Brewery Creek, Day 6 + 7
Tent City: Inconvenient Shelter / Invisible People (in progress).
Been thinking about life circumstance lately. How, despite the grandest of plans, we are brought to places we did not imagine ourselves to be. The last few Saturday afternoons, I have gone with my cedar posts to the shores of Brewery Creek, across from an encampment, known as Tent City in Old Hull.
On day 6, one of Tent City’s* residents called out to offer help. I replied no and continued along. He arrived shortly after – as I was untying rope and setting up a tripod – and introduced himself. We carried on our conversation as I set up the shelter structure and took some photos.
Once the structure was up, many bikers on the path expressed their annoyance at having to go around me. My shelter was inconvenient and in the way. I moved the structure to the grasses, among milkweed and sumac, closer to the water. It immediately became a more inviting place to listen to the sounds and stories of the creek, including the activities of the encampment.
This man shared with me some of his experiences living on the creek for the past four years, outdoors throughout all the seasons. He spoke of life circumstance, the other creek residents, of friends lost. He spoke of the discrimination he’s faced by cops and countless others. He also spoke of his dreams: the most vivid one included swimming and fishing in a clean creek.
I returned to the creek again today and intend to return regularly. The idea is to build and dismantle the structure again and again and to see what arises. The intention, to create dialogue with passersby on the perceptions of these shelters and the people on the other side of the water, metres away. The essence is to build and to gather; to sit and to wander, chat, write, share thoughts on could become of this place with the folks I meet along the way.
Initially, I imagined a project that facilitated a way for the two sides of the creek to meet somewhere common, mirroring their difference and circumstance. One side is hurried, perhaps uncomfortable, the other side forgotten, inconvenient. How does slowing down long enough allow us to understand hardship (personal or societal) more authentically? What role does the creek play in this understanding? If the waters were clean, how might it bring people together? How might bringing folks together make the water clean?
*I have had a long time curiosity with Tent City in downtown Hull (Allumettières blvd. + Highway 50), and now that I live in the neighbourhood, my relationship is deepening. Nestled along the banks of Brewery Creek, close to where Highway 50 South ends, the tents and creek residents overflow from Gîte Ami, a homeless shelter and resource centre that accommodates folks in transition, undergoing hardship or with nowhere else to go. Known by the residents as ‘Le Noel des campeurs’, the community is tolerated by the City of Gatineau because it seems to be their most feasible solution: It is less expensive to put up with squatters than it is to build social housing. A pilot project is currently in effect to let them stay until next Fall. To learn more about the future of this land and the ongoing negotiations between the City and Gîte Ami, the following articles summarize well (in French):
- De nouveaux fonds pour encadrer le campement improvisé près du ruisseau de la Brasserie, Radio-Canada, mars, 2015.
- Boisé du Gîte Ami : un campement illégal existe toujours, Radio-Canada, février, 2015.
Day 6
Day 7
