How internationally acclaimed recycle artist Thomas Dambo brought Marvin to life at EICC’s Bickelhaupt Arboretum
Marvin rests beneath one of the oldest oak trees at Eastern Iowa Community Colleges’ (EICC) Bickelhaupt Arboretum, stretched across the hillside beside a creek winding quietly through the property.
The giant wooden troll appears almost settled into the landscape, as though he has been there longer than the walking trails surrounding him. Branches rise from his hair. Layers of reclaimed lumber cover his body in different colors, textures, and grain patterns. His feet are larger than many visitors standing beside him.
Children climb near his hands. Families pause beneath the canopy for photos.
And nearly everyone looks up at the tree.
“The big nice old oak tree stood out to me,” said Thomas Dambo. “I thought it was so cool. And I then asked, could I maybe make one of my trolls lay and take a little nap up against that tree?”
That question eventually became Marvin.
The Garbage Artist
Thomas Dambo spent the last month helping physically build the sculptures scattered throughout Clinton, Iowa. Still, standing beside him, it is difficult to immediately connect the man in worn work pants, a thermal shirt, zip-up jacket, and tan bucket hat with the internationally recognized artist whose giant trolls now exist across more than 20 countries.
Then he starts talking.
Conversations move quickly between recycling, rap music, public art, folklore, and climate concerns. One moment, he is discussing Danish troll mythology. The next, he is talking about the world “running out of resources while simultaneously drowning in trash.”
And somehow, it all makes sense together.
Before becoming known around the world for giant troll sculptures, Dambo worked in Denmark’s underground hip-hop and street art scene. Over the years, he has referred to himself as a “garbage artist,” building sculptures and installations from discarded and reclaimed materials.
“I was a dumpster diver when I was a kid,” Dambo said during his artist talk in Clinton.
“I always loved finding things people threw away and turning them into something else.
For me, trash was never trash. It was materials.”
That philosophy eventually became his career.
Over the last decade, Dambo has built nearly 200 sculptures across forests, parks, gardens, and public spaces around the world.
“In Denmark, trolls are connected to nature,” Dambo said. “They live in the forests. They live in the hills. They are part of the landscape.”
Now, four of his sculptures live in Clinton.
Helmut stands near the Sawmill Museum. Warren is located inside the old Clinton Train
Depot. A fourth hidden installation, Enchanted Branches, can only be discovered by
following clues connected to the trolls themselves.
And beneath the oak tree at the arboretum, Marvin rests beside the creek where Dambo
first imagined him.
The Story Clinton Already Had
Every sculpture starts with a location.
“And Clinton had an amazing story already,” Dambo said.
Clinton’s history has long been tied directly to lumber. Logs floated south along the Mississippi River from forests in Wisconsin and Minnesota before being processed in Clinton sawmills that helped build communities across the Midwest.
That history became the foundation for The Tree Thieves, the name of the Clinton installation and the folklore story connecting all four sculptures throughout the city.
The story follows trolls who once lived peacefully in forests north of the Mississippi River. After sleeping for hundreds of years, they awaken to discover the trees gone. Following the river south, they eventually arrive in Clinton, where forests they once knew have become lumber, railroads, buildings, and industry.
THE TREE THIEVES
Next to a little city, east the mighty Mississippi creeps
There was a forest full of trees and there the trolls used to sleep
The oldest brother was named Warren, then came Helmut, then came Marvin
As they slept they felt a warning, what might happen in the morning
When the humans come around, the trees will fall upon the ground
They will throw them in the river drowned and then they’ll float them into town
They will haul them on the riverbanks, then store and dry them on the lands
And then a giant metal hand will grab and cut them into planks
As the trolls slept, the years went by, a city built so wide and high
With everything the eye could buy, until the wooden well went dry
The trolls woke up now all alone, the trees were gone, their only home
Between the roots and stumps they roamed, they turned up over every stone
First night the trolls in silence grieved, next night they all went out to seek
Along the riverbanks and creeks, they found a city full of thieves
The trolls were stunned in disbelief, and so they came back in the eve
They swore a pact to never leave, until they rescued every tree
“The clever listener might understand that the name of this exhibition, The Tree Thieves, doesn’t talk about the trolls as the tree thieves,” Dambo said during his artist talk in Clinton. “Actually, it’s the humans.”
The project took shape over roughly a month as Dambo and his international team worked alongside more than 100 volunteers, local organizations, and city crews to construct the installations throughout Clinton.
Build sites filled with reclaimed lumber. Volunteers sorted boards, climbed scaffolding, carried materials, and slowly watched the sculptures emerge piece by piece.
Dambo compared the process to building a fence.
“I build the skeleton together with my crew and then they will do the cladding,” he said. “We put the fence post up and then the volunteers, they can put the boards up on the fence.”
The sculptures themselves were built from locally sourced wood.
Structural lumber came from logs collected and milled over decades by the Sawmill Museum. Flooring removed from the Lodge at Eagle Point Park became Marvin’s fur. Branches collected by Clinton City Works form his hair.
“That’s the beauty of using old materials,” Dambo said. “They already have history. They already have soul.”
Stories People Wander Into
Recycling, to Dambo, is not simply about reducing waste.
It is about changing how people think about the things they throw away.
His work carries an environmental message, but rarely in a direct way. Instead, Dambo uses folklore, storytelling, and large-scale public art to draw people into places they might not otherwise explore.
“Stories are a way to make people listen,” he said. “If you just tell people what to do, they don’t always hear it. But if you create something magical, they become curious.”
That curiosity now stretches across Clinton.
Families move from sculpture to sculpture searching for clues connected to Enchanted Branches. Visitors pause along trails and sidewalks studying the weathered materials closely.
“If we can take trash and build something beautiful together,” Dambo said, “then maybe we can also build a better future together.”
A Place Built for Exploration
Founded in 1970 by Robert and Frances Bickelhaupt and later gifted to EICC, the nationally recognized 15-acre arboretum has become one of the region’s most unique environmental and educational spaces.
The arboretum serves as both a public garden and living classroom, connecting students and visitors with horticulture, conservation, environmental stewardship, and the natural world through trails, labeled plant collections, and educational programming.
In recent months, EICC completed a $5.5 million renovation and enhancement project at the arboretum. The building’s ribbon-cutting took place in May.
The transformation included accessibility improvements, expanded gathering spaces,
event areas, and the renovation of the former Bickelhaupt family home into a modern
education and event center overlooking the grounds.
Now, Marvin becomes part of that next chapter.
Visitors arriving to see the troll often find themselves wandering farther into the property itself, crossing bridges over the creek, studying labeled plant collections, and spending time inside a space built around conservation, learning, and public engagement with nature.
To Dambo, that interaction matters as much as the sculpture itself.
“I don’t want art only inside museums,” he said. “I want people to experience it in nature. I want children to climb on it. I want people to interact with it.”
What Marvin Leaves Behind
Visitors may arrive because they heard about Marvin. They may come for the photo, the scavenger hunt, or the novelty of seeing a giant wooden troll in Clinton.
But once they are there, they find wooded trails, running water, labeled plant collections, and a place built to slow people down long enough to explore it.
Long before Marvin arrived, the arboretum was already a place of discovery. The sleeping giant simply helps more people experience it.
“I think people miss nature,” Dambo said. “I think people miss adventure. And I think people miss stories.”
At the Bickelhaupt Arboretum, Marvin gives them all three.