Everything Ghost Forest Touches, It Changes

It was a very hot summer.

Of course, the last few summers have been the hottest summers ever recorded, so this was not a surprise. 2024 felt different to me though, as though we had reached a new threshold for alarm. Where I am in Baltimore, Maryland, we experienced our first heat wave of the year, with temperatures exceeding 90 degrees, before it was even officially summertime. That heat wave had just broken, and summer had just officially begun, when I went to see a workshop reading of Ghost Forest by Mekala Sridhar—a play that grapples with the climate crisis—at Eaton House in late June, produced by Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company. I was exhausted, sweaty, and fervently excited to see a piece of theatre that was acknowledging the thing we are all experiencing and yet, in my opinion, not talking about nearly enough.

Loosely inspired by “A White Heron,” a short story by Sarah Orne Jewett, Ghost Forest follows Sylvy, a young woman who has never broken out of the comforts of her routine. When the opportunity for adventure arises, she goes on a quest to find a heron that is the last of its species. “Sylvy finds herself in the midst of a rapidly disappearing forest at odds with the sea and must grapple with the question—and consequences—of her own inaction.”

The script itself was incredible—poetic, moving, and evocative of beautiful, strong imagery even in a simple staged reading. However, even more moving than the performance I saw was the process to create it.

What could new play development look like outside of the typical capitalist timeline and structure?

The production was directed and dramaturged by Katie Ciszek. Because Katie and Mekala are good friends, they did not sit down, decide to work on this project together, and then begin to imagine how to create a process that is nourishing, life-giving, and atypical of many common theatrical processes. Instead, this process blossomed from conversations the two had already been having about theatremaking and new play development.

“We were dreaming a lot not just in the context of Mekala’s script, but in the context of how we wanted that script to be developed… What could new play development look like outside of the typical capitalist timeline and structure?” Katie told me when I jointly interviewed them and Mekala. They both had experienced theatrical processes that they felt failed the art or artist. They wanted better and knew that they would not approach developing Ghost Forest in a “typical” way. They sought to create something that would serve the art and artists while also serving the surrounding community.

Community Dramaturgy

That belief led to their adoption of “community dramaturgy”—seeking to learn from and collaborate with experts within the local community who may not have any involvement in a theatrical production otherwise. This was drawn from their belief that theatremaking can often be an insular process. “Art that is made for the community should actually be involving the community in the process,” said Katie. Mekala shared that they wanted to talk to people who have “lived this work and have experienced this effect of climate change in a really intimate way.”

Mekala and Katie spoke to Stephanie Miller, a member of the Eaton House creative residency program who runs Zero Waste DC, a one-stop resource on recycling, reducing waste, composting, and special waste handling. Stephanie later introduced them to Karen Lash, a lawyer and artist who used the trash in her community to create a mural. It not only was a sustainability project but became a beautiful way to build community. Mekala and Katie plan to utilize the knowledge and organizational connections for future productions. The conversations not only grounded the piece in their local community and connected them to sustainability efforts in Washington, D.C., but it informed their thinking of the script. For example, a key question that arises in Ghost Forest is: what is the intersection between individual action and individual responsibility and collective action? That conversation continuously emerged when they spoke to Stephanie.

Another expert they engaged was Greg Kahn, the man behind the project 3 Millimeters. The phenomenon of “ghost forests” refers to the watery remains of a once vibrant forest. The forest is at odds with the sea—as sea level rises, saltwater encroaches on the land, taking over the freshwater that the trees rely on for sustenance. The saltwater slowly poisons these trees, leaving a haunted “ghost forest” behind. This sea level rise on the Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay is what Greg has been documenting for over a decade. His project focuses on what climate change and sea level rise will mean to the people, the land, and the economy of coastal Maryland.

Notably, Greg’s approach to documenting the climate crisis is also artistic. He uses photo and video documentation to tell the stories of those who are impacted by this crisis. He believes that “climate documentation has become stale” and wanted to create something beautiful so that he could translate the great work that climate scientists are doing into a visual medium to reach as many people as possible. He tries to “marry that science and humanity together.”

Greg’s work offers a level of empathy that is often lacking from conversations about the climate emergency. Many of the people he has interviewed do not identify as “Democrats” or “Liberals” and may even balk at the words “climate change.” Yet they are being impacted by this crisis and care deeply about the land they call home. He hopes the work illuminates that “when we break it down into those elements of community and history, I think it becomes a common ground with which we’re able to work together to create solutions rather than argue over terminology.”

If we can’t care for people well in our small-scale artistic communities, how can we manage to do it on a large scale as we combat the climate crisis?

When he met Mekala and Katie, Greg “had no idea if there was anything that [he] had that would be relevant for this exact storytelling,” but Mekala and Katie’s conversations with Greg and engagement with his work greatly enriched Ghost Forest. A beautiful scene in which The Hunter teaches Sylvy how to bird call was inspired by the real-life bird callers Greg has documented. Sylvy struggles to do the call twice. The Hunter tells her “you have to really want it,” and then she manages to do one expertly. Her desire to connect with the birds leads her to do it, but this also ends up leading to the demise of the bird—not unlike the real-life bird callers who use the skill for hunting. This scene, which was informed by this community dramaturgy work, is one of my favorites in the show.

Working with community members was fruitful on both ends. Not only did Greg’s work have a positive impact on the piece, but Greg felt positively influenced by the piece as well. “It was just a really heartening process to be a part of…. Just looking at how engaged the audience was. They really knocked it out of the park.”

Greg’s photography was not the only opportunity the creative team had to engage with other art. Mekala and Katie worked with fiber artist Emi Kawashima to create a communal loom, woven shadows, that was in the lobby for the audience to engage with before and after the show. It stood next to a basket of materials sourced from things the creative team already had. A note urged audience members to contribute to the loom by weaving materials from the basket. It read “As you add to the piece, consider the ways that each of us impact the more-than-human world, how our individual responsibilities intersect with collective action, and the ways we can imagine a better future for all beings.” When I tied a yellow wrapper into the installation, I accidentally ripped off someone else’s piece. I became acutely aware of my own impact.

A guiding principle of the Ghost Forest process was this quote from Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower: “All that you touch/ You Change./ All that you Change/ Changes you. The only lasting truth/ is Change. God/ is Change.” This is also a principle of Emergent Strategy by adrienne maree brown (another influence Mekala and Katie cited for the process). The underlying idea is that everything you do changes you—every book you read, every conversation you have, every show you watch. Everything that touched Ghost Forest changed it, and it changed all the people in the process as well.

The Actors’ Experiences

I was interested to hear about how the actors experienced the process, because I know lofty ideals behind a show often fall short. You may know of a show that was publicly lauded as “progressive” or “radical” but felt exploitative behind the scenes. Another principle of Emergent Strategy: “Small is all; the large is a reflection of the small.” If we can’t care for people well in our small-scale artistic communities, how can we manage to do it on a large scale as we combat the climate crisis? If we are putting on a show about the climate crisis, which is fueled by extraction, but are conducting an artistic process in which the labor of the artists is extracted with little care for their wellbeing or opinions, then are we better than the oil companies? We have to understand our artistic processes as representative of the world.

Mekala and Katie were sure to contextualize Ghost Forest as part of the world. In the first rehearsal, they acknowledged the ecocide happening in occupied Palestine, Indigenous people’s land and water and native plant life being targeted, and climate activists facing domestic terrorism charges. This tone setting highlighted the team’s desire that this show would be grounded in our world, and not distinct from it, which several of the artists were grateful for.

I spoke to Mani Yangilmau, who played The Heron. Being a part of Ghost Forest was a deeply moving experience for them. They felt very connected to the script. “As a displaced Indigenous Pasifika person, this has been really, really rewarding and also devastating to take on.” Mani is originally from an island called Palau, which is the fourth smallest island in the world. When tides rise, their people will be some of the first who are impacted and become climate refugees.

In Ghost Forest, The Heron watches as all of the other animals in the forest slowly disappear. Mani shared that being a mainland islander made them feel “a spiritual connection to The Heron,” resulting in a “really heavy and really rewarding experience.” It was one of the first times they felt like they saw theatre artists really seeing the urgency of our current moment, and the show gave a space for them to express their extreme grief. It also helped them look closely at their own role in the climate crisis.

Surasree Das, who played Sylvy, also expressed a deep connection to the story. She grew up with a lot of birds around her and used to rescue them with her family. The death of The Heron deeply struck her. She shared, “I was crying a lot through the rehearsals. Every time The Heron would die, I would have to collect myself and move forward. It was very hard for me to separate myself from the character in this situation.” Ultimately, she was able to find the distinction, but “it was a very visceral experience.”

Part of the immersion into the story was provided by the wealth of information actors received, which was informed by the community dramaturgy. Surasree shared that the information motivated her to follow the climate-engaged groups, share their work, talk to her friends about the play, and pursue more ways to make an impact.

Mani was also impacted by the wealth of knowledge available and the way it was presented. Katie created an entire map that represented the journey of the play, of Sylvy, and of The Heron. It was a physical map of the setting, a map of the journey they were on, and it was nonlinear. Mani said “I have never seen dramaturgy expressed in such a visual way. It really opened up my mind.”

“I have severe ADHD,” Mani shared, and they were not the only neurodivergent person in the room. They told me how the space was very open to what was needed for the actors to feel safe and comfortable. Nobody cared if they were standing up or moving around throughout the space. There was also an event with Eaton House, the Creative Kickback, where they were able to make art and were encouraged to doodle on their script, which opened up new pathways for them to engage with the story in a way they don’t normally get to.

What Will Grow From This?

Another principle of Emergent Strategy: “What you pay attention to, grows.” There are so many things that can grow from this process. Hopefully, more theatremakers can be inspired to collaborate with climate scientists. Greg thought this was a great example of something that can be done by artists to bridge the gap between science and the public. 

The impact that this show had on the artists will also continue to grow within their own lives. In the story, the forest asks Sylvy: “when did you stop being that child who ran through the woods?/ dirt stains and bare feet/ that’s when you stopped hearing us.”

Some of the artists involved echoed this sentiment, talking about how they used to be connected to nature in ways they have lost as an adult. Surasree said that being a part of the play has enriched her connection with nature, and it was cool to be in a piece 

that made you more aware of everything around you. And made you want to do more and be more. I just have so much more love now too. Before, if I was hugging one tree on my walk, now I have made it a thing to hug as many as possible on my walk.

Mani shared how much the piece meant to them and how they hope to be involved in the future. Being a part of this play, they told me, 

really did feel like we were doing important work. And oftentimes it’s really hard to feel, when I’m getting hired by these companies that are beholden to their old white shareholders. As an Indigenous artist, that is something I’ve been craving for and looking for. It’s few and far between.

As for me? I was deeply moved by what I saw, as well as the conversations I had, and I wanted that to continue to grow in my life too.

One of the actions I was inspired to do was write this piece so that more of you could know about Ghost Forest and think about the story, how we can be creating theatre like it, and how we can let that theatre impact our further actions. If every person who read this piece was inspired to do one thing differently to combat the climate crisis, would that fix everything? No. But “small is all.” And “all that we touch we change.” I was changed by seeing Ghost Forest and changed even further by learning about how it was created. This essay is one attempt to continue changing things I touch. I hope you are similarly changed, in any small way.