Jessica Marie Gross

Our experience of the world is unique. It is increasingly shaped by controlled, artificial environments, where many of us have little exposure to non-domesticated animals and plants.  I am interested in how this way of living influences our perception of other organisms and diminishes our capacity for empathy toward them. As we grow more estranged from the natural world, we must question the futures we are creating – worlds where nature becomes an abstract idea, rather than a vital part of our lives.

In my series of bird skins, I confront the unsettling reality of our relationship with the natural world, emphasizing how we reduce living beings to objects of curiosity and control. I invite viewers to reflect on their own perceptions of the natural world as I do the same, questioning my vague understanding of it and its validity. My aim is not just to explore these uncertainties for myself, but to spark a conversation about the futures we want to create. Can we envision a world where our connections to other species are founded on care and respect, rather than dominance?

My work as a whole envisions a future where we reconsider our role int he world and cultivate a deeper sense of empathy. By engaging with the grotesque beauty of lifeless birds, I encourage viewers to challenge their assumptions and begin imagining new ways of relating to the environment – ones that prioritize communal care and a reconnection with the living world. These reflections serve as a foundation for radically dreaming of new social and political realities where human and non-human life coexists more harmoniously.

Like us, rats are intelligent social creatures capable of empathetic and selfless behaviors; in psychological experiments, they sacrifice highly-valued rewards to allay the fear and suffering of their fellow rat. However, despite their similarity to us, we despise them and see them as symbols of fear and disdain.

Our negative attitudes towards rats mirror our feelings for one another. The mistreatment we have inflicted on rats—genocide, vilification, experimentation, and sterilization—parallels the atrocities we have committed against each other.

Many of the most powerful images from the past 2,000 depict religious scenes centered on love and sacrifice.

In this work, I replace religious figures and devotees with rats to produce a contrast between symbols of ultimate love and symbols of disgust and hatred. This juxtaposition underscores that the love we profess for others is not universally applied. I invite the viewer to reflect on the similarities between us and rats and to consider what we value and revile in one another.

I have long been fascinated by the role that rats play in our lives. For tens of thousands of years, they have lived alongside us, bordering the line between wild and domesticated. Like us, they quickly adapt to ecological shifts and their psyche was shaped by a social environment. This shared evolution has made them invaluable models for psychological and biological research.

The (possibly cryptozoological) phenomenon of rat kings—where two or more rats' tails become tangled, irreversibly binding them together—captures my imagination both visually and metaphorically. This metaphor extends beyond the physical bond rats form with each other to the profound connection they share with us. As social creatures, rats form deep and meaningful attachments, mirroring the strong and permanent bond we have forged with them through our built environments, food production systems, and laboratory experiments.

The debate over whether rat kings occur naturally or are merely cryptozoological hoaxes adds another layer to my interest. Regardless of their authenticity, people's fascination with rat kings highlights our perception of the natural world and our interference in it.

I feel a palpable isolation from the natural world. I believe I share this sense of isolation with many people in post-industrialized societies. We no longer have an authentic interaction with the natural world. Instead, we find ways to bring it safely into our lives with manicured parks, lawns, and potted plants. This nature is contained, controlled, and separated from the rest of our environment, and we have come to accept this clinical interaction as authentic. Much of the vegetation we unintentionally encounter has been completely transformed; it is prepackaged, processed, and unrecognizable, and appears in the form of strange objects like junk mail. Junk mail is abundant and ubiquitous yet completely unnecessary. I find this form of nature particularly interesting because it is the ultimate symbol of consumption – vast amounts of plant life and energy is consumed to produce it, and it is produced to promote the consumption of other goods. I, like many people, throw it away or recycle it immediately without looking at it. In this work, I “recycle” my junk mail by transforming back into a plant-like form, then I place it in soil like a houseplant – the form of nature I most regularly encounter. As I make the plants, I contemplate the act of throwing away my junk mail as a metaphor for the discarding of the natural world via the production of junk mail itself.