School Connections with Solastalgia at Fabrik

The physical and imaginative interaction with the multi-disciplinary nature of the works in Solastalgia – antidote at Fabrik added a valuable dimension to student learning for the Lobethal School children. The multi-sensory ‘reading’ of the art works invited curiosity and investigation, supplanting the trauma and losses many had witnessed, with a sense of shared connection with the natural world. It is hoped that the experience will continue to inspire creativity and innovation supporting the health and well being of the school community and their active management of change and sustainability.  

I would like to thank the children from Lobethal Primary School, their art teacher Jane Mant and parent support for engaging with Solastalgia - an antidote. Thank you also for the contribution of beautiful drawings and images from the follow up outdoor/indoor art activities.

Jo Wilmot

This interpretive children’s guide to the exhibition in story form was written for the 160 visiting school children years 2-6 from Lobethal Primary and inspired by the work of all 12 contributing artists: Belinda Broughton, Jesse Budel, Liz Butler, Deb Cantrill, Louise Feneley, Gaynor Hartvigsen, Melissa Hellwig, Heidi Kenyon, Aaron Poole, Evette Sunset, Laura Wills and Jo Wilmot.

Once upon a time in a land of plenty, a land of green and gold, and sky of blue, there were two children who were the very best of friends. Each lived in a coracle, a small home woven from willow tree branches with a bed of leaves and lavender.

The Village in the Valley of Praise was full of coracles just like theirs and everyone knew each other and took care of those who were sick or old and when things went wrong. The children felt strong and safe in their homes, protected by the ancient wisdom of Mother Earth. They could see her through the branches of their village homes. 

The children had a regular mum too, but Mother Earth was older than anything else they knew. For many millions of years she had been scorched by sun, cooled by the deep night and cracked and wrinkled by the hot, dry winds. For millions of years she sat patiently, watching the clouds assemble on the horizon, smelling the dust storms as they approached, hearing the wings of birds, and feeling the rain upon her back. Lovingly she gathered the grasses and the trees, and the flowers and the bees to nestle in her cracks and crevices. 

Although she was often tired, Mother Earth loved and cared for the children, all of them. And the children loved and cared for her. They said good morning to her when they woke and thanked her for the new day. This made the Jurassic Wollomi tree near their home very happy and she would sing her song of gratitude for the whole village.

From Thich Nhat Hanh’s Love Letter to the Earth

 ‘Breathing in, I know Mother Earth is in me.

 Breathing out, I know that I am in Mother Earth.

 Breathing in, I arrive.

 Breathing out, I am home.’

Sometimes the children would tell the ancient Wollomi of their troubles and they would press an ear against her trunk and listen very patiently for an answer. Usually the answer was one they already knew. Sometimes they wouldn't say anything at all. It was enough just to sit with the tree's ancient wisdom and listen for the birds nesting in the canopy. 

The children loved to explore their bush home together, finding food to take home to their village, grasses to weave their toys and the baskets to carry them in. Today they were going on a long, long walk and they were excited for the many surprises the day might bring.

They had not long left home when they decided to stop for a moment on their favourite windy path. Looking up they saw that the morning light had made a golden rainbow in the branches above them. They stayed a little while under the rainbow to study the circular pattern in the red sawdust. They remembered the storm tornado of swirling clouds and fast winds that made so much noise and tore everything apart. The village people called this the 'eye of the storm' where it was surprisingly still and very quiet. They could hear their mother telling them that there was a place just like that inside their own hearts, where they could feel calm and safe, even when everything outside was terrifying.

The children had been instructed to listen well when they left the village. Putting their ears to the ground they could hear the river flowing beneath them and because they were so still and so silent they saw something they had never seen before. It was a very shy antechinus. A little marsupial mouse with a very long pointy nose and large crinkly ears, hopped out of the soft green sprouts and across the path in front of them. They were so excited they forgot their silence, squealing so loudly that they frightened each other. They fell on their backs into soft green sprouts laughing, then helped each other up holding hands as they continued their journey.

The land wasn't so black any more and life was returning. They spotted a snail slithering slowly across the path and a large ant scuttled in and out of the tiny, tiny plants all covered in dew. They saw red spongy fungus that had waited many years for the fires to show its colours. The grass trees were green again and soon their flowering stems would be taller than the tallest man in the village. Behind one of them they spotted an echidna with spines as spiky as the grass trees.

Passing the blackened old tree sprouting red and green, they saw many baskets rising up from the earth. Some ancient wise women had woven and filled these baskets as offerings to the heavens from Mother Earth. Each basket was unique and filled with different seeds, nuts and fibres for making string, and leaves that were used to colour the clothes they wore.

Soon they arrived at a lush green valley of ferns. They played hide and seek until the voices from the giant trees, was louder than their laughter. Stopping wide eyed at the tallest tree, they suddenly felt so very small. They imagined climbing all the way to the topmost branches that could barely be seen, but they knew they still had much to learn from this wise old mother tree, right where they stood.

Their eyes cast down to the ground once more, they came upon a beautiful molecule pattern. Mother Earth had given the children a sign, a message made of sand and seed pods telling them that they must take care of the plants. They had not met the Chlorophyll Spirit before. Mother Earth explained that she gave every plant the magical power to live without having to eat food. All they needed was the water and nutrient from the ground and energy from the sun to make them grow. They tried to remember the patterns to make another one in the village so everyone could see the message.

The children could hear faint sounds up ahead.  A grand old piano resting on its side offered not regular piano sounds, but ones from deep underground. They could feel the sound through their bare feet. They lay down on their sides like the piano so they could feel and hear the sounds through their whole body. 

Soon they fell into a deep, deep sleep. As they were sleeping, Mother Earth spoke to them, sharing knowledge about the medicine trees. She said that everything they ever needed was right there in the landscape and that everything, EVERYTHING, the insects, the birds, the plants, the rocks, the sea, the sky and they themselves are ALL connected. 'We are part of them' she said 'and they are a part of us'.

They were woken by a strong wind tossing and turning the leaves all around them. Some were dry and twisted. Others looked like skeletons. They would soon fall to the ground among the tall pianola trees and a tiny seed would say thank you and begin to grow towards the light. The children knew from their dream that everything returns to the earth and begins again. Even the king fisher bird hiding in its nest. Mother Earth had written messages on the leaves next to a hollow log to tell them so.

One of the messages told them to keep planting trees under whose shade they should not to expect to sit. Mother Earth heard their thoughts and whispered 'All worthwhile things take time to grow. What you plant today will grow to shade your children and your grandchildren'. Mother Earth promised that when they had planted a thousand trees together, the bark scrolls would open to tell them stories from their ancestors alive in the ancient trees all around them. 

As they turned toward home they came across two mysterious old trunks like those used a long time ago when people traveled by rail or sea. Inside of one, they found leaf litter and glowing mushrooms, as well as luminescent scorpions, a possum, and scat from their marsupial friends. There was also a strange glow coming from an opening in the lid of the trunk above. Taking turns to peer into the hole, they found networks of luminous mycelium threads that seemed to go on forever in all directions.

Sometimes after rain and when the weather was just right, the children would come across a circle of mushrooms in the forest and race home to tell their parents who knew which ones were safe to cook for dinner. They understood that the mushrooms were like phones with underground networks growing in and around the tree roots and reaching out to connect with the roots of family members, just like internet wires. The trees could pass on messages if one of them was sick and the fungi could send water and nutrient to help them get better. The trees were talking to each other beneath their feet. They wondered where the trunk would travel to next to tell the story.

Their parents called this fungal network the 'Wood Wide Web'. They also told the children that the koalas, possums, echidnas, bandicoots and kangaroos were helping to regenerate the bush after the fires. By eating the fungi and dropping their scat, the marsupials were spreading the fungal spores beyond the bush land and forests they knew. The earth beneath their feet was alive!

The children arrived home as the stars began to sparkle, just in time for dinner. They scrunched their toes in the cool soil and looked toward Mother Earth to thank her for the discoveries they had made that day. Before sleep they wrote their greatest joys and their sorrows on the leaves they had collected and tied them to the coracle branches. Filled with gratitude they drifting off to sleep knowing Mother Earth would always be there for them, as they would be for her.

So always remember to smile for Mother Earth and remember her kindness. 

Jo Wilmot