Stanley Park Environmental Art - Ephemeral Works

Shirley Wiebe

John Hemsworth, Peter von Tiesenhausen • Davide Pan, T'Uy'Tanat Cease Wyss • Shirley Wiebe • Tania Willard

Uprooted

Click thumbnails for full-size images. Photos courtesy of Shirley Wiebe.

Artist Statement:
Devastating storms that dramatically altered the landscape in 2006 led to the creation of an art residency opportunity hence this first work is an expression of gratitude to the park and all of its living systems. I was drawn to explore off trail above Lost Lagoon where the damage is radically evident. There are a number of uprooted cedar trees, their massive root wads exposed. The area appears startlingly primordial and reveals a savage chaos both unsettling and magnificent.

One root wad in particular attracted me. Overhanging flaps of moss-covered earth had formed a niche-like space and at its base was a pool of vivid green water. The surrounding area was covered with fallen branches made up of intricately delicate twigs, probably the outermost tips of the uprooted trees. I was captivated by the contrast between these branches and the fiercely severed root wads; the light skeletal airiness opposite the dense masses of darkness, all part of a whole.

Searching for a means to pile up the branches, I recalled the metal spike system for collecting phone messages on pieces of paper, and I felt pertinence to the association of these branches as messages. I embedded a long straight bough vertically in the pool of water and then randomly stacked the braches over top to build up a slender form that occupies the niche like a shrine. This simple gesture brings together the extremities that previously formed a mature living entity. It was a surprise to step back and see how the curved branches and the space between them somehow creates a sense of whirling motion and energy. I was reminded that all matter contributes to new life and growth, and that creation and destruction are part of a continuum that is constantly at play.

A sudden and strange weather system passed over while I worked. What began as a gentle rain turned into an intense downpour, first followed by hail and then a blizzard of snow. Disoriented by the whiteness, I completely lost my way back to the trail. Although it was miserably uncomfortable it was also thrilling to briefly experience this lack of knowing where I was or how to return anywhere.

Read the ecological response provided by Robyn Worcester, Conservation Manager at SPES for Uprooted

Fringe*

Click thumbnails for full-size images. Photos: Paul Colangelo.

Artist Statement:
My creative process is fuelled by a curiosity to explore and discover what is around me, in a seemingly meandering search. Ideas begin to form through conversation with others, research, interaction with the land and an investigation of materials.

Much of my recent work incorporates synthetic or manufactured materials juxtaposed with nature. The Stanley Park art residency presents a challenge for me to make use of solely natural and/or biodegradable matter. As a way to still bring about contrast, I chose an architectural site rather than a purely idyllic setting for Fringe. The stonework bridge at the entrance to Ravine Trail had long been obscured with ivy until about five years ago when park staff decided to remove the heavy vines. The stateliness of its design struck me, especially as it comes into view through the forest. Light from the inlet imbues it with a mysterious glow and presence. The bridge shelters Beaver Lake Creek, a passageway used by fish, wildlife, and humans, so it functions both as roadway and underpass. It is the underside that I am drawn to for this ephemeral installation.

My concept for the residency is to explore the social and physical relationships that take place in this forest within a city, and how they continue to shape the park. Horses have had a role in Stanley Park throughout its history, and before this land was named. Horse-drawn tours continue to offer visitors a more leisurely tour of the park, and the Vancouver Police Department patrols the trails on horseback to keep the park safe. In conversation with groomers at the park stables, I learned that birds regularly perch on the backs of horses to pluck hair for lining their nests. I became intrigued with the idea of utilizing a material that could be appropriated by other species.

Horses embody a power that is harnessed through cooperation rather than domination. The preference to work with horsehair is based on its tactile and symbolic qualities. I work from a premise that materials are laden with meaning, but like in dreams, association is embedded within layers of personal experience. Long white hair may possibly conjure up wizards, mythology, white knights and fairy tales – and the rusticated bridge, a medieval castle. The dangling forms appear as natural phenomenon; icicle-shaped stalactites that hang from the roof of a cavern, formed from the dripping of mineral-rich water.

A friend mentioned Jean Barman's book Stanley Park's Secret: The Forgotten Families of Whoi Whoi, Kanaka Ranch and Brockton Point when we talked about the potency of place in the memories and stories held. Barman's book contains references and drawings of Burrard Inlet and two aboriginal settlements that existed there for generations prior to the late 18th century. Beaver Lake Creek falls roughly between these shoreline villages once known as Whoi Whoi and Chaythoos.

Fringe is outspread and apron like in construction – a garment of protection by definition.

*Fringe disappeared sometime in late January 2009. Created as an ephemeral work, the horsehair was placed in the landscape as an organic material that could be scavenged by bats and birds and observed over time as it deteriorated. In a park heavily impacted by people, the process was disrupted when Fringe was physically removed. The cotton ties were cleanly cut, perhaps an indication that the work is now fulfilling an alternative purpose elsewhere.

Read the ecological response provided by Robyn Worcester, Conservation Manager at SPES for Fringe

Hibernators

Click thumbnails for full-size images. Photos: Paul Colangelo.

Artist Statement:
I was in search of a site for an envisioned series of soft sculptures when I first became aware of the bear pit during a survey walk. The enclosed concrete environment was formerly part of the Stanley Park Zoo until it closed in the mid 1990s. An adjoining building has been converted into a demonstration salmon spawning hatchery that is managed by the Vancouver Aquarium. Situated in the middle of the park, the pit now appears utterly dilapidated and in sharp contrast to the meticulously landscaped surroundings. Nature is already reclaiming the area – vines claw their way up from the moat below while a massive yew tree extends its branches overhead, and various root systems determinedly penetrate the barricading concrete wall.

Earlier in the summer I had discovered a material called BioNet that is being used as part of the massive Prospect Point reconstruction. I learned that BioNet is the trademarked name for a biodegradable erosion control blanket made up of shredded coconut fibres stitched with jute. After some experimentation, I worked with a sewing process to create various amorphous shapes that I stuffed with wood chips from the park. The forms, entitled Hibernators, are quite malleable and capable of assuming lifelike and emotive postures.

I had observed that park visitors still pause to lean against the bear pit railing hopeful of something to see. In a parallel process to the restoration of Stanley Park, Hibernators is intended to revitalize the zoo through an intervention that draws attention to its potential as a viewing stage or theatre. A transition between what was there and the future. The forms interact with each other and the site in a drama that is subject to the viewer's interpretation.

This installation is a result of collaboration with various individuals from the Parks Board, the Stanley Park Ecology Society, the Vancouver Aquarium, and a private contractor from the construction site who originally donated the BioNet. Each phase was facilitated with hands on assistance, from the delivery of wood chips that arrived at the art studio in the park, to the individuals who helped carry the forms into the pit. For me, the finished work is akin to the period at the end of a sentence.

The bear is one of the last true symbols of the primal, natural world, and many ecologists believe that how humans respond and protect their lands and their future will be the most honest depiction of how serious we are about preservation of our environment and the natural resources within it.

Visit this work located in the former bear pit of the old zoo near the Vancouver Aquarium.
Detailed map of Stanley Park

Read ecological response to this work provided by Jarrid Jenkins, Public Programs Manager at SPES.