Common Book Campus Walking Tour

“There was a time when I teetered precariously with an awkward foot in each of two worlds—the scientific and the indigenous. But then I learned to fly. Or at least try. It was the bees that showed me how to move between different flowers—to drink the nectar and gather pollen from both. It is this dance of cross-pollination that can produce a new species of knowledge, a new way of being in the world.” (47)

Our first stop is to view the first two of four total “Ceramitats” created by Brandi Lee Cooper, who served as KU’s artist in residence from 2019-2021. Peek on the ground on either side of the main entrance to the Spencer Museum of Art to see these works. The artist herself shared the following for our tour:

“I was surprised to learn that more than 70 percent of the world’s bees are solitary and nest in the ground. Like so many species, ground nesting bee populations are being greatly impacted by climate change, pesticides, and habitat loss. I worked closely with biologists, Dr. Victor Gonzalez and Dr. Deborah Smith to design ceramic habitats for the Colletes genus of bees. At KU’s Interdisciplinary Ceramic Research Center, I utilized a ceramic 3D printer to produce sculptural habitats that protect native bees, preserve their pollinating range, and allow for further research of the species. Colletes are solitary bees but often nest near each other in aggregates and come back to where they were born to lay their eggs. Much of the work is what you can’t see—chambers below the ground to provide space for their burrows. The flower-like sculptures that sit above ground act as a visual indicator for the bees so that they can find their burrow as they are flying. I chose the glaze colors of the flowers and the chambers by studying the way these bees see and what colors they are attracted to. Often when I make work it is to attract or engage humans; in this project I attempted to put the bees and their needs first. In this volatile time on earth, we have a responsibility to each other to build connections that will promote new ways of thriving and perishing thoughtfully. As a researcher and an artist, I have come to understand that the visual arts powerfully serve as witness to our impact on the earth and advocate for urgent change. I’m interested in creating work and experiences that enhance awareness of nature’s resilience and fragility, causing the viewer to reconsider their actions and responsibility to all other beings.”

“The people have endured the pain of being bystanders to the degradation of their lands, but they never surrendered their caregiving responsibilities. They have continued the ceremonies that honor the land and their connection to it.” (319)

Our second stop is this year’s Common Work of Art. Each year, the Spencer Museum of Art selects a Common Work of Art to complement and expand upon the Common Book’s themes. This year’s selection is Native Host, a series of five signs by Hock E Aye Vi Edgar Heap of Birds that address issues of place, heritage, dominant culture, and memory. These signs name Native tribes who historically or currently inhabit the region that is now called Kansas. On each sign, the colonial name of a location is printed backwards, while the name of the land’s original occupants is printed forward. The visual tension that Heap of Birds creates between these names aims to remind viewers of the displacement of Native Americans from their homelands as well as their continued and active presence in the Americas. The signs acknowledge that the land holds history and stories beyond or outside colonial expectations. When speaking about another series of Native Host signs on a university campus, Heap of Birds said “I hope that the [students], staff, and faculty come through this campus and that they wonder about the tribal identity that they are actually walking over. That they wonder about the sacred sites. [That] they wonder, ‘well, what is that word?’ It’s a foreign word, but here they are in Native America and why is it a foreign word? This is the place it all starts.” Heap of Birds is very conscious of his identity and responsibility when researching incarnations of Native Host across North America, noting that when he is home among the Cheyenne he understands what that means, but when he steps away from that territory he has to acknowledge the tribes wherever he might be. This responsibility compels Heap of Birds to ask himself—and us—how do you conduct your own life as a visitor?

(Credit: Spencer Museum of Art)

“In the old times, our elders say, the trees talked to each other. They’d stand in their own council and craft a plan. But scientists decided long ago that plants were deaf and mute, locked in isolation without communication […] There is now compelling evidence that our elders were right—the trees are talking to one another. They communicate via pheromones, hormonelike compounds that are wafted on the breeze, laden with meaning.” (19-20)

Our next stop is Marvin Grove, which is the large grove of trees to your right. Marvin Grove was named after KU’s chancellor James Marvin. The campus was originally open prairie. In 1878, Marvin proclaimed a holiday from classes on the first Arbor Day celebrated in Lawrence. (Arbor Day is dedicated to promoting the benefit of trees in the US.) Students and faculty planted hundreds of tree seeds and small trees to create a wooded grove in this part of the campus. Chancellor Marvin himself planted walnut seeds. Some of those walnut trees are still alive, although they are now over 135 years old and nearing the end of their lives! A small, temporary stream originally flowed down the center of this little valley. The stream is mostly dry, except after a rain. (It is now confined to a drainage pipe underground –marked by the line of grates on the surface.) Marvin chose this location because the small valley faces north, away from the hot midday sun, so it is a little bit cooler and wetter than the south-facing hillside where Prairie Acre (a later stop) is located. Before the trees were planted, it is likely that the original stream channel was surrounded by small trees and woody shrubs, with a few scattered trees elsewhere on this north-facing hillside.

(Credit: Robert Hagen, Field Education Coord., Environmental Studies and Courtesy Asst. Prof., Ecology and Evolutionary Biology)

“This is the way for many ponds—the bottom gradually fills in until the pond becomes a marsh and maybe someday a meadow and then a forest. Ponds grow old, and though I will too, I like the ecological idea of aging as progressive enrichment, rather than progressive loss.” (85-86)

Our next stop is Potter Lake. From this stop, you have a nice vantage point of this little lake. Like Marvin Grove, Potter Lake is located in another small valley eroded from Mount Oread. It is not a natural body of water. It was created in 1910 by construction of the earthen dam. “Potter Lake” is a rather grand term for this small pond—but that’s its official name. (Generally a small body of water is called a “pond”, whereas “lake” is used for a larger body. But there is no official distinction. The same is true for the difference between a “stream” and a “river.”) Potter Lake is actually a typical feature of the Kansas landscape. There are over 200,000 of these manmade lakes and ponds in the state, compared to only 10 or 20 natural ponds and lakes. Most of them are small, created by building a dam near the base of a hill. The original purpose of Potter Lake was to supply water for fighting fires on the campus. The small stone building just below the dam was built to house a pump engine which could be used to pump water up the hill to campus buildings. However, within a few years the City of Lawrence had improved its water system enough that Potter Lake was no longer needed for this purpose. For a few decades it was used instead for recreation—swimming in the summer, ice skating in the winter. However, there were safety problems: a few students drowned in the lake, and pollution in this small body of water became a serious hazard to health. (Swimming pools became a safer alternative.) Since the 1940s Potter Lake has been a place for students and visitors to observe and enjoy the peaceful surroundings. The lake does have a problem with too much plant growth. It will need to be drained and cleaned out sometime in the next few years. As you keep moving, you’ll see the London planetrees and native cottonwoods to the east. These are hearty hybrid trees that occurred in cities like London. Listen closely to the London planetrees and cottonwoods and you will notice they sound like applause – they are applauding for you and your interest in sustainability.

(Credit: Robert Hagen, Field Education Coord., Environmental Studies and Courtesy Asst. Prof., Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and Bonnie Johnson, Program Director and Associate Professor of the Urban Planning Program in the School of Public Affairs & Administration)

“I have Bruce King’s portrait of Skywoman, Moment in Flight, hanging in my lab. Floating to earth with her handful of seeds and flowers, she looks down on my microscopes and data loggers. It might seem an odd juxtaposition, but to me she belongs there. As a writer, a scientist, and a carrier of Skywoman’s story, I sit at the feet of my elder teachers listening for their songs.” (5-6)

Our next stop is the Chi Omega fountain. The fountain is a classic traffic roundabout that was here on campus long before they became popular in cities today. The environmental benefits of roundabouts are that they avoid having cars idle to wait their turns. This improves air quality. They are also safer in that pedestrians have protected areas and only have to look out for traffic coming from one direction at a time. On the fountain are depictions of the Greek myth of Persephone (in charge of painting flowers and associated with Spring), her mother Demeter (goddess of the harvest and agriculture) and her abductor Hades (god of the underworld). One day Hades carried Persephone off to the underworld to be his queen. Demeter is distraught and thus plants and crops withered and died. It was custom that if anyone eats or drinks during their time in the underworld, they have to stay there. Hades tricks Persephone to eat a few pomegranate seeds. A bargain is struck so that Persephone would be above ground at certain times of the year and then back underground. Demeter is happy when Persephone is above ground and thus crops are good and the earth is green, when she is underground Demeter is unhappy and thus no more green. In this way, we have seasons. Compare this ancient Greek explanation of natural phenomena with the Indigenous explanations related in Kimmerer’s book—like Skywoman’s creation of the earth. What songs of your elder teachers shape the ways you understand the world?

(Credit: Bonnie Johnson, Program Director and Associate Professor of the Urban Planning Program in the School of Public Affairs & Administration)

Learn more about the Chi Omega Fountain. 

“Never take the first. Never take the last. Take only what you need. Take only that which is given. Never take more than half. Leave some for others.” (183).

Our next stop is the lawn and grove between Marvin and Lindley Halls. This lawn, just south of the Chi Omega Fountain, is known for its small grove of pear trees. The original landscaping at this site was a gift from the class of 1947. Through the Replant Mount Oread project, the area was enhanced in 2014 with 9 additional Bartlett Pear trees, along with Dwarf Mugo Pines, Peonies and Periwinkle. Feel free to take these pears when they’re ripe. There are between 30 to 40 edible producing plants on campus. Students are welcome to forage on campus—and we hope you do so with the principles of the Honorable Harvest in mind. As you continue your walk down Jayhawk

Boulevard, also be sure to notice the persimmon tree in front of Strong Hall. The dedicated forager can also find edible flowers and greens - like the viburnum and lambsquarter.

(Credit: drawn from Sara Sneath’s 2011 University Daily Kansan article interviewing Kelly Kindscher, Kansas Biological Survey Professor, Environmental Studies and Indigenous Studies. View the full article.)

“The most important thing each of us can know is our unique gift and how to use it in the world. Individuality is cherished and nurtured, because, in order for the whole to flourish, each of us has to be strong in who we are and carry our gifts with conviction, so they can be shared with others.” (134)

As we round the corner on Jayhawk Boulevard, you are now atop Mount Oread, our next stop. Jayhawk Boulevard runs roughly Northwest to Southeast, following the crest of Mount Oread. A notable feature of Jayhawk Boulevard is that it slopes upward, very gently, towards the southeast. Geologists call a hill shaped like Mount Oread a “hogback,” because it resembles the back of a wild boar. In fact, the hill was once called Hogback Ridge, but was given the more poetic name later. Just east of the intersection with Mississippi Street, the ridge makes a turn towards the north; the name also changes to Oread Avenue. This north-trending section of the ridge is shorter and narrower than the section beneath Jayhawk Boulevard. Consider: Why is KU located on top of the hill? Would it have been more practical to build the university on flat and level ground? This was a deliberate decision, because the university site is marked out on maps of Lawrence that were drawn in the late 1850s, several years before KU was established.

(Credit: Robert Hagen, Field Education Coord., Environmental Studies and Courtesy Asst. Prof., Ecology and Evolutionary Biology

"How, in our modern world, can we find our way to understand the earth as a gift again, to make our relations with the world sacred again? I know we cannot all become hunter-gatherers—the living world could not bear our weight—but even in a market economy, can we behave “as if ” the living world were a gift?" p 31.

As you continue down Jayhawk Boulevard, you’ll see several recycling containers along the walk. Although the campus community has been recycling through volunteer efforts since the 1980s, a formal recycling program wasn’t established at the University of Kansas until the 1990s. KU Recycling as we know it today got a major boost when KU students established one of the nation’s first “green fees” in 1997. This fee—the Campus Environmental Improvement Fee—is still the primary funding for the program, and it is $5.60 per student per semester. This fee helps fund staff, program operations, and outreach efforts. The program handles a variety of materials including electronic waste, surplus furniture, printer cartridges and a range of other materials. KU Recycling provides recycling services for the campus community, including academic, administrative, residential facilities and special events including: football games, basketball games, and events at rock chalk park to name a few. KU practices single stream recycling which doesn’t require you to sort recyclables. A team of fulltime and student technicians collect recycling from nearly 100 buildings. After the material is collected, Recycling Technicians take it to the West Campus warehouse for hand-sorting and machine-baling. Once baled, the material is then sold to vendors for reuse in production of "new" items. Every year, the program diverts nearly 400 tons of material from the landfill.

(Credit: Josh Quick, KU Recycling Operations Coordinator)

“Pioneer human communities, just like pioneer plant communities, have an important role in regeneration, but they are not sustainable in the long run. When they reach the edge of easy energy, balance and renewal are the only way forward, wherein there is a reciprocal cycle between early and late successional systems, each opening the door for the other.” (284)

As you continue down Jayhawk Boulevard, you’re seeing the results of a recent renovation. One of the most beloved landmarks at KU, Jayhawk Blvd, is included as a historic district by the National Register of Historic Places. Two things to notice about Jayhawk Blvd are the trees and planting strips between the sidewalks and the curbs. They are historic, look good, and do good. Preserving its historic integrity, but incorporating modern sustainability methods, a water filtration system called “weirs” were included in the planting strips in 2014. These take advantage of what happens naturally when water is filtered and cleaned by going through grasslands, which absorb water through their roots, to wetlands where water is stored. The results are cleaner and slower moving water that keeps waterways healthier for plants and animals and reduces risks from flooding and erosion. Stormwater from the sidewalks and road runs into the weirs where it is filtered then flows into an underdrain system. The water takes care of the trees and plants and the amount of water going into the stormwater system is reduced. Next, look at the trees. They are a mix of elm and other trees. Elm trees are popular street trees and many streets across the U.S. are named “Elm Street.” They grow in the shape of a classic vase and, if you plant them on both sides of the street, the branches meet in the middle making an arch. This was the case with Jayhawk Blvd and other Elm Streets up until the 1950s when the trees died from Dutch elm disease. Today, a variety of street trees are planted to avoid losing all of them at once. Jayhawk Blvd has a mix of trees and types of elm trees resistant to Dutch elm disease. A shady, cooling archway is in the making.

(Credit: Bonnie Johnson, Program Director and Associate Professor of the Urban Planning Program in the School of Public Affairs & Administration)

View Additional Resources

“In Potawatomi, we speak of the land as emingoyak: that which has been given to us. In English, we speak of the land as “natural resources” or “ecosystem services,” as if the lives of other beings were our property.” (383)

As you move downhill, you’ll see the Steam Plant, our next stop. Counter to the sign out front reading “Power Plant”, KU does not produce electricity or power here. Rather, water from the City of Lawrence is heated with natural gas from the local utility (Black Hills) to produce steam. Steam is sent through an underground tunnel system to heat 52 of the older buildings on Main Campus. The underground steam tunnel system is 3 miles long, some of which date back to the 1800s. In April 2008, KU began a major project applying over 14,000 square feet of insulation to steam piping in building mechanical rooms, steam tunnels, and the power plant building. It’s estimated that the project is saving 180,000 therms, and $100,000, annually. The Power Plant was built in 1922 and was an expansion of a smaller plant. The Big Tooter steam whistle was installed at the end of the 1800s on that smaller plant and has sounded on the hill for over a hundred years. According to KU History, “The whistle was first used as a 7:45 a.m. wake-up call and a nightly announcer of curfew, but on March 25, 1912, it became a means to signal the end of hourly classes. Since then, it has been the savior of students and the bane of professors – or is it the other way around?” In 2003, the whistle cracked under the pressure of the steam and the university considered not replacing it, but KU received a $4,000 donation from an alumnus for a new whistle. Then in 2008, KU considered shutting the Big Tooter off to cut costs. Steam lost through the Big Tooter steam whistle equals tens of thousands of dollars, but this brought an outcry for loss of tradition so the whistle still blows. Since KU does not create “power” here, you might wonder where the electricity comes from that turns on KU lights, computers, and air conditioners. KU signed an agreement with Evergy to ensure 100% of its electricity needs will be supplied by wind energy. KU’s participation in Evergy’s Renewables Direct program supported construction of the Soldier Creek Wind Farm in Nemaha County. The 300-megawatt wind farm with 121 turbines is now producing power.

(Credit: Cassidy Kuhn, KU Energy Program Manager)

“I like that in the morning I can go for my walk around the meadow greeting neighbors by name. When Crow caws at me from the hedgerow, I can call back Mno gizhget andushukwe! I can brush my hand over the soft grasses and murmur Bozho mishkos. It’s a small thing, but it makes me happy.” (58)

From the steam plant, we descend partway down the ridge to another surviving monument to KU’s early history: the Prairie Acre. When the founders of Lawrence arrived in this area, most of the land was covered by tallgrass prairie. Almost all of Mount Oread was prairie. (The name “Daisy Hill”, where dorms are located, referred to the abundant prairie wildflowers that once grew there.) Some of that prairie is now covered by buildings and roads. But outside the city, most of it was converted to farmland by plowing. Other changes followed when farms were abandoned, resulting in the growth of forests and woodlands instead of prairie. Prairie Acre, which is now only about 1/3 of an acre in size, was set aside in the 1930s because it was the last remaining piece of unplowed, original tallgrass prairie on the campus. The limestone wall around the prairie is Oread Limestone, most likely from construction on the hill above this site. In 2015, students in Environmental Studies classes, professors, KU staff, and volunteers from the Lawrence and KU communities, began a major effort to restore the prairie. The goal is to remove undesirable plants that have invaded and to bring back native prairie species that have died out from the site. In 2016 Prairie Acre was expanded to the east, as an effort to restore a section of the original prairie that had been converted to lawn. Student volunteers sowed seeds and planted seedlings of prairie natives in that area; they also created a demonstration garden where signs and plantings help visitors learn about some of the species present in the prairie area. More recently, architecture students created an outdoor classroom, which includes information on the history of Prairie Acre.”

(Credit: Robert Hagen, Field Education Coord., Environmental Studies and Courtesy Asst. Prof., Ecology and Evolutionary Biology)

Look out for another Ceramitat at this location. As you explore, compare and contrast the “native” landscapes of Prairie Acre and Marvin Grove. Both are vital ecosystems and important parts of KU tradition, and serve as illustrations that “restoration” can be relative.

The easiest and most accessible route to our final stop is for you to head back to Jayhawk Boulevard the way you came, then carry on down the boulevard.

“Restoration is imperative for healing the earth, but reciprocity is imperative for long-lasting, successful restoration. Like other mindful practices, ecological restoration can be viewed as an act of reciprocity in which humans exercise their caregiving responsibility for the ecosystems that sustain them.” (336)

Our final stop is Weaver Courtyard. This courtyard is not original to the grounds of Spooner Hall, which was erected in 1893 and dedicated in 1894. This pocket garden was built in 1960, in honor of Arthur D. Weaver, the original owner of Weaver’s Department Store in downtown Lawrence. At that time, the garden was dedicated as “Arthur D. Weaver Memorial Fountain Court.” The central sunken space once housed a fountain with floating pumice rocks, and sculptures were mounted throughout. Over time, the garden suffered vandalism and theft. As the role of Spooner Hall has changed on campus—from library in 1894, to art museum in 1926, to anthropology museum in 1979, to The Commons in 2005—the connection to the garden has changed as well. No longer a formal European garden, the space functions as an outdoor laboratory for the intersection of nature and culture—an outdoor extension of the work of The Commons. In 2018, professor of architecture Keith Van de Riet developed a design-build project for architecture students to re-imagine the space as a vibrant hub for pollinators, native plants, and humans to coexist. With consultation and support from local stone mason and artist Karl Ramberg, emeritus professor of French & Italian Ted Johnson, and professor of Environmental Studies and Indigenous Studies, Kelly Kindscher, architecture students repopulated the space with native plants and a focus on increased accessibility. In 2021, artist Brandi Lee Cooper installed Ceramitat, a sculpture designed in conjunction with professor of ecology & evolutionary biology Deb Smith, to attract native bee populations.

For more on the student project to open the space to more visitors—human and more-than-human alike—visit this page for a short video.

(Credit: Emily Ryan, Director of The Commons)

Further reading:

• KU's Weaver Courtyard Increasing Access and Enhancing Experience
• A Garden in Winter