Imagine a world where the apple that inspired Newton’s theory of gravity becomes a symbol of our fight against climate change. Sounds bold, right? Well, that’s exactly what a group of artists, led by the visionary Gustav Metzger, set out to do. But here’s where it gets controversial—can art truly spark a global movement to save our planet, or is it just a drop in the ocean? Let’s dive in.
Back in 2015, as the legendary artist and activist Gustav Metzger neared the end of his life, he embarked on one final, ambitious project. Known for his groundbreaking concept of auto-destructive art—a response to the horrors of the Holocaust—Metzger had spent decades inspiring figures like Pete Townshend of The Who and advocating for causes like nuclear disarmament and vegetarianism. In a poignant three-minute video, he issued his last call to action: a worldwide day to Remember Nature on November 4th, 2015. His plea? For artists to unite against the ongoing loss of biodiversity. ‘Our task,’ he said, ‘is to remind people of nature’s richness and complexity, and in doing so, push art into inherently creative territories.’
Thus, Remember Nature was born—a day when artists across the UK responded creatively to the climate crisis. Metzger himself, then 89, spent the day with students at Central Saint Martins in London, clipping climate crisis stories from old Guardian issues. ‘He felt an immense urgency,’ recalls Jo Joelson, one of the event’s original curators and Metzger’s neighbor and carer. ‘I told him, ‘Let’s not wait for funding or permission. Let’s just do it.’
A decade later, while Remember Nature may not have ignited the mass artistic movement Metzger envisioned, its impact lingers. Joelson sees its echoes in initiatives like Culture Declares and Extinction Rebellion, as well as in how artists approach sustainability. To mark its 10-year anniversary, she’s relaunching the project with 18 leading artists, including Cornelia Parker, Yu-Chen Wang, A Man Called Adam, and Anya Gallaccio. They’ve designed posters, recorded calls to action, and created artworks set to debut on November 4th, 2025.
Take Gallaccio’s project, for instance. She’s in a field in Kent, planting apple trees with schoolchildren to form a spiral-shaped orchard. It’s part art installation—the espalier trees will eventually appear to ‘hold hands’—and part educational workshop. Through planning and planting, the kids learn about math (measuring tree spacing), science (discussing apple DNA), and geography (tracing apples’ journeys to Britain). ‘We chose apples with quirky names like Bloody Butcher or Duck’s Bill,’ Gallaccio explains. ‘Each has a story. The Decio apple? Introduced by the Romans. The Flower of Kent? That’s the one that supposedly fell on Newton’s head.’
Gallaccio’s goal? To reconnect kids with nature. ‘For many, apples are just supermarket items,’ she says. ‘I want them to notice where their food comes from. Maybe next time they’ll see ‘Kent’ on the label!’ Next year, the children will return to harvest and taste the apples, hopefully forging a lasting bond with the trees over the field’s 20-year reservation. The orchard also serves as a ‘visual marker of climate change,’ as warmer seasons confuse trees about fruiting times. ‘It’ll be fascinating to see how they adapt,’ she adds.
Gallaccio’s project is just one of many. In London, Youngsook Choi’s Book of Loss invites participants to search Tate Modern for ultraviolet drawings of seven vanished glaciers, each commemorated with a bell ring and reading. In Barrow-in-Furness, Maddi Nicholson hosts a free exhibition on our disconnection from the land, alongside a communal feast of local, organic produce. Meanwhile, Uta Kögelsberger streams Some Kind of Love / Forest Choir, where singers in Newcastle’s Jesmond Dene attempt to ‘sing plants back to health.’
Cornelia Parker, working with schoolchildren, plans to cover Cambridge’s Kettle’s Yard with their letters and drawings about the future. ‘Children’s words are powerful because they’re unfiltered,’ she says. ‘Their innocence and fears should inspire hope, not despair.’
Then there’s Paul Harfleet, whose Birds Can Fly project blends bird drawings with drag performances. For Remember Nature, he’ll tackle Liverpool’s Liver bird and lead a walking tour of sites from his Pansy Project—a response to homophobic abuse. Harfleet plants pansies at locations where such incidents occurred, though pigeons often eat them. ‘They’re temporary memorials,’ he notes. The pansy’s name, derived from the French penser (to think), adds layers of meaning. On November 4th, he’ll plant new pansies and revisit old sites, sharing stories with tour participants.
Both Harfleet and Joelson admire Metzger’s optimism. ‘We’re bombarded with doom and gloom,’ Joelson says. ‘But Metzger’s mantra was to move forward with hope. That’s what Remember Nature is about.’
And this is the part most people miss—art’s power to challenge, inspire, and unite. Does it solve the climate crisis? No. But it sparks conversations, shifts perspectives, and reminds us of our connection to the natural world. So, as these artists plant apples, draw glaciers, and sing to forests, they’re not just creating art—they’re planting seeds of change. What do you think? Can art truly make a difference, or is it too little, too late? Let’s hear your thoughts in the comments!
