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This article is written in honour of Dr Winnie Yee, who introduced this film to me in her MA programme.

It has been over a year since I first encountered the film Waste Land (2010) by Lucy Walker. Upon returning to the film for this month’s article, I find myself questioning what sustainability means today and how art, in which case documentary filmmaking, could reposition our perception of the “unwanted.” Waste Land (2010) documents an artist’s journey home to empower a community of left-behind waste pickers living at the largest waste site in the world at the time, Jardim Gramacho. Vik Muniz, the artist, travels from his base in New York back home to Brazil in search of subjects to capture on his canvas. His project’s objective was to “paint” the residents of Jardim Gramacho with rubbish at the dumpsite, through which his art gives voice to the repressed community.

The narrative is framed from the artist’s perspective. The original intention was to observe an artist giving voice to the lesser represented people through their own art project. Whether this act of kindness is enough to prompt constructive change or not comes down to the following questions: is this project a form of empowerment? Or is it an illusion of empowerment? Regardless of whether the film provides a cliched narrative or not, I think the documentary serves as a great conversation starter for addressing environmentalism and activism in the current media landscape. What we should take away from the film is not the answer to solving climate change or poverty; it is the repositioning of how we approach environmentalism that we must pay heed to.

Located on the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro, Jardim Gramacho hosts 3,000 residents who receive little to no compensation for their daily collection of recyclable materials at the dumpsite. Vik enters this scene with an apparent power dichotomy between him and the residents, who at this point are not heard within the Brazilian community let alone the world. Among the residents, Vik highlights a few self-designated rubbish pickers called the “catadores,” whose lives were predetermined by the surrounding environment. I am, thus, reminded of the concept of “solastalgia.” As Albrecht writes, “[T]he concept of solastalgia has relevance wherever there is the direct experience of negative transformation or desolation of the physical environment (home) by forces that undermine a personal and community sense of identity, belonging and control.” (35) In a way, the catadores are unknowingly situated in an environment where “solostalgia” thrives, making them the perfect subjects for representation in a social project.

Muniz himself plays a very interesting role as an artist in the film. He is no stranger to creating artworks consisting of socio-environmental critiques. In his repertoire, photographs are fashioned into paintings using everyday materials such as dirt, sugar and strings. There is a sense of mindfulness about everyday materiality represented in his works. However, according to Walker, Muniz’s “initial objective was to ‘paint’ the catadores with garbage,” interpreting his subjects as a mere representation without a concrete statement behind his work, which is ironic since he says at the beginning of the film that he approaches his works as a social project for change. It would seem that the project lacked substance that could drive change. That is not to say that Muniz is not passionate about the subject. It is quite the opposite. He shows a prominent curiosity for waste as a material and is eager to include the unwanted material in his work. His “strong desire to sustain those things [material/physical changes that cause stress] that provide solace” (Albrecht, 35), which in the film’s context would be his desire to paint with waste. There is a desire to bring something to attention but without knowing what the “something” is.

The juxtaposition between the social positions of the two parties poses an intriguing phenomenon commonly found in the activism landscape. The artist uses their craft and agency to highlight an issue they have observed. However, their work does not directly contribute to constructive change. On the surface, waste and the environment would be the apparent subject. However, as the project developed, the catadores began to reimagine their lives beyond Jardim Gramacho, inherently changing the approach Muniz uses for this project. The collaborative journey demonstrates how micro-transformations in one’s environmental state can easily alter the way one thinks. In a heated discussion about whether the artistic team should bring the catadores to London for the artwork premiere only for them to return to the dumpsite without clear prospects, Vik’s wife expresses, “People are fragile.” Here, she highlights the psychological impacts of introducing hope for the chosen individuals without a promise to a better future. The intercorrelation between the artist, the subjects and the land unveils an array of unconscious assumptions that people in power hold amongst others.

There is no doubt that the land of waste is figuratively connected to the state of our society. Rubbish is literally the foundation of the land. As stated at the beginning of the film, “The ground here is all soft… If you keep adding to it without careful balancing, it will sink here or collapse there.” Jardim Gramacho is built on unwanted materials produced by humans. Another crucial factor is that rubbish consists of inanimate objects; their whereabouts are determined not by the objects themselves but by humans. In this sense, the rubbish at the dumpsite—because it is produced by humans—reveals a form of culture, like an archive. According to Jacques Derrida, “Archive is only a notion, an impression associated with a word and for which, together with Freud, we do not have a concept. We only have an impression… of a shifting figure, of a schema, or of an infinite or indefinite process” (Derrida, 29). In other words, the visual impression of the land can be considered a representation of its inhabitants’ lives, alluding to the structural instability of social classes.

Like the photographs or the portraits recreated with rubbish, the state of the environment is only captured for the viewers’ gaze but does not offer action for change beyond the moment. Waste Land, at its heart, brings to attention how we approach socio-environmental issues and how we react to and with the environment within those contexts. It is evident that our actions, our materialistic lifestyles are directly related to environmental deterioration, as well as contributing to the widening gap between social classes. Waste Land serves as an archive of the Earth’s environmental state but, furthermore, an archive for the intercorrelations between humans and the Earth.