On
Wednesday evening, 15 February 2023, at King’s Theatre in Annapolis Royal,
N.S., I had the privilege of attending a screening of “Geographies of Solitude,” film-maker Jacquelyn Mills’s stunning documentary about Sable Island
and its long-time “inhabitant” Zoe Lucas, who first arrived on the island in
1971, and who has spent time there every year since then.
“Geographies of Solitude” is a visual and sonic feast, an intimate and profound exploration
of Zoe’s decades-long connection to one of the most mythical and historical
islands of Canada. At once richly factual and breath-takingly lyrical, by turns
earthy and ethereal.
I met Zoe
about 20 years ago and thanks to her invitation, I had the even greater
privilege of going to Sable Island in May 2008, with our mutual friend Janet
Barkhouse. I was there only for a day, but it was a day I will never forget, a
trip of a life-time. I was keen to see Mills’s film and was thrilled by its
scope, from the microscopic to the celestial, the great sweep of the island and
the ocean were the backdrop for an unfolding of Zoe’s remarkable work
(research, recording, education, advocacy) that includes geology, meteorology,
zoology, botany, etc. She has been involved in one way or another with all the
research work that has happened on Sable Island in the past half-century.
(Photo by Janet Barkhouse. Sable Island from the air)
One of the
many reasons I wanted to go to Sable Island was that Elizabeth Bishop visited
there in 1951. Her great-grandfather
Robert Hutchinson had been shipwrecked out there in 1866 and she was keen to
see the Ipswich Sparrow, which nests only Sable Island. Her intention was to
write a piece about the island for The New Yorker, which she tentatively
titled “The Deadly Sandpile,” an acknowledgement of its more famous moniker,
“The Graveyard of the Atlantic.” Sadly, she never finished the piece; but her
interest in the island remained with her for the rest of her life.
(Photo by Zoe Lucas. L. to r. Gerry, Janet, Sandra on the south beach)
Zoe’s first
landfall there in 1971 overlapped for a few years with Bishop, who died in
1979. I like to think Bishop would have been as intrigued, as thousands are,
about this young woman who ended up devoting her life to the place and the
cause of Sable Island and environmentalism in general. Towards the end of the
film, Zoe observes that there wasn’t an actual single decision she made that
put her there, but a series of small decisions that in and of themselves didn’t
mean much, but added up: then “something happens.” This idea about how life
unfolds was one Bishop herself shared.
Mills’s
film, shot on 16 and 35mm film, is a feast for the eyes and ears. The
soundscape is especially rich and vibrant, even at times a bit overwhelming
(which is saying a lot because the images are astonishing, one after another
after another). One fascinating expression is the sound of invertebrates
walking: beetles, snails, ants — somehow Mills was able to bore down
into what is inaudible to human ears (especially in an environment like Sable
where the wind blows and waves crash continuously). And then somehow, using
magical technology, the sounds of these creatures moving is transformed into
music! Bishop was passionate herself about music and would have been awed by
this wonderful gesture in the film. We also hear the horses, the seals, the
birds (one newborn seal sounds hauntingly like a human baby – we are not
separate from the natural world, though our daily, political and social realms
often create walls/barriers that keep us from feeling the connections — and to our peril).
And most
importantly we hear Zoe talking about her connections to the island — the history of her time there, details about her work, reflections on
all manner of experiences. All the while we follow her on purposeful wanderings
across the dunes and beaches, hearing that wind blow, while, pen and notebook
in hand, she records everything she sees and finds; and we sit with her in her
inner work spaces — sorting and washing garbage,
inputting data into colossal spread sheets that are searchable by dozens of
categories.
There is so
much glory and tragedy and mystery connected to Sable Island and Zoe has
thought about all of it, noting at one point that after decades of living
there, she still can come upon something and say, “Wow!” That actually happens
in the film when she finds an especially large (terrifying) spider among some
flora and puts it in a specimen jar. Exciting!
Of course,
the horses are the great wonder of the island (even more so than the tens of
thousands of seals that congregate there to have their pups) – and Mills gives
us a great dose of them in all their splendor – in life and death. Mills does
not look away from the natural cycle of life on the island, which is uplifting,
rather than sad. What is sad and deeply troubling, however, is the garbage that
Zoe has been collecting and documenting minutely for decades. Mills makes us
look right into the heart of the results of our gross consumption and
disposable society. Zoe has been recording this impact long before there was
the global consciousness of the immeasurable amount of plastics in our oceans.
(Photo by Janet Barkhouse. Zoe and foal)
To account
for all the elements in this intimately shot, intricately woven documentary is
not possible — it must be seen because it is
immersive. But there are often distilled, crystalized moments, always
thought-provoking, that shine. For me, one of the most delightful is the
archival footage of Jacques Cousteau in 1981 landing on Sable Island in the
helicopter from “The Calypso,” being greeted by a young Zoe Lucas, who takes
him on a tour. How cool is that!
Bravo to
Mills for doing her own “total immersion” on Sable Island, looking through her
lens so directly and deeply at the wondrous scope (temporal, physical,
existential) of this unique place on our planet. A few years ago, Zoe and other
keen supporters of her work and of Sable Island formed the Sable Island
Institute. I was glad to see the institute so directly mentioned at the end of
this film. Check out its website and learn more; this site is also a “total
immersion” — among many things, it shares dozens
of Zoe’s astonishing photos of the island. I suggest that Zoe has taken more
photos of it, collected more diverse data about it, and has shared more
knowledge and insights about the island than any other person on the planet. It
was a good thing, for us all, that she just happened to end up there!
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