The ThunderBlogs

The larger-than-life sculpture unveiled to the public this week on city-owned lands awaiting development is itself a tool of construction. Or destruction, depending on who you ask.

Whether the fate of southeast False Creek lives up to its artwork’s symbolism is another story.

Adjoining the paved path that rims the inlet, a monolithic brown bulldozer dominates the landscape. This one, however, happens to be devoid of gears or machinery, constructed from recycled wheat board panels and conceived by Berlin-based artists Folke Köbberling and Martin Kaltwasser.

“The symbol of the bulldozer is meant to create a tabula rasa for something new,” said Kaltwasser. “It’s about showing something going from this hierarchical, authoritarian idea of structure into this organic process of decay, this democratic spreading out and regrowth. It’s about being more and more open to outside influence.”

Outfitted with a work belt and boots, blue cargo pants, a “Brasilia futebol” t-shirt and translucent spectacles, Kaltwasser addressed an admiring 40-person crowd Friday evening.

He explained how soil piled into the sculpture’s interior would assist in its decomposition. Wind and rain will begin to eat away at the panels, made almost entirely of compostable wheat straw salvaged from Olympic Village construction refuse. His audience’s lycra leggings and thick-rimmed glasses stood in marked contrast to the hammers and drill guns lying atop a smattering of makeshift particle board tables.

Other Sights for Artists, a non-profit arts organization, presented Köbberling and Kaltwasser’s The Games are Open in part to address issues of sustainability in the development of southeast False Creek.

Despite the project’s name, the chain link fence enclosing both the sculpture and the barren city lands behind it will remain in place.

For over a decade the city has been launching official development plans and bylaws, conducting environmental assessments and discussing waste management and green building strategies for the 50-acre area.

It remains desolate, punctuated only by the recently built Olympic Village, yet uninhabited, and a decaying bulldozer.

That contraption, usually associated with rapid and drastic change, will gradually transition into a pile of soil and eventually a plant nursery. Its contents will be spread throughout the city’s green spaces, Kaltwasser hopes.

Less identified with rapid action, the city has further delayed its bid process for future operators of the Village housing units, extending the deadline last week to the end of September due to confusion over complex leasing demands.

A timeline for shovels—aside from those used for the sculpture—in the ground comprising southeast False Creek has not been specified.

The city’s waterfront property may resemble its decomposing art work for some time to come.