Vt. Scrap-Wood Dino Posing Modern-Day Problem
Campaign posters supporting Egyptian presidential candidate Ahmed Shafiq, the last prime minister of deposed president Hosni Mubarak, hang above a popular market in Cairo, Egypt, Tuesday, June 12, 2012. Arabic on the banners reads: "Ahmed Shafiq for Egyptian presidency", and "Egypt for all."(AP Photo/Amr Nabil) / Amr Nabil
Does a 25-foot-tall, 122-foot-long dinosaur need a permit to avoid extinction?
That's the unlikely dilemma posed by "Vermontasaurus," a whimsical sculpture thrown together with scrap wood by a Vermont man. The oddity now faces opposition from neighbors and regulatory challenges from government entities that he fears could force him to dismantle it.
It's art, not edifice, says Brian Boland.
"They should leave me alone. It's a piece of artwork," he said.
Boland, 61, is a former teacher, hot-air balloon designer and pilot who runs the Post Mills Airport, a 52-acre airfield.
Last month, he decided to turn a pile of broken wooden planks and other detritus on the edge of his property into something more. Boland says the idea was to build a sculpture that could be a community gathering place, with no admission and no commercial element.
Using a dinosaur model as his inspiration, he put out a call for volunteer helpers and went to work.
He cut a huge pine tree into four pieces and, using a back hoe, planted them as the bases of the four feet. Then, over nine days and using dozens of volunteers, the ersatz sculpture began taking shape.
A splintered two-by-four here, the rotted belly of a guitar there, half a ladder from a child's bunk bed here, Boland and his volunteers worked under basic ground rules: No saws, no rulers and no materials other than what was in the scrap pile.
Also, anything nailed into place couldn't be removed. And nothing was to be level or plumb.
What emerged from the random carpentry was a Smithsonian-sized slice of roadside Americana.
"It's an interesting piece of art, but personally, I don't find it all that appealing," said neighbor Mary Wilson, 54, who lives down the street and wishes it could be removed. On the poster Boland circulated to seek volunteers, "it looked pretty neat. But when you look at it now, it looks like a messy piece of art."
Dirk Koppers, 40, who lives next door to Wilson, said he loves it.
"It shows such creativity," he said. "You just don't go to places and be surprised anymore. Everything's always so controlled or so governed."
Speaking of which, government officials are not amused.
The Town of Thetford told Boland his sculpture was really a structure — akin to a shed or a gazebo — and that he needed a $272 permit for it.
The state Division of Fire Safety, meanwhile, told Boland that if he couldn't get a structural engineer to attest to the sculpture's safety, he could not allow people to congregate underneath it. Boland has since wound a strap around the legs to keep people from walking under the belly of the beast.
"There's enough weight there that if it collapsed, somebody would probably be hurt," said Michael Desrochers, regional manager for the Division of Fire Safety.
The Vermont Natural Resources Board weighed in with a notice of alleged violation that said the wooden dinosaur was a substantial change to an existing development and may therefore need another permit, at a minimum of $150, under an ultra-restrictive state land-use law called Act 250.
The state will decide this week if such a permit is required, according to Boolie Sluka, District 2 assistant coordinator for the Board.
Boland says he's been told he might have to dismantle it entirely.
In the interim, he has won cheers from passers-by, some of whom drive up to take pictures. It was an onlooker from Boston who dubbed it "Vermontasaurus," which Boland has adopted as the structure's name.
On Thursday, Peg Perkins, 77, of Gaysville, and cousin Diana LeClair, 59, of Hardwick, pulled up next to it, cameras in hand.
"It's very, very ingenious," said LeClair.
© 2010 The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed. That's the unlikely dilemma posed by "Vermontasaurus," a whimsical sculpture thrown together with scrap wood by a Vermont man. The oddity now faces opposition from neighbors and regulatory challenges from government entities that he fears could force him to dismantle it.
It's art, not edifice, says Brian Boland.
"They should leave me alone. It's a piece of artwork," he said.
Boland, 61, is a former teacher, hot-air balloon designer and pilot who runs the Post Mills Airport, a 52-acre airfield.
Last month, he decided to turn a pile of broken wooden planks and other detritus on the edge of his property into something more. Boland says the idea was to build a sculpture that could be a community gathering place, with no admission and no commercial element.
Using a dinosaur model as his inspiration, he put out a call for volunteer helpers and went to work.
He cut a huge pine tree into four pieces and, using a back hoe, planted them as the bases of the four feet. Then, over nine days and using dozens of volunteers, the ersatz sculpture began taking shape.
A splintered two-by-four here, the rotted belly of a guitar there, half a ladder from a child's bunk bed here, Boland and his volunteers worked under basic ground rules: No saws, no rulers and no materials other than what was in the scrap pile.
Also, anything nailed into place couldn't be removed. And nothing was to be level or plumb.
What emerged from the random carpentry was a Smithsonian-sized slice of roadside Americana.
"It's an interesting piece of art, but personally, I don't find it all that appealing," said neighbor Mary Wilson, 54, who lives down the street and wishes it could be removed. On the poster Boland circulated to seek volunteers, "it looked pretty neat. But when you look at it now, it looks like a messy piece of art."
Dirk Koppers, 40, who lives next door to Wilson, said he loves it.
"It shows such creativity," he said. "You just don't go to places and be surprised anymore. Everything's always so controlled or so governed."
Speaking of which, government officials are not amused.
The Town of Thetford told Boland his sculpture was really a structure — akin to a shed or a gazebo — and that he needed a $272 permit for it.
The state Division of Fire Safety, meanwhile, told Boland that if he couldn't get a structural engineer to attest to the sculpture's safety, he could not allow people to congregate underneath it. Boland has since wound a strap around the legs to keep people from walking under the belly of the beast.
"There's enough weight there that if it collapsed, somebody would probably be hurt," said Michael Desrochers, regional manager for the Division of Fire Safety.
The Vermont Natural Resources Board weighed in with a notice of alleged violation that said the wooden dinosaur was a substantial change to an existing development and may therefore need another permit, at a minimum of $150, under an ultra-restrictive state land-use law called Act 250.
The state will decide this week if such a permit is required, according to Boolie Sluka, District 2 assistant coordinator for the Board.
Boland says he's been told he might have to dismantle it entirely.
In the interim, he has won cheers from passers-by, some of whom drive up to take pictures. It was an onlooker from Boston who dubbed it "Vermontasaurus," which Boland has adopted as the structure's name.
On Thursday, Peg Perkins, 77, of Gaysville, and cousin Diana LeClair, 59, of Hardwick, pulled up next to it, cameras in hand.
"It's very, very ingenious," said LeClair.
Popular in Strange
- Clever cat opens five doors in a row to go outside
- Internet's best marriage proposal videos
- Fascinating footage after grizzly bear eats camera
- See swift hummingbirds shown in super slow-motion
- Daft Punk music medley is an epic mix and tribute
- Sea lion shows concern after little girl falls
- How to become a YouTube star (with "epic montage")
- Fun with zombie parkour and first-person skiing
- Weekend Music Round-Up: creative and dance edition
- Are you my mom? Orphaned pig adopted by mother cat
- Seven ways to open wine bottle without corkscrew
- Joe Jonas responds to dance invite with sexy video
- Dead Giveaway: Ohio hero Charles Ramsey gets "songified"
- Time Lapse: Montreal by Winter
- Cat won't be trying to eat fish in aquarium anymore
- 2-year-old girl adorably nails cover of Pearl Jam
This is what happens when you allow your government to creep into every aspect of your life, the "benign" nanny-state that we find ourselves in today. Don't be original, just be ordinary. Don't make too much money, but if you do, make sure you donate to the right campaign, your civic responsibility would be much appreciated.
This is exactly what our forefathers escaped from in the Old World. It seems we've "matured" since then. Yes, once the hardscrabble days are over the populace is ready to settle down on their fat behinds and be waited upon by their nanny state "servants". But, said servants aren't directly employed by you, so they have lousy attitudes, simply because they can. And, every day of the week, the "servants" find more and more reasons and ways to become more and more involved in your daily life until one day you find that your every move is on camera, your every word recorded and dissected by a "data mining" program. The servants now watch their "master" constantly and tell he/she exactly what to do, how to behave, where to live, what to think, what to like, and what to dislike. George Orwell was far more precient than anyone gives him credit for.
If it's on HIS property and HE considers it art... leave him alone... PERIOD!