marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence) – still underwater: Aesthetic interventions as investigations into land theft, ecosystem erasure, real estate speculation, sea level rise, hazards & resurgence for the Skwácháy̓s / False Creek Flats neighbourhood of central Vancouver part of the unceded and overlapping territories of the xʷməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish), and səl̓ílwətaʔɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations

land & found art, land theft, gentrification & displacement, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence), Salish governments & elders, wetlands restoration

Reimagining Skwácháy̓s: Restoration strategizing & experimentation for the vestigial and resurgent wetlands of central Vancouver as contemporary culture

download guide and map for the 2022 October 19 SFU-BCIT Ecosystem Restoration MSc field trip

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October 11, 2022

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Reimagining Skwácháy̓s:

Restoration strategizing & experimentation for the vestigial and resurgent wetlands of

central Vancouver as contemporary culture

For much of the last 10,000 years, what is today central Vancouver was a maze of saltwater inlets, mud flats, estuaries, and streams emptying into what today is called False Creek — and largely shared and jointly stewarded by txʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) communities. in 1932 the City of Vancouver recognized the area ‘Skwachice’ supposedly meaning ‘deep hole in water’ in Squamish. In 2019, Squamish activist and language guardian, Khelsilem stated that the mudflats that once existed around False Creek were called Skwácháy̓s, meaning “water coming up from ground beneath.”

This exceptionally productive set of ecosystems extended hundreds of hectares and is bounded by today’s Main, Union, Clark, Great North, and 2nd At the end of World War I, a new transcontinental train station was built on the northern of two points on either side of the narrow channel of sea, called KIWAHUSKS (roughly beneath today’s Main Street / Science World Skytrain station), that fed Skwácháy̓s. Elevated train tracks began to criss-cross Skwácháy̓s, the marine and tidal areas were soon filled with garbage and soil, the area became of limited interest for railway speculation, and within a decade the marine ecosystems were erased and the wetlands largely covered.

The loss of Skwácháy̓s, especially important for its food resources and cultural significance, represents one of the most egregious government assaults on the txʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) peoples and reparations are inevitable — as is the re-establishment of most of the ecosystems of Skwácháy̓s through sea level rise and freshwater flooding from extreme rain events. Because of the poor quality of the fill that was used to fill the sea and the many channels, many areas are sinking and have been effectively unbuildable. But because of accelerating land values and shortages for building sites in central Vancouver, vestigial marshes are seeing massive, boat-like architectures that will supposedly float above the resurgent wetlands. Even in this optimistic trajectory, Venetian-type canals would be inevitable. So far, there are few parks and areas of native habitat. Most problematic has been the new building without consultations with and reparations to the txʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) First Nations.

The still underwater project was begun in 2017 to observe the centennial of the erasure of Skwácháy̓s. Over the last five years, losses and new opportunities have been sketched and mapped. And underlying these studies has been an investigation of how postcolonial recombinations of traditional Salish knowledge and stewardship practices, the expanding and decolonizing field of ecosystem restoration, and contemporary culture spanning environmental design and site-based art extending to decolonial forms of land art, could provide a creative space to re-imagine a resurgent Skwácháy̓s. This video is an introduction to a past and future world that will transform the roles of knowledge keeping, ecological science, environmental design, and contemporary art just as the land again becomes wet, tidal, and even marine. After a review of the destruction of Skwácháy̓s, I will be exploring the relevance of baseline areas, with similar conditions to what was destroyed in Skwácháy̓s. Finally, I will be asking both ecological restorationists and site-based artists and designers to begin to think about locations for some channels to be dug, for where surface freshwater and sea can meet, and to select three native species, formerly common in Skwácháy̓s, with which to initiate an ecosystem restoration process that could well take a century. And underneath these questions are larger ones about the roles of science, design, and art in hastening ecosystem restoration processes that are taking place without direct or planned human intervention.

Skwácháy̓s is also a laboratory for intercultural and intergovernmental cooperation (and lack of cooperation) Skwácháy̓s formed as a space of Salish intercultural dialogue (involving three languages) and shared harvesting and stewardship. Today many of those ancient practices could be re-established with consultation and with the leadership of the txʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) First Nations. But how do ecological restoration scientists and land artists, from a range of backgrounds associated with many different migrations including Indigenous people from other parts of the region and country, how can we intervene in spaces and processes co-owned by Indigenous, municipal, regional, and national governments?

Today, sea levels are rising, drainage pipes around Skwácháy̓s are overflowing from extreme rainfall events, and people in central Vancouver are demanding more open space, green space, re-establishment of Indigenous food resources, and natural habitat. But without some careful and coordinated work over the next century involving txʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) leadership along with ecosystem restoration scientists, land artists, environmental technicians skilled in a wide array of practices especially propagation and protection, landscape architects, and community activists, the neighbourhood could remain an ecological desert.

For the ecological restoration science students who join me on field studies in October 2022 and after, I have two suggestions on how to organize your own investigations as part of these massive and indefinite restoration projects spanning neighbourhoods and cities — where key ecological infrastructure will take decades to rebuild. Given that much of the restoration interventions coming years for this area will be small-scaled, site-specific, community-based, and often only partially coordinated regionally, what are the locations of three channels that could be re-dug and re-established — especially in relationship to the areas most vulnerable to both seawater and freshwater flooding? And based on your functional goals for these passages, that re-establish the merging of freshwater and tidal ecosystems, what could be three species, terrestrial, estuarine or marine — plant or animal, to begin re-establish and defend?

One kind of place to look for possible candidate species for some initial restoration interventions are partial baselines. A natural baseline is some kind of protected ecosystem that is relatively natural and well-defended aside for global change especially related to climate. But natural baselines rarely capture and maintain cultural landscapes such as food gathering sites that were major parts of Skwácháy̓s. And there are so few intact and not degraded estuaries and wetlands around the Salish Sea. But even partially intact tidal flats, estuaries, and wetlands can tell us a great deal about what to begin to begin to re-establish.

The most important Salish fruit and flowering tree (crucial for a number of pollinators and frugivores) in Skwácháy̓s was Pacific crabapple, Malus fusca. Ripe fruit can be propagated from seed, typically by planting in October, but growing out is a difficult art. This species probably reproduces more vegetatively from twigs.

Underlying all of this recent work around Skwácháy̓s, in the still underwater project, are the questions of where does the art-making in land art and other site-based environmental art end, and the science and traditional knowledge begin? The second, coupled question is that of when in the process of research, strategizing and planning for an ecological restoration project also become art and very creative contemporary culture. Surveying, invasive species eradication, choice of species to re-establish, propagation, management, and protection all involve human values, cultural practices and aesthetics that are rapidly being decolonized as increasing parts of Skwácháy̓s are flooded, and after a century of active erasure, still underwater.

ripe fruit of ḴÁ,EW̱ IL̵Ć [SENĆOŦEN], Qwa’up-ulp [HUL’Q’UMI’NUM’], Pacific crabapple, Malus fusca,
above W̱EN,NÁ,NEĆ, ĆUÁN [SENĆOŦEN] (Salt Spring Island, Canada) 2022 September 28 P9280004

deep time, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence)

Skwácháy̓s: guidance, support & funding

Skwácháy̓s aka False Creek East in 1917, during the first of several years when that inlet and the salt marshes were erased, viewed from Pleasant Hill to the south-west from roughly what is today Main and Broadway. My father who told me about and brought me to what was left of Skwácháy̓s enjoyed this view at that time when he was twelve years old.

These investigations began sixty years on a father-son field trip where my father, Ross Sheldon Ingram (1905 – 1971), took me to and told me the story of the destruction of Skwácháy̓s a process of erasure of the sea and marshes that he witnessed when he was in his teens. He had vivid memories of the of Skwácháy̓s and the beachside neighbourhoods that had been built to the north and south. Growing up in the Kitsilano neighbourhood of Vancouver and being fluent in xʷməθkwəy̓əm, Ross knew the heartbreak that the loss of Skwácháy̓s both as a source of food and as an intercultural space.

My father holding older sister, Fay, with my father’s brother circa 1930 most likely in northern British Columbia near the mouth of the Skeena with the photograph probably taken by my mother, Wilma Valeda Brochu Ingram

A decade and a half later, after Ross’s untimely passing, I studied with Salish theorist and early pioneer of Native American Studies, Mary Nelson. She taught deep time when few young people had much interest in hearing about it. Mary was born and raised near the mouth of the Skagit River with family connections to the upper part of that basin in and near Canada. As a Canadian university student in studying in a United States portion of the territories of the Salish nations, often hitchhiking home to Vancouver Island on weekends, Mary initiated a pedagogical space around Skwácháy̓s. She brought it up and instilled in me a curious kind of responsibility (even as a non-Salish indigenous person) about its continued presence. Mary knew Skwácháy̓s well as hole-in-the-bottom and as an important place in pan-Salish cosmology where the underworld met both the modern world of colonial logic in the marshes as well as the vastness of the skies. Mary taught me ways to explore the interface of a multitude of indigenous aesthetics and modern site-based sculpture — the work from those studies mostly lost over the decades.

More recently, this recent work was inspired by decades of bicycling around, conducting research and theorizing, and trying to make art in gentrifying False Creek. Eventually, there was too much information to not make something out it — at a time when the unresolved legacies of this problematic heart of Vancouver are increasingly collide between rising seas, real estate speculation, and pressures for ecological and indigenous repair. New York-based, environmental artist, Oliver Kellhammer, has been very generous in sharing the perspectives that went into his three, enduring (and evolving) site-based works and activism along Skwácháy̓s. In 2019, Catherine de Montreuil of Access Gallery, on the northern shore of Skwácháy̓s, kindly arranged a meeting space and some modest funding in cooperation with her colleague, Katie Belcher. Vancouver-based Alex Grünenfelder contributed performances and his own works in 2019 and Sharon Kallis, Rose Spahan and Debra Sparrow kindly offered to be part of a collaborative team that was postponed and then disrupted by the 2020-21 COVID pandemic. The recent work and collaborations has been possible because of the generous support of the Canada Canada for the Arts Inter-Arts Program through consecutive project grants.

In transforming the drawings, photographs, and notes from recent work on land art, found, conceived, and performed, two indigenous visual arts residencies at the Banff Centre for the Arts and Creativity were crucial for self-reflection and expanding my digital skills. Just before the COVID-19 lockdown, Nikki Little and Meaghan Byrne of imagineNATIVE (the Toronto-headquartered Centre for Aboriginal Media) lead Mixed Media 101 bringing together a score of artists, interactivity designers and teachers in the winter snows of the Rockies. As well as being deeply grateful to Nikki and Meaghan (and to administrators Reneltta Arluk, Janine Windolph, Allison Yearwood, and Howard Lee), the following members of the Banff media team (having no idea that most would soon be laid off in the pandemic), were superb and compassionate teachers: Aubrey Fernandez, Jennifer Chiasson, Tyler Jordan, Rylaan Gimby, Bojan Cosic, and Court Brinsmead. Roughly a year later, I returned to a very different Banff via Zoom for the at-a-distance phase of, Akunumusǂitis: Ecological Engagement Through the Seasons. Along with the leadership of Janine and Reneltta and Tyler’s technical acumen, Lillian Rose, a Ktunaxa leader and land artist rooted at Columbia Lake, Regina-based Nakoda buffalo artist, Joely BigEagle-Kequahtooway, and Toronto-based Cree multimedia performance artist, Cheryl L’Hirondelle took us to places where participants lived, along the North American Cordillera, in profoundly new (and old) ways. I remain in awe of this team of teachers! Thanks to the Slaight Family Foundation for funding my participation in the Banff Centre residencies.

HÍSW̱ḴE / Huy ch q / máh-sie / Marsee
SENĆOŦEN / Hul’q’umi’num’] / Chinook / Michif

deep time, interventions, performances & gardens, land & found art, land theft, gentrification & displacement, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence)

Delving into the deep south-east of Skwácháy̓s

Originally a confluence of gullies and streams with miles of estuary channels, the twentieth century saw garbage, fill, culverts, sewers and increasing amounts of asphalt. Future decisions best centre on re-establishment of native wetlands and woodland along with more urban food production, recreation, and socializing.

interventions, performances & gardens, land theft, gentrification & displacement, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence)

The last beach house on the south-eastern shore of Skwácháy̓s

2021 June 18 reimagining the original beach house west of the mouth of China Creek now at 1016 East Seventh Avenue * 1P3A0172

The beach house 1016 East 7th Avenue is one of the last architectural remnants, this far east and south in central Vancouver, of a young city and the sea. East Seventh at this point merged with the beach and the tidal flat. The current architecture reflects the shift in function from shack to fortress. For example, there were no sky-lights originally, nor a gate to the verandah, and no Gingko trees [a post-Holocene flourish] or much landscape at all. On of the few remnants of the local landscape is sword fern, Polystichum munitum.

Now for sale with a price that precludes all but the affluent, the building was a simple second home, at best a tasteful shack with a verandah for reviewing the sea, that drifted into abjection as Skwácháy̓s was filled with garbage. To reimagine this building’s original life is to recall the city’s lost options and ongoing follies.

2021 June 17 South-eastern Skwácháy̓s looking east from Means of Production Garden * 1P3A0128 For this far east in central Vancouver, China Creek Park (below) remains at or below sea level. The beach house at 1016 East 7th Avenue would have looked out on to this site as sea and tidal flat.

Recently landscaped, this part of China Creek Park is just above the shore of south-eastern Skwácháy̓s with the high tide line below these asphalt walkways and poppies. * 2021 June 18 * 1P3A0167

2021 June 18 * The Beach House at 1016 East Seventh Avenue at Windsor is one of the last of the beach houses, still standing, that were built for people to enjoy the waters of Skwácháy̓s. This simple shack architecture, embellished with a shallow verandah, is now being used to market expensive strata homes. * 1P3A0169

The Beach House at 1016 East Seventh Avenue at Windsor is one of the last of the beach houses, still standing, that were built for people to enjoy the waters of Skwácháy̓s. This simple shack architecture, embellished with a shallow verandah, is now being used to market unaffordable housing on the edge of unstable strata. * 2021 June 18 * 1P3A0174

land theft, gentrification & displacement, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence), queer ecologies

Early spring in two of the community gardens of Skwácháy̓s: Strathcona & Cottonwood

orchard looking north, Strathcona Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s,
formerly marine and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9912

“BEEAWARE” sign, Strathcona Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s,
formerly marine and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9915

orchard looking west with Vancouver Fire Department tower in distance,
Strathcona Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly marine
and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9916

discarded sleeping bag, Strathcona Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s,
formerly marine and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9918

pond, Strathcona Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly
marine and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9920

pond, Strathcona Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly
marine and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9932

mulch-making, Strathcona Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s,
formerly marine and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9930

blooming cherry tea looking west with Vancouver Fire Department tower in background, Strathcona Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly tidal (on the east side of Crabapple Point) and well below the 1917 high-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9954

The southern half of Strathcona Park looking east from near Malkin and
Hawks Avenues with homeless encampment in distance,
Cottonwood Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly
marine and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9922

homeless encampment in Strathcona Park viewed from near Hawks and
Malkin Avenues, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly marine and well
below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9935

homeless encampment in Strathcona Park viewed from Cottonwood
Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly marine and
well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9937

‘NO CAMPING WILDLIFE PARK’ sign, Cottonwood Community
Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly marine and well below
the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9952

“This hill…” sign, Cottonwood Community Garden, north central Skwácháy̓s, formerly
marine and well below the 1917 low-tide line * 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9953

deep time, land & found art, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence), queer ecologies

‘hole in bottom’ sculptural remnants, soon to be obliterated, at Prior and Station Streets below the shores of north-western Skwácháy̓s

Looking south from Prior Street just east of Station Street, we can see the depths of once
was the north-west of historic Skwácháy̓s. Until recently the site of an early twentieth-
century warehouse, this expanse is part of the construction site for the north-western portion of the new St. Paul’s Hospital that broke ground this week. The sites on the
other side of the fence were part of the historic tidal flats with much of the area
portrayed across the horizon, largely marine inlet. Where this image was taken was
roughly along the east shore of the point that connected north to Chinatown and
that extended south to Thornton Park and the location of the 1916-17 national train
station that still operates today. South of this point was a passage of water called
KIWAHUSKS (‘two points opposite’). Much of this area is below sea level or will be
in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. 2021 March 11 * P3A9885

Looking east from Station Street just south of Prior Street, we can see the low-tide line of what was once was the north-west shore of historic Skwácháy̓s. Until recently the site of an early twentieth-century warehouse, This expanse is part of the construction site for the north-western portion of the new St. Paul’s Hospital that broke ground this week. Where
this image was taken was roughly along the east shore of the point that connected north
to Chinatown and that extended south to Thornton Park and the location of the 1916-17 national train station that still operates today. South of this point was a passage of water called KIWAHUSKS (‘two points opposite’). Much of this area is below sea level or will be
in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. 2021 March 11 * E 1P3A9873

Looking east from Station Street just south of Prior Street, we can see signs of ongoing
saltwater intrusion near the low-tide line of what was once was the north-west shore
of historic Skwácháy̓s. Until recently the site of an early twentieth-century warehouse,
this expanse is part of the construction site for the north-western portion of the new
St. Paul’s Hospital that broke ground this week. Where this image was taken was
roughly along the east shore of the point that connected north to Chinatown and that extended south to Thornton Park and the location of the 1916-17 national train
station that still operates today. South of this point was a passage of water called
KIWAHUSKS (‘two points opposite’). Much of this area is below sea level or will be
in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9876

Looking east from Station Street just south of Prior Street, we can see a marker that
is roughly on the site of the low-tide mark below the north-western shore of historic Skwácháy̓s. Until recently the site of an early twentieth-century warehouse, this
expanse is part of the construction site for the north-western portion of the new St.
Paul’s Hospital that broke ground this week. The sites on the other side of the fence
were part of the historic tidal flats with much of the area portrayed across the horizon,
largely marine inlet. Where this image was taken was roughly along the east shore of
the point that connected north to Chinatown and that extended south to Thornton
Park and the location of the 1916-17 national train station that still operates today.
South of this point was a passage of water called KIWAHUSKS (‘two points opposite’).
Much of this area is below sea level or will be in the coming decades as marine
intrusion intensifies. 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9900

deep time, land theft, gentrification & displacement, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence)

‘Ground-breaking’ in the first week of construction of the new St. Paul’s Hospital in the north-western corner of Skwácháy̓s

In this view from the west side of Trilliam Park looking west, is the construction site f
or the north-eastern portion of the new St. Paul’s Hospital that broke ground this
week. We can see the depths of the marine portions of the north-west of historic
Skwácháy̓s. Relatively close to the edge of today’s False Creek, much of this area is
below sea level or will be in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies.
A century ago, the tidal and marine areas of Skwácháy̓s were filled with garbage and unconsolidated material that may not stand a major earthquake. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9829

Looking north from National Avenue to the construction site for the new St. Paul’s Hospital pre-1919 that were the depths of the marine portions of the north-west of historic
Skwácháy̓s. Relatively close to the edge of today’s False Creek, much of this area is
below sea level or will be in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. A
century ago, the tidal and marine areas of Skwácháy̓s were filled with garbage and unconsolidated material that may not stand a major earthquake. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9845

Looking north from National Avenue to the construction site for the new St. Paul’s
Hospital with the North Shore mountains in the distance. Pre-1919, this area was
in the depths of the marine portions of the north-west of historic Skwácháy̓s. Relatively
close to the edge of today’s False Creek, much of this area is below sea level or will be
in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. A century ago, the tidal
and marine areas of Skwácháy̓s were filled with garbage and unconsolidated
material that may not stand a major earthquake. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9851

Looking north from National Avenue to the construction site for the new St. Paul’s Hospital. There is a recently erected sign celebrating the beginning the construction of the hospital with modern buildings in Chinatown in the background. Pre-1919, this area comprising this massive construction site was in the depths of the marine portions of the north-west of historic Skwácháy̓s. Relatively close to the edge of today’s False Creek, much of this area
is below sea level or will be in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. A
century ago, the tidal and marine areas of Skwácháy̓s were filled with garbage and
unconsolidated material that may not stand a major earthquake. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9858

Looking east from Station Street, we can see the depths of once was the north-west of historic Skwácháy̓s. This expanse is part of the construction site for the north-western portion of the new St. Paul’s Hospital that broke ground this week. The white tents were for the ground-breaking celebrations. The sites on the other side of the fence were part of the historic tidal flats with much of the area portrayed across the horizon, largely marine inlet. Where this image was taken was roughly along the east shore of the point that connected north to Chinatown and that extended south to Thornton Park and the location of the 1916-17
national train station that still operates today. South of this point was a passage of water called KIWAHUSKS (‘two points opposite’). Much of this area is below sea level or will be
in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9866

Looking east from Station Street near the corner with Prior Street, we can see the depths of once was the north-west of Skwácháy̓s. In the upper left is Prior Street and north of it the Georgia Viaduct. This expanse is part of the construction site for the north-western portion of the new St. Paul’s Hospital that broke ground this week. The sites on the other side of the fence were part of the historic tidal flats with much of the area portrayed across the horizon. Where this image was taken was roughly along the east shore of the point that connected north to Chinatown and that extended south to Thornton Park and the location of the
1916-17 national train station that still operates today. South of this point was a passage
of water called KIWAHUSKS (‘two points opposite’). Much of this area is below sea level
or will be in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9875

Looking south from Prior Street, just east of Station Street, we can see the depths of once was the north-west of historic Skwácháy̓s. This expanse is part of the construction site for the north-western portion of the new St. Paul’s Hospital that broke ground this week. The white tents were for the ground-breaking celebrations. The national train station, constructed in 1916-17, is on the horizon. The sites on the other side of the fence were part of the historic tidal flats with much of the area portrayed across the horizon, largely marine inlet. Where this image was taken was roughly along the east shore of the point that connected north to Chinatown and that extended south to Thornton Park and the location of the 1916-17 national train station that still operates today. South of this point was a passage of water called KIWAHUSKS (‘two points opposite’). Much of this area is below sea level or will be in the coming decades as marine intrusion intensifies. 2021 March 11 * 1P3A9898

deep time, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence), queer ecologies, Salish governments & elders

Early spring at Trillium Park below the west side of Crabapple Point, north-western Skwácháy̓s

This old beach house at the corner of Atlantic Street and Malkin Avenue was built along the north-western shore of Skwácháy̓s decades before the beach and inlet were obliterated in the demographic chaos after World War I. The roaring twenties and Jazz were only partial consolation for the heartbreak from the loss of the beach and sea. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9815

The north-western shore of Skwácháy̓s along the west side of Crabapple Point got steep
near the end of the point. Today, the slope above the high tide line directly
below Atlantic Street and Princess Avenue is being re-enforced just above
Malkin Avenue. 2021 March 10 Skwácháy̓s 1P3A9811

This lost toy is at the north end of Trillium Park near the playground. This area is
roughly at the low-tide line of the tidal flats Skwácháy̓s. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9817

This view from the north-western side of Trillum Park looking west was below the low tide line of Skwácháy̓s and would have been an entirely marine estuary. Today the view is into the construction of the north-eastern side of the construction site for the new version of St. Paul’s Hospital. This area was nearly all marine with some tidal flats closer to Prior Street and was filled with garbage and poorly consolidated material. Most of these sites are below sea level or will be in the coming decades. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9825

At the east side of the corner of Thornton Street and Malkin Avenue that a century
ago was tidal flats along the north-western shore of Skwácháy̓s, there are
warehouses and an installation by artist Ken Lum. There is also informal art
such as ‘you’ spray-painted on a rock. Most of these sites are below sea level
or will be in the coming decades. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9812

This blooming mustard is at the east side of the corner of Thornton Street and Malkin
Avenue that a century ago was tidal flats along the north-western shore of Skwácháy̓s.
Today, there are warehouses and an installation by artist Ken Lum. This site is nearly
below sea level and will be below sea level in the coming decades. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9813

This camper is parked on Thornton Street south of Malkin Avenue and provides
crucial temporary housing especially for a city with severe real estate speculation
and a resulting housing shortage along with gentrification and relatively low wages
in the service sector. This site is below sea level. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9838

This yarrow, Achillea millefolium, along National Street just east of Malkin Avenue, is
an important traditional medicinal for the owners and guardians of this territory,
the xʷməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish), and Səl̓ílwətaʔ /
Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations. That this circumpolar herb, most common
around the North Pacific, is one of the few traditionally used plants that can
colonize this toxic soil is an important indicator. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9804

This yarrow, Achillea millefolium, along National Street just east of Malkin Avenue
looking north, is an important traditional medicinal for the owners and guardians
of this territory, the xʷməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish), and Səl̓ílwətaʔ/Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations. That this circumpolar herb, most
common around the North Pacific, is one of the few traditionally used plants that
can colonize this toxic soil is an important indicator. 2021 March 10 * 1P3A9806

deep time, land theft, gentrification & displacement, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence), queer ecologies

Excavations down to the Skwácháy̓s beach to the east of the mouth of Scotia Creek

On a grey winter day, the view through the fence of the recently uncovered beach, that lined the south-western side of Skwácháy̓s, was unmistakable and breathtaking. A bit more than a century ago, there were beach-houses just above below what today is East 2nd Avenue. Today this pit contains a lot of water and is below current and projected sea levels.

Looking north, across Skwácháy̓s, from East 1st and Thornton, 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9727

The beach at low-tide on the south-west shore of Skwácháy̓s looking
north from Thornton and East 1st, 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9726

Looking north, across Skwácháy̓s, and into the excavated beach
from east of East 1st and Scotia, 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9727

Look west across what was once the south-western shore of Skwácháy̓s
from Thornton below East 1st, 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9701

Looking west, from Thornton below East 1st, down into the excavated beach on
the south-western shore of Skwácháy̓s, 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9703

Looking west, from Thornton below East 1st, down into the excavated beach
on the south-western shore of Skwácháy̓s, 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9708

Beyond low tide below the south-western shore Skwácháy̓s: a building on the other side of the most northerly tracks across from the north end of Thornton, 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9725

Looking north across Skwácháy̓s from East 2nd east of Scotia with the street
just above the historic high tide line of Skwácháy̓s, 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9699

Water from the excavated beach along the south-western shore of Skwácháy̓s being directed into storm drainage on East 1st east of Scotia (Creek), 2021 February 19 * 1P3A9733

deep time, land & found art, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence), Salish governments & elders

territorial acknowledgements: Skwácháy̓s [Sḵwx̱wú7mesh sníchim] with the hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓ names currently being researched

Much of contemporary culture in Vancouver, and other parts of Canada, is about territorial acknowledgement: out of consideration as sensitive members of multicultural communities, as part of commitments to decolonization and conciliation, in respect for new inter-governmental protocols, and as creative practices that foster dialogue and collaboration.

This project, on SKWA-CHICE “deep hole in water” | “hole in bottom” | False Creek East, is grounded in the territorial acknowledgement of our current host and partner in Vancouver, Access Gallery:

“With gratitude as guests, Access is located on the unceded territories of the xʷməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish), and Səl̓ílwətaʔ/Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations.”

This kind of territorial acknowledgement from a cultural organization nurtures a diversifying set of inter-cultural and political conversations.

While many people were hurt by the destruction of “deep hole in water,” a large portion of respective governments, organizations and individuals, who cared about these losses at the time, were indigenous. But since the latter decades of the twentieth century, the benefits to settlers and non-indigenous Canadians from indigenous erasure and the neocolonialism, that ignored indigenous governments and demographics, have largely expired. For most Canadians, the lack of real conciliation and basic contact with First Nations governments and civil organizations is a real drag: economically, socially, and culturally. Indigenous erasure in public space and landscapes increasingly undermines long-term social solidarity and the integrity of community-based cultural production.

While ‘white privilege’ continues to be a significant source of inequity, all Canadians benefit from ongoing political and cultural conversations about indigeneity. And relationships to indigeneity are simple: having at least one indigenous parent who lives that identity in some way or not. There are no choices with indigeneity, the choices are with the depth of acknowledgment and engagement with respective intercultural inequities and taking the opportunities for expanded dialogue.

Today, a broader spectrum of Vancouver’s communities see the damage that was done, with the destruction of “deep hole in water,” and are learning and experimenting with evolving protocols and intercultural practices to acknowledge multiple owners, stewards, cultural economies, and modes of creative production. In order to parse the 19th and 20th Century conflation of the diverse indigenous territorial and governmental relationships, languages, and cultures that lead to the erasure of “deep hole in water,” a few activist principles can guide our excavations, interventions, reconstructions, and restorations:

1. acknowledge and learn from “deep hole in water” as part of the communities of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh Úxwumixw (Squamish), and Tsleil-Waututh First Nations and treat these relationships as ongoing, in present and future tenses;

2. acknowledge and learn from the three indigenous languages spoken in “deep hole in water”: Musqueam Halkomelem / hunq’umin’um’ / hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓; Squamish / Sḵwx̱wú7mesh sníchim, sníchim; and Chinook;

3. as a core tenet of conciliation, treat First Nations as sovereign governments with shifting and ongoing responsibilities for stewardship of territory (including “deep hole in water”);

4. support treaty and other forms of inter-government negotiation lead by First Nations;

5. support organizations that give voice to indigenous elders and youth;

6. explore a range of experiences of personal and familial loss extending to the historical and contemporary losses of most indigenous families living around “deep hole in water”;

7. make art and design that functions to spark intercultural conversations and be prepared to face critical responses, admit mistakes, and build ongoing personal, inter-family, and institutional relationships for indefinite collaborations;

8. work with First Nations language offices: spelling is important as the written forms of Musqueam Halkomelem / hunq’umin’um’ / hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓; Squamish / Sḵwx̱wú7mesh sníchim, sníchim; and Chinook continue to evolve;

9. engage proactively around possible appropriation: there are plenty of good ways to reference and pay homage to indigenous artists without ripping them off; and

10. a good way to bridge the gaps from divergent relationships to historical and contemporary trauma is to make, perform, and experience site-based, multimedia art centred on territorial acknowledgements.

Nobody knows what shared sovereignty means when involving the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh Úxwumixw (Squamish), and Tsleil-Waututh First Nations along with the government of the City of Vancouver, Province of British Columbia, and Government of Canada and the real estate interests claiming to continue to ‘own’ deep hole in water.” The possibilities for moving forward will depend on the new forms imagined through contemporary and traditional culture, possibilities that emerge from collaborations such as “still underwater.”

Gordon Brent Brochu-Ingram 2019 May 11