Category: Salish governments & elders

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), 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
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 * 1P3A9832
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 & found art, Salish governments & elders

still underwater: 2019-22 decolonial land and other public art projects marking the centennial of the disappearance of False Creek East (Skwácháy̓s [Sḵwx̱wú7mesh sníchim] with the hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓ names currently being researched) in today’s central Vancouver

April 8 – May 24, 2019
still underwater 1: traces, pronunciations, recollections

September 16 – November 2, 2019
still underwater 2: flooding resurgence recovery

organized by

still underwater:
Tracing Skwahchays, Hole in Bottom, in today’s False Creek Flats

The former inlet and salt marshes bounded today by Vancouver’s Union, Clark, Great Northern Way, and Main Street were once known as False Creek East, and more previously by Salish communities as what might roughly be translated as hole-in-bottom, or, Skwahchays. In the centennial years of the filling and destruction of hole-in-bottom, PLOT invites the land art collective ḴEXMIN field station* to initiate new research, field trips, monitoring, test sites, public conversations, screenings, ceremonies, performances, interventions, and proposals. In various periods over the next three years, still underwater will explore new forms of decolonial land art based on emergent protocols in acknowledging a wider range of territorial, linguistic, cultural, and historical concerns, as well as emerging relationships, alliances, and communalities.

At the core of still underwater are a series of questions about new opportunities for environmental, site-based, and public art on the Pacific North-West coast: How can artists, curators and audiences—with a wide range of heritages—engage fully around unceded land and sites, with respect and support towards the rapidly evolving cultural, political, and legal protocols of the xwməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish) and səl̓ílwətaʔɬ/Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh) nations? For indigenous artists, what does it mean to have a heritage and political entitlement around unceded sites such as ‘hole-in-bottom’? On the seismically-vulnerable terrain of ‘hole-in bottom’, how can site-based artistic interventions and permanent public art works hold transformative roles within its ‘redeveloping’ neighbourhoods, where new construction seems inevitable despite its geological instability?

This event is held on the unceded territory of the sḵwx̱wú7mesh, sel̓íl̓witulh, & xʷməθkʷəy̓əm nations.

ḴEXMIN field station* is a loose collective of indigenous and non-indigenous site-based artists, environmental researchers, scientists, and designers focused on the waters, shores and islands of the Salish Sea. Currently located on Salt Spring Island, the field station exists as a research, learning and experimentation space to nurture conversations spanning traditional indigenous knowledge, modern science, and contemporary culture. Individuals currently contributing to ‘still underwater’ include Musqueam weaver and public artist Debra Sparrow, Salish curator Rose Spahan, Métis public artist and environmental scientist Gordon Brent Brochu-Ingram (currently coordinating the 2019 events at PLOT), public artist and designer Alex Grünenfelder, ecological designer and public artist Oliver Kellhammer, and Sharon Kallis a community engaged environmental artist.

*The ‘Ḵ’ in KEXMIN is underlined where possible [but not possible in the current version of WordPress] and represents a distinctive sound and letter in the SENĆOŦEN language – one of the more than a score of Salish languages.

Event listings and documentation will be posted below

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

archival, land theft, gentrification & displacement, marsh & marine ecosystems (erasure & resurgence), Salish governments & elders

the relationship of Skwácháy̓s to the Squamish / Musqueam village of Sen̓áḵw

View of Kitsilano Indian Reserve, known as Sen̓áḵw [Sḵwx̱wú7mesh Snichim]
looking east, circa 1907 (City of Vancouver Archives)

‘They were forced off their reserves, out of their homes and put on a barge to north Vancouver’.
Angela Sterritt. 2019. The little-known history of Squamish Nation land in Vancouver: ‘They were forced off their reserves, out of their homes and put on a barge to north Vancouver’. CBC News (April 21, 2019)

The village closest to Skwácháy̓s was Sen̓áḵw a kilometre further west near the mouth of False Creek. The depopulation of Skwácháy̓s was part of forced removal of the communities and land management regimens of the three First Nations (spanning two Salish languages) from what is today the City of Vancouver.

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

“The mudflats that once existed around False Creek were called Skwácháy̓s, meaning “water coming up from ground beneath.” Khelsilem

“The mudflats that once existed around False Creek were called Skwácháy̓s, meaning “water coming up from ground beneath.” Khelsilem from Stephanie Wood. 2019. What does ‘consultation’ mean on occupied Sḵwx̱wú7mesh land? National Observer (May 21st).

The Sḵwx̱wú7mesh Úxwúmixw Council (leading the Squamish Nation), pictured in April 2018 (photograph borrowed without permission from the National Observer)