The Conference of the Birds: Curlew and Great Auk


Cymanfa’r Adar, The Conference of the Birds takes its name from the Persian poem by Sufi poet Attar of Nishapur in which the hoopoe leads the birds on a pilgrimage in search of enlightenment.

A creatively-fuelled, process-driven forum, The Conference of the Birds aspires to perform as catalyst for ‘groupthink’. That is; respectful, non-confrontational dialogue, such as might assist in enabling an urgently needed recalibration of our relationship with the ‘beyond human’ world. In listening to perspectives beyond our own and acknowledging nuance and complexity, we give ourselves a better chance of effecting the collective action needed to arrest our rapidly-accelerating progress along the road to oblivion. It’s about building bridges and sharing stories of hope – but also being truthful. We cannot, must not sugarcoat the dark reality of what we have done, where we stand and what, as a consequence of our actions, we now face.

Birds of Memory. 1844, a sculptural, animation-based ‘lantern’ projection in the Futures Galley, Senedd Cymru, the Welsh Parliament. The piece begins on a skerry somewhere in the North Atlantic in the late eighteenth century and offers a window on moments in the daily life of a great auk colony; on great auks being great auks…
The de-extinction of the great auk in Neuadd Goffa Llangynog Memorial Hall
1844 installed in St. Beuno’s Church, Whitford, Wales. Thomas Pennant the 18th century naturalist who devised the modern English name ‘great auk’ is buried beneath the altar on which the projector sits. Swimming auks circle a flickering egg in which each of the 75 remaining eggs of the species occupies a single animation frame. Gísli Pálsson reads from The Garefowl Books in the soundworld which was composed and performed by Toby Hay.

Accordingly, the project is founded on the collaborative realisation and sharing of a diptych of immersive and deeply meditative projection pieces. These ‘beacons’, formed from animated light and sound, are presented alongside smaller animation machines, specimens, objects and works on paper. Functional both indoors and out, collectively they convey stories of time and truth, loss, return and belonging.

Gylfinir, a projection through multiple gauze screens as part of ‘Adar Cof – Birds of Memory’ in the Memorial Hall, Llangynog, a remote upland community in Powys, Wales
The ‘bubbling’ call of the curlew sounds out across St. Beuno’s Church. The story goes that Beuno gave the curlew’s egg it’s protecting camouflaged speckles as a ‘thank you’ to the curlew which swept down and caught his cherished book of prayers as it fell from his hand into the waters of the Menai Strait. A tale of reciprocity then: ‘You looked after me: so I will look after you’. The projection strikes the west wall of the church where the font – with taxidermy curlew placed on it – stands. Will the curlew become another ‘martyr’ species like the great auk? We must hope not.
The curlew, like cotton grass, is synonymous with the coming of spring to the uplands of Wales

In this way, the Conference gives principal voice to two numinous and culturally resonant birds. The great auk was the first bird species to go extinct in the Western hemisphere in historic times; a tragic demise bookended by Welsh science. The Eurasian curlew, the upland farmer’s herald of spring, may be lost from Wales as a breeding species in less than a decade. Together they raise stark questions of our capacity to learn from past mistakes and speak of an unfurling catastrophe with grave consequences for us all. We are nature. If it withers, so do we.

Y Gymanfa’r Adar, The Conference of the Birds in Senedd Cymru, the Welsh Parliament: A taxidermy great auk from the collection of Amgueddfa Cymru – Museum Wales sits alongside a flipbook-box depicting the heart of the last male of the species. Turn the handle on the side of the box and the heart beats again, a ‘shoal’ of diving great auks circles it and the DNA sequence extracted from it by Dr Jessica Thomas of Swansea University spins in an orb behind it.
A taxidermy Eurasian curlew looking towards the debating chamber at the heart of Senedd Cymru, the Welsh Parliament. The bird sits amidst a collection of flipbook-boxes, the imagery of which raises questions, many of them with non-binary answers, concerning our relationship with the natural world: predators, symbiosis, climate change past and present, the role of culture etc.

Both then speak of the far-reaching consequences of our actions as producers and consumers and an unsustainable, extractive relationship with the natural world. From distinct biomes with which they are synonymous they advocate for the circularity and inter-connectedness of Earth’s systems. Land management practices in the remote uplands of rural Wales – where the viscerally felt call of the curlew is an increasing absence, a consequence of the imbalance modern society has created – impact directly on the health of the Atlantic ecosystem, the temperature and wider wellbeing of which in turn increasingly affects the viability of food production in both marine and terrestrial habitats.

A group of great auks amidst a rapidly encroaching Atlantic fog
The projection within the ‘lantern’ spills on to facing wall of St Beuno’s Church, Whitford in a dialogue between the work and its environment

The great auk stands for the ocean, confronting us with the reality of an extinction event entirely of our making. This avian avatar of the North Atlantic tells us that resources are finite and that if we take too much they will inevitably run out. 1844, a sculptural ‘lantern’ piece, brings to life depictions of the species from the oeuvres of John James Audubon and Thomas Pennant, the eighteenth century Welsh zoologist who gave the bird formerly known as ‘the penguin’ its modern English language name. Our culpability in this loss is confirmed by the sequencing of its DNA – including a sample taken from the heart of the last male bird – by Dr. Jessica Thomas of Swansea University.

The great auk as it appears in Thomas Pennant’s British Zoology, 1776
The heart of the last male great auk beats again. A DNA sample obtained from the organ, which was pickled by a Reykjavík apothecary in a mixture of whale blubber and whisky, formed part of Dr. Jessica Thomas’ research which established incontrovertibly that the great auk was wiped out by human over-consumption

This ‘re-animation’ is informed by the memories of great auk movement and behaviour collected from the Icelandic farmer/fishermen who, in pursuit of the specimen collector’s coin, throttled the last reliably sighted pair on the island of Eldey in June 1844. Relayed in words and mimetic movements, the twelve men’s reminiscences of the final expedition were given via interpreter to the Cambridge-based zoologist Alfred Newton and John Wolley in 1858, well over a decade after the event. Newton and Wolley’s handwritten notes from the interviews are contained in the ‘Garefowl Books’ now held in the Cambridge University Library Archive. In the soundtrack for the piece they are given voice by Icelandic anthropologist Gísli Pálsson, author of The Last Of It’s Kind: The Great Auk And The Discovery Of Extinction.

A great auk paddles through a memory-scape
1844 installed in Whitford Church, Wales. Christian and avian martyrs meet through a fusion of medieval and twenty-first century coloured light technologies. Gísli Pálsson gives voice to the Icelandic fishermen interviewed by John Woolley and Alfred Newton in 1860.
”He made no cry. I strangled him”

Stop-frame animation, a mimetic act using paper cut-out artwork based on Audubon’s pair of great auks and Pennant’s swimming bird, along with this clear account of the last gasps of the species, provides a deeply focused means to reflect both on this loss and others like it. Accessible to people of all ages, the animation process enables a collective act of memory that is itself founded on memory.

Paper cut-out animation artwork based on Audubon’s great auks can be shared via post and brought to life using a smart-phone app

Passing through many hands and minds, a colony of great auks will be assembled to become the central chapter in the work which, through this shared process, becomes a Pan-Atlantic meditation whereby the ocean acts as bridge rather than divide. Echoing a ‘seabird hotspot’ at its centre recently identified by scientists, other species – such as the extant but rapidly declining puffin which carries such cultural resonance in Iceland – may join the Conference as it evolves.

Bringing a curlew to life in a North Wales primary school

As this initially Wales-based undertaking transforms into an international one, the Numenii – the Curlews; Eurasian, Eskimo and whimbrel, all either red-listed or already extinct – will speak both for the liminal intertidal zones and as migrants who disseminate nutrients across ecosystems. From estuary mudflat to central upland and along the entirety of the West and East Atlantic Flyways, the message they carry is of an existential threat to us all – and that the ocean does not begin or end at our coastlines, rather in our upland streams and urban drains.

By bringing these birds of memory to life in communities across the length and breadth of the North Atlantic we may contemplate what they have to tell us. Within a hypnotic, immersive space we escape the confines of an increasingly polarised and angry society and become more attuned to what unites rather than divides us – and are thus better equipped to find answers to the questions that the great auk and curlew ask of us with such urgency. 

Are we willing to do what must be done through the rediscovery of the values held by our forebears: of awe, reciprocity and the sanctity of ‘nature’? We were all indigenous once. The latent capacity to be so again lies within us all.

Y Gymanfa’r Adar, The Conference of the Birds was installed in Senedd Cymru, the Welsh Parliament, Cardiff Bay for three months in autumn/winter 2023 and in Neuadd Goffa Llangynog Memorial Hall in March 2024.

The setting for The Conference of the Birds, Memorial Hall, Powys, rural Wales in March 2024
Flipbook-boxes, animation artwork and taxidermy installed on a snooker table in the Memorial Hall, Llangynog
…and in St. Beuno’s Church, Whitford, Wales