Tag: Sustainability



Urban Times reflections: Thin Air

August 29th, 2012

Urban Times asked me to share some reflections on my comics. Below is the fifth article in this ongoing series.

The Comic Art of Stuart McMillen: Thin Air

Stuart McMillen is a cartoonist from Brisbane, Australia who draws comics on science, society and environmental sustainability. In an exclusive series of articles, Stuart reflects upon his comics for Urban Times.

Thin Air summary

Thin Air describes the 17th century experiments of Jean Baptista van Helmont, who wondered what exactly trees were made from. The counter-intuitive answer is that trees build themselves almost entirely from carbon, oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen: the same elements which breeze past them in the air. The comic goes on to compare the construction techniques of nature with those of human industry, and wonders if industry will ever learn to use building techniques like nature.

Hidden in plain sight: trees

A major aim of Thin Air was to make readers appreciate the elegance and brilliance of a familiar, yet overlooked neighbour: the humble tree.

Low angle cartoon man standing above viewer. Looking up towards tree tops.

To the enlightened person, trees are no longer just ‘things’ that fill the space between the important, man-made structures of the world. They are incredible in themselves!

Trees are solar powered ‘machines’ that use sunlight into turn water and carbon dioxide into sugar and oxygen. They are living symbols of defiance that fight gravity and tower above the earth with bodies made from solidified air.

Of course, by extension, we are mostly made from thin air too. Despite trace elements (such as the calcium of our bones, or the iron of our blood), we too are mostly made from the same stuff that we are swimming in. Essentially, the main thing separating our bodies from the free-floating gases of the atmosphere is fancy jigsawing.

Once hidden before my eyes, I am now drawn to the sight of trees wherever I look. I marvel at the defiant way they erupt from the ground, pushing towards the sky. I rave over the precarious way they hold their mass above our heads. What I once ignored now forms a focal point of the way I appreciate the world around me.

Cartoon man sits under Sydney tree reading a book. Black and white drawing.

Inspired by Biomimicry

Thin Air is spun from a train of thought that followed one of my many re-reads of Biomimicry (1997) by Janine Benyus (new / used aff). In beautifully-written prose, Benyus presents a laundry list of amazing technologies ‘invented’ by nature which surpass human achievements. Leaves more efficient than solar panels, mussel glue stronger than human adhesives, rhinoceros horns which self-heal. Nature, it seems, has remarkable secrets to teach us.

Thin Air is partially a love letter to biomimicry, but it is also a cannon aimed at my once-sacred cow.

Cartoon rock crab. Crab drawing next to rock pool with Sydney Harbour Bridge reflection.

It’s easy to get carried away with biomimicry and ignore the amazing technologies, amazing achievements of humanity. Yes, we should respect and learn from nature, but there are limits. We should beware the New Age “nature = good, technology = bad” mentality which pervades so much of the green movement.

Rejecting naive Biomimicry

My dose of reality into the limits of biomimicry came from reading Steven Vogel’s 2003 textbook Comparative Biomechanics: Life’s Physical World. After 500 pages of comparing nature against engineering and physics benchmarks, Vogel writes:

“Biomimetics has built, quite unnecessarily, in my opinion, on some counterfactual mythology (= bull). … Artists and antitechnologists disdainfully disparage any claim of true novelty in the artefacts of human industry. But knee-jerk naturalism does not withstand scrutiny.

[N]ature neither holds, nor should be expected to hold any natural superiority, and she provides neither comfort nor example to engineer-bashers. Our technology does all kinds of things with few or no natural analoges.”
(Vogel, 2003, p 511, 516)

His conclusion is similar to that of the Thin Air comic: we have much to learn from the wonders of nature, but we shouldn’t fall into the trap of thinking that nature trumps human ingenuity on all fronts.

Now retired from teaching at Duke University, Steven Vogel proved to be a helpful sounding board for early drafts of the Thin Air script.

Cartoon hermit crab in shell in front of Sydney Opera House. Black and white drawing.

Artwork

With Thin Air, I tried to capture the contrast between the natural and constructed parts of our world. I quickly decided that Sydney would serve as the backdrop for a city containing wonders of natural and human engineering. Basing the comic in Australia gave me a good excuse to draw my favourite type of trees: eucalyptus.

Although the novelty of drawing tree leaves quickly wore off (I spent 170 hours on line art alone), the final graphics are distinctive and striking. Thin Air included my first use of double-page spreads as a way to highlight expansive ideas within the comic. Who knows where this crazy experimentation will end….I might even start adding colour!

Cartoon strangler fig wraps around building. Skyscraper wrapped in tree roots drawing. Comic art cover.

Originally the cover image of Thin Air was that of a strangler fig climbing a Sydney office tower (see above). It looked nice, but didn’t sensibly link with the comic. After a long period of brainstorming, I hit upon an idea to combine van Helmont, the city of Sydney and trees all in the one frame. The final cover artwork satisfies me immensely.

Thin Air comic cover. Black Sabbath self-titled album homage. Black and white man standing in front of Sydney Opera House.

Van Helmont the anti-hero

Thin Air uses the experiments of Jean Baptista van Helmont as a gateway for explaining the elemental make-up of trees. Despite his starring role in the comic, I would like to make one thing clear:

Van Helmont was not a good scientist.

Riddled with holes of logic, van Helmont’s willow experiment embodied many of the qualities associated with junk science. Hershey (2003) points out a comprehensive list of his errors, including:

  • conducting his experiment to prove a pre-determined conclusion (that trees are made from water)
  • ignoring his own data when supporting his conclusion
  • failing to control and isolate the experiment against environmental factors
  • failing to document and explain his scientific methods to make the experiment repeatable

van Helmont stands next to willow tree cartoon. Black and white drawing.

The image of van Helmont examining his willow tree serves as a great poster for science, but the real van Helmont was both hero and fool. For this reason, as a Faustian bargain for his starring role in Thin Air, I have portrayed van Helmont as permanently dressed in foppish clothes. Take that!

Beyond Thin Air

Like its sister comic, Type III, Thin Air ends without a specific ‘message’ or conclusion. The simple reason for this is because I do not quite know the implications of the comic.

I am not an engineer or a physicist, and am unsure how far we can push nanoengineering. Similarly, I am unsure of the limits to which we should heed when constructing with the very same carbon which is needed by organic life.

Cartoon city skyscrapers surrounded by trees. Black and white aerial drawing office towers. Urban nature.

As a minimum, Thin Air offers readers a fresh perspective to appreciate the ways of nature. At best, the comic could point to a new direction for human civilisation. One with less need to turn the Earth upside-down and mine the crust for resources. One which builds artefacts from life-friendly materials in a life-friendly way, inspired by nature.

Only time will tell how we move from here.

View more in the Urban Times series here.

Urban Times reflections: Type III

August 15th, 2012

Urban Times asked me to share some reflections on my comics. Below is the fourth article in this ongoing series.

The Comic Art of Stuart McMillen: Type III

Stuart McMillen is a cartoonist from Brisbane, Australia who draws comics on science, society and environmental sustainability. In an exclusive series of articles, Stuart reflects upon his comics for Urban Times.

Type III summary

Type III describes the 1980 volcanic eruption of Mount St. Helens, which devastated the natural ecosystem immediately surrounding the blast zone. The comic describes the successive types of organisms which helped to recolonise the mountain, ranging from weedy, fast-growing ‘Type I’ species, through to the organisms which constitute the stable, mature ‘Type III’ ecosystem.

Parallels are made between the strategies of Type I organisms with current human industrial practices. The reader is left to contemplate whether human industry will evolve to Type III maturity like a stable ecosystem.

Cartoon Mount St. Helens. Aerial drawing of snow-covered volcano.

Mount St. Helens

Type III is about the other story of Mount St. Helens. Usually seen only as an force of destruction, I tried to show the flip side of the coin. In the comic, I recast the iconic volcano as a shining example of nature’s versatility, creativity and resilience.

In a devastated environment, seemingly sterilised beyond hope, life found a way to bounce back. From invisible microbes, to hardy lupins and tunnelling gophers, the work was done on many fronts. Though all acting in self-interest, the organisms’ efforts inadvertently served a common purpose.

Cartoon gopher pokes head above ground near mountain. Black and white drawing of ecosystem recovery.

Over time time the Mount St. Helens landscape transformed in a dynamic process tending toward diversity and stability. Almost poetically, the pioneering lupins and fireweeds were shaded over by shrubs and small trees eager for their time in the sun. More and more, the system folded in on itself, with nutrient recycling, symbiotic relationships and niche specialisations increasing in importance with time.

Unlike the human system mentioned in the comic, we have the opportunity to see the future of the Mount St. Helens ecosystem. The eagles, beavers, bears and wolves of woods surrounding the blast zone give a preview of the species destined to spread across when the time is right. Exactly what the human Type III system will resemble remains to be seen.

Baby deer stands in forest clearing next to tall trees. Nature drawing. Black and white cartoon.

Industrial ecology

As interesting and picturesque as Mount St. Helens’ story is, Type III was a comic spawned from my interest in industrial ecology systems theory.

The Type I, Type II and Type III classification system was heavily inspired by Biomimicry (1997) by Janine Benyus (new / used aff), as well as the textbook Industrial Ecology (1995) by T.E. Graedel and B.E. Allenby, which informed her work. I was lucky enough to have Brad Allenby review early versions of the Type III script, and offer his input into the validity of the comic’s ideas.

Industrial ecology is a exciting contrast to conventional industrial practices, based on wasteful linear processes. Industrial ecology aims to maximise efficiency and resource recycling in ways which resemble food webs. In nature there is no such thing as ‘waste’ by the dictionary definition of “useless or worthless material”. Instead, materials are constantly swapped and reused by organisms evolved precisely for nutrient recovery.

Industrial ecology challenges us to apply the strategies of nature to the way we conduct business.

Factories industrial recycling loop. Isometric drawing of industrial recycling. Cartoon buildings.

A real-life Type II system: Kalundborg Eco-Industrial Park

Perhaps the most famous real-world example of ‘industrial ecology’-like recycling can be found in the Kalundborg Eco-industrial Park in Denmark. Wikipedia describes the resource flows within the park:

“At the center is the Asnæs Power Station, a 1500MW coal-fired power plant, which has material and energy links with the community and several other companies. Surplus heat from this power plant is used to heat 3500 local homes in addition to a nearby fish farm, whose sludge is then sold as a fertilizer. Steam from the power plant is sold to Novo Nordisk, a pharmaceutical and enzyme manufacturer, in addition to a Statoil plant. This reuse of heat reduces the amount thermal pollution discharged to a nearby fjord. Additionally, a by-product from the power plant’s sulfur dioxide scrubber contains gypsum, which is sold to a wallboard manufacturer. Almost all of the manufacturer’s gypsum needs are met this way, which reduces the amount of open-pit mining needed. Furthermore, fly ash and clinker from the power plant is used for road building and cement production.”

One of the key points about the park is how the resource recycling partnerships occurred in a spontaneous, collaborative way. Natural ecosystems niches are filled in an opportunistic way, and Kalundborg was no different. Rather than beginning with a top-down design, Kalundborg’s recycling loops were identified and formed in a gradual, unplanned fashion. The environmental benefits of this efficiency are a nice plus, but the prime motivation behind the business’ recycling efforts were financial: it is simply more profitable to be frugal with energy and resource use.

Isometric factory pipes drawing. Cartoon industrial park. Recycling comic.

By sharing information and collaborating with their neighbours, sum total of activity in Kalundborg seems to be greater than if they were operating in isolation. Rather than heating water from ambient temperature, or ordering resources from suppliers far afield, the businesses harvest the fruit of their surroundings. As with nature, there is no such thing as ‘waste’, with the residues of old processes being used to feed new ones.

The Kalundborg experiment began in 1972, and has been gradually been evolving since then. Though not a Type III system (its coal-fired power plant is clearly unsustainable in the long-run), it sets a Type II example for others to follow.

Cartooon man looking at factory. Black and white drawing of smokestacks. Hard hat.

The Type III comic: reflections

Although I mostly live in a reality bubble, sometimes I step back to consider how different my comics are from everything else on the web. I mean, a 24 page comic comparing ecological succession with the human industrial system? I’m not exactly competing with the gag-a-day crowd of cartoonists!

With Type III I wanted to transcend the nit-picking debates we have on environmental issues (bottles versus cans, hand dryers versus paper towels) and look at the big picture. The very big picture.

Cartoon smokestacks. Black and white drawing of factory chimneys.

Like St Matthew Island and Supernormal Stimuli, Type III is a comic is about many topics at once. On one level it is about the real-life recovery of nature following the 1980 Mount St. Helens eruption. On another level, it is an honest look at our lifestyle; a big-picture scorecard for humanity against nature’s benchmarks of success.

But on the most important level, the comic is about hope. Hope that we can work towards a Type III future. Hope from the knowledge that there are natural ecosystems which behave in the Type I and II ways (which we too-often attribute as unique failings of humans). Hope that there is room for us all in a Type III system which thrives on diversity of the weird and wonderful.

Family photograph pose in front of tripod. Cartoon photographer focusing. Drawing of Mount St. Helens carpark.

As the comic states, it’s not that Type I and Type II systems are categorically ‘bad’. If that was the case, the world would never recover from disasters like Mount St. Helens. The critical point is learning that humanity’s current Type I/II strategy is unsustainable, and needs to be transformed to Type III-like harmony as soon as possible.

View more in the Urban Times series here.

Urban Times reflections: Supernormal Stimuli

August 1st, 2012

Urban Times asked me to share some reflections on my comics. Below is the third article in this ongoing series.

The Comic Art of Stuart McMillen: Supernormal Stimuli

Stuart McMillen is a cartoonist from Brisbane, Australia who draws comics on science, society and environmental sustainability. In an exclusive series of articles, Stuart reflects upon his comics for Urban Times.

Supernormal Stimuli summary

Supernormal Stimuli describes the studies of Dutch biologist Niko Tinbergen, who sought to understand the root of animal instincts. Tinbergen’s experiments showed that instinctual behaviour could be triggered by specific sensations, such as colours, shapes or smells. Surprisingly, the animals would still respond with the full behavioural response even if the stimuli was exaggerated beyond realistic limits.

The comic observes that human beings are just as susceptible to supernormal stimuli as other animals. Indeed supernormal stimuli can be used to explain many of the problems we experience in our modern world of plenty, such as obesity. The comic concludes by pointing to an overlooked, but effective way of overcoming supernormal stimuli.

Raptor cartoon. Reptile brain drawing. Velociraptor. Human silhouette.

Niko Tinbergen’s experiments

My interest in this subject purely came from the studies of Niko Tinbergen. I was intrigued by Tinbergen’s experiments which fooled animals into outrageous behaviours, including:

  • Songbirds choosing to sit on enormous fluorescent blue eggs rather than their own small, pale blue eggs.
  • Geese attempting to roll volleyballs into their own nest in preference to their regular-sized eggs.
  • Male butterflies ignoring receptive females to instead mate with wingless vibrating dummies.

Man lying on stomach with binoculars cartoon. Looking at wasps drawing. Niko Tinbergen scientist.

Although Niko Tinbergen’s experiments into animal behaviour are important in their own right, the way the concept doubles-back to incriminate humans is the icing on the cake. I had to draw a comic on it.

Legacy code in the genome

Humans are still struggling to wrap our heads around three facts which contradict our classical view of the world:

  1. Earth is not the centre of the universe,
  2. we were not created separately from the other life on Earth, and
  3. we are not exempt from the laws of nature.

Our vulnerability to supernormal stimuli is evidence of our evolutionary heritage. Even though we live in a modern world of cities and electronics, we still carry genetic ‘legacy code’ to remind us of our past.

Detailed city drawing. Black and white cartoon skyscrapers. Advertising signage.

This legacy code (to borrow a computer programming expression), was written in a time when food was scarce, and our ancestors needed to feed on sweet, fatty and salty foods at every opportunity. The stronger our tongues registered these tastes, the more strongly we craved and sought out these foods.

It was also a time when predators and prey were too important to ignore. Moving shapes in the forest could reveal lethal adversaries, potential mates, or the next meal ticket. Because of this, the primitive ‘orienting response‘ instinct evolved to make us freeze and stare at movement. We kept motionless until we were sure the object was not a threat, and we were sure how to respond.

Both of these instincts are hijacked in the modern day food court. We tuck into foods far sweeter, fattier, or saltier than what our ancestors could have found in the wild. Meanwhile, the orienting response draws our eyes to the flickering images of televisions scattered throughout the room. The supernormal of the modern world surrounds us.

Salad bar drawing versus wild food cartoon. Wild boar and fruit.

Artwork

The experiments of Niko Tinbergen were an interesting enough concept to tie the comic together, but I needed another hook. The answer: dinosaurs!

Dinosaurs are always fun to draw, but I actually came up with a legitimate way to feature them in Supernormal Stimuli via the sections on the ‘reptile brain’. Though the reptile brain concept may not be strictly true, it gives us a simple way of understanding how brains evolved from common primitive ancestors.

Velociraptor looking at human brain. Cartoon raptor drawing.

Beyond the dinosaurs, the comic is quite a whirlwind of activity, jumping from Tinbergen’s experiments to primitive Africa, and then to a modern city shopping mall dripping with supernormal stimuli. I’m especially proud of the final sequence: I hope we can all learn to be like “Rowdy” Rodin’s The Thinker, opening a can of kick-ass on the supernormal stimuli raptors which surround us.

Supernormal Stimuli comic cover. Stuart McMillen drawing. They Live movie poster.

For the trainspotters: Supernormal Stimuli was my first comic completed via graphics tablet and handwriting font. My earlier comics such as St Matthew Island and Purpose were drawn with pen and ink, and handwritten lettering.

Different world, same brain

It’s interesting to think of the societal changes that have occurred even in my short lifetime. When I was young, before email, we checked the mail once per day. Now we check for messages throughout the day. When we left the house, we were uncontactable. Now our mobile phones follow us everywhere. Large changes are happening to our cities, food and technology, yet genetically we are essentially identical to our 10,000 year-old ancestors.

Cartoon brain with spear and microscope. Black and white drawing line art.

I wonder what the implications of these shifting sands are. Whether the human mind is adaptable enough to function in situations far beyond its original purpose. Or, alternatively, whether we lose a little something the further we venture from our roots.

As always, my comic only scratches the surface of this fascinating subject. My comics can never provide a total summary of a subject, nor can they explain all the nuances and debates that surround the topic. But hopefully through 20 pages of comics, Supernormal Stimuli gives readers a distilled primer about an interesting subject that affects us all.

View more in the Urban Times series here.

Urban Times reflections: Purpose

July 18th, 2012

Urban Times asked me to share some reflections on my comics. Below is the second article in this ongoing series.

The Comic Art of Stuart McMillen: Purpose

Stuart McMillen is a cartoonist from Brisbane, Australia who draws comics on science, society and environmental sustainability. In an exclusive series of articles, Stuart reflects upon his comics for Urban Times.

Purpose Summary

Part 1 of Purpose portrays an ‘explorer’ character engaged in a struggle against the natural world. Over the course of the comic, more and more of the surroundings are cleared of nature until the final panel reveals a world almost fully occupied by people.

Part 2 of Purpose begins with the same character looking upon a grim, desolate planet. A narrative unfolds which is the mirror image of Part 1, showing the character taking steps to return the land back to full prosperity.

Inspiration

The follow-up comic to St Matthew Island, Purpose revisits the theme of environmental sustainability, but focuses on the attitudes behind our actions.

The epicentre of inspiration behind Purpose was reading Ishmael (new / used aff) by Daniel Quinn. Released in 1992, the novel was widely hailed as a touchstone for readers seeking to make sense of our civilisation’s attitudes and values. Written in a quasi-fictional setting, almost the entire book consists of a dialogue between an unnamed student and a teacher named Ishmael.

I came to the party in 2011, and ended up rating Ishmael as my favourite read of the year. Quinn’s unique novel cuts to the heart of Western civilisation’s struggle against nature: a wrestle which Quinn pins to a set of deep-held beliefs unique to our culture. Ishmael has its critics, but the book connected many dots for me, and left me wondering how to move forward as a person.

Man holds axe, looking at rainforest. Black and white cute trees with eyes cartoon.

Writing the comic

So what do you do when you discover your whole culture is built on quicksand?

I wrote. I tried unpicking the unspoken attitudes of our culture, and spelling them out in terms as stark and concise as possible.

I extrapolated. I stretched the attitudes to absurd proportions. An obsessive mentality eager to control every plant that grows on Earth, every animal that stands on Earth. The ultimate goal? Turning chaos into order. Turning nature into food. Turning food into people.

Cartoon trees surrounded by grid of people. Deforestation logging drawing.

That is our purpose

“Turning nature into people. That is our purpose.”

Written out in such simple terms it sounds ludicrous. A caricature. A greenie straw-man.

But do our actions point to a different story?

Farmlands cartoon. Farming cattle drawing. Land grid.

In my country, Australia, there is a strong voice of dissent against any plans to surrender “our” resources to nature. Ending broad-scale tree clearing? Flushing extra water down the Murray River? Creating a marine reserve in the Coral Sea?

Out of the question.

The dominant mentality hates the idea of losing control. Of ceding defeat. Of ending ‘progress’. Of acknowledging flaws in the strategy that took us to here.

Why should we let nature waste our resources? Why should we care about the arrows on the food chain which don’t terminate at humans? We own this joint, and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Cartoon explorer looks over cleared farmland.

Owners of the planet

The dominant mentality comes piped directly from the scriptures: humans are the ‘owners’ of this planet, and it is our job to liberate it from the chaos of the wild.

It’s an all-pervading mindset, passed down through our culture and accepted even by those who do not consider themselves religious or creationists. Something in our subconscious still harks back to the time when we thought the world was made for man, and man was made to rule the world.

We use language like “our fisheries” and “our wildlife” to describe the parts of nature placed here for our exclusive use. We talk of “our oceans” and “our solar system” to describe our surroundings, brought into creation so that we could have a home. Everything in the world, everything in the universe remains framed around human beings.

Man and sheep walk past dead kangaroo. Cartoon drawing black and white.

The Purpose comic: part 1

Purpose, part 1 remains the starkest piece I have published. Even too strong for some, who saw it as a slap in the face to the average reader.

Although the protagonist of the comic wears ‘explorer’ clothes, I maintain that our modern society is following the same strategy as the settlers that came before us. Outwards the suburbs march. Inwards the forests shrink.

The average reader may not agree with the mission of the protagonist, but is nevertheless an accomplice through the machinery of globalised capitalism. Someone, somewhere is cutting into the natural world to create the goods associated with our modern lifestyles. Even if we may not chop down the trees with our two hands, we inadvertently vote for their destruction with our purchases.

By the end of Part 1, the reader has long since stopped being a willing participant with the protagonist’s mission, yet sees the logical conclusion of our civilisation’s mindset.

Farmland converted to food. Food converted to people cartoon.

Unlike the explorer character, who relishes in the suppression of nature, the average reader sees this destruction as a sad sin of omission, rather than a sin of commission.

The Purpose comic: part 2

It’s not enough to point to the error of our ways. There must be an alternative to turn to. As Daniel Quinn notes in Ishmael, “you can’t just stop being in a story, you have to have another story to be in.”

So if our ‘purpose’ is what brought us here, what should we now live for? Being an optimist, I was not satisfied publishing Part 1 without an antidote. Part 2 at least tries to imagine the motivation which could lead us out of the self-created valley, back to a summit of natural abundance.

Man looks at wallaby hopping over deforested land. Cartoon kangaroo jumping.

All too-often we try to be ‘less bad’ to the environment. Or environmentally benign. To me, those goals do not go far enough. Instead, we need to be restorative.

I believe our motivation must be found in the restoration itself. Seeing the improvements. Helping nature recharge itself. Watching the planetary systems return to full glory.

Unsurprisingly, I found that the answer came from reversing the mindset of the Part 1 explorer. From obsessively suppressing nature, to finding joy with the chaos of nature. From recognising that man belongs to the world, rather than the world belongs to man.

Cockatoo cartoon. Cockatoo flying over outback drawing.

Epilogue: completing the circle

With Purpose originally inspired by Ishmael (new / used aff), it was great to get a compliment back from Daniel Quinn. As well as sharing the comic with his website followers, Daniel congratulated me for packing “a lot of valuable messages into just a handful of drawings”.

View more in the Urban Times series here.

Urban Times reflections: St Matthew Island

July 3rd, 2012

Urban Times asked me to share some reflections on my comics. Below is the first article in this ongoing series.

The Comic Art of Stuart McMillen: St Matthew Island

Stuart McMillen is a cartoonist from Brisbane, Australia who draws comics on science, society and environmental sustainability. In an exclusive series of articles, Stuart reflects upon his comics for Urban Times.

St Matthew Island overview

Based on a true story, St Matthew Island describes the introduction of 29 reindeer to a remote Alaskan island free from predators and rich in food. The eight-page comic details the rise and subsequent crash of the herd’s population, as measured by field biologists. The comic leaves the reader to ponder the lessons humanity may be able to learn from the reindeer’s plight.

Stuart’s Reflections

A long-time favourite of mine, St Matthew Island is also the most popular comic available through my website. Something about the story loaned itself to storytelling through comics, and strongly resonated with readers.

Boat approaching island comic art. Cloudy sky, birds circling overhead. Overcast black and white.

A Parable for Humanity?

Storytelling is critical in comics, and science communication more broadly. We remember stories easier than we remember facts. Readers may forget details of the St Matthew Island story, such as dates or herd counts, but they will remember the overall chain of events. For many, the story lives on as a parable for humanity.

Brought to paradise, the reindeer herd soared to an unsustainable number and then crashed. The irony is that the seemingly ‘perfect’ conditions of St Matthew Island (abundant food, no predators) were the very seeds of the reindeer’s demise.

Caribou drawing line art. Reindeer cartoon black and white.

Could the same be said for us? Descended from a line of primitive ancestors, we humans ‘awoke’ to find ourselves amidst a world rich with natural resources. One by one, we learned to use these resources to our advantage. One by one the physical limitations which constrained our population fell:

  • we built an agricultural system able to yield massive food surpluses
  • we tamed beasts of burden to work for us
  • we managed to shield ourselves from a planet of predators
  • we learned to harness fossil fuels as a replacement for muscle power

Our population is climbing at a rate comparable to St Matthew Island’s reindeer. But what is our ‘lichen’ equivalent? How big is the ‘island’ we stand on? Will we learn to curb our own excesses, or will we keep driving towards the cliff?

Black and white reindeer skull. Cartoon artwork by Stuart McMillen.

Artwork

On an artistic level, I’m fond of St Matthew Island for a number of reasons. Firstly, the reindeer serve as excellent central ‘characters’ to tie the story together with. Similar analogies, such as bacteria in a test tube, don’t have the same potential for personification as with the tale of St Matthew Island. Readers are more likely to identify with their fellow mammals than bacteria cells, and I drew the reindeer in a ‘cartoony’ style which increases the effect.

Sparesley populated pasture of St Matthew Island. Three reindeer grazing.

Being a completist, I extensively researched the environment of St Matthew Island before beginning the artwork. This research included unearthing (some might say) minor details, such as the actual subspecies of reindeer introduced to St Matthew Island (the Porcupine caribou). Learning that fact gave me an idea of the shape of the reindeer’s antlers. The things I do for my readers! During this process I also learned the interesting fact that, unlike other deer, both male and female reindeer grow large antlers. Finally, through this Urban Times article, I have the chance to share such fascinating facts with the world!

Researchers looking at many cartoon reindeer grazing. St Matthew Island comic by Stuart McMillen.

My favourite part about the St Matthew Island comic is the way it concisely tells its story in 8 pages. Unfortunately the viral success of the comic gave me delusions of grandeur, and now I can’t bear the thought of producing a comic with less than 20 pages…

Criticism of St Matthew Island

St Matthew Island may read like a fable, but it describes an actual series of events. None of the facts surrounding the population boom/bust of the reindeer is disputed, however there is some debate around the factors which contributed to the reindeer’s sudden demise. In the interest of fairness I will outline the main counter-points to the traditional story here.

Climatologists note that the 1963-64 winter was exceptionally severe, based on regional weather records. No humans were present on St Matthew Island to directly observe ground conditions, but it seems there were weeks of freezing winds and snowstorms. It is likely a hard crust of snow would have hindered or prevented the reindeer from eating the vegetation below. Miller, Barry and Calvert (2005) therefore argue that the reindeer population on St Matthew Island would have crashed regardless of the size of the population or the diet of the herd in the lead-up to winter. They also dispute whether St Matthew Island’s reindeer had actually reached peak population, and suggest that the population would have gradually declined (not crashed) without the weather laying the fatal blow.

Reindeer skull drawing. Cartoon reindeer skeleton. Live caribou grazing in background. St Matthew Island.

Being a fan of science, I welcome these challenges to the traditional story of St Matthew Island. I wonder, however, why the field biologist who visited the island, David Klein, put a higher emphasis on population size and overgrazing in his analysis of events. I also wonder why the revisionist article by Miller, Barry and Calvert seems so buried in the literature, despite the logic of its arguments. (I had not read their article until after publishing the comic).

A non-scientific criticism of the comic is the ‘humans aren’t reindeer’ argument. I don’t think this argument debunks the comic. Yes, the human mind is capable of reason beyond any other creature on Earth. Yes, we have had a remarkable history of technological inventions. But these facts aren’t Get Out of Jail Free cards. Despite our creativity, despite our inventions, our success remains based on unsustainable habits and non-renewable resources. Humans aren’t reindeer for sure, but it’s dishonest for critics to ignore the fragile basis of our prosperity.

Despite the reindeer crash, life continues on St Matthew Island. The island is a haven for sea birds like cormorants.

An influential story

Setting aside the scientific arguments, St Matthew Island has been responsible for some amazing changes since it began seeping into the public consciousness 40 years ago. Arguably its most important appearance was in Paul Hawken’s The Ecology of Commerce (1993).

Hawken’s book about corporate accountability found its way into the hands of Interface carpet CEO Ray Anderson in 1994. As the inquisitive CEO read the book, the succinct paragraph about the St Matthew Island reindeer captured his attention. Anderson read the story and sadly realised that his carpet factories were sending humanity to the same fate as the reindeer of St Matthew Island. He had the sudden epiphany to transform Interface into a company which would operate using the principles of nature.

Ray Anderson sadly passed away in 2011, but he spent his final 27 years radically transforming Interface’s operations. At an age where most CEOs retire to a ‘golf course’ lifestyle, Anderson busied himself chasing his goal of a company able to create and profit without plundering the earth. To his joy, immense reductions in fossil fuel use, waste and pollution led to immense increases in profitability, publicity and employee happiness.

Cartoon reindeer skull cartoon. St Matthew Island by Stuart McMillen.

The reindeer of St Matthew Island may have been locked into a cruel fate, but people like Ray Anderson give us hope that humanity can consciously craft a different future. I hope my comics play some small role in creating epiphanies for the next generation of visionaries.

View more in the Urban Times series here.

Thin Air

June 26th, 2012

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Read some reflections and insights into the Thin Air comic and the way trees build themselves in the blog section of this website.

Support the artist, and buy a $2 PDF of Thin Air.

Type III

May 22nd, 2012

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Read some reflections and insights into the Type III comic and the Mount St. Helens ecosystem recovery in the blog section of this website.

Support the artist, and buy a $2 PDF of Type III.

Ishmael by Daniel Quinn

January 20th, 2012

This is the second in a two-part series about my favourite books from the last two years. Blankets by Craig Thompson is the other post in the series.

These are not books which were written in 2010 and 2011. Rather, they are books which I discovered in those years.

Daniel Quinn Ishmael book cover

Favourite book of 2011: Ishmael by Daniel Quinn (released 1992)

Although I have read books on environmentalism for many years, I was still blown away when reading Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael for the first time in 2011.

With Ishmael, Daniel Quinn shares the fruit of his quest to understand why our civilisation acts the way it does. Why does our civilisation act toward other cultures in the way we do? Why do we act toward nature in the way we do? Is it human nature that makes us behave in this way, or something else?

Writing style

Ishmael is a book which impressed me both because of its actual message, as well as the way in which the author reveals his ideas to the reader. Most books on sustainability present ideas in a straight-forward, non-fiction way. The arguments may be supported and heightened with poetic prose (e.g. Natural Capitalism, Cradle to Cradle and Biomimicry), but they are quite direct and structured in making their arguments.

Quinn takes a different approach with Ishmael. The book is presented in a quasi-fictional setting, with almost the entire book consisting of a dialogue between a teacher and a student. Instead of presenting the ‘answer’ to the student right away, the teacher helps the student deconstruct his existing worldview. Once this is complete, an alternative perspective is constructed throughout the course of their conversations.

Involving the reader

By writing the book in this way, Quinn gives the reader a heightened sense of involvement. The reader is invested in the character of the student, and therefore also invested in learning from the teacher. On one hand, this is both frustrating when the answers don’t come easily. But at the same time, it makes for a page-turning book because of the way the answers are pieced together through their discussion. Because of the gradual way things are revealed, information which may have seemed ho-hum in a regular textbook seem almost revelatory in Ishmael.

Ishmael (and the Daniel Quinn books that followed it, such as The Story of B, and Beyond Civilization) have their critics. But to my mind, they are mostly from people who bring their own hangups and preconceived ideas into the free-thinking territory which Daniel Quinn operates. Even if the answers which Quinn presents may not be satisfactory to everyone, he is certainly asking very interesting questions.

Personal responses

Ishmael helped me piece together personal observations which had previously been held separate in my mind. It also presented new, unique ways of looking at humanity and the environment. One small response to the book can be found in my Purpose comic. Finally, Quinn’s storytelling technique gave me ideas into new ways which complex ideas can be explained to others.

Of everything I read last year, this was my favourite. If you like my comics, I am sure you will enjoy this book. Buy Ishmael new / used (aff).