When a tree dies exciting things happen. Birds arrive to make their homes, bugs burrow, lichens grow, and shafts of light meet the forest floor. What the trees received in life returns gracefully into the earth, leaving space for new life that will be enriched by the previous one. A tree’s death is a beautiful part of what keeps forest ecosystems breathing. A true life cycle.
Everything we make has a life cycle too. Objects are born of materials and a design. They live through their uses and eventually they die as obsolete, broken, or disliked. After death though, some objects go on a mysterious journey. The transition back to raw material can be quick and hot, or extremely long, suffocated, and arduous as the materials separate into molecules.
If we compare the life cycle of a tree with the life cycle of an man-made object, we quickly realise that what we make is far removed from the wonderful system of a forest. Our creations have become extremely convoluted. They’re made from materials that are taken from far off places and heavily mutilated.. Then they are bound together in combinations that don't allow for a graceful return into the planets natural systems.
As designers, we have a dilemma. Our best attempts to create “eco-friendly” things fall short of being true friends to our planet's ecosystems. While we idealise carbon-free, recyclable, low-impact products, we still end up dooming our creations to end-of-life scenarios that will by no means enrich other lives. With no clear solutions, we work toward sustainability - to design without hurting anything more than we must.
In an optimal scenario, we would be master care takers. Designers would revere natural ecosystems as our greatest influences and the most beautiful designs we made would be whatever acted most similarly to a tree. But of course that is only a dream… Or is it?