merel maan galama

planthood

Merel Maan Galama, 2024, outline

As climate change is discussed, a widely spread point of agreement is that we need systematic change in order to ‘maintain’ an environment in which humans can survive. Be that as it may, what exactly do we mean with systematic change? Maintaining an environment in which we can survive means finding – or living out – a new relation with nature, to see ourselves as part of ecosystems.

Still, many ecologists rationalize that ecosystems can be understood when deprived of their human-related histories of unequal economic, ontological and social relations. However, Western Europeans’ view on nature is fueled by the colonial history of botanical gardens and the classification of nature.

Therefore, when talking about systematic change to maintain an environment in which we can survive, or even thrive, we must inspect our historic relationships with nature. After all, histories of inequality between us, shaped us, and continue to do so. 

Houseplants are, for many people, a way to connect with nature and care for it.

I have a bit of a complicated relationship with plants now. Trees have a rich communication network with each other. Probably all plants are in constant communication with each other, all sorts of things happen and now they are all locked up as individuals. They don’t give me much anymore. Now. It is a lot of work and when your interests change, it’s hard to accept that plants no longer fit into your lifestyle. They give me responsibility. A responsibility I don’t take very seriously. They used to give me a lot of pleasure. It still gives me a feeling of affection, when I spend time with them. That I really look at them. Plant by plant. Which ones are doing well, which ones are not? I really do get something out of that. They have brought a lot of relaxation, but also a lot of stress because I have sick plants all the time. But not so much that I don’t want any more plants. Can’t really imagine not having any more plants. They give me a habitat in which I feel at home. I really hate rooms that don’t have plants in them. Very bare.

I once understood the concept of photosynthesis as a child. And then I thought, “wow that’s amazing”. That’s kind of always in the background. There’s a living process in my house all the time, where light is caught and then all these little processes happen in those beautiful leaves, and then oxygen and more leaves come. I don’t think about it very often, but that is magical.

It fascinates me less than the process in people, for example. Plants make things themselves from light and that’s why we can live. That is crazy. Without plants, without algae, we wouldn’t be here. I work on that every day. I know very well that we are not doing so well with what we have. So the plant here is nothing compared to a forest or a grass ecosystem. But having different plants here, I have different species, then I can regularly see, wow this is all from nature. They are all adapted to their own conditions, a lot of plants would never live together. They don’t even come naturally in the same square kilometer. But they don’t do it together at all here, they are all on their own.

I have a bit of a complicated relationship with plants now. Trees have a rich communication network with each other. Probably all plants are in constant communication with each other, all sorts of things happen and now they are all locked up as individuals. They don’t give me much anymore. Now. It is a lot of work and when your interests change, it’s hard to accept that plants no longer fit into your lifestyle. They give me responsibility. A responsibility I don’t take very seriously. They used to give me a lot of pleasure. It still gives me a feeling of affection, when I spend time with them. That I really look at them. Plant by plant. Which ones are doing well, which ones are not? I really do get something out of that. They have brought a lot of relaxation, but also a lot of stress because I have sick plants all the time. But not so much that I don’t want any more plants. Can’t really imagine not having any more plants. They give me a habitat in which I feel at home. I really hate rooms that don’t have plants in them. Very bare.

I once understood the concept of photosynthesis as a child. And then I thought, “wow that’s amazing”. That’s kind of always in the background. There’s a living process in my house all the time, where light is caught and then all these little processes happen in those beautiful leaves, and then oxygen and more leaves come. I don’t think about it very often, but that is magical.

It fascinates me less than the process in people, for example. Plants make things themselves from light and that’s why we can live. That is crazy. Without plants, without algae, we wouldn’t be here. I work on that every day. I know very well that we are not doing so well with what we have. So the plant here is nothing compared to a forest or a grass ecosystem. But having different plants here, I have different species, then I can regularly see, wow this is all from nature. They are all adapted to their own conditions, a lot of plants would never live together. They don’t even come naturally in the same square kilometer. But they don’t do it together at all here, they are all on their own.

I went to a plant shop in Ostkreuz, where I bought plants with my flatmates. It was an attempt to start over with indoor plants, because I had let a lot of them dry up. I informed myself properly about what conditions the trout Begonia needs. It was the first one where I tried to take responsibility. The Begonia looks a bit neglected. I’m more of an insecure ambivalent attachment parent to the plant because then I’m there and love it very much and then I forget it again for a few months. Especially the soil. It is almost unpleasant because it’s so dirty. Maybe she needs more water. But not more than once a week. I think. But sometimes she doesn’t get watered for 3 weeks or 4. I’ve never looked after her on holiday either. She has been alone for 3 weeks and nothing has happened but… It’s hardiness.

A space needs something alive, somehow. The spaces where I live in, or where most people in the city live in, I find them very static, except for people’s own chaos or order. The plants are, they have something else of their own. It’s not all just what I produce, acquire, maintain. The change comes from them. I find that somehow reassuring and exciting. I think that it brings atmosphere, that it is still something that is alive. Like companionship and being less alone, yes, it has something to do with that, and it’s good for the air quality.

Although I don’t have names for these plants, I have feelings for them. I think about the people I got them from, or the time period in which I got the plant. If you’re with a plant with whom things weren’t going well for a long time, and again it’s improving, it’s going well with them, then it’s like … a friendship that you went through a difficult time with and now it’s getting better and it’s progressing. That gives a sense of hope. It went very bad with them for 2, 3, 4 years and then you think it’s never going to be better, and then you put them in a new environment and that’s enough. That gives hope, in general, for life, in general.

Without water, it becomes difficult for the plants to live. And I’m the only one who can water them, because I’m the only one who has a key for this apartment. I am not that dependent on them, but maybe it would be nice to make myself dependent on them, emotionally. That would start as soon as I begin to talk to them. But I don’t do that so far, and I wonder if that has to do with not wanting to make myself dependent.

On the other hand, it’s also a pretty sure way to make yourself dependent upon something, because you have a lot of power over them. Not much can go wrong. They can’t let you down. They give me something natural. Something refreshing. Less loneliness. More connection with nature. That something changes without you doing much about it. You have to refresh or nourish something. And something has changed because something happens. It’s exciting. It gives a bit of a… you know, you come back and then something is waiting for you.