On an otherwise ordinary day a couple of years ago, artist Gudrun Lock walked her dog along the southern edge of Shoreham Yards, a 230-acre train and trucking facility that borders the northeast Minneapolis neighborhood where she lives.
"This should be a forest," she thought as she looked at the seven-block strip, home to a rail yard since the 1880s. Lock found herself musing about "a woman who is a descendant of druids, and is a botanist, and talks about the aerosols in trees and how they alter our brain energy, and how mini-forests can be planted around the world."
That curious streak imbues her installation "The Nature of Shoreham Yards," now on view at the University of Minnesota's Weisman Art Museum. Part research-in-progress, part collective exploration, the exhibit houses a variety of random elements from the buffer area surrounding Shoreham Yards.
Bird-survey checklists, which collaborators filled out during a visit to the site. Aerial photos of the space. A taxidermied beaver and two ducks in a glass case. Post-its with notes like "Why does the DNR characterize black locust as a noxious weed?" And dozens of shredded, decomposing men's Fruit of the Loom underwear, hanging in bags on the walls.
We caught up with Lock, who is interested in marginalized places and bodies — both human and non-human — to learn more about the site and her project. This interview has been edited for clarity.
Q: What fascinates you about this buffer zone that you say is "both polluted and full of life"?
A: This is what happens in these types of marginal places — things that can't live or exist elsewhere. Homeless people, garbage, plants and animals that maybe we don't allow. Ground dwelling species. I came face-to-face with a coyote, fox, deer, all using the northern section of the site.
The reality of railroads is that they cross all kinds of territory. Pre-European prairie land, I have heard, can still be found next to train tracks. It becomes corridors for animals. Tons of birds use that site. The northern part is an extension of Columbia Golf Course. It was called Sandy Lake and was filled with debris when the city was digging out Lake Calhoun. Then it became a golf course.