Exploring an Ancient BC Forest, Before It’s Too Late

One day, the only trace of old-growth forests might be virtual replicas. The trees, plants, streams and animals all rendered in pixels and projections, a ghost version of something that was once wildly alive.

But before this happens, art and activism can combine to offer a clear picture of what’s at stake.

Sanctuary: The Dakota Bear Ancient Forest Experience, on now at the PuSh International Performing Arts Festival in Vancouver, is a 360-degree projection installation that recreates the experience of being in the forest — and imagines its possible future clearcutting.

Located on unceded Squamish First Nation lands on the Sunshine Coast, the Dakota Bear forest dates back to the last ice age and derives its name from the black bears that make their home there. Ancient hollow cedars offer places of respite and shelter for mother bears and their babies.

The art installation has an agenda and isn’t demure about its purpose, made clear in a series of filmed sequences that move from a living, breathing old-growth forest to artificially replanted regions to clearcuts in B.C. The catastrophic loss of biodiversity and habitat is rendered explicit in these three different states.

It feels akin to burning down a cathedral. As co-creator Damien Gillis explains, “These forests are totally unique and special.”

Artist and ethnobotanist Cease Wyss of the Squamish Nation narrates the journey into the forest, explaining that many of the trees have been used by the Squamish and shíshálh peoples for hundreds of years. The bark from yellow cedar is harvested sustainably to make clothing, hats and other items.

But despite its biological, cultural and historical significance, one key region in the Dakota Bear forest, termed Block A87126, is up for auction by the B.C. government. Although the sale of this cutblock has been deferred, the threat remains as permanent protection of the site hasn’t yet been achieved.

In an interview with the Coast Reporter, the Elphinstone Logging Focus society’s Ross Muirhead said, “This might be the most deferred block in the history of forest planning in B.C. and for good reason… The government and [BC Timber Sales] can’t come to terms with the fact that destroying an ancient forest with rare overlapping natural and cultural values would be an environmental crime.”

The possibility that trees that have stood for centuries might be cut down and shipped away, creating a landscape that resembles the surface of the moon, prompted the creation of Sanctuary with the intent of saving the site.

As Wyss says, logging rights were on the auction block primarily because the few large trees left are worth more money than the artificially planted areas that have failed to thrive. The replanted trees, crowded and spindly, aren’t worth as much.

Gillis, Wyss and co-director/cinematographer Olivier Leroux began filming last summer, but as the possible sale loomed the project took on a more urgent edge. For them, it wasn’t just the trees at stake, but the vast web of life that a forest represents.

“The idea is that this forest is all about family,” says Gillis. “Families of trees, families of bears, families of humans. The mother trees give of themselves to raise the next generation of trees; they also become homes for bears as they begin to die from the inside out; and their bark is carefully harvested by Indigenous peoples to clothe and shelter their own families.”

In creating the forest experience, Sanctuary’s creative team turned to virtual reality. Attending the installation at the PuSh Festival requires a health checklist and a carefully timed entry and exit. The film itself, projected in 360 degrees on a geodesic structure, offers a remarkable immersion, akin to the practice of forest bathing.

The decision to incorporate a dome served a few purposes, said Gillis. The space allowed for a more expansive and shared experience (people can attend with bubble mates). The dome also did away with the discombobulating sensations of traditional VR. As someone who is prone to bouts of nausea when wearing VR headsets, this is good news.

The sound elements are a critical aspect of the experience, from the burble of streams to birdsong. Emily Carr University’s Intersections Digital Studios contributed to the work, and Edo Van Breemen’s composition and Alba Vega Mulet’s sound mix and design are another key component. “Sounds really set the stage,” says Gillis.

Cedar boughs add another sensorial quality, recreating the sight, sound and smell of the forest. With only a couple of days of filming and a few short weeks to pull everything together, “it moved very fast, but it was really fun,” he says.

The research of B.C. biologist Suzanne Simard influenced the installation. Many of the ideas broached in Sanctuary are given full voice in Simard’s work, especially the idea of connection, though the word doesn’t quite do justice to the intricate networks that link not only trees to each other, but also to a constellation of different organisms in the forest.

Fungi, mycelium and micro-organisms are knitted together in delicate traceries of a vast underground system. The web of relationships between plant and animal, water and earth, air and light, all in cosmic balance, bears some similarity to the internet. Although natural systems are arguably even more complex.

First Nations people recognized these interconnected and co-operative systems for centuries, but more recent research into these networks has revealed startling new information. In old-growth forests, trees not only communicate; they also support and help one another.

Older trees help younger, more vulnerable seedlings in an almost maternal fashion. Different species also come to each other’s aid, conifers supporting deciduous trees through seasonal patterns of growth.

Simard’s new book Finding the Mother Tree documents these stunning discoveries. The book will be released in April, but for those who can’t wait to read it, the New York Times recently offered an in-depth and beautifully executed visual essay.

The threat of terrible loss that infuses the experience of Sanctuary is also echoed in Simard’s work.

The Times piece eloquently sums up the impact of this rampant destruction.

“When a mature forest is burned or clear cut, the planet loses an invaluable ecosystem and one of its most effective systems of climate regulation. The razing of an old-growth forest is not just the destruction of magnificent individual trees — it’s the collapse of an ancient republic whose interspecies covenant of reciprocation and compromise is essential for the survival of Earth as we’ve known it.”

Humans have managed to obliterate a lot of our old-growth forest in a matter of a few hundred years. Canada is particularly guilty of this unceasing carnage. As one of the few remaining areas of old-growth trees, the fate of the Dakota Bear forest is critical, not just for bears, plants and other beings, but for humans as well.

Sanctuary runs until Sunday. The show has been sold out for weeks, but an online panel will take place on Sunday at 11 a.m., with Wyss and Gillis, as well as two young members from the Skwx̱wú7mesh Nation to co-lead a workshop for immigrant and refugee youth. Gillis says the installation will outlast COVID-19, and future tours as well as school shows are in the works.

Meanwhile, once travel restrictions loosen, consider trucking out to the actual forest and experiencing in the fullest reality what all of the books, films and VR installations seek to replicate. While it’s still there.