First published in March 2008 on www.Onthecommons.orgThe ice is out. All ice shacks had to be removed from Minnesota lakes several weeks ago and a tight group of hardy souls packed up the 5th Annual Art Shanty Project on Medicine Lake for another year.
I grew up on the shore of a Minnesota lake and remember well the first wonder and fright of walking on frozen water. Hearing the advancing and receding “ping” of cracks opening through miles of black ice. Peering down an ice crusted, manmade hole into the blue-black water and imagining fish in darkness and numbing cold. Walking all day in double layered clothing, looking at the shoreline from a novel perspective only possible in the dead of winter.
I grew up on the shore of a Minnesota lake and remember well the first wonder and fright of walking on frozen water. Hearing the advancing and receding “ping” of cracks opening through miles of black ice. Peering down an ice crusted, manmade hole into the blue-black water and imagining fish in darkness and numbing cold. Walking all day in double layered clothing, looking at the shoreline from a novel perspective only possible in the dead of winter.
Commons rise up from the ice all over the North Country every year. There used to be more hand built icehouses like my Grandpa’s, fashioned out of scrap lumber and perhaps fitted out with sled runners or decorated with hubcaps and shiny bits. Now ice fishing is an industry. Entire villages of collapsible, high tech structures, portable grills, generators and concession stands are towed on to the ice by fleets of SUV’s for sponsored events and contests. Some people spend a lot of money at sporting goods superstores on gear they think they need to catch a little bitty sunfish from a hole.
The Art Shanty Project is no such ready-made and commercial endeavor. It is my favorite kind of public art project: egalitarian, community driven, participatory and site-specific. For an added interest this art takes place outdoors in a very harsh climate. Temperatures dropped to minus ten and twenty degrees for many days running in 2008.
In a matter of hours the Shanties are dragged out on the ice or assembled on the spot. A cozy, impromptu camp appears in a place that belongs to no one and belongs to everyone. Artists and friends take up residence for about five weeks and create a working community in the middle of the lake. Each year some new Shanties are built and some old ones return. They are beautiful, ugly, funny, satirical, functional, whimsical, and experimental. Some tell a story. Some host events and performances. None of them are actually for fishing.
Everybody is invited to come and take part in the fun for free. You can drop into the Knitting Shanty and learn to cast on and bind off. You can take part in the B-icicle Races, fill up in the Soup Kitchen (cream of tomato, bring your own bowl and spoon), and pick up some tips on hypothermia in the S.U.R.V.I.V.A.L. Shanty.
Interested in the science of ice? Try the underwater listening station or attend Ice AID at the Ice Museum Shanty–proceeds to benefit the last cold places on earth. How about the intersection of ice and time travel? The (tongue in cheek) Institute for the Advancement of Metatemporal Education and Research (IAMER) Field Museum Shanty is for you. And then there is the U of Minnesota Limnology Shanty where core samples from the lake bed are brought up for all to examine.
For families there is the Shanty of Misfit Toys, constructed of semi-transparent walls stuffed with discarded toys. It serves as a diaper-changing, breast-feeding, play and community space.
You can post your mail from the Postal Shanty—“It’s important to note that this service is in no way affiliated with the similar service offered by the U.S. government.”
You can take in some music or puppetry or political satire in the Black Box Shanty or do karaoke in the Norae Shanty.
After dark there is the Drive Out movie show.
This year there was a real Art Shanty Wedding on Ground Hogs Day. All were invited.
For a short time each year, like Brigadoon, this fantasy community comes alive. On a piece of frozen water, a chunk of not-real estate, a commons is created. Come summer, when the air conditioner is whirring and you sip a cool glass of ice tea, you might glance up at the refrigerator door, see that post card you sent to yourself with its distinctive “mailed from the ice” stamp and remember.
In a matter of hours the Shanties are dragged out on the ice or assembled on the spot. A cozy, impromptu camp appears in a place that belongs to no one and belongs to everyone. Artists and friends take up residence for about five weeks and create a working community in the middle of the lake. Each year some new Shanties are built and some old ones return. They are beautiful, ugly, funny, satirical, functional, whimsical, and experimental. Some tell a story. Some host events and performances. None of them are actually for fishing.
Everybody is invited to come and take part in the fun for free. You can drop into the Knitting Shanty and learn to cast on and bind off. You can take part in the B-icicle Races, fill up in the Soup Kitchen (cream of tomato, bring your own bowl and spoon), and pick up some tips on hypothermia in the S.U.R.V.I.V.A.L. Shanty.
Interested in the science of ice? Try the underwater listening station or attend Ice AID at the Ice Museum Shanty–proceeds to benefit the last cold places on earth. How about the intersection of ice and time travel? The (tongue in cheek) Institute for the Advancement of Metatemporal Education and Research (IAMER) Field Museum Shanty is for you. And then there is the U of Minnesota Limnology Shanty where core samples from the lake bed are brought up for all to examine.
For families there is the Shanty of Misfit Toys, constructed of semi-transparent walls stuffed with discarded toys. It serves as a diaper-changing, breast-feeding, play and community space.
You can post your mail from the Postal Shanty—“It’s important to note that this service is in no way affiliated with the similar service offered by the U.S. government.”
You can take in some music or puppetry or political satire in the Black Box Shanty or do karaoke in the Norae Shanty.
After dark there is the Drive Out movie show.
This year there was a real Art Shanty Wedding on Ground Hogs Day. All were invited.
For a short time each year, like Brigadoon, this fantasy community comes alive. On a piece of frozen water, a chunk of not-real estate, a commons is created. Come summer, when the air conditioner is whirring and you sip a cool glass of ice tea, you might glance up at the refrigerator door, see that post card you sent to yourself with its distinctive “mailed from the ice” stamp and remember.
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