Soundtracks of survival: Music, dance, and the environmental crisis
Updated: 3 days ago

Nowadays, art can be anything. Long gone are the times of Mozart and Van Gogh; welcome Tyler, the Creator and Banksy. Our cultural acceptance of different types of art is a good thing, but it also brings up questions about whether a piece is deserving of its audience. “Comedian,” an art piece consisting of a banana taped to a wall, sold for $6.2 million at auction. Does every art piece have validity in our current times?
Because art is so subjective, people carry strong opinions about the merit of every piece. That’s why when I first heard of climate art, I was curious. Climate, to me, felt shared between rigid disciplines. Policy. Education. Science. I didn’t think climate art could be expanded into a field with as much impact as science. But as a musician, painter, and dancer, I also wanted to learn if my two favorite disciplines could intersect.
I started at Stanford University’s first Climate Week last year, a week that brought together climate professionals and leaders across every industry to accelerate climate action. What caught my eye was the closing performance: “When the World Breathes Again,” an exploration of climate through music and dance. The performance was led by Stanford students Sean Tan and Eddie Chen.
Tan founded Ensemble OH?, a music group named for its intent to make people say “Oh?” He conducted his ensemble at the performance and described the music as a journey through time, starting with the sounds of the “primal rainforest” and “rustling of leaves” conveyed through wind instrumentalists breathing in and out.
“The flute would imitate the sound of a bird,” Tan explained
Then, they added techno and electronic beats, “signs of modernity.” These sounds were meant to conflict with the rainforest.
The most powerful part of the performance came from Jane Goodall.
“I took voice clips from her final interview, in her final message to humanity, and I injected them at multiple points through the piece,” Tan said.
He looped her saying “wake up,” over and over, lulling the audience into contemplation

Chen, a hip hop dance specialist who has been dancing since he was seven, was one of the interpretive dancers translating Tan’s music into motion. Chen described the dance as a mixture of freestyle and choreography.
“As we planned out the intention and not the movement, the movement actually followed the intention,” Chen said.
At times, the dancers moved erratically to the techno beat, and at other moments flowed in sync, accentuating the conflict in the music.
The reactions of the crowd were overwhelmingly positive.
“The audience loved it,” Tan said. “I didn’t expect techno or EDM to be so emotional in that context, but it really was.”
Chen also found the experience transformative: “All the other 60 events were focused on the academic space, so it was kind of a breath of fresh air.”

Tan, who had never worked in the climate space before the concert, and Chen, who is majoring in Energy Science and Engineering, were both able to find meaning in climate art, making me hopeful for its future when experienced by a diverse audience.
The influence of climate art extends far beyond Stanford, as I learned when I arranged to meet with Fran Schulberg, executive producer for ClimateMusic. ClimateMusic is a San Francisco-based nonprofit that produces music pieces inspired by the environment. The group has been operating for a decade and has released around ten unique musical compositions about climate change to a global audience.
Schulberg says her favorites are “Icarus in Flight,” a “chamber music piece describing the human drivers of climate change,” and “Feel it All,” an “upbeat piece about solutions.”
Both pieces incorporate actual data through sonification: the science of mapping the rising frequency of CO2 levels onto pitch or discordance that the musicians can follow. “Icarus in Flight,” for example, gets more and more discordant to depict the rise in CO2. Sonification made me realize that music can reflect climate data.
Schulberg also proudly mentioned the Be Cool! campaign that ClimateMusic launched in 2024. The organization produced the song “I Wanna Be Cool” and recorded a video using participants from around the globe, which went viral. The traction from the video helped provide a school in Nigeria with solar power.
“Music has a way of engaging people, creating community, getting people inspired,” Schulberg said.
When it comes to impact, Schulberg has a plethora of stories to share.
“A couple of our composers who were not engaged in climate before became climate activists,” Schulberg said.
People have gone up to her at concerts and explained how the music has changed their lives. It even makes Schulberg think about her daughter in a new light.
“Hearing what the world sounded like when I was born, and hearing what it sounds like when my daughter was born, and hearing what my granddaughter’s world will sound like is striking,” Schulberg said.

So what is the ultimate value of art in the climate movement? Each artist has a take.
“Most people would not go to a lecture or read articles, but they would go to a concert,” Schulberg said.
She believes that music is a universal language for taking action.
Tan said that compared to scientists researching energy right now, “I think we supply a different form of energy that shows what happens when you put 200, even 300 percent of your soul into something.”
Because climate is a “human mission,” it needs art to bring people together, he explained.
Chen and Tan advertised the power of being bold and interdisciplinary.
“What if you could choreograph for Ariana Grande, but also fix climate change?” Chen smiled. “It’s super empowering to give yourself that dream and excite yourself.”
Tan added his advice on making change: “Don’t always be considering what sounds pleasant, what sounds nice…Consider what’s memorable.”
Tan applies this statement to music, but it can really be taken as advice for anyone looking to make an impact.
“Oftentimes, the most uncomfortable thing might make people remember better,” Tan said.
Clearly, art and science are not as distinct as I thought. Sonification, bird noises, and the impact on human listeners reflect why art is inseparable from the climate movement. What struck me about listening to these three artists was the collective belief that art’s impact comes from being the interpreter for science. It made me think of our government moving at a snail’s pace to enact change, and the world mulling over climate facts but never taking action. Perhaps what our current era needs most is the translation, the human aspect that will make people wake up.






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