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Beach Bodies : Terraforming and Formal Terror at Wreck Beach Schipper, Jeremy Joseph 2019-04

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1Beach BodiesTerraforming and Formal Terror at Wreck BeachJeremy Joseph SchipperHonours Bachelor of Arts, McGill University, 2014SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS for the DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARCHITECTURE in THE FACULTY OF APPLIED SCIENCE SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE AND LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE, ARCHITECTURE PROGRAMCommittee:Thena Tak - Chair & Mentor Joseph Watson - Internal Marko Simcic - ExternalWe accept this report as conforming to the required standardThe University of British ColumbiaApril 2019 ©Thena TakChairJoseph WatsonCommittee2 3AbstractIn a narrative of Vancouver’s Wreck (Ulksen)Beach, Beach Bodies synthesizes historical events and projected futures to call attention to the vast networks and local actors that coalesce to shape our “natural” landscapes andtheir potential embodiments in a new era. The project positions the beach as the site of confluence for numerous interrelated material flows -- namely those of sand, timber, and plastic -- and unearths their residual cultural and spatial impacts. Beach Bodies is a celebration of all that is transgressive, and seeks to shift our understanding of what constitutes a natural and authentic body.4 5Table of ContentsAbstractList of FiguresAcknowledgmentsPart IBeach BodiesPart IIOn Science and FictionPart IIIOn Science and FictionBibliographyIllustrative Credits38616741021261286 7Thena TakJoseph WatsonMarko SimcicDylan MaeersKathy OkeTrevor WhittenTori HamataniPera HardyOlivia BullAlena PavanDana SalamaVincent PerronLisa KusakaEinstein on the Beach: Act I, Scene I -TrainPhilip GlassA mentor across all matters, material or otherwise.Coral UnderstandingAnimal CollectiveThank you for giving shape to this project. PlastisphereMatmosHere is an album entirely of, by, and for plastic. SaltwaterBeach HouseThe ultimate beach buddy. Comfy in NauticaPanda BearThe Panda Bear to my Avery Tare.Plastic LoveリアムMAZE1981To a man with moves of rubber.Impossible IslandGaussian CurveYou are a rock, you are an island. Plastic 100°CSamphaMy material melding mastermind. SeabirdAlessi BrothersFor bringing me back to earth more times than I can count.The Plastic AgeThe BugglesTo a post-plastik-punk. ImmaterialSOPHIEPlastronaut extraordinaire.Ca Plane Pour MoiPastic BertrandUn magicien sur le scanner.Plastic FoamASMR FactoryFor a synesthetic sister.SOUNDS FOR BEACH BODIESA PLASTIC PLAYLIST IN THIRTEEN DEDICATIONShttps://open.spotify.com/user/1162779012/playlist/748lqz6j0x1raSqokTQA8W?si=oWVC6qSPTlu1RfQkYlHIDA8 9List of FiguresFig. 1 Plastic Landscape        11Fig. 2 Beach plastic and logs            19Fig. 3 Pacific map, detail      29Fig. 4 Pacific map, detail      29Fig. 5 Pacific map, detail      29Fig 6. Lidar imagery                    31Fig. 7 Lidar imagery                    33Fig. 8 Fraser River Debris Trap      34Fig. 9 Logbooms                    35Fig. 11 Nudists                                   39Figure 12. New Foreshore      41Fig. 13 New Island                    43Fig. 14. Site plan                    45Fig. 15 Anisotropic section     47Figure 16. Core samples                   49Fig. 17 Island Inhabitations     51Fig. 18 Island Inhabitations     53Fig. 19 Underground tunnels     55Fig. 20 Plastic Mining                    57Fig. 21 Algae cave                   59Fig. 22 Plastic Flesh                   61Fig. 23 Effigy                                 63Fig. 24 Salt Mine                   65Fig. 25 Melting space                   66Fig. 26 Melting space                   67Fig. 27 Melting island, before    69Fig. 28 Melting island, after    69Fig. 29 Plastic Miners                   71Fig. 30 Plastic body                   73Fig. 31 Hutton’s Chincha Islands    87Fig. 32 Plastic Flesh Detail    89Fig. 33 Body blending                   91Fig. 34 logbooms                   93Fig. 35 Plastiglomerate                   95Fig. 36 Point Grey Battery       97Fig. 37  C.A.S.L. operators      99Fig. 38 Beaches of Agnes      101Fig. 39 Beaches of Agnes      103Fig 40. Speculative core samples    121Fig 41. Core samples - process      122Fig 42. Core samples - process      123Fig. 43 Tower collage                     125Fig. 44 Lidar detail                     127Fig. 45 Lidar                                 128Fig. 46 Lidar                                    129Fig. 47 Lidar                                    130Fig. 48 Lidar                                    131Fig. 49 Seaweed studies      133Fig. 50 Harvested materials      134Fig. 51 Harvested materials      13510 11ForwardWhat follows in this booklet are thee interrelated tangents; three sets of writing and image that grapple with the issues raised in Beach Bodies, a graudation project developed for the School of Architecture and Landscape Architecture at the University of British Columbia. Part IBeach Bodies A narrative on Wreck Beach through writing and     documented  photos, models, animations, and      drawings. Everything contained in this section was presented   for the Graduation Project. Part II On Science and Fiction A treatise for a synthetic and interdisciplinary approach to    architecutre. This section is broken up into a glossary of    terms relevant to the project that straddle the line between    science and fiction.Part IIIMethodologies of Transgression Building upon Part II, this section focuses explicitly on the    process and research involved in creating Beach Bodies, and has   been created for future GP students. 12 13“The hierarchy of substances is abolished: a single one replaces them all: the whole world can beplasticized, and even life itself.”Roland Barthes, “Mythologies”Figure 1. Plastic landscape14 1516 17Terraforming and Formal Terror at Wreck BeachPart IBeach Bodies18 19The story of the beach is the story of plastic, or more specifically of plasticity.There is a certain kind of abject horror in plasticity, in objects, in our bodies, and in our landscapes. And so we are terrified of plastic, and all that it stands for — both in its seemingly infinite mutabilities, and in its distance and proximity to what we understand as being human.  Herein lies the ultimate confusion and paradox of plastic — it chiefly represents both the internal and external. It is, above all else, transgressive. It is now ubiquitous throughout our landscapes — it is mixed into our salt and our food, it is rubbed into pores, and it forms the structures around us. Though it is integral to us, it is also devalued and stigmatized as waste.We are interested in the beginning and middle of plastic’s narrative but not in its ending. And so we flush it out to sea, out toward the the periphery, out of site and out of mind, and into another orbit. Out somewhere between where we sit and Hawaii, there is an unmeasurably large gathering of ocean plastic known as The Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Though we’ve all heard the salacious gossip about this supposed landmass, the patch actually exists as an amorphous field -- a zone of densities that swirl and lurch under the surface. This patch makes its way closer toward the Western shores of North American in the North Pacific Gyre - a cycling current that exists as the largest ecosystem on earth. mutability, and its knack for shapeshifting. As a landscape, the beach is imbued with incredible potentials for allowing individuals to experience systems larger than themselves, even at an astronomical scale; where else on earth do the cycles of the moon and the planets became so materially tangible?Figure 2. Beach plastic and logs 20 21Plastic always returns to us, and usually in one particular site: the beach. And of course this zone should be the beach, a landscape defined by its mutability, and its knack for shapeshifting. As a landscape, the beach is imbued with incredible potentials for allowing individuals to experience systems larger than themselves, even at an astronomical scale; where else on earth do the cycles of the moon and the planets became so materially tangible?The beach is where the cosmic convenes with the confined: where glimpses of foreign worlds become actualized and materialized before our very eyes. We sit today a mere 800 metres from the beach, from Wreck Beach to be clear, whose 7.6km shoreline hugs the western edge of the Point Grey Grey Peninsula, just outside of the official limits of the City of Vancouver. The land exists, in nearly every sense, in a constant state of precarity. Occupying unceeded Musqueam land, the very right to access and inhabit the beach is contested and threatened by forces on site and beyond. It is morphologically dubious, and changes shape from day to day, and minute to minute. Temporary islands emerge and are subsumed with the changing of tides. A 70 metre high cliff that surrounds the site erodes at a rate of 7cm annualy, due to mix of natural and human causes, depositing glacial sands onto the beach. This method of land creation through erosion or destruction is massively augmented by the influx of sediment and from the nearby Fraser River, which serves as a major corridor for BC’s logging industry.Figure 3 Pacific map, detailFigure 4 Pacific map, detailFigure 5 Pacific map, detail22 23Fig 6. Lidar imageryHere, a breakwater was constructed in 1928 to extend the estuary of brackish water — that is water that is half fresh, and half salinated. This was done to create a zone where a small bivalve known as the Shipworm could not live, and so logs meant for exporting could bewithout risk of being damaged. This breakwater, constructed of three sunken WWI-era ships gave Wreck Beach both its name, and it form, as sediment brought in from the river was deposited along this breakwater, creating the small triangle we now know as Wreck Beach. And so the seemingly naturally beautiful landscape at Wreck belies its convoluted origins, which are caught between both natural and unnatural forces. 24 25Questions of the natural of are also of utmost concern to the primary denizens of the beach. Wreck boasts the status of being the largest nude beach in North America, and any issues of governance or land forming must first go through the Wreck Beach Preservation Society -- an assemblage of nudists, or Naturists, who believe that existing skyclad, or without clothing, is the most true or natural way of inhabiting a landscape. The society formed following what is known as “Dredge Gate” in 1977, when the city attempted to stop cliff erosion by placing dredged sediment on a northern section of the penniunsla beach, only to find that the intervention aided in destroying this section. To this date, the zone of Dredgate caused an almost complete evacuation of that area of the beach, toward the sandy shores to the south now known as Wreck, a byproduct of BC’s lumber industry. There’s an irony then, that this group of Naturists rests upon the byproduct of a system of resource extraction that is deemed so completely horrifying. Fig. 7 Lidar imagery26 27And yet Wreck Beach is merely the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the controlled flow of timber up and down the Fraser.  While the river is cleared to allow the flow of logbooms, it is also blockaded in sections to prevent the natural flow of driftwood — driftwood that provides up to 60% of the total carbon in our ecosystems within shallow coastal waters. And so there is an anxiety as to which wood can, and cannot access the river to Wreck.This flow is primarily controlled by the Fraser River Debris Trap -- a series of narrow barriers outside of Aggasiz, BC that allows debris to accumulate before it is cleared out via crane. Figure 9. LogboomsFigure 8. Fraser River Debris Trap28 29Figure 10. Fraser River Log 30 31Our narrative today begins when this lumber is granted unrestricted access to the beach. The Debris Trap is funded by a mix of private and public parties, who struggle to financially support its existence and maintenance each year. And so it is dismantled, and the 100,000 cubic metres of debris that is collected each year moves in a frenetic rush toward shores of Wreck Beach. This amount is equal to 2400 highway logging truckloads, or 13 stacked football stadiums of wooden debris each year. This wood reaches the shores of Wreck, and piles on the beach, creating mountains of wood so high the beach cannot be accessed. This event coincides with the arrival of a sizeable chunk of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, as the slurry of timber becomes mixed and infiltrated by massive hunks of ocean plastic. In an effort to reclaim the beach and to clear the nearby shoreline for the transportation of goods, the City of Vancouver orchestrated an organized burn of the foreshore. The bundles of logs and their embedded plastics are set ablaze. The burned timber and plastic does not simply disappear, however, bur rather is swept into the ocean where it churns and gyres offshore, eventually cooling into one, or rather several large, yet connected landmasses. The classification of this mass remains unclear -- it is either a peninsula, an island, or an archipelago depending on matters of tide and inhabitation. Fig. 11 Nudists32 33Figure 12. New Foreshore34 35Fig. 13 New Island36 37Fig 12. Site MapFig. 14. Site plan38 39Fig. 15 Anisotropic section40 41-Frankenstein is considered monstrous to most, who avoid the site completely.Seeking to take advantage of the newly abandoned periphery, the naturists flood into the island, which is accessible without swimming at lower tides. Its primarily plastic landscape is fused with organic material and sediment from a cross the peninsula, including sand and rock from the Fraser, concrete from Tower Beach, seaweed from the shallows, and clay from Spanish Banks.The varying combination of materials creates strata that is non hierarchical and non sensical. Here, there is no clear linear logic or singular story to any one section of land.The newly inhabited land lends itself to activities both old and new. Caves provide cool spaces in the summer to take a nude dip amongst the algae, lichen, and moss that thrives in the newly created shade.Above ground, beaching and laying out in the sun is still possible. Plastic is collected and use dfor leisure to create new games and ways of passing the days au natural. Attracted the mounds of plastic and wood, seagulls join in on the fun, contributing to the land mass by dropping and depositing bits of plastic and waste collected from elsewhere in the city. It’s not long before the landscape is altered by human presence as well, who begin to mine and carve into the mass to harvest different plastics and resources for dinfferent uses.By the shore, a soft and spongy quarry is created, where fiuctuating tides reveal entire worlds of sea life that takes root next to and within the plastic forms on site.Figure 16. Core samples42 43Fig. 17 Island Inhabitations44 45Fig. 18 Island Inhabitations46 47More tunnels are created and landmass is thrown over board into the ocean, left to accumulate sediment and from micro islands of their own. These tunnels uncover new kinds of plastic which can be used in a variety of manners.Where tunnels begin to collapse, the high tensile strength of PVC is used to created inflatable structures that support the soft walls of the tunnels, and provide insulation for those who wish to linger and inhabit them in the colder months.More and more people begin to inhabit the island, who bring with them the waste and detritus of the city. The boundaries to the land are left open and permeable. Alongside the accumulation of new materials, bodies continue to cluster and cohabitate. The ways of plastic harvesting are taught the new inhabitants who begin practicing ritual bonfires that severely alter the landscape. The population continues to grow and grow.Fig. 19 Underground tunnels48 49Fig. 20 Plastic Mining50 51Fig. 21 Algae cave52 53Fig. 22 Plastic Flesh54 55These rituals use the waste and detritus from the sea and the city, from the domestic and the foreign, to crete elaborate effigies. Once burned, these effigies make new spaces in themselves, just as thet alter the landscape around them, opening up new corridors and access points to tunnels and caves beneath the surface.Here, a sea salt deposit is unearthed, perfect for either bathing in or for extraction. This increasingly salinated water can be boiled down to reveal salt crystals and the micro plastics embedded within them for future building use.Fig. 23 Effigy56 57Fig. 24 Salt Mine58 59Fig. 25 Melting space Fig. 26 Melting space60 61These materials, along with clays and sediments, can be melted and extruded to form new masses, these land masses remember the original form of the island, and yet are markedlyDifferent, with their layers of striated extruded plastic.Through this process, the land expands as it is cannibalized and eroded. This is a land that resists entropy as one form gives way for another.The land contains a kind of restless topography that cannot sit still. It expands and contracts, Grows and shrinks, and joins and separates with the fluctuation of inhabitstion and seasons.Material changes have marked cultural impacts on site. Beach combing is converted to platiglomerate hunting, as rock samples that contain plastic elements - rope, lighters , and small toys — are prized above all else.Some inhabitants even begin to dawn forms of clothing woven from plastic and waste in order to adapt to the islands new atmosphere.Sand castle building is augmented by the presence of synthetic materials, as the landscape continues to be shaped by and for the human form.Fig. 27 Melting island, beforeFig. 28 Melting island, after62 63Fig. 29 Plastic Miners64 65Fig. 30 Plastic body66 67https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q_nlBY1NvpEI SLAND 3603D Animations were created in order to communicate the site through time. 68 69https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wCdEiEDYMhMCOSMIC MAP70 71FRASER RIVER MAPhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VN-mefnkVHM72 73MORPHING TOPOGRAPHY EXTRUDEDPLASTICTERRAFORMINGINFLATABLE PVC74 75Part IIOn Science and Fiction76 77On Science and Fiction"Science fiction is not predictive; it is descriptive”Ursula K. Le GuinHow can we distinguish between objective “science” and “fictional” narrative? Science fiction is both a method of knowledge creation and a tool for transmission in spatial theory and practice. Science Fiction and Narrative are capable of subverting notions of singular authorship, and call into question hierarchies of knowledge and the authenticity of scientific and environmental “facts.” Donna Haraway advocates for science fiction, coupling it with other terms under the polysemic acronym “SF.”Other forms of SF includine science fact, speculative feminism, and perhaps most crucially, speculative fabulation1. For Haraway, this final term is often used an all-compassing verbiage for for the communication of facts and theories (at least “So Far”). Here, she clearly draws attention to the leaky, fantastic, and dubious truths that we hold as scientific fact, and explores what happens when the discipline breaches the shores of creative writing. Likewise, the device of first-person narrative fiction is used to argue for an understanding of the organism as multiple in Marit Mihklepp’s “Holobiont Tales,2” Fabrizio Terranova’s “Donna Haraway: Storytelling for Earthy Survival,”3 and Kelly Jazvac’s scientific manuscript-cum-essay collection “Plastiglomerates”4. Each of these authors use SF to destabilize the boundaries between fact and fiction, suggesting that both are simultaenous and co-depedant truths in our landscapes and constructed spaces.The following is a glossary of relevant phenomena and conceptsthat straddle the line between science and fiction. 1 Donna Haraway. “Speculative Fabulations for Technoculture’s Generations: Taking Care of Unexpected Country.” Australian Human-ities Review no. 50 (2011).2 Marit Mihklepp, “Holobiont Tales”, Migrant Journal 5 (2018): 16-21.3 Fabrizio Terranova, “Donna Haraway: Storytelling for Earthly Survival.” (2016).4 Kelly Jazvac. “Plastiglomerates.” Durable Good (2017).78 79The etymology and cultural underpinnings of terraforming as language and not simply as practice will be unpacked. Terraforming is a practice of the Plastiocene with distinct roots in science fiction. The term, which translates to “earth shaping” was first recorded in use by science fiction author Jack Williamson in his 1942 short-story “Collision Orbit.” The verb, to terraform was later added into the Oxford English Dictionary in 1993. Williamson’s use of the term referred to the act of shaping extraterrestrial planets to resemble our own, though it now  seems to signifiy the act of moving large amounts of earthly mass at one, usually by a mechanical process. The term is  thus a fitting one for a process that makes our earth, and our land, more alien to us as we enact our wills upon it. This a term that was featured heavily in the work of Edward Burtynsky, a Canadian photographer and videographer who is largely responsible for bringing the language of “Anthropocene” into cultural consciousness outside of academia through his 2018 exhibition and film of the same title.  Terraforming is a practice of the Plastiocene with distinct roots in science fiction. The term, which translates to “earth shaping” was first recorded in use by science fiction author Jack Williamson in his 1942 short-story “Collision Orbit.”1 The verb, to terraform was later added into the Oxford English Dictionary in 1993.2 Williamson’s use of the term referred to the act of shaping extraterrestrial planets to resemble our own, though it now seems to signifiy the act of moving large amounts of earthly mass at one, usually by a mechanical process. The term is thus a fitting one for a process that makes our earth, and our land, more alien to us as we enact our wills upon it. 1 “Science Fiction Citations: terraforming”. Retrieved 2018-12-16.2 *Fogg, Martyn J. (1995), Terraforming: Engineering Planetary Environments, SAE, pp. 9, 16, ISBN 1-56091-609-5TerraformingFig. 36 Point Grey Battery80 81Scientific historian Sophia Roosth’s proposal to Come and Forget the Organism is the latest installment in the Canadian Centre for Architecture’s Come and Forget speaker series; an archipelago of events between 2017 and the present intended to “propose acts of mass amnesia—precise and universal erasures of a place, person, or idea from our collective memory.”1 Roosth’s proposal is a radical rejection of the individual organism in favour of a more holistic approach to subjectivity defined by leaky connections and messy interdependencies.   With distinct roots in microbiology, Roosth’s argument transcends any one particular discipline to comment on contemporary understandings of human subjectivity, civilization, and urbanism at large. Roosth crafts and communicates her argument through the device of first-person narrative fiction, beginning with the perspectives of grains of sand on the Bahamian archipelago. Within Roosth’s narrative, she frequently conjures images of islands, beaches, shorelines, oceans, and of the life forms that dwell within these spaces.  Come and Forget the Organism can be contextualized within a constellation of works from the CCA that use islands as sites of inquiry and intrigue. Reading between these texts, the island and the archipelago will be theorized as metaphors and as tools for understanding the increasingly interconnected contexts that architectural theory and practice operate within today. 1 CCA, “Come and Forget the Organism, with Sophia Roosth,” 2019,  https://www.cca.qc.ca/en/events/63037/come-and-forget-the-organism-with-sophia-roosth.Fusions andFrankensteins“Coral reefs are monsters... like the mythical chimeras of ancient Greece, beasts made up of the head of a lion, the body of a goat, and the tail of a snake, coral reefs are made of mismatched parts—animal, plant, and more—that hang together in fragile coordinations.”Heather Swanson, Anna Tsing, Nils Bubandt, Elain GanFig. 33 Body blending82 83To speak of materials as static would be a massive disservice to the innumerable transformations, travels, and codifications that these materials are subject to.In his body of work known as Ecological Dreaming, artist Ryan Dewey points out the impossibility of understanding materials and their properties due to the increasingly intertwined nature of place, politics, and trade in the Plastiocene, / Capitalocene. Dewey argues that, In keeping with Dewey's complication of the local and the international, Beach Bodies' plastic archipelago is as much a result of local forces as it is the product of regional, national, transnational, past and future conditions. Further, the terra nulluis at Wreck posses within it a new of material value that becomes cannibalized as it is commodofied within a new system of labour and making. By the logic of plastiglomerates and plasticity, even wood, seemingly the most mundanely natural and solid of materials is revealed as artificial and liquid, even its state as log. FissionsSupply chains have broken the first law  of geography by creating localized convergences of materials gathered over massive distances. Through mines and quarries, minerals become commoditized “sediments” and experience speeds and distances of travel that surpass those otherwise possible through natural means in the same amount of time. Erosion, sedimentation, and deposition are no match for the intermodal logistician. Supply chains are geologic forces whose movement is visible in the stratigraphy of sediments on the shelves of discount department and home improvement stores. The movement of these anthropogenic patterns of geologic flow can bring together bentonite clay from Wyoming with fuller’s earth from Florida and Pacific sea salt with salt mined in Ohio all under the same roof. This convergence of geologic materials from multiple disparate places creates a new category of local “place” that is otherwise geophysically improbable without the help of supply chains and retail shelves.1 1 Virtual Places: Core Logging the Anthropocene in Real-Time, https://www.ryandewey.org Fig. 34 logbooms84 85Time Travel“Plastic is the ultimate material of tempophagy, or time-eating, one that consumes the compressed bodies of ancient plants and animals, a process that took thousands of years, only to be transformed into a single-use take-out container”Heather DavisPlastic time and island time is as languid and glacial at it is instantly devastating.In Inexhaustible Terrain, Jane Hutton writes of the so-called Guano Islands that also bear the name of the Chincha Islands, three land masses that form an archipelago off the coast of Pisco, Peru. These islands of waste are comprised of organic detritus in many forms, though most famouly are comprised of compacted bird shit. This guano is deposited primarily by three species: the guanay cormorant (Phalacrocorax bougainvilli), the Peruvian booby (Sula variegata) and the Peruvian brown pelican (Pelecanus occidentalis thagus).          Hutton interrogates the material ontologies of the “super-active volume[s]1”, in both their origins and their demise. She destabilizes the distinction between landmasses and lifeforms as she lists off the biotic material that “literally become the island. Carcasses, eggs, bones, and sea lion teeth, cemented in layer upon layer of bird shit”2 formed the islands which almost completely disappeared due its excessive mining for the purposes of fertilizer. These islands were in turn cannibalized to feed another: they became the fertilizer that spawned Manhattan’s Central Park. With uneasy distinctions between the beginning and ending of life cycles within Chincha’s landmass, and between the discreet bodies of islands, Hutton complicates the relationships between body and landscape, and deep and destructive time.1 Jane Hutton, “Inexhaustible Terrain,” 2017, https://www.cca.qc.ca/en/issues/24/into-the-material- world/41431/inexhaustible-terrain2 Ibid.Fig. 31 Hutton’s Chincha Islands86 87"We are not certain how long plastic may stick around for, but as is now commonly known, plastic can be considered practically immortal. That is, the timescale for which plastic may biodegrade, meaning that it turns into something else (delineated from simply breaking down, tearing, or becoming smaller) is on the order of thousands of years. Given this incredible longevity, plastic can then be understood as a non-filial human progeny, a bastard child that will most certainly outlive us." (Davies 231-232).The integrations of plastic and plasticity into the realm of queer theory are also multiple, particularly in their embodiment of queer futurism and reproduction. In his polemic No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive, Lee Edelman outline his concept of Reproductive Futurism, that central drive of Western (and other) societies that places the child, and the child-as-future at the centre of its cultural values and morals. According to Lee, Queerness then becomes anything that threatens this order, and that thus threatens the future of human culture and civilization. Responding to Edelman's writing, Heather Davis explicitly connects the concept of reproductive futurism to the materiality and duration of plastic. Davies identifies the cultural esteem and obsession with the concept of the child in environmental sciences, citing the oft-argued position that the environment must be cleaned up not for our own sake, but for that of our childen1. She points to queer futurisms in "our increasingly nonproductive future, one filled with the rearrangement of hormonal systems that are often indexed to 1 Davis 2392 Davis 2413 Ibid.gender, and the differentiation of sex from reproduction." Further, citing Claire Colebrook's essay "Sexual Indifference," she calls for the "necessary extinction" of the concept of sexual difference altogether, suggesting “an evolutionary becoming that does not assume the ability to reproduce -- a future at one more technological and bacterial." And what does this technological and purportedly asexual reproduction look like? Why not the incessant production -- and reproduction -- of plastic? After all, as Davis points out, plastic is our legacy. Through consumption, plastic is now a part of nearly every living species on the globe, from hummingbird to blue whale2, and is now six times more abundant than plankton in our oceans3. Indeed, plastic remains to be such a fascinating foil to humanity in its uncanny resemblance to us. Differing from other synthetic materials including alloys, fabrics, and glazing, plastic retains a kind of likeness to the humanity body. It is fleshy and bony in a way that reminds us of our own bodies, or the bodies of others. It feels vaguely organic, or extra-organic, rather than wholly synthetic and alien. Queer Futurity“We are not certain how long plastic may stick around for, but as is now commonly known, plastic can be considered practically immortal... plastic can then be understood as a non-filial human progeny, a bastard child that will most certainly outlive us.” Heather DaviesFig. 32 Plastic Flesh Detail88 89Perhaps the most important example of SF for this projet is the hybrid hyperobject known as the plastiglomerate. The concept gives material form and stock to Haraway’s proposal for interdisciplinary and interspecies knowledge. The specimens were Canadian artist Kelly Jazvac, who co-authored a sceintific manuscript in 2014 in collaboration with geologist Patricia Corcoran and oceanographer Charles Moore. In her book Plastiglomerates1, published following the release of her scientific manuscript, she points out, “there are many different ways of knowing something. And different doesn’t mean flaky. Different can be just profound and impactful in ways science is not. Just as science can be impactful in ways that art is not.” This epistemological approach was as instrumental for Beach Bodies as the Frankenstein objects put on display, the eponymous plastiglomerates.Plastiglomerates as a metaphor and a way of making meaning extends well beyond the objects themselves toward a variety of materials, both those are deemed “natural” and “unnatural”1            Kelly Jazvac, “Plastiglomerates” Durable Good (2017). “There are many different ways of knowing something. And different doesn’t mean flaky. Different can be just profound and impactful in ways science is not. Just as science can be impactful in ways that art is not.”Kelly JazvacPlastiglomeratesFig. 35 Plastiglomerate90 91Certain truths and histories remain invisible, and these invisible truths share and occupation with our own bodies in contemporary space.Timothy Morton theorizes the “strange strangeness” of the current era as one defined by “hyperobjects”. Morton explains, “the more data we have about hyperobjects the less we know about them—the more we realize we can never truly know them.”1Morton goes on to define hyperobjects as “things that are massively distributed in time and space relative to humans”2 and “genuine nonhuman objects that are not simply the products of a human gaze.”3We are constantly surrounded by the ghosts and the invisible forces that shape our contexts, even if we are willfully (or bafflingly) unaware of their presence. As Morton argues, our contemporary age is defined by the increasingly densifying network of invisible flows, whether it be the flow of material, people, or thought. 1 Morton, 180.2 Morton, 13 Morton, 199. Ghosts and InvisibilityFig. 37 Former C.A.S.L. operators92 93 Toward the beginning of The Beaches of Agnès (2008), French filmmaker Agnès Varda enigmatically states, “if we opened people up, we’d find landscapes. If we opened me up, we’d find beaches.” Implicit in Varda’s quote is the connection between the body and its surrounding environment, positioning the former as an enclosure or distillation of the latter. It is not mere coincidence that Varda’s semi-autobiographical film unravels seaside, as the ocean is a continually reappearing entity throughout her works. I will use Varda’s quote as a jumping-off point into an exploration of how the ocean functions in her films, and to an exploration of how Varda presents a fluid relationship between the ocean-as-human body and the ocean-as-space. In other words, I will explore how the ocean can be read as a mode of thought and nomadic being rather than just a setting. First, I will investigate how broader concepts of nomadism apply to theories of embodiment by exploring Varda’s treatment of the self, and the self-as-multiple. Secondly, I will examine how the corporeality of the ocean may intersect with other existing theories on the body, first by showing how fluid is body, and second by illuminating how the body is fluid. Finally, I will develop an understanding of the oceanic nomadic body as one characterizing the medium of film itself. The individual’s experience of film, like the individual’s experience of the ocean and ocean-space, elicits contradictory experiences of both the infinite potential and inherent limitations of the body (and the body through film), just as it complicates experiences of time and duration. Using nomadic thought as a mobilized concept, I will explore the ocean and its embodiments in their multiple connections to Beaches’ central exploration of the nature of self-identity, the body through the space of film, and of the filmic body itself.First, it must be clarified how notions of nomadism -- and the oceanic nomadic – hold important stakes in the politics of identity and of the body that Varda’s films are concerned with. Beaches begins with a documentation of the construction of what Varda calls a “reverie;” both an imagined and real space on the seashore. She and her crew choreograph mirrors, picture frames, and various reflective surfaces in such a way that it becomes impossible to maintain one objective perspective of the presented scene (Fig 1). Here, Varda is creating an aestheticized image of nomadism: she denies the possibility of a static viewpoint, and instead opts to reterritorialize the single in favor of the fragmented multiple. As nomadic theorist Rosi Braidotti contextualizes, “politically, nomadic thought is the expression of a nonunitary vision of the subject, defined by motion in a complex manner that is densely material. It invites us to rethink the structures and boundaries of the self by tackling the deeper issues of identity” (3). Thus, Beaches begins with a nomadic image in which subject, ocean, and camera are forced to occupy the same space. Through her use of nomadic imagery in the context of self-documenting and self-discovery, Varda establishes that to explore the self is to explore the constantly shifting relations of identity present within, and beyond the single individual. In this opening sequence, Varda presents her identity as a relative assemblage of a vast number of experiences and spaces. Thus, for both Varda and Braidotti, this nomadic play between the partial and the whole can be applied to theories of embodiment, and to the relationship between subjective and spatial identity.   This nomadic experience of the body is further exemplified in the corporeality of the ocean, and in the ocean’s many embodiments. Often referred to as bodies of water, it may be productive to explore what type of bodies oceans The Cinematic BeachFig. 38 Beaches of Agnes94 95constitute. The first characteristic of the oceanic body I will explore is the free-flowing formation of fluid elements that constitute one seemingly discreet entity. The nature of the oceanic body -- of a coherent body made up of constantly shifting and fluid parts -- is reminiscent of Deleuze and Guattari’s practice of the Body without Organs; a “field of immanence [that] is not internal to the self, but neither does it come from an external self or a nonself. Rather, it is like the absolute Outside that knows no Selves because interior and exterior are equally a part of the immanence in which they have fused” (Deleuze and Guattari 156). The Body without Organs combines embodiment and nomadic theory by obliterating the traditional functions and limits of the body in order to enable a multiplicity of new connections. Likewise, Varda posits the oceanic body as being liberated from these same traditional notions of space: it is able to connect a woman “from the shores of Lake Michigan” to a man “from the shores of New Jersey” in marriage, suggesting a connection between two bodies of water that do not intersect in geographical space. These rhizomatic connections are able to form both within the body (the churning, rearranging currents of the ocean) and beyond (the lapping of waves onto shore, the evaporating mist). Varda presents the body of the ocean not merely as a physical space, but as a mode of thought and a vehicle for connection. Thus, the ocean’s rejection of a uniform and static body in favor of the multiple and mobile body corresponds with Deleuze and Guattari’s theory of the Body with Organs, as the ocean becomes an unpredictable and “free-flowing intensity.”  While the oceanic body resists a set form, it is also intimately connected with human embodiment. In this way, the oceanic body can be read as an extension of the human, just as the human body itself can be read as fluid. Biological and physiological discussions of ‘what constitutes a human body’ cannot be separated from discussions of fluids and fluidity, with over half of the individual body consisting of water. Through various formal elements of film including cinematography and editing, Beaches has a number of shots that graphically link the human body together with the oceanic (Figures 3-5). Architectural historian Mitchell Schwarzer discusses film’s ability to modify our perception of space in Zoomscape, in which he argues that the prevalence of film has “transformed architectural perception” such that “the streetscape is as much a filmic construction as it is an architectural one” (Schwarzer 207). Schwarzer is on one hand suggesting that the human eye is now trained to see and move through space like a film camera, just as he acknowledges the medium’s ability to bring out the extraordinary in the everyday, “ruptur[ing] the continuum of space, reassembling it beyond the bounds of direct experience” (208). Both Varda and Schwarzer recognize film’s potential for destabilization, as the human body and its surrounding environment (here, the ocean) are articulated and fused into a single entity through their simultaneous presence on screen. Further, Schwarzer cites Delueze’s acknowledgement of this concept as he explains that, ‘different views can be fitted together in an infinite number of ways and, because they are not oriented in relation to each other, constitute a set of singularities’. Thus, Varda deploys the formal elements of cinema to destabilize the notion of the singular and discreet body, fusing it together with that of the oceanic.   This connection between film as medium and the oceanic body can be further strengthened though an exploration of film itself as an oceanic body/space. To be on the beach is to experience a sensation of vastness through a realization of limitation. It is to gaze upon the seemingly infinite with a partial perspective. The human experience Fig. 39 Beaches of Agnes96 97of the ocean is to feel the body’s own potential (I can see for miles…) while simultaneously feeling its limitations (…though I cannot see it all). Spinoza discusses the “potential” of the body as its defining characteristic, as he explains, “we do not yet know what a body can do.”  In Spinozian terms, the body is defined by this infinite potential, which bridges the gap between the virtual and the real. Thus, the experience of the ocean is one that catalyzes this dialectic between the limitations and infinite potential of the human body.  Varda appears to be accurately aware of this characteristic of the ocean, as she captures it on film, a media which itself creates a sensorial embodiment in its spectator that is both limiting and expansive. To watch and hear a film is to experience a synesthetic synchresis in which the viewer can feel, smell, and taste his or her surroundings. To experience film is to transcend sensual expectations of what the body can do, and to feel a limitless – or at least greatly expanded – potential in the body. And yet there is a limit to film: at times it able to create experience and sensation, while at others it cannot. When recreating a scene from her childhood, Varda muses, “I don’t know what it means to recreate a scene like this. Do we relive the moment? For me it’s cinema - it’s a game.” In Beaches, Varda explores the limits of film in its ability to create authentic sensation, as she brings the medium into physical space through the construction of installations. In one such installation, Varda drapes the bare frame of a shed with celluloid strips, creating what she calls My Shack of Cinema (Fig. 6). This structure layers the space within each celluloid frame and the physical space which they themselves occupy, thereby blending the space between the two. Yet another example of her presentation of leaky cinematic space is represented in Beaches as a screen is articulated atop a moving cart which two men push as it screens a moving image of their deceased father walking along the very same road. Here, the memory of their father is able to occupy space and to exist as a form of physical embodiment.  Yet within this installation, as with Varda’s representation and discussion of her late partner Jacques Demy, there is also an undeniable sense of lack present in these filmic embodiments. It is this lack which creates a distancing from one’s expectations of the self, which consequently allows for the experience of infinite potential in the body. The oceanic body’s ability to elicit simultaneous feelings of infinite potential and inherent lack in the body is a trait shared with the medium of film, and thus renders film an oceanic body itself.  Further, film can be read as an oceanic body through its multiple experiences of time and duration. Varda distinguishes between two experiences of time: that of the metronome, and that of the violin. To experience the time of a metronome is to experience a metered, regulated and objective sense of time, whereas to experience the time of the violin is to feel the time of flow, and a subjective feeling of experience. How does one then experience the time of the ocean, and of the oceanic body? I will posit that oceanic movement, like film, is capable of conveying both experiences of time. First, the ocean creates the feeling of “the time of the metronome” through the heartbeat that is the unit of the wave. Like the ticking of a metronome, the washing of the wave is metered, regular, predictable, and constant –- eternal, even. Intrinsic to the motion of the wave is an eternal departure and return, an infinite nomadism. In filmic terms, the time of the metronome is the framing from 5:00pm to 7:00pm in Varda’s Cléo de 5 à 7, just as it’s the one hour, fifty-two minute, and ten second duration of Beaches.  Conversely, the ocean embodies the experience of the time of the violin through individual experiences and memories of the sea, as Varda frames her own identity in relative terms to her life by the shore. “The North [Atlantic] Sea and its sand is the start for me… of what I more or less know about myself.” She measures her life in these experiences, spanning from her childhood in Brussels to her time in California. She says of the waves off the Pacific Coast of Los Angeles, “the sounds are music to my ears.” In the time of the violin, the heartbeat of the wave is stretched and condensed, remixed and reversed through subjective experience. In Varda’s films, this is the effect of long takes and jump cuts within the supposed two-hour timeframe in Cléo, just as it’s the blending of new and old footage, and of still and moving image in Beaches. This dual experience of time through the ocean and through media can be traced back to Virgina Woolf’s To The Lighthouse, in which the reassuring and meandering sounds of the ocean in “The Window” become a threateningly infinite source of destruction in “Time Passes.” Both the subject of Varda’s films and the filmic bodies themselves can be read as oceanic bodies through their portrayal of time as both predictably repetitive, and wholly unknowable.  It is worth noting that the title of Varda’s film is The Beaches of Agnès and not ‘The Oceans of Agnès’. The beach represents a point of intersection between land and ocean; between the fixed landscapes Varda believes we’d find in some people, and between the constantly nomadic and “free-flowing intensity” that is the body of the ocean. The beach is Deleuze and Guattari’s momentary site of territorialization, right before the process of deterritorialization begins. Thus, this film serves as a beach for Varda. It serves as the intersection between her present self and her constantly shifting self. It is a record of the unrecordable. It is a fixed theory on the ever-moving ocean. Thus, it is the beach and the ocean – the site of nomadism, of eternal return, of constant movement – that allows Varda to carve her birthname (Arlette) in the sand, only to have it washed away seconds later.  What is the body of the ocean? What is the movement of the ocean? First, the ocean is internally fluid; it is an eternally reorganizing body without organs. It is also defined by its unlimited potential for external connectivity; it is what links together separate continents, and continents of thought. The human body can be read as an oceanic body in its accordance with these definitions, as the body is seen to be fluid both in composition and in potentials for external relation. Varda renders the filmic body as oceanic, as it instills sensory experiences that are both finite and infinite. Likewise, it creates a dual experience of time as both rigidly objective and wonderfully open-ended. It is no coincidence, then, that the ocean, its waves, its sounds, and its movement are a regular visitor to the films of Varda. To explore questions of the oceanic body is to explore the very nature of self-identity, insofar as the self in always engaged in a nomadic shifting from one form to the next. If the self is both individual and collective, liquid and solid, limited and infinite, predictable and unknowable, only one thing can be said for sure: the embodied self is always in a mobilized process of negotiation and relation, sure as the heartbeat of the ocean’s wave.98 99La Dolce Vida (Fellini, 1960)Smelt EggsCarnivalesqueCycles of LifeMemento MoriThe Cinematic Beach cont.In addition to the direct relationship between the the beach and the body, the space of the beach can be theorised to embody the following, as seen in both cinematic representations and in on site documentation:8½ (Fellini, 1963) /Tents at Wreck BeachPlanet of the Apes (Schaffner, 1968) / C.A.S.L. # 10 at Tower Beach100 101Pleistocene toPlastioceneLike the hyper-object / epoch / era / phenomenon itself, the language surrounding the anthropocene is slippery, vague, and unreliable. This section aims to provide clarity and context to some of the relevant verbiage, relying heavily on definitions provided by Donna Haraway.PleistoceneThe Pleistocene is the period in Earth’s history that we commonly refer to as the Ice Age. Through much of this period, the Earth’s northern and southern regions were covered by kilometer thick glaciers. It is important to recognize that the Pleistocene was a series of real ice ages, separated by relatively short interglacial periods. The Pleistocene started 2.6 million years ago.1 PlastioceneBeginning at the end of the Holocene, the Plastiocene is defined by our realtionship to plastic and plasticity, in how our bodies and environments have become indistinguishable from the manmande/natural material. 1 https://ucmp.berkeley.edu/quaternary/pleisto-cene.phpAnthropoceneThe Anthropocene as a term first appeared in the early 1980’s and was coined by University of Michigan scientist Eugene Stoermer, a scholar of freshwater diatoms.1 Haraway argues that the discourse of the anthopocene “is not simply wrong-headed and wrong-hearted in itself; it also saps our capacity for imagining and caring for other worlds, both those that exist precariously now (including those called wilderness, for all the contaminated history of that term in racist settler colonialism) and those we need to bring into being in alliance with other critters, for still possible recuperating pasts, presents, and futures.”2Capitalocene“Despite its problems, the term “Anthropocene” was and is embraced because it collects up many matters of fact, concern, and care; and I hope “Capitalocene” will roll off myriad tongues soon... The Capitalocene is terran; it does not have to be the last biodiverse geological epoch that includes our species too... The stories of both the Anthropocene and the Capitalocene teeter constantly on the brink of becoming much Too Big.”Chthulucene"Specifically, unlike either the Anthropocene or the Capitalocene, the Chthulucene is made up of ongoing multispecies stories and practices of becoming-with in times that remain at stake, in precarious times, in which the world is not finished and the sky has not fallen — yet. We are at stake to each other. Unlike the dominant dramas of Anthropocene and Capitalocene discourse, human beings are not the only important actors in the Chthulucene, with all other beings able simply to react. The order is reknitted: human beings are with and of the Earth, and the biotic and abiotic powers of this Earth are the main story."31 Haraway, Donna Jeanne and e-Duke Books Scholarly Collection 2016. “Tentacular Thinking: Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Chthulu-cene” in ‘Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene.’ Durham: Duke University Press, 2016.2 Ibid.3 Ibid.102 103Part IIIMethodologies of Transgression104 105In order to represent and communicate the transgressive properties of plastic, a number of transgressive metholodgies were adopted. Transgressive methodologies will be defined as those which are messy, unpredicatable, and hybridized. The following tools were used to create the project, which is roughly broken down into sections herein. Methodologies of Transgression“Amongst the arsenol of thinking methods, the method of collage making, though pervasive, occupies a disruptive position by using trash and deadness to form beauty.”Ben NicholsonNicholson, Ben and Chicago Institute for Architecture and Urbanism. Appliance House. Chicago, Ill;Cambridge, Mass;: Chicago Institute for Architecture and Urbanism, 1990.SoftwareCinema4DCorona RenderRhinoceros 3DV Ray RenderAdobe PhotoshopAdobe After EffectsAdobe LightroomAdobe IllustratorGoogle Earth ProSketchUp ProMicrosoft WordMicrosoft PowerpointCloud CompareTrinio 3dPhotoscanHardwareMacbook ProNikon CameraEpson ScanneriPhoneAnalogPenPencilPaper106 107108A series of speculative core samples were cast using a mix of synthetic materials, and those harvested on site. Core samples are instruments of measurement within the Anthopocene used to understand geological deep time, and to speculate on future terresterial conditions.In the Plastiocene, core samples and notions of deep time became inhabited in the most literal manner. Materials used:PLASTICWAXSEAWEEDCLAYWOODSANDROCKICECONCRETEWATERSEA SALTHUMAN HAIRPAPERSPONGEPULPSNOW BERRYASHCHARCOALetc. Core Samples110 111Fig 40. Speculative core samples112 113Fig 41. Speculative core samples - process Fig 42. Speculative core samples - process115Harvested MaterialsIn addition to the materials used in the specualtive core samples, many were harvested from Wreck and were tested for their unique properties, including seaweed. Here, wrack is collected from the beach, is dried, ground, and mixed with water and beach sand to form solid and sticky squares intended to be used as a building material.The leftover ground seaweed was used as pigment for the core samples, giving them their greenish hue. It looked beautiful and smelled awful. Fig. 49 Seaweed studies116 117Fig. 51 Harvested beach materialsFig. 50 Harvested beach materials118 119LidarLidar point clouds were retreived from Abacus, a UBC-run research database.http://dvn.library.ubc.ca/dvn/The files were downloaded and the data was plugged into the free software CloudCompare to create a point cloud.https://www.danielgm.net/cc/The point cloud was useful both in its ability to communicate measured space with extreme accuracy, and its ability to distort the familiar landscape, and to expose the virtual potential and existing realities of the nearby site. Fig. 44 Lidar detail120 121Fig. 46 Lidar Fig. 45 Lidar 122 123Fig. 47 Lidar Fig. 48 Lidar 124 125Constructed LandscapesBeach Bodies began, as a point of departure, with a site. Wreck Beach became known as such when three WWI-era ships  and a floating grain elevator (known as Biscayne, Bingamon, Black Wolf, Blatchford) were sunk off the coastline in order to construct a breakwater in 19281  to protect logbooms from being damaged by marine clams.  “Wreck Beach” is a colonial name. The area was formerly known as -- as still can be known as -- Ulksen, meaning “point of land” in Halkomelem2, the language of the Musqueam and other First Nations peoples in the region. The site experienced a particuarily strong colonial presence due to the construction of Point Grey Battery from 1939 - 1948, a military base intended to protect Vancouver from foreign (later, specifically Japanese) invasion. Two Coast Artillery Searchlight towers still stnd on the beach today. 1 Brooks, Carellin. Wreck Beach. Vol. 16;16.;. Vancouver: New Star Books, 2007, 2 Ibid, 43. Many Musqueam people still use the site, and live around its southern shores toward YVR International Airport.If the socially and materially constucted land of the new Plastiocene peninsula seems unnatural, it is certainly no more more so than the artifical beach that occupies the foreshore today. Beach Bodies is the story not simply of material, but of how materials can enact and embody social dynamics in an age of increasing confusion between our bodies and our landscapes, our inputs and outputs, and the human and the non-human. In representing this landscape, it was my intention to present the site in way that was both beautiful and horrifying, natural and artifical, raw and mediated. Fig. 43 Tower measured drawing and collage126 127Barthes, Roland. Mythologies. New York: Noonday Press ; Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1972.Brooks, Carellin. Wreck Beach. Vol. 16;16.;. Vancouver: New Star Books, 2007.Braidotti, Rosi. “Identity, Subjectivity and Difference: A Critical Genealogy.” Thinking Differently: A Reader in European Women’s Studies. Ed. Gabriele Griffin, Rosi Braidotti. Zed Books, 2002. Print.Davis, Heather. “Toxic Progeny: The Plastisphere and Other Queer Futures.” Philosophia 5, no. 2 (2015): 231-250.Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. “How Do You Make Yourself A Body Without Organs?” A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 1987. Print.Edelman, Lee and e-Duke Books Scholarly Collection Backlist. No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive. Durham: Duke University Press, 2004.Haraway, Donna Jeanne. Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature Taylor and Francis, 2013. doi:10.4324/9780203873106.Haraway, Donna Jeanne and e-Duke Books Scholarly Collection 2016. Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene. Durham: Duke University Press, 2016.Haraway, Donna Jeanne. When Species Meet. Vol. 3;3.;. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2008;2007;.Heise, Ursula K. and UPSO eCollections (University Press Scholarship Online). Imagining Extinction: The Cultural Meanings of Endangered Species. London;Chicago;: The University of Chicago Press, 2016.Hutton, Jane. “Inexhaustible Terrain,” 2017, https://www.cca.qc.ca/en/issues/24/into-the-material-world/41431/inexhaustible-terrainHemsing, Natalie. "Production of Place : Community, Conflict and Belonging at Wreck Beach." 2005.Jazvac, Kelly, Patricia Corcoran, Jonathan Griffin, Kirsty Robertson, Kelly Wood. "Plastiglomerates" Durable Good, Toronto, 2017.BibliographyKing, Katie and e-Duke Books Scholarly Collection 2012. Networked Reenactments: Stories Transdisciplinary Knowledges Tell. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2012;2011;.Le Guin, Ursula K. The Left Hand of Darkness. New York: Ace Books, 1976. Moogk, Peter N. Vancouver Defended: A History of the Men and Guns of the Lower Mainland Defences, 1859-1949. Surrey, B.C: Antonson Pub, 1978.Morton, Timothy and Project Muse University Press eBooks. Hyperobjects: Philosophy and Ecology After the End of the World. Vol. 27. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2013.Morton, Timothy. Humankind: Solidarity with Nonhuman People. London;Brooklyn, NY;: Verso, 2017.Morton, Timothy, OAPEN, and DOAB: Directory of Open Access Books. Realist Magic: Objects, Ontology, Causality. Ann Arbor, Michigan: Open Humanities Press, 2013.Schwarzer, Mitchell. “Film.” Zoomscape: Architecture in Motion and Media. New York: Princeton Architectural Press. 2002. Print. 206-253. Sconfield, Katherine. Walls Have Feelings: Architecture, Film and the City. New York: Routledge. 2000. Print.Tsing, Anna, Heather Swanson, Elaine Gan, and Nils Bubandt, eds. Arts of Living on a Damaged Planet: Ghosts and Monsters of the Anthropocene. MINNEAPOLIS; LONDON: University of Minnesota Press, 2017. http://www.jstor.org.ezproxy.library.ubc.ca/stable/10.5749/j.ctt1qft070.Turpin, Etienne, Heather Davis, OAPEN, and DOAB: Directory of Open Access Books. Art in the Anthropocene: Encounters among Aesthetics, Politics, Environments and Epistemologies. London: Open Humanities Press, 2015.Varda, Agnès. Cléo de 5 à 7. Rome Paris Films, 1962. Film.Varda, Agnès. Les Plages d’Agnès. Les Films du Losange, 2008. Film.Woolf, Virginia. To the Lighthouse. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1955. Print128 129FiguresFigure 1. Schipper, Jeremy. Beach plastic and Logs. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 2. Schipper, Jeremy. Pacifc Map, detail. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 3. Schipper, Jeremy. Pacifc Map, detail. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 4. Schipper, Jeremy. Pacifc Map, detail. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 5. Schipper, Jeremy. Lidar imagery. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 6. Schipper, Jeremy. Lidar Imagery. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 7. Logbooms. Google Maps. Accessed 2018.Figure 8. Logbooms. Google Maps. Accessed 2018.Figure 9. Fraser River Debris Trap. Accessed 2018. https://www.fraserbasin.bc.ca/_Library/Water/report_debris_trap_2006.pdfFigure 10. Schipper, Jeremy. Fraser River Logging Map. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 11. Schipper, Jeremy. New foreshore. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 12. Schipper, Jeremy. Site plan. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 13. Schipper, Jeremy. Section. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 14. Schipper, Jeremy. Core Samples. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 15. Schipper, Jeremy. Core Inhabitations. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 16. Schipper, Jeremy. Core InhabitaitionsFigure 17. Schipper, Jeremy. EffigyFigure 18. Schipper, Jeremy. Plastic Mine, detailFigure 19. Schipper, Jeremy. Underground tunnel. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 20. Schipper, Jeremy. Plastic Mine, detail. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 21. Schipper, Jeremy. Algae cave. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 22. Schipper, Jeremy. Plastic flesh. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 23. Schipper, Jeremy. Effigyl. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 24. Schipper, Jeremy. Salt mine. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 25. Schipper, Jeremy. Melting space. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 26. Schipper, Jeremy. Melting space. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 27. Schipper, Jeremy. Melting island, before. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 28. Schipper, Jeremy. Melting island, after. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 29. Schipper, Jeremy. Plastic Miners. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 30. Schipper, Jeremy. Plastic body. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 31. Hutton, Jane. Jane Hutton, Inexhaustible Terrain, 2017.Figure 32. Schipper, Jeremy. Plastic flesh detail. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 33. Schipper, Jeremy. Body blending. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 34. Schipper, Jeremy. Logbooms. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 35. Jazvac, Kelly. Plastiglomerate. 2017.Figure 36. Photograph courtesy of 15th Field Artillery Regiment RCAFigure 37. Photograph courtesy of 15th Field Artillery Regiment RCAFigure 38. Varda, Agnes. The Beaches of Agnes. Filmstill. 2008.Figure 39. Varda, Agnes. The Beaches of Agnes. Filmstill. 2008.Figure 40. Schipper, Jeremy. Core samples. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 41. Schipper, Jeremy. Core samples. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 42. Schipper, Jeremy. Core samples. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 43. Schipper, Jeremy. Tower collage. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 44. Schipper, Jeremy. Lidar detail. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 45. Schipper, Jeremy. Lidar. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 46. Schipper, Jeremy. Lidar. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 47. Schipper, Jeremy. Lidar. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 48. Schipper, Jeremy. Lidar. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 49. Schipper, Jeremy. Seaweed studies. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 50. Schipper, Jeremy. Harvested materials. Unpublished image. 2019.Figure 51. Schipper, Jeremy. Harvested Materials. Unpublished image. 2019.130 131THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE AND LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE ARCHITECTURE PROGRAMREADING ROOM AUTHORIZATIONIn presenting this report in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the advanced degree in the Architecture Program at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Architecture Reading Room shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this report for scholarly purposes may be granted by the Chair of Architecture or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission.Title: Degree: Program: Year of Graduation Ceremony: Beach Bodies: Terraforming and Formal Terror at Wreck BeachMaster of Architecture Architecture2019Name of Author DateJeremy Schipper 26 April 2019

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