A polar bear whose bottom half is caked in oily black gunk. A whale wrapped in striped fabric: a pseudo straightjacket. These are the messes climate change leaves behind, the things we know are happening but often don’t have the opportunity to see with our own eyes. Swiss street art duo Christian Rebecchi and Pablo Togni, otherwise known as NeverCrew, met in art school when they were 15 and started making work together soon after. As a team, the artists adorn the world with eye-popping and gut-wrenching images depicting the consequences of humanity’s actions on earth. (Photo by NeverCrew/The Huffington Post)

Aisha, 15, (L) (who asked to withhold her last name), a Syrian refugee from Raqqa, waits with a fellow refugee while harvesting cannabis in the Bekaa valley, Lebanon October 19, 2015. Syrian refugees work to harvest and process spiky-leafed cannabis plants in neighbouring Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley. Often farmers of cotton and wheat back home in Raqqa province – now the de facto capital of Islamic State – the conflict in Syria drove them to seek safety in a region where Syrian migrant workers used to spend a few months a year before returning home. (Photo by Alia Haju/Reuters)

A policer officer hits a man with a baton as he tries to maintain order while migrants wait for trains at a temporary camp near Gevgelija, Macedonia, September 7, 2015. Several thousand migrants in Macedonia boarded trains on Sunday to travel north after spending a night in a provisional camp. Macedonia has organised trains twice a day to the north border where migrants cross into Serbia to make their way to Hungary. Since June, Macedonian authorities have said that more than 60,000 migrants have entered the country, and around 1,500 entered just in one day, mainly refugees from Syria. (Photo by Stoyan Nenov/Reuters)

An anti-Gaddafi fighter tests an anti-aircraft gun southwest of Sirte, Libya one of Muammar Gaddafi's last remaining strongholds, September 16, 2011. A timeline of images dating from 2010 from Sirte, Libya, the home town of deposed Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi. Libyan forces battling Islamic State in the city of Sirte say they have defeated the militant group after months of street to street fighting backed by U.S. air strikes. Islamic State took control of the city more than a year ago and set up its main base outside Syria and Iraq. (Photo by Goran Tomasevic/Reuters)

A wounded Syrian girl looks on at a make shift hospital in the rebel-held area of Douma, east of the capital Damascus, following shelling and air raids by Syrian government forces on August 22, 2015. At least 20 civilians and wounded or trapped 200 in Douma, a monitoring group said, just six days after regime air strikes killed more than 100 people and sparked international condemnation of one of the bloodiest government attacks in Syria's war. (Photo by Abd Doumany/AFP Photo)

A child blowing confetti from her hands during a Carnival parade in Cyprus' coastal city of Limassol, Sunday, March 13, 2016. Limassol's long-established parade is Cyprus' biggest and most famous, drawing revelers from across the east Mediterranean island. This year's parade drew huge crowds as people sought lighthearted reprieve from the bailed-out country's recession. The parade marks the start of the 40-day fasting period of Lent in the run-up to the Orthodox Christian Easter. (Photo by Petros Karadjias/AP Photo)

While communism, collectivism, worms, dry rot and casual looting failed to destroy the majestic wooden churches of Russia, it may be ordinary neglect that finally does them in. Dwindled now to several hundred remaining examples, these glories of vernacular architecture lie scattered amid the vastness of the world’s largest country. Just over a decade ago, Richard Davies, a British architectural photographer, struck out on a mission to record the fragile and poetic structures. Austerely beautiful and haunting, “Wooden Churches: Traveling in the Russian North” (White Sea Publishing; $132) is the result. Covering thousands of miles, Mr. Davies described how he and the writer Matilda Moreton tracked down the survivors from among the thousands of onion-domed structures built after Prince Vladimir converted to Christianity in 988.

While communism, collectivism, worms, dry rot and casual looting failed to destroy the majestic wooden churches of Russia, it may be ordinary neglect that finally does them in. Dwindled now to several hundred remaining examples, these glories of vernacular architecture lie scattered amid the vastness of the world’s largest country. Just over a decade ago, Richard Davies, a British architectural photographer, struck out on a mission to record the fragile and poetic structures. Austerely beautiful and haunting, “Wooden Churches: Traveling in the Russian North” (White Sea Publishing; $132) is the result. Covering thousands of miles, Mr. Davies described how he and the writer Matilda Moreton tracked down the survivors from among the thousands of onion-domed structures built after Prince Vladimir converted to Christianity in 988.