Instead of familiar images of icebergs and frozen vistas, my PhD research endeavours to depict an interconnected polar ecosystem that is warming at a rate of 3-7 times faster than other landmasses on Earth. From this perspective, the Arctic can be seen as a microcosm of climate breakdown, where the accelerating effects of climate collapse are already visible within its human and nonhuman animal ways of life. In the next thirty years, the far North’s permafrost landscapes will see unprecedented change due to rising ocean levels, soil erosion and permafrost slump. The effects of Arctic amplification, or a quickened state of warming will produce increases to extreme weather and forest fires that will alter the migration of fish, mammals and insects and result in widespread losses to animal habitat and food sources. Many Arctic species will further decline or become extinct, while many Indigenous communities will need to relocate or drastically adapt due to rising water levels. Villages built on permafrost or those who rely on seasonal ice roads will see vast changes to infrastructure, transportation and to the cost of living.

Like many decolonial Arctic researchers, my dissertation centers the “wicked problem” of climate collapse with a call to go beyond binary separations between human and animal relationships through stewarding interdisciplinary forms of research that include climate science, activism and humanities to embody a multispecies approach to witnessing and interpreting climate breakdown. Utilizing first-person narratives, photographs, sculptures and public exhibitions, my research creation looks to amplify the impacts of a warming Arctic from a more-than-human perspective to visualize an interconnected approach to Arctic studies shaped by my time in the polar north. Through this lens, my research looks to decenter the human within Arctic scholarship that largely looks to mitigate the anthropogenic effects of climate warming while nonhuman animal populations are given little consideration or are mentioned in terms of their survival for hunting, livestock or tourism. From a critical animal studies (CAS) outlook, this emphasis on nonhuman animals not only references the lives of animals but calls into question the anthropocentric perspectives engrained throughout climate discussions, environmental law and conservation mandates. This omnipresent, hierarchical placement of the human is deeply rooted within the histories of colonialism and capitalism, and within the Arctic extends back to the beginnings of settler contact with Indigenous communities through the removal of resources and cultural knowledge without consent. While becoming aware of multispecies entanglements may lead to a greater sense of awareness, CAS research looks to transform and eliminate the unjust treatment of nonhuman animals by identifying the institutional and structural forms of power that remain in place to support the erasure and mistreatment of animals. In short, a CAS perspective continually questions dominant forms of anthropocentric knowledge that place nonhuman animals in positions of exploitation in an effort to support and comprehend the lived experiences of nonhuman animals. Contextually, this viewpoint is often described as animal standpoint theory, an extension of second-wave, feminist standpoint theories that incorporate the experience of the “other” to witness the marginalization and abuse of animals from a decentralized or intersectional point of view. By pinpointing these gaps, my research looks to question, provoke and analyze the often unseen realities of climate collapse for nonhuman animals to envision a postanthropocentric representation of the Arctic.

Within most climatology research circles, the Far North is presented as a backdrop to anthropogenic ways of life, with nonhuman animals occupying a bystander role or an afterthought in response to climate breakdown or legislation. Equally, the Arctic is often employed as a landscape for extreme adventure and tourism and is largely described as a vast, isolated landmass of exotic destinations. While many northern Indigenous communities are working towards self-governance through the recognition of the ongoing effects of colonial violence, the Arctic is predominantly viewed as a limitless resource for extractive industries, including mining and oil and gas development. More recently, this interconnected ecosystem of tundra forest, permafrost landscapes and waterways has also been identified as one of the world’s largest methane storage devices that, environmentally speaking, amounts to a ticking time bomb capable of releasing untold amounts of carbon dioxide and methane into the atmosphere. Amongst these shifting definitions of the Arctic, my dissertation asks how a melting Arctic will be experienced for thousands of at-risk nonhuman animals who call the North home. More precisely, my research looks to question the binary division between human and animal lifeworlds that center a response to climate collapse around a solely anthropocentric context. Richard Twine describes states, “Dominant norms of human exceptionalism are self-defeating, partly because they are predicated on an assumption of human abstraction from the rest of nature” (2024, 8).

Within four chapters, I incorporate forms of autoethnography to expand my experiences within the Arctic that examine extinction, conservation and climate research from an interdisciplinary and more-than-human perspective in response to my time in the Arctic. By rejecting an anthropocentric understanding of climate breakdown, my research hopes to shift focus to the realities experienced by the countless nonhuman animals located within the North. Collectively, my text incorporates autoethnography to reflect on the polar animal habitats and human connections I encountered while spending time within these remote territories and scientific spaces. As an independent artist-researcher, my research status enabled me with access to permafrost labs, field camps, science stations and palaeontology collections tied to a community of researchers working within Norway, Canada and Russia. Through my documentation of ancient DNA researchers, field technicians, palaeologists, Indigenous knowledge holders and permafrost researchers, I was able to witness the shifting requirements of Arctic fieldwork and the effects of a warming climate on research mandates and ways of working. Moreover, my time in the field fueled a sense of immediacy, as the researchers I photographed were already incorporating new protocols to navigate extreme weather, erratic climate events and unexpected outcomes within their field reporting due to rising water levels and increased polar warming.