GAIA Dialogues between the book arts, natural sciences & plant humanities


TREAD LIGHTLY ON THE EARTH


A tribute to Rosalind Cleaver from the Cleaver and Sustarich families


Figure 25, Lynwoodt B. Jenkins, The Father, the Son and the Gift of Noble Silence (2007)

As you enter the GAIA exhibition, you step into a space that Ros—artist, conservationist, honorary ranger, wife, sister, mother, friend, and eternal child of the earth had hoped to curate. This exhibition is more than a presentation of works, it is a realisation of her deeply personal and immersive commitment to a life devoted to caring for the earth and all its beings—from the endless sky painted with drifting clouds to the delicate, critically endangered frogs hiding beneath damp leaves. In realising Ros's vision, GAIA invites you to reconnect with nature, to tread lightly on the earth, and to remember that we are part of something vast, ancient, and sacred.

The word Gaia, echoing the ancient Greek goddess, is not only symbolic of Mother Earth but also of Ros's profound understanding that everything in nature is interconnected—water to soil, insects to birds, humans to trees. This exhibition is curated in her spirit—gentle, insightful, reverent—through the lens of her deep love and empathy for the natural world.

Ros's connection to nature was not something learned—it was instinctive, intuitive, and always present. Even as a child, she would spend hours in gardens, forests, and open fields, collecting small treasures—leaves, feathers, stones. This early sense of wonder grew with her, blossoming fully when, in her twenties, she joined the Walter Sisulu National Botanical Garden as a guide. There, she painstakingly learned every plant, every Latin name, every medicinal use and environmental role. But Ros did not stop at memorising—she immersed herself in the language of plants, forming relationships with them, and began to understand how they spoke through colour, scent, and shape. This period laid the foundation for what would become her lifelong calling—to protect, celebrate, and share the wisdom of the natural world.

For many years, Ros dreamed of becoming an Honorary Ranger at the Kruger National Park—a wish fulfilled in 2015 alongside her sister Terri. It was not a title she bore lightly. She wore it with reverence, considering it a sacred duty. She used her position to educate others, to inspire children, and to advocate for conservation, biodiversity, and ecological respect.

Her art became her loudest voice. Originally trained in oil painting, Ros's earlier works echoed the great masters—careful reproductions of timeless classics. But over time, her brush shifted toward the bushveld, the savannas, and forests. With ink, watercolour, graphite, and print, she began documenting the natural world in fine detail— each rock, feather, or flower rendered with intense care. Her art was deliberate, often layered with ecological commentary.

She tackled complex environmental issues with honesty and grace. In one series, Ros sculptured tortoise shells—not as symbols of endurance, but as silent victims of climate change. Few knew that rising global temperatures were skewing tortoise sex ratios—a fact she included in her captions, imploring viewers to understand the fragile ripple effects of warming. In another, she illustrated how pine tree plantations—though seemingly green—altered water pH levels, affecting entire aquatic ecosystems. She often researched historical ecology, imagining South Africa's landscapes over a century ago, when game herds stretched across the plains like moving earth, undisturbed and unbroken.

What set Ros apart was not only her knowledge but her deep feeling. She loved the cold and the rain—never cursed a grey day. To her, each raindrop was a blessing, a lullaby for the soil. When it stopped raining for long spells, she became restless, even sad. Her mood followed the rhythm of the earth. Her garden reflected this inner life—wild, lush, generous—a sanctuary where birds were fed twice daily, bees buzzed through flowers, and frogs found shelter in shaded corners.

Rescue was part of her ritual. No creature was too small or too ordinary to deserve her care. Whether it was a bird that had hit a window, a frog struggling in the swimming pool, or a dazed bee on a leaf, Ros would gently help it, whispering encouragements like prayers. She didn't just love animals; she treated each one as a sentient soul.

Ros's love for the bush was matched only by her love for discovery. She travelled widely, not as a tourist, but as a seeker. With her family, she explored the wilds of Zimbabwe, trekking through parks and stopping in quiet places. She travelled to India, Thailand, Nepal, and further abroad—always returning with journals full of drawings, pressed leaves, and watercolour sketches. Her children and grandchildren—living in England and the Middle East—became part of her living map of the world. In later years, through the support of The Ampersand Foundation, she twice visited New York, where she immersed herself in exhibitions and art museums, and finally attended the CODEX Book Art Fair in San Francisco—an experience she treasured deeply.

Yet, no place brought her more joy than the African bush. Mountain Zebra Park—her sanctuary with her husband Grant—held a sacred place in her heart. They returned there every year for over a decade, always staying in the same bungalow, witnessing the quiet changes of time: a new herd, a different wind, the light falling slightly earlier each visit.

Ros's life, however, wasn't just about nature—it was about people too. She was a community builder, joining the PTA at her children's school, and creating lifelong friendships through the Honorary Rangers and art groups. Her warmth, her stories, and her knowledge were shared freely, mentoring many and always leading by example. Her final years were focused on producing intricate, sensitive artworks—often tiny and precise—that celebrated the humble: a curled leaf, a lichen-covered rock, the shadow of a beetle on sand. Her message was always simple, and yet profound: we only have one earth. Let us tread gently.

As you move through GAIA, may you encounter her voice in the soft graphite of a pencil sketch or in a detailed watercolour study displayed among the books. May you sense her reverence, her awe, and her fierce love—a love that was as infinite as the blue sky she so adored and as rooted as the earth she sought to protect.

This exhibition is a continuation of her work, her message, and her calling. Her family hope that GAIA awakens in you the same spark Ros carried all her life—the belief that nature is not something outside of us. It is us. And it is worth everything to protect.


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