The discussion of the 2016–2017 MoMA exhibition featuring the IKEA and UNHCR emergency shelter was one of the most memorable parts of the lecture for me because it transformed the concept of climate displacement from something abstract into something that felt real and personal. Visitors were able to physically enter the shelter and briefly experience the type of temporary living space that many displaced people depend on during humanitarian crises. The projections on the walls and floors created an immersive environment that encouraged viewers to think beyond statistics and imagine the daily realities of people forced to leave their homes. This interactive approach made me realize how powerful art can be in communicating social and environmental issues that are often difficult to explain through words alone. I was especially moved by the fact that something as simple as walking through a structure could create a deeper understanding of displacement than many news reports or political discussions. It reminded me that art has a unique ability to express real-world problems in ways that people can see, feel, and connect with emotionally.
The exhibition also made me think about the ideas discussed by T. J. Demos in The Visual Politics of Climate Refugees. Demos argues that mainstream media often portrays climate refugees through images of suffering and helplessness, creating what he calls a “spectacle of misery” that generates sympathy but rarely explains the larger political, economic, and environmental systems that contribute to displacement (Demos, pp. 76–79). I agree with this critique because media coverage often focuses on dramatic images rather than discussing long-term solutions or providing information about resources available to displaced communities. We frequently see stories about migrants and refugees after a crisis occurs, but there is much less attention given to what happens afterward. For example, when migrants from Mexico and other Latin American countries were transported by bus from Texas to New York City, many arrived without a clear action plan, support system, or understanding of what resources would be available to them. While the circumstances are not identical to climate displacement, both situations reveal how vulnerable populations are often moved from place to place while governments and institutions struggle to provide coordinated support. Demos’s argument helped me understand that displacement is not simply an individual tragedy but a structural issue that requires political action, social investment, and long term planning (Demos, pp. 94–95). The MoMA exhibition challenged viewers not only to empathize with displaced people but also to think critically about society’s responsibility to address the root causes of displacement and create meaningful solutions for those affected. I honestly wish I had the opportunity to see this exhibition when he was on display.
I think it’s interesting how you point out that by recreating the environment refugees enter during the disaster, the author creates an alternative to brutal footage while still keeping the viewer emotionally engaged with the problem
The lecture explained that climate change can also play an important role by making places difficult or impossible to live in because of drought, flooding, rising sea levels, and other environmental problems. I learned that these issues are often connected, making it difficult to separate climate change from war, poverty, and political conflict.
One thing in the lecture that stood out to me was the discussion about the artwork by Martin Roth. At first, I did not understand why the artist filled the gallery with rubble, parakeets, and bullfrogs. After hearing the explanation, I realized the artwork was about the idea of home, displacement, and finding a safe place to live. I thought it was interesting that the rescued animals represented the need for shelter without directly comparing them to human refugees. It made me think about how important it is for every living thing to have a safe place.
I also found it interesting that the lecture questioned the term “climate refugee.” I had never considered that the term might leave out important history, such as colonialism, economic inequality, and the countries that have contributed the most to climate change. The lecture explained that many of the communities suffering the greatest effects of climate change are not the ones most responsible for causing it. That made me realize that climate change is not only an environmental issue but also a question of fairness and justice.
Another point that stayed with me was the role of art. The lecture showed several artists who use photography, film, and installations to help people understand the experiences of refugees. I liked the idea that art can make people think about issues that are often ignored in everyday life. At the same time, I understood the criticism that some artworks focus too much on suffering without explaining the larger political and environmental causes behind it.
Overall, I thought this lecture was thoughtful and informative. It changed the way I think about refugees by showing that displacement is often caused by many different factors working together. It also reminded me that climate change affects real people and communities around the world. I believe that learning about these issues through art can encourage more people to pay attention and think about how we can create a more fair and sustainable future.
I like how you point out that climate action is a question of justice unseparable from the issues of colonialism and inequality. Art really has the power to get to people when it comes to these kinds of issues
The lecture about climate refugees really reminded me about how war, displacement, and environmental catastrophes are intertwined. I’m from Ukraine, and this topic is generally familiar to me. Ever since the Russian full-scale invasion started in 2022, we have experienced not only a large number of internally displaced persons and refugees going abroad, but also a few environmental disasters.
The first example that comes to mind is the capture of the Kinburn Split by Russia in 2022. It’s a very narrow piece of land featuring a very unique ecosystem. It is fairly isolated, which is why it has a large number of endangered endemic species of plants and animals. For example, it has almost 100 different species of orchid, which is generally not a common plant in Ukraine. In 2022, it was captured by Russia and used for military technology and as a launch site for missiles. During the time the split was occupied by Russia, a lot of pollutants were released into the area, killing nearby dolphins.
Another example is the destruction of the Kakhovka dam in 2023. That was a hydroelectric power plant that used to fill the Kahovka reservoir, supplying water to nearby villages. It was blown up by Russia’s military during their retreat from the area. The flooding levels reached over 18 feet at the highest levels. The flooding killed hundreds of people and countless numbers of wild and farm animals, while 17 000 people were evacuated on the Ukrainian side of the flooding. During the flooding, the house-museum of Ukrainian artist Polina Raiko was also destroyed.
Adding to this, the 23% percent of Ukrainian territory is also contaminated by landmines, which is roughly the size of England and Wales combined. It proves a big problem for the future, because this amount of land can take decades to clear up, making it a dead zone for a while.
The lecture overall made me think about whether I know any of the Ukrainian artists who work with environmental topics. As the lecture said, a lot of the artists who work in the genre are Westerners, and not the people directly impacted by ecological disasters. I remember seeing something vaguely on topic in the Odesa Fine Arts Museum. The artist, Maria Kulikovska, makes sculptures of her own body mold, made out of soap, epoxy, or gypsum. Her work engages a lot with the identity of the artist as a person who fled home twice. First, she had to flee Crimea in 2014 when Russia occupied it, and then again during the full-scale invasion in 2022. She also engaged with gender in her work. Some of her works, which were left behind during the Russian invasion in 2014, were later used by Russian soldiers as shooting targets, as apparently, soap mimics human body density really well. She later used that to create performance art about how war and displacement affect women and vulnerable parts of the population.
Instead of thinking about Martin Roth’s installation simply as an artwork about refugees, I found it more interesting to think about how the work questions who is allowed to move and who is not. The installation fills the gallery with construction rubble, rescue parakeets, and rescued bullfrogs, creating an environment that is both beautiful and unsettling. At first glance, these elements seem disconnected, but together they expose an uncomfortable reality: borders are not neutral. They are systems that determine which lives are protected, which are ignored, and which are considered expendable.
One detail that stayed with me was Roth’s decision to transport debris from construction sites to represent the destruction of Syria while pointing out that rubble could cross international borders more easily than many people fleeing the Syrian civil war. The irony is powerful because it shows that objects often enjoy more freedom of movement than human beings. Borders are therefore not simply geographic lines; they are political tools that decide whose movement is considered acceptable. This transforms the installation from a representation of war into a critique of global systems of migration and exclusion.
I was also struck by Roth’s decision to include both rescue parakeets and rescued bullfrogs. The lecture explains that the colorful parakeets naturally attract sympathy, while the bullfrogs are less charismatic and therefore less likely to receive public concern. Rather than using the animals as direct symbols of refugees, Roth asks viewers to confront their own assumptions about which lives deserve protection. I think this idea extends beyond animals. Society often responds differently to displaced people depending on their nationality, race, religion, or cultural background. Compassion is not distributed equally, and Roth quietly exposes this uncomfortable hierarchy without directly illustrating human suffering.
This connects closely with T. J. Demos’ discussion in The Visual Politics of Climate Refugees. Demos argues that the term “climate refugee” can become limiting because it frames displaced people primarily as victims who need humanitarian aid while ignoring the historical and political forces that created their displacement. Instead of treating climate migration as a natural consequence of environmental disaster, Demos insists that we recognize the roles of colonialism, fossil fuel extraction, economic inequality, and global power structures. Roth’s installation seems to accomplish this visually. The rubble, animals, and restricted movement all suggest that displacement cannot be explained by war or climate alone. These forces are interconnected, and separating them oversimplifies the problem.
What I appreciate most about Roth’s work is that it refuses to offer an easy emotional response. The installation never tells viewers exactly what to think. Instead, it creates an experience in which beauty, discomfort, destruction, and hope exist together. In doing so, the artwork encourages viewers to question not only the refugee crisis itself but also the political systems and moral values that determine who receives sanctuary and who remains excluded. I think this makes the installation more than a commentary on migration; it becomes a critique of the unequal value that societies assign to different forms of life.
In the lecture at around 40 minutes, Prof. Gerspacher claims that Rasmus Degnbol’s “Europe’s New Borders” collection is arguably negative, pessimistic, and quite depressed about the state of affairs on the Greek island of Lesbos. In closer examination of Degnbol’s body of work, and specifically this collection, I’ve come to form a different conclusion. I find that it’s quite hopeful. Although it certainly strikes a darker tone both in form and content than much of his other work, it still carries the kind of optimism found in a refugee crisis.
Let me begin by connecting with what was discussed in the lecture: political ecology and the title “climate refugee.” The etymology of refugee is one that often gets overlooked in these discussions. A refugee is simply someone seeking refuge; a person who needs shelter. This is where we get the dehumanization of refugees from, and art like IKEA’s collab with the UN. The systematic dehumanization of refugees is not inherently tied to the title; in fact, the title of refugee serves the opposite purpose. In seeking refuge, we are supposed to find the shared humanity in these people, as all humans deserve dignity and the ability to lead a comfortable, fulfilled life, and we know this begins with food, water, and shelter. By seeking refuge, refugees are merely attempting to meet the basic necessities of life. Therefore, when denied entry to a nation or shunned by a society upon arrival, it only emboldens their cause and reveals the hypocrisy of the group perpetuating their dehumanization; the group resisting sharing their shelter, giving fellow people refuge.
In Degnbol’s work, we can see motifs of optimism, green-futurism, and appreciation for the natural beauty of this earth. When looking at this collection specifically, we can see numerous examples of these motifs. Begin with the photos shown in the lecture, which seem grim at first. People are finally getting off a boat after fleeing a devastating conflict. They shed their life vests, leaving them to be abandoned on the shore of this new, strange, and scary land. But there is a sense of beauty in that act. Not just in the act of abandoning everything you’ve ever known and loved because you must, but in the act of shedding the life vest. In taking off this thing designed to keep you afloat, you surrender yourself to the current, the danger. Now, you can safely take it off because you are out of the water. You have fled the conflict; you can leave this burden on the shore and begin your new life.
So I would argue, just like the name refugee itself, that Degnbol’s collection is not necessarily negative. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If we are to accept the shared, deeply human experience of refugees and welcome them in as our own, we create a better future for everyone. Ideally, this creates enough space and discussion to acknowledge the conditions that created their situation in the first place and work to change them. If we are to acknowledge that even in the darkest, most intense situations, there are moments of beauty, incredible strength, humanity, and optimism, we can work together towards a better future.
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The discussion of the 2016–2017 MoMA exhibition featuring the IKEA and UNHCR emergency shelter was one of the most memorable parts of the lecture for me because it transformed the concept of climate displacement from something abstract into something that felt real and personal. Visitors were able to physically enter the shelter and briefly experience the type of temporary living space that many displaced people depend on during humanitarian crises. The projections on the walls and floors created an immersive environment that encouraged viewers to think beyond statistics and imagine the daily realities of people forced to leave their homes. This interactive approach made me realize how powerful art can be in communicating social and environmental issues that are often difficult to explain through words alone. I was especially moved by the fact that something as simple as walking through a structure could create a deeper understanding of displacement than many news reports or political discussions. It reminded me that art has a unique ability to express real-world problems in ways that people can see, feel, and connect with emotionally.
The exhibition also made me think about the ideas discussed by T. J. Demos in The Visual Politics of Climate Refugees. Demos argues that mainstream media often portrays climate refugees through images of suffering and helplessness, creating what he calls a “spectacle of misery” that generates sympathy but rarely explains the larger political, economic, and environmental systems that contribute to displacement (Demos, pp. 76–79). I agree with this critique because media coverage often focuses on dramatic images rather than discussing long-term solutions or providing information about resources available to displaced communities. We frequently see stories about migrants and refugees after a crisis occurs, but there is much less attention given to what happens afterward. For example, when migrants from Mexico and other Latin American countries were transported by bus from Texas to New York City, many arrived without a clear action plan, support system, or understanding of what resources would be available to them. While the circumstances are not identical to climate displacement, both situations reveal how vulnerable populations are often moved from place to place while governments and institutions struggle to provide coordinated support. Demos’s argument helped me understand that displacement is not simply an individual tragedy but a structural issue that requires political action, social investment, and long term planning (Demos, pp. 94–95). The MoMA exhibition challenged viewers not only to empathize with displaced people but also to think critically about society’s responsibility to address the root causes of displacement and create meaningful solutions for those affected. I honestly wish I had the opportunity to see this exhibition when he was on display.
I think it’s interesting how you point out that by recreating the environment refugees enter during the disaster, the author creates an alternative to brutal footage while still keeping the viewer emotionally engaged with the problem
The lecture explained that climate change can also play an important role by making places difficult or impossible to live in because of drought, flooding, rising sea levels, and other environmental problems. I learned that these issues are often connected, making it difficult to separate climate change from war, poverty, and political conflict.
One thing in the lecture that stood out to me was the discussion about the artwork by Martin Roth. At first, I did not understand why the artist filled the gallery with rubble, parakeets, and bullfrogs. After hearing the explanation, I realized the artwork was about the idea of home, displacement, and finding a safe place to live. I thought it was interesting that the rescued animals represented the need for shelter without directly comparing them to human refugees. It made me think about how important it is for every living thing to have a safe place.
I also found it interesting that the lecture questioned the term “climate refugee.” I had never considered that the term might leave out important history, such as colonialism, economic inequality, and the countries that have contributed the most to climate change. The lecture explained that many of the communities suffering the greatest effects of climate change are not the ones most responsible for causing it. That made me realize that climate change is not only an environmental issue but also a question of fairness and justice.
Another point that stayed with me was the role of art. The lecture showed several artists who use photography, film, and installations to help people understand the experiences of refugees. I liked the idea that art can make people think about issues that are often ignored in everyday life. At the same time, I understood the criticism that some artworks focus too much on suffering without explaining the larger political and environmental causes behind it.
Overall, I thought this lecture was thoughtful and informative. It changed the way I think about refugees by showing that displacement is often caused by many different factors working together. It also reminded me that climate change affects real people and communities around the world. I believe that learning about these issues through art can encourage more people to pay attention and think about how we can create a more fair and sustainable future.
I like how you point out that climate action is a question of justice unseparable from the issues of colonialism and inequality. Art really has the power to get to people when it comes to these kinds of issues
The lecture about climate refugees really reminded me about how war, displacement, and environmental catastrophes are intertwined. I’m from Ukraine, and this topic is generally familiar to me. Ever since the Russian full-scale invasion started in 2022, we have experienced not only a large number of internally displaced persons and refugees going abroad, but also a few environmental disasters.
The first example that comes to mind is the capture of the Kinburn Split by Russia in 2022. It’s a very narrow piece of land featuring a very unique ecosystem. It is fairly isolated, which is why it has a large number of endangered endemic species of plants and animals. For example, it has almost 100 different species of orchid, which is generally not a common plant in Ukraine. In 2022, it was captured by Russia and used for military technology and as a launch site for missiles. During the time the split was occupied by Russia, a lot of pollutants were released into the area, killing nearby dolphins.
Another example is the destruction of the Kakhovka dam in 2023. That was a hydroelectric power plant that used to fill the Kahovka reservoir, supplying water to nearby villages. It was blown up by Russia’s military during their retreat from the area. The flooding levels reached over 18 feet at the highest levels. The flooding killed hundreds of people and countless numbers of wild and farm animals, while 17 000 people were evacuated on the Ukrainian side of the flooding. During the flooding, the house-museum of Ukrainian artist Polina Raiko was also destroyed.
Adding to this, the 23% percent of Ukrainian territory is also contaminated by landmines, which is roughly the size of England and Wales combined. It proves a big problem for the future, because this amount of land can take decades to clear up, making it a dead zone for a while.
The lecture overall made me think about whether I know any of the Ukrainian artists who work with environmental topics. As the lecture said, a lot of the artists who work in the genre are Westerners, and not the people directly impacted by ecological disasters. I remember seeing something vaguely on topic in the Odesa Fine Arts Museum. The artist, Maria Kulikovska, makes sculptures of her own body mold, made out of soap, epoxy, or gypsum. Her work engages a lot with the identity of the artist as a person who fled home twice. First, she had to flee Crimea in 2014 when Russia occupied it, and then again during the full-scale invasion in 2022. She also engaged with gender in her work. Some of her works, which were left behind during the Russian invasion in 2014, were later used by Russian soldiers as shooting targets, as apparently, soap mimics human body density really well. She later used that to create performance art about how war and displacement affect women and vulnerable parts of the population.
Instead of thinking about Martin Roth’s installation simply as an artwork about refugees, I found it more interesting to think about how the work questions who is allowed to move and who is not. The installation fills the gallery with construction rubble, rescue parakeets, and rescued bullfrogs, creating an environment that is both beautiful and unsettling. At first glance, these elements seem disconnected, but together they expose an uncomfortable reality: borders are not neutral. They are systems that determine which lives are protected, which are ignored, and which are considered expendable.
One detail that stayed with me was Roth’s decision to transport debris from construction sites to represent the destruction of Syria while pointing out that rubble could cross international borders more easily than many people fleeing the Syrian civil war. The irony is powerful because it shows that objects often enjoy more freedom of movement than human beings. Borders are therefore not simply geographic lines; they are political tools that decide whose movement is considered acceptable. This transforms the installation from a representation of war into a critique of global systems of migration and exclusion.
I was also struck by Roth’s decision to include both rescue parakeets and rescued bullfrogs. The lecture explains that the colorful parakeets naturally attract sympathy, while the bullfrogs are less charismatic and therefore less likely to receive public concern. Rather than using the animals as direct symbols of refugees, Roth asks viewers to confront their own assumptions about which lives deserve protection. I think this idea extends beyond animals. Society often responds differently to displaced people depending on their nationality, race, religion, or cultural background. Compassion is not distributed equally, and Roth quietly exposes this uncomfortable hierarchy without directly illustrating human suffering.
This connects closely with T. J. Demos’ discussion in The Visual Politics of Climate Refugees. Demos argues that the term “climate refugee” can become limiting because it frames displaced people primarily as victims who need humanitarian aid while ignoring the historical and political forces that created their displacement. Instead of treating climate migration as a natural consequence of environmental disaster, Demos insists that we recognize the roles of colonialism, fossil fuel extraction, economic inequality, and global power structures. Roth’s installation seems to accomplish this visually. The rubble, animals, and restricted movement all suggest that displacement cannot be explained by war or climate alone. These forces are interconnected, and separating them oversimplifies the problem.
What I appreciate most about Roth’s work is that it refuses to offer an easy emotional response. The installation never tells viewers exactly what to think. Instead, it creates an experience in which beauty, discomfort, destruction, and hope exist together. In doing so, the artwork encourages viewers to question not only the refugee crisis itself but also the political systems and moral values that determine who receives sanctuary and who remains excluded. I think this makes the installation more than a commentary on migration; it becomes a critique of the unequal value that societies assign to different forms of life.
In the lecture at around 40 minutes, Prof. Gerspacher claims that Rasmus Degnbol’s “Europe’s New Borders” collection is arguably negative, pessimistic, and quite depressed about the state of affairs on the Greek island of Lesbos. In closer examination of Degnbol’s body of work, and specifically this collection, I’ve come to form a different conclusion. I find that it’s quite hopeful. Although it certainly strikes a darker tone both in form and content than much of his other work, it still carries the kind of optimism found in a refugee crisis.
Let me begin by connecting with what was discussed in the lecture: political ecology and the title “climate refugee.” The etymology of refugee is one that often gets overlooked in these discussions. A refugee is simply someone seeking refuge; a person who needs shelter. This is where we get the dehumanization of refugees from, and art like IKEA’s collab with the UN. The systematic dehumanization of refugees is not inherently tied to the title; in fact, the title of refugee serves the opposite purpose. In seeking refuge, we are supposed to find the shared humanity in these people, as all humans deserve dignity and the ability to lead a comfortable, fulfilled life, and we know this begins with food, water, and shelter. By seeking refuge, refugees are merely attempting to meet the basic necessities of life. Therefore, when denied entry to a nation or shunned by a society upon arrival, it only emboldens their cause and reveals the hypocrisy of the group perpetuating their dehumanization; the group resisting sharing their shelter, giving fellow people refuge.
In Degnbol’s work, we can see motifs of optimism, green-futurism, and appreciation for the natural beauty of this earth. When looking at this collection specifically, we can see numerous examples of these motifs. Begin with the photos shown in the lecture, which seem grim at first. People are finally getting off a boat after fleeing a devastating conflict. They shed their life vests, leaving them to be abandoned on the shore of this new, strange, and scary land. But there is a sense of beauty in that act. Not just in the act of abandoning everything you’ve ever known and loved because you must, but in the act of shedding the life vest. In taking off this thing designed to keep you afloat, you surrender yourself to the current, the danger. Now, you can safely take it off because you are out of the water. You have fled the conflict; you can leave this burden on the shore and begin your new life.
Other photos in Degnbol’s collection include:
A man in crutches, walking into a garden. (https://img.phmuseum.com/eyJidWNrZXQiOiJpbWcucGhtdXNldW0uY29tIiwia2V5IjoidXNlcnMvdmJtUTBiWS9nYWxsZXJpZXMvb2xlalJlai9ibG9ja3MvbmVsOEdyZSIsImVkaXRzIjp7InJlc2l6ZSI6eyJmaXQiOiJjb3ZlciIsIndpZHRoIjoyMDAwfSwicm90YXRlIjpudWxsfX0=)
A destroyed house directly next to a quaint one.
https://img.phmuseum.com/eyJidWNrZXQiOiJpbWcucGhtdXNldW0uY29tIiwia2V5IjoidXNlcnMvdmJtUTBiWS9nYWxsZXJpZXMvb2xlalJlai9ibG9ja3MvNWVWSjZXZSIsImVkaXRzIjp7InJlc2l6ZSI6eyJmaXQiOiJjb3ZlciIsIndpZHRoIjoyMDAwfSwicm90YXRlIjpudWxsfX0=
And a burnt forest with a single tree blossoming in the center.
https://img.phmuseum.com/eyJidWNrZXQiOiJpbWcucGhtdXNldW0uY29tIiwia2V5IjoidXNlcnMvdmJtUTBiWS9nYWxsZXJpZXMvb2xlalJlai9ibG9ja3MvUWRKRTVQYiIsImVkaXRzIjp7InJlc2l6ZSI6eyJmaXQiOiJjb3ZlciIsIndpZHRoIjoyMDAwfSwicm90YXRlIjpudWxsfX0=
So I would argue, just like the name refugee itself, that Degnbol’s collection is not necessarily negative. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If we are to accept the shared, deeply human experience of refugees and welcome them in as our own, we create a better future for everyone. Ideally, this creates enough space and discussion to acknowledge the conditions that created their situation in the first place and work to change them. If we are to acknowledge that even in the darkest, most intense situations, there are moments of beauty, incredible strength, humanity, and optimism, we can work together towards a better future.