project 2 | broom / brooms

broom / brooms

With this next project, I wanted to continue to explore the power of place based materials in their local communities. An idea I had was to reach out to all of my peers who had recently relocated to Vancouver. I wanted to make them something of consequence — something that came from this land, and something that was special to them.

I sent out a google form to those nine individuals with a couple of simple questions:

<<Please list three objects / tools that are the most valuable or important to you in your home? (For example: something you use to prepare food or to clean with — something you use every day or that you would use everyday if you had it. please no electronics! thanks!)>>

and

<<Is there anything from the above list that you had at your last home but did not come with you to Canada? Something that you find you are missing?>>

I assured them a surprise for their participation (sorry guys, it’s coming I promise), and anxiously awaited their responses. In hindsight, it was a bit presumptuous to assume that nine unique actors would provide me with one single object I could fabricate to accommodate them all. Through conversations with mentorship and peers, it became clear that I needed to reevaluate my approach. If I wanted to provide an offering of place, to hopefully provide a caring gesture in that spirit, I would have to decide for myself what the appropriate choice object would be.

I thought making a piece of pottery, or possibly something carved by hand from wood, but did not feel that was quite right. I found myself on one of the Gulf Islands for reading week and was reminded of an old foe of mine — scotch broom.

“Scotch broom is an invasive woody shrub.  It was first introduced to southern Vancouver Island in the 1850’s, and now grows prolifically throughout southwestern British Columbia.  Broom is most often found in open areas such as meadows, forest clearings, roadsides and hydro corridors.
 
Broom changes the chemistry of the soil around it so that other plants can’t grow there.  It spreads and grows quickly, creating dense monocultures.  Broom is a particularly serious threat to the biodiversity of the Gulf Islands, eliminating native plant communities that birds, butterflies and othe ranimals rely on for habitat.  Broom is also particularly flammable, increasing the fire hazard of a property.”

“Scotch broom is an invasive woody shrub.  It was first introduced to southern Vancouver Island in the 1850’s, and now grows prolifically throughout southwestern British Columbia.  Broom is most often found in open areas such as meadows, forest clearings, roadsides and hydro corridors.
 
Broom changes the chemistry of the soil around it so that other plants can’t grow there.  It spreads and grows quickly, creating dense monocultures.  Broom is a particularly serious threat to the biodiversity of the Gulf Islands, eliminating native plant communities that birds, butterflies and other animals rely on for habitat.  Broom is also particularly flammable, increasing the fire hazard of a property.”

– Islands Trust Conservancy Website, British Columbia

http://www.islandstrustconservancy.ca/our-initiatives/privateconservation/land-stewardship/invasive-species/scotch-broom/

Scotch broom in the wild

This spindly, opportunistic invasive plant is everywhere on the Gulf Islands. It was brought over with the European colonizers to these lands because of its quite lovely yellow blossoms; however it has seeded itself uncontrollably on this land, along with many other invasive plant species. Scotch broom’s namesake comes from a traditional use for the plant (or so I’ve read) as a material for broom making. I’ve been curious to try this for myself, and was glad to have another reason to clear out some of the broom from the orchard on Piers Island, so we collected several branches to begin drying them out for the experiment.

Shortly after, we received an email that the Piers Island Invasive Species Committee was having a Valentine’s themed invasive species removal party! What luck! We threw on some thick garden gloves, grabbed the big clippers, and headed back to the orchard to really tackle it. Over the years, tree skirts have been cleared to open up the communal spaces to light and grass, leaving way for gorse and broom to fill in. They are so established in parts of the island that they have to yearly remove the plants, and burn the roots, only to have to repeat again annually. They are too aggressive to be eliminated entirely, maintenance of the problem is the best that can be done, otherwise they will claim all unshaded open land.

Talking to the organizer of the event, Charlotte, a full-time resident on the island, it came up that I was interested in exploring the opportunities to use invasive plants as a material in my practice. Immediately she began to suggest that I sell the brooms in the Piers Island Gallery (known colloquially as the PIG) and offered that it would be great to offer the brooms as an example to fellow islanders of the potentials of the material and an incentive to remove it.

This conversation struck a chord, as I realized the potential of such a project on such a small community of Piers Island. It’s a good place to start such a relational exercise, especially since that particular place means so much to me as I continue to deepen my relationships with its residents, traditions, and natural beauty.

Pulling and cutting away at the blackberry, scotch broom, and gorse (the latter being undoubtedly the most aggressively thorny of the bunch), I began to think of how pulling invasive species that were brought over amidst colonialism was akin to pulling out it’s continued spread on the native landscapes that remain (somewhat) untouched. It’s a satisfying mantra when you’re knee deep in thorns with a sore back. Also the towering burn pile of plants at the end of the day, along with coffee and chocolates, made it a satisfying exercise in more ways than one.

I made a prototype of a broom before it had dried with cotton string, just to see how it would go. Though a crude representation of what I hoped to create, I was happy with the potential.

The broom is taking much longer to dry out completely, so I’ve had to make the first half with still green material. I’m going to wait on the rest until it is brown and dry, to compare the pliability and difference in resistance. I’m looking forward to seeing how that goes!

This experience went a different way than I planned, but I am eager to make more brooms, keep up the relationships with the islanders, and the conversations about place based materials. Particularly with communities who recognize how those materials can serve a greater service to the land and it’s inhabitants.

first broom with copper wire attempt
four of the five brooms I made from green scotch broom
broom in action! helping me clean the mess that the broom making process created at my desk

project 1 | burlap

This semester, I have found myself immersed in conversations of place based practice and design. Coming from last semester, this feels like such a timely and energizing transition into building my research frameworks and overall practice.

While last semester, I primarily worked with natural materials — wood ash, cedar bark, arbutus, oregon grape root, etc — I wanted to push myself to find ways to use other materials from the places I inhabit. I’m interested to work with place-based materials for their capacity to connect communities to where they are. I believe that this in turn, can be a means of promoting local making, industries, and an overall more sustainable and circular local economic system.

I worked through a couple of avenues that I could explore this work. Essentially two roads — one that focused more on my experiences and frustrations with our current system, and one that focused on a population in Vancouver that often gets ignored, the downtown east side of this city.

In that vain, I have spent more time in that neighborhood of Vancouver since I began my work at Sole Food Street Farms — a social enterprise urban farm hybrid that provides agricultural education and employment to individuals who have high barriers to employment. Last season, we were able to divert a considerable amount of fresh produce from our farm to the DTES. I coordinated and delivered most of that produce. That and my parter’s workplace in railtown had be spending a lot of time walking and driving around this neighborhood.

Trying to think about what the materials of the DTES are, I thought of garbage and debris, and I thought of the industry of the neighborhood. What opportunities for material reimagining and reuse are in a specified region such as this?

Coffee roasters and breweries are numerous — as is their waste. Coffee roasters throw away the burlap bags that carry the unprocessed coffee beans from far and wide. Spent grain makes up roughly 85% of the byproducts of brewing — and also the majority of which goes to compost or the landfill.

There is a discrepancy in if residents of the DTES would connect burlap or spent grain to their homes, but nevertheless those are resources that are already there. I wanted to think about if there ways to use those materials (or others in the neighborhood) to serve that community.

This opened conversations about co-creation, participatory design, and really recognizing the needs of the neighborhood.

This really blew up my scope, to a scale I’m not sure I’m prepared to tackle. But that in mind, I wanted to get my hands on one of those proposed materials.

I had some burlap form an east side roaster from my work (we use it to winterize the farm), and sought to make something useful from it. At risk of making something a bit too DIY / crafty, I jumped in anyway. I made a simple bowl and a simple tote bag.

I’m interested in finding an opportunity to work with short-term housing facilities in Vancouver. Wouldn’t it be something to create some kind of place-based welcome package for recipients when they move into a new space? Housing-first models of addressing homelessness and addiction are 85% successful after six years, versus the 60% efficacy of treatment first. What if we could offer for example a package — perhaps a locally made welcome wagon from makers (ceramic piece, wooden spoon, urban farm gift card, local coffee, etc). Would that support their process of building lasting connections to the places and communities that they inhabit?

Would it be valued?

Would it make a difference?

Who would support this?

Who would be the makers?

Interviews, surveys?

I’m looking forward to exploring this further and finding opportunities within the conversations I’ve been engaging with at Emily Carr through Fibreshed and the Place Based Grad Collective.