on the ground in Santa Fe National Forest. Chat back to exhibition Chat

featured artist aj miccio Springfield, OR aj miccio is a multidisciplinary artist and storyteller. His work explores the connections between science, design, technology, and environment. He graduated from Colorado State University with a BFA in drawing and graphic design and more recently earned a master's degree from the University of Oregon in journalism. featured artwork "Davis Burn Scar," ink on bristol, 11in x 14in, 2023 responding to Fuel Loading My featured drawing is based on the 2003 Davis burn scar in the Deschutes National Forest. Sketches were made on location, where the burn scar has regrown with shrubs and small trees. Some large trees still stand like skeletons above the new foliage. The final drawing was made under the smoke of the Bedrock and Lookout fires in the summer of 2023. more from aj's perspective 2023-09-07. South of the Three Sisters Peaks, charred trees stand above 20-year growth in the Davis Burn Scar. Chat back to exhibition Chat

photo credit: Lisa East featured artist Lisa Cristinzo Toronto, Canada Lisa Cristinzo is a queer painter and installation artist and a first-generation Canadian settler living in T’karonto on Turtle Island. Cristinzo’s large-scale painting installations traverse natural history, climate hazards, materialism, and magic. She holds a BFA from Ontario College of Art and Design University and an MFA from York University, where she received a graduate scholarship and a Social Sciences & Humanities Research Council grant for her research into fire and climate change. Along with being an artist, she has spent over a decade managing arts programs and community cultural hubs, including Artscape Gibraltar Point, an artist residency and event space on Mnisiing/Toronto Island. featured artwork "Fraternal Fire," acrylic on wood panel, 77in x 60in, 2023 "How to write a painting," acrylic on wood panel, 36in x 48in, 2022 "Marked Trail," acrylic on linen, 60in x 82in, 2023 "Birch Bark is like Snake Skin," acrylic on wood panel, 36in x 48in, 2021 responding to Fuel Loading The basis of my research is the concept of materialism, as well as the lustrous objects I consider when painting. I use fire and its process as a metaphor, an illustration of environmental impact and a response to materialism. Through fire, I have drawn links between my own illness (cancer diagnosis) and the imbalances of the planet. I had developed a habit of excessive accumulation, a theme that presented itself in my work, my art practice, my health, and my relationships. This cyclical theme is what I call “the build up, the burn and the burn out.” This problem is not unique to me; I extend this behavior to our entire species, a species with the capacity to harness excessive amounts of materials from a fragile earth. Our obsession with possessions has caused a warming planet, leading to intense weather systems and catastrophic events. The planet, like many of us, is experiencing the build up, the burn, and the burn out. The subject matter for my current body of work came to me while staying in a stone cabin. I started each morning by collecting kindling and lighting a fire in the wood stove, and soon came to see the pieces of wood, newspaper, burnable objects, and ash as triangular compositions suitable for painting. As a result, the fireplace became a still life within a frame. I began to postpone the fire each morning to sketch the arrangement prior to burning. Building a fire became a means of building a painting. My paintings rarely actually show fire, instead the focus is on the potential for fire, a hidden energy moving through a landscape looking for points of friction. Friction, oxygen and fuel transform fire from a potential to a reaction. In the painting Birch Bark is like Snakeskin , all the unscorched materials in the world gather on top of one last stump to drink water from its center. There is gentleness in the gathering, though, because the desire to drink from what is left could cause it, too, to endure fire. more from Lisa's perspective Plein air painting at Halls Island Artist Residency located on an off-grid island in Haliburton, Ontario, CANADA where Lisa painted Fraternal Fire amongst the red and white pines. Large collection of Lisa's daily matchbook paintings, often done in the woods or in reference to them. Fraternal Fire in progress: Lisa sweeping paint with a large paint brush back and forth en plein air during the Halls Island Artist Residency. Studio shot work in progress for Marked Trail . photo credit: Lisa East Chat back to exhibition Chat

Part of the larger Stories of Fire Atlas Project , Where There Is Smoke is a crowd-sourced digital map that documents experiences of wildfire smoke in the Pacific Northwest and further afield. Once built, the map will serve as a spatial and temporal nexus of images and stories connecting the smoke in the air to the historical, social and ecological conditions and pre-conditions of fire on the ground. Through the inclusion of many voices, Where There is Smoke will highlight how changing climate and increasing wildfire are impacting communities across seasons and topographies and cooperatively build a greater understanding of how fire and fire management intersect with environmental justice. Help build the map. Contribute your Smoke Story. This project is funded by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation’s “Just Futures ” Initiative . COMING SOON explore the Where There is Smoke... website! This map is part of The Confluence Lab’s Pacific Northwest Stories of Fire Atlas Project. Next

Our Changing Climate Finding Common Ground through Climate Fiction Jennifer Ladino, Kayla Bordelon & Idaho Community Members funded by the Idaho Humanities Council Opportunity Grant 2019-2022 Modeled on the successful "Let's Talk About It" series, Jennifer Ladino (English and Environmental Science, University of Idaho) and Environmental Science PhD Kayla Bordelon hosted conversations about climate change in four Idaho communities: Coeur d’Alene, McCall, Grangeville, and Lewiston. Ladino and Bordelon, both former National Park Service rangers, drew on NPS audience engagement strategies to invite discussion and encourage participants to share personal stories. They used Barbara Kingsolver’s climate change novel Flight Behavior as a gateway to identifying common ground and common concerns about climate change, and to start dismantling communication barriers that may impede progress on environmental problems in rural communities. Next