“Ocean Breathing,” a mutating glass installation of glowing phytoplankton at Bigelow Laboratory for Ocean Sciences. Krisanne Baker photo

Plankton isn’t your usual subject at an art exhibition. Yet, it remains the touchstone of Krisanne Baker’s work.

The ecoartist’s recent 25-foot-tall installation at the Bigelow Laboratory for Ocean Science in East Boothbay, titled “Ocean Breathing,” focuses on the daily migration of marine phytoplankton using bioluminescent glass sculptures.

Water, its quality, availability, rights and inhabitants are at the heart of Baker’s work. Her craft bears witness to the currents and creatures that sway within seaweed homes, which she called “our heart and lungs of the planet.”

After years devoted to “sciart” (science/art), Baker has witnessed changes in the Gulf of Maine but has also found signs of hope, leading her to believe that restoration is achievable.

Krisanne Baker sits in her garden outside her home studio in Waldoboro. Laura Sitterly / The Times Record

Finding her niche

Growing up with a sailboat fanatic as a father, Baker learned to respect the water. From an early age, she recalled wanting to use her voice to fight for the little guys — plants to phytoplankton — but feeling unable to do so. 

Mutating glass phytoplanktons hang from Krisanne Baker’s studio ceiling. Laura Sitterly / The Times Record

That was until she studied ecological arts in grad school. At the Vermont College of Fine Arts, she learned that more than half of the oxygen we breathe comes from marine photosynthesizers, like phytoplankton and seaweed.

After graduating, she attended a glassblowing event at Haystack Mountain School. 

“We were throwing back some beers on the dock after closing shop,” Baker said. “Someone suggested we dive into the water. I hadn’t gone swimming since I was 15 — when the movie ‘Jaws’ came out — but everyone was going in, so I did, too, and sure enough, the cove was coated in violent luminescence; it was like nothing I’d seen before.” 

Dinoflagellates (zooplankton) flash their lights for a fraction of a second when disturbed to deter predators. This rare sight captivated Baker and gave her budding career a focus: plankton. 

‘Sciart’

Art and science may be the original odd couple, with roots tracing back to the Renaissance. Although early artists relied on observation to inform their work, Baker argued that the two ran parallel for millennia, not together.

When she first set out in the field, her mentor, Aviva Rahmani, suggested she meet with a scientist — which was a challenging feat. 

“I tried emailing and fruitlessly knocking on doors,” Baker said. “No one gave me the time of day. It just wasn’t the right time — and now it finally is. Once I landed a residency at Shoals Marine Laboratory (Appledore Island), my art gained legitimacy, and new doors have since opened.” 

After completing residency programs at Shoals and Bigelow, Baker was surprised to see that while climate denial is less common, the new problem is eco-anxiety. She observed that people are so worried about the changing environment that it’s difficult for them to engage.

“They want to cover their ears and turn away,” she said.

Artists and scientists share this struggle. By inviting the public into the conversation, Baker claims this has finally encouraged them to team up. 

Climate optimism

To attract more viewers to her work, Baker uses beauty as a tool — twinkly, luminous pigments and delicate glass-blown structures.

Inspired by Ascophyllum nodosum (cold-water seaweed) she finds snorkeling at Friendship Beach, Baker’s installations focus on the creatures that live in the protection of marine nurseries. She aims to remind viewers that Mother Earth is a caregiver, not a resource. 

Krisanne Baker’s studio, soaked in light, features a view of her rewilding effort outside. Laura Sitterly / The Times Record

After collecting water samples, she magnifies the plankton scale and lays it over her work. Or, like the canvas she just finished for a Hurricane Island benefit, she paints the ocean from the bottom up —starting with plankton and ending above the surface. 

Recently, she helped a volunteer team at Wells National Estuarine Research Reserve measure the carapaces of blue crabs from the Chesapeake area that are now reproducing in Maine. 

“I’ve seen blue crabs in Providence and Cape Cod, too,” Baker said. “They aren’t invasive; they’re an example of a species that shifted habitats because of marine conditions, like climate refugees. In my art, I show this positively, as an addition to our suite of underwater creatures.” 

But art can only view its subject through the eyes of its time — the ocean is constantly changing, so documenting its status is as fleeting as the tides. 

Baker hopes to spark a discussion of entropy and regeneration — “the idea of things crumbling before they regrow.” Recently, she has found peace in the unthinkable thought that even if our approach to the poly-crisis is “too little too late,” the Earth, without us, will regenerate itself like the spearmint that returned to her lawn after she stopped mowing. 

“I peppered some Bigelow scientists with questions about how climate change will affect plankton,” Baker said. “The warmer waters have caused some kinds to decline and others to thrive. Climate impacts biodiversity, shifting the marine food web from the bottom up; we’re already entering this new world.” 

While the implications of a new planktonic web are yet to be determined, Baker feels that “if there’s hope to be had, it’s underwater.”

“Tunnel of Love or Mating Dance,” an oil painting done with luminous pigments, part of Krisnane Baker’s Gulf of Maine collection. Krisanne Baker photo

What’s next

Although fear is not a central message in Baker’s work, it is a driving factor. Last winter, during her recent trip to Koh Mak Island in Thailand, she piloted a new coral art education program. 

Every Saturday, she watched “trash heroes” pick up debris washed in from neighboring countries, many of which do not practice recycling. To her, this symbolized a more prominent sign of the times — those advocating for the ocean versus those polluting it. 

“Before I get to work, I let myself lean into fear,” Baker said. “But in the studio, I don’t let those thoughts in — my work is centered on curiosity, not animosity.” 

To keep her faith strong, she surrounds herself with like-minded creatives. 

Baker joined forces with other “plankton women” — author Liz Cunningham and sculptor Julie Crane. On Nov. 2, the trio will present a new exhibit at the Rockport Public Library titled “Plankton in Our Midst: The Unseen Citizens of the Sea and Our Breathing Earth.” 

The glass installations, paintings and sculptures aim to underscore the importance of plankton to the survival of creatures like blue crabs, harbor seals, terns and whales. Educational posters framing the art will include ways to support local conservation efforts, accompanied by a lecture, panel discussion and hands-on activity where viewers can look through the microscope. 

At the event, the public can also pick up a hard copy of the companion book, with a foreword by Michael Lomas, PhD, senior research scientist at Bigelow Laboratory of Ocean Sciences, or download a PDF for free. 

“We envision this as the first in a series,” Baker said. “The next is a juried exhibit that includes work from more artists at a larger venue.” 

Baker is also curating a show titled “Regenerating Earth” at Cape Cod Community College, where her father used to teach. The group exhibit, which features the works of i3C artists and guests, will run from Oct. 17 to Nov. 9. 

In December, Baker plans to return to Thailand to refine her Guggenheim grant proposal, which suggests using upcycled glass as a modular substrate to allow coral polyps to begin new colonies in warmer waters.