This post was originally written as a discussion post in partial fulfillment of the requirements for a graduate environmental literature course. 

Reading:

Byerly, Allison. “The Uses of Landscape: The Picturesque Aesthetic and the National Park System.” The Ecocriticism Reader.  Edited Harold Fromm and Cherly Glotfelty.  Athens, GA: U Georgia Press, 1996. 52-68.

Byerly says that “the American wilderness has gradually been transformed from a sublime landscape into a series of picturesque scenes,” and the Yosemite film certainly illustrates the reality of that statement (53). From the opening scenes of the film where the waterfalls lead down to a jarring image of crowds of tourists instead of the natural scene a viewer might be expecting, the film illustrates how we have taken a wilderness area and turned it into a tourist attraction, as well as being evidence of how we frame nature to see what we want to see.

There is definitely a feeling of the aesthetic picturesque in the film, as we hear and see tourists talking about the scenes they are enjoying. It’s clear that Yosemite for them is “a legitimate object of artistic consumption.” One of the tourists in the film even says that coming to Yosemite is like having his “own Japanese painting.” Another person noted that she wanted to visit the park because she saw an Ansel Adams exhibit and had to see if for herself. Throughout the film, tourists are pictured in groups looking at animals and nature, taking tours in trucks, etc. The scene with the rock climbers literally shows the people with their hands framing the images in front of them. The film even shows pictures that people have taken through the years. The pictures of the people in wagons and then cars framed by the massive tree trunk really illustrate the way folks have turned even nature itself into a picture frame so they can take it home for themselves.

It’s also interesting how the film illustrates the Byerly’s point that “the aestheticization of landscape permits the viewer to define and control the scene.” For example, one couple has rated each campsite by which has the better view. The two men on the four day loop chose what view they would see by their time limit. Watching the trail makers dynamite the rock in order to make a trail so that people could see certain views is an extreme example of how human beings are trying to define and control the scene. This sounds like the picturesque landscape gardening described by Byerly on page 55 (her descriptions reminded me of a scene in Austen’s Mansfield Park ha!) in which “the viewer altered the landscape in order to create them for himself.” In the park, as well, things have been arranged so that they can “keep it a treasure”—so that people can keep coming to enjoy it. It’s not about protecting nature, per se, but about making sure that people can keep coming to see this scenic area. At one point, there’s a montage of the hotel in the middle of the trees and the camp sites, and I thought, “I don’t think this is what Thoreau meant” by living next to the wild.

The contradictory goals of the Park Service noted by Byerly are clear here, as well. She says that at the same time as they are to “ ‘conserve and manage’” the parks, they are to “ ‘provide for the highest quality of use and enjoyment…by increased millions of visitors’” (56). One of the employees notes this “conflict between preservation…and public enjoyment.” Of these two goals, the second is clearly taking precedence over the first. The scenes with the marketing meetings clearly portray the importance placed on bringing in more and more tourists—not just from the US, but from around the world. The sales team talks about how they’ve increased staff by 50 people and their strategies for marketing internationally. Even with the “1,000 cars an hour,” there aren’t enough people going to Yosemite.

As part of her argument, Byerly notes that, instead of the symbiotic importance of the elements of nature Leopold discusses, what’s important is making sure that humans can view it without making their presence known (which, of course, is impossible). While the old ranger echoes the words of Leopold when he says, “we have rhythms that correspond to those in nature,” he also adds that “we’re a part of the picture.” But do we have to be a part of the picture? The contradiction between the journal entries and the tourists coming in with their campers and the 400 miles of roads and multiple sewers, etc, makes clear that there is a human mark on the landscape that really can’t be erased. One of the most poignant moments in the film, I think, is when one man says that people “love Yosemite to death.” It’s referred to as a “paradise that’s gone forever.” These heavy words illustrated by golden leaves falling from the trees clearly portrays the director’s feelings about the future of Yosemite.

What is the extent of the damage that has been done by our insistence that we make nature something to consume? Is it like the little shrub that was run over by a truck but that still survived? Nature is going to outlast us, but, as Leopold notes, some things can’t be undone. I’ve mentioned before the difference in the landscape right here in my little home town of Camp Verde. What used to be a swamp and prairie with grass as tall as men is now a deeper river and a desert landscape due to cattle and smelting, etc. There’s no way to bring it back to what it used to be, even if people wanted to. I think that even that question, which is also asked by the film, “Can we bring back the primitive condition,” presumes that humans have to do the making. We feel like we can’t just leave it alone—we have to have a hand in re-creating it. I think Byerly would appreciate the statement of the crew leader in charge of restoring the meadow, who says that “we have to leave it alone.”