Conversations with the Salish Sea/ Inlet Collective x Maplewood Flats (Wild Bird Trust of BC)
Five Walks in Whey-ah Wichen: Restoring Shoreline, Place, and Memory
Photography/Poetry, 2026
Beginning of a Restoration Ecology Poetics
Poem here.
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The Inlet is indifferent to municipal boundaries.
The Inlet is a commons divided by industry.
The Inlet is a corridor for salmon.
The Inlet is a resting place for migratory birds.
The Inlet is an estuary where fresh water learns the sea.
The Inlet is where rivers become ocean.
The Inlet is where the Seymour River releases its stories.
The Inlet is where Indian Arm carries mountain water into Burrard Inlet.
The Inlet is habitat before it is infrastructure.
The Inlet is eelgrass returning beneath the surface.
The Inlet is Pacific herring finding spawning beaches again.
The Inlet is kelp recovering where it can.
The Inlet is juvenile salmon searching for shelter.
The Inlet is Dungeness crab beneath the tide.
The Inlet is seals where they had become uncommon.
The Inlet is the return of Bigg's orcas following food back into the harbour.
The Inlet is evidence that ecosystems remember how to heal.
The Inlet is restoration measured one species at a time.
The Inlet is thousands of small recoveries rather than one grand success.
The Inlet is more alive than it was fifty years ago.
The Inlet is more vulnerable than it appears.
The Inlet is a globally significant place for biodiversity despite its urban shoreline.
The Inlet is both industrial harbour and ecological refuge.
The Inlet is both working port and living estuary.
The Inlet is contradiction made visible.
The Inlet is container ships crossing ancient canoe routes.
The Inlet is cranes standing where cedar forests once met the tide.
The Inlet is steel reflected in water.
The Inlet is oil passing through salmon habitat.
Revisiting Under the Volcano Festival of Art & Social Change (1990-2010)
Poem here.
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I Look Across, I Walk Home in Anger
Poem here.
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"The Inlet is"
WALK THREEThe Inlet is older than every map drawn across it.
The Inlet is older than the city that believes it contains it.
The Inlet is a shoreline that refuses a single history.
The Inlet is a meeting place before it is a destination.
The Inlet is a language that exceeds English.
The Inlet is called Whey-ah-Wichen because names restore ways of seeing.
The Inlet is a conversation between tide and stone.
The Inlet is never still.
The Inlet is always arriving.
The Inlet is a witness to every tide that has entered and withdrawn.
The Inlet is memory without paper. The Inlet is an archive written in saltwater. The Inlet is not interested in property lines.
The Inlet is a shipping lane and a migration route.
The Inlet is commerce moving above an unseen food web.
The Inlet is global trade resting on local ecology.
The Inlet is measured in tonnes of cargo.
The Inlet is measured in returning herring.
The Inlet is measured in bird calls.
The Inlet is measured in tides.
The Inlet is measured differently depending on who is counting.
The Inlet is profit to some.
The Inlet is home to others.
The Inlet is impossible to reduce to a balance sheet.
The Inlet is where economic ambition meets ecological limits.
The Inlet is where restoration and expansion coexist uneasily.
The Inlet is never only one thing.
The Inlet is not empty water awaiting development.
The Inlet is already occupied by relationships.
The Inlet is already speaking.
The Inlet is asking whether recovery can outpace extraction.
The Inlet is asking what stewardship requires.
The Inlet is asking how long abundance can survive convenience.
The Inlet is asking who benefits from dredging.
The Inlet is asking who bears the consequences.
The Inlet is asking us to look longer.
The Inlet is asking us to listen differently.
The Inlet is asking us to remember what almost disappeared.
The Inlet is teaching me that restoration is a verb.
The Inlet is changing faster than memory.
The Inlet is changing slower than hope.
The Inlet is never the same water twice.
The Inlet is the same place each time I return.
The Inlet is teaching me that those two sentences are both true.
Turning to the Fjord We Call 'Indian Arm'
Poem here.
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Exhibition Location — Date of run
