a quick note on the 50th anniversary of the vote by the US Congress and signing by the then-president, Ike Eisenhower, that made Alaska, the 49th state of the current union of Amurikan states. this is some footage my father shot six weeks before I was born, 30 June 1958, and right after the territorial government passed a bill in the legislature approving the statehood process. the day before my arrival, the people of the Alaska territory confirmed their desire by referendum to become the 49th state on 26 August 1958. the US Congress subsequently passed a statehood bill on 03 January 1959.

memories. how to surface, how to frame, how to recreate. images, in the process of uncovering three decades of work primarily unseen. thousands of images of friends, places, strangers, objects, situations, events. a very small percentage are so far away in mind that what, who they are, is now unknown. so, looking through the external sources, the calendar, the email archive, other images, the travelog. to set a location. but some cannot be deduced. where was I? who are those people? what's going on?

and then the questions, are the images interesting, compelling, usable?

and to the Thoreau reference:

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending we lay waste our powers: Little we see in nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be a pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathe'd horn. -- Bill Wordsworth

transmediale tasks start to form up. though the decision to go to Berlin is not made quite yet. I can participate to a degree without going, working as an online moderator for the conference.

Winter Solstice about over and gone. to stretch days to June 21. no problem with that. here sunrise was at 07:33 and sunset at 17:23. not bad, day hardly shrinks from summer when the nights are still long and dark.

as the basement chill grows. it'll be long underwear here. with no sunshine. star shine tonight, perhaps sun tomorrow. I'll watch the sun come up. the windows are warped in most the house. one way or the other. gap at the bottom of the big one facing south. when the Pacific storms come ripping through both that window and the western one over the bed leak some. will have to see if I can effect a fix. reading Thoreau. and others.

I do not regret my not having seen this before, since I now saw it under circumstances so favorable. I was in just the frame of mind to see something wonderful, and this was a phenomenon adequate to my circumstances and expectation and it put me on the alert to see more like it. I exulted like "a pagan suckled in a creed" that had never been worn at all, but was bran new, and adequate to the occasion. I let science slide, and rejoiced in that Light as if it had been a fellow creature. I saw that it was excellent, and was very glad to know that it was so cheap. A scientific explanation, as it is called, would have been altogether out of place there. That is for pale daylight. Science with its retorts would have put me to sleep; it was the opportunity to be ignorant that I improved. It suggested to me that there was something to be seen if one had eyes.

It made a believer of me more than before. I believed that the woods were not tenantless, but choke-full of honest spirits as good as myself any day -- not an empty chamber, but an inhabited house -- and for a few moments I enjoyed fellowship with them. Your so-called wise man goes trying to persuade himself that there is no entity there but himself and his traps, but it is a great deal easier to believe the truth. It suggested, too, that the same experience always gives birth to the same sort of belief or religion. One revelation has been made to the Indian, another to the white man. I have much to learn of the Indian, nothing from the missionary. I am not sure but all that would tempt me to teach the Indian my religion would be his promise to teach me his. Long enough I had heard of irrelevant things; now at length I was glad to make acquaintance with the Light that dwells in rotten wood. Where is all your knowledge gone to? It evaporates completely, for it has no depth. -- Hank Thoreau

do the rest of the drive, feeling an edge that the conditions at Flagstaff are deteriorating by the minute. no leisurely road-trip photos, only images from the road, social mind floating on radio scanning instead of ipodding. doing I-40, where the Light is always stimulating across this corner of Arizona and New Mexico. there are winter road condition issues in Flag, as expected, and always hairy to be rocketing down the road at such a speed not on ice, not pavement.

the judgment is that the truck handles very well in winter conditions -- with some weight in the back and marginally decent tires.

truck buffeted by winds all night, then snow starts, and keeps dreams in fitful scenarios of drifted doom, a winter spent at the dunes. unable to proceed, popsicled. up early, road is wind-cleared, but only locally. weather threats build, and whiting-out proceeds. pack up and head out. pass a ranger, give a wave, and don't even stop at the Center, only a passing image or two fired off. south and west is where the bad weather is. Wolf Creek Pass is closed. have to call Richard and Holly to check in from the messy Safeway parking lot, they are completely snow-bound in Durango, and Richard is pretty sick, so, head more south than west. but SR-285 continues to degrade and traffic drops off to nothing. a foot of packed and drifting snow on the road, and more coming every minute. first I was bummed at the pick-up in front of me going pretty slow, but after a while, I was happy that there was someone else on the road and ahead of me to at least get some idea what was happening up there. plows were not making much progress against the snowfall and for a time I thought that I'd end up in a drift, but it gradually tapered off towards Santa Fe.

shut down driving systems at 1400 a bit north of Albuquerque at the Motel-8 parking lot in Bernalillo, too late to do the run all the way to Prescott today without pushing head through several glass, brick, and stone walls. check in with a couple right jolly Pakistani guys running the front desk. hot bath. free wifi, regroup for the next storm coming through tomorrow morning.

in deep cold, and emptiness. trees aching. even the Lightest breeze cuts through all layers. a long wander, trekking some mule deer and finding some big cat scat. until feet are too cold to get around. didn't have a chance to get any firewood on the way through the National Forest, and a fire would hardly help unless large.

it's so cold in the evening that the electric wires running to the water pump house are buzzing and cracking, even the wooden telephone pole is vibrating and humming. snow underfoot gets that high-pitched crunching whine when walked through. while mind-thoughts drift, reflected off the wide and formative landscape. what to make of all these crossings of path with Others. as time slips. platitudes slip also.

last night it was so cold that almost all my water including the 5 gallon tank froze solid, so, I ended up having to boil a little, pour that into one of the frozen bottles, let it defrost some, boil that, and continue. tonight I boil a liter and pour it into a bottle and put the bottle in the sleeping bag. eventually pushing it down to my feet to stay the night. good idea. much warmer feet. despite some heavy wind and snow. and a fresh liter of warmish water for breakfast.

long day after another long day after another long day. seeing faces materializing out of time and time and times again. blizzard happening across most of the western mountains and plains. driven by Pacific storms rolling in and intersecting with Arctic air masses. Colorado no exception. waking at Steve and Gaan's place, a quick peek out the window shows flurrying snow piling up. and cold temps. around 15 F. we hang for the morning, chatting about other friends, and life pathways. and politics and nations and economies and on.



their place is perched on a small mesa, surrounded by juniper and piñon. Gaan had photographed a bobcat in the garden recently. the view was unbroken north to Pikes Peak and west to the Wet Mountains. mmmm. they had to leave on short notice to meet the guys coming through the blizzard from Denver to clean the grease trap at the restaurant, so I packed up the truck and headed out as well, over to Bill's place. it was snowing heavy, and Rt. 50 was already bad, but I made it over where I dropped off the black walnut lumber (missing three pieces that were buried in the bed of the truck). it's the remaining slabs of wood from the tree that I helped Dad topple and send out to a lumber mill in Frederick. Bill's going to make a coffee table for me from the wood. we hung out for a couple hours -- I gave him a couple 16x20 prints and we talked about plans for the coffee table. around 1430 I figured I had better head out so I would at least have a chance to make it into the San Luis before sunset.

I-25 south to Walsenburg was nasty, and just out of Pueblo, a couple cars went ripping by me, three minutes later, one of them had launched across the deep median ditch and head on into opposing traffic, three other cars were involved. two of them completely destroyed. all the windows were gone in the one that passed me and no sign of anyone in the car. six or seven cars had already stopped, and I felt sick to my stomach, why am I throwing myself down this iced-over road at 55 mph? why? I slowed and started to double-flash the on-coming traffic who could not yet see the accident, hoping to slow them down before they came on the site. I doubt some of them could stop. another life done gone. ambulances passed about 15 minutes later. a bit further down towards Walsenburg the road dried out, the flurries stopped and the clouds allowed some weak sunshine through. the sick stomach feeling persisted for awhile. made phone calls, it's Sunday, free minutes. turned off onto Rt. 160 west to La Veta pass and the Valley. temps, never high, dropping continuously. made the far side of the pass right before sunset with some electric views. stopped repeatedly to shoot with my substandard SLR. through Fort Garland, following the circular roots of Blanca, the Valley clear, dry, and cold. the Crestones showing chill gray ahead approaching the Dunes. then darkness. empty campground. a ranger cruises through in his truck and we chat a bit. he promises to check on me around 10 am tomorrow.

the Milky Way slashed across the sky. a few Geminids, Jupiter and Venus setting a couple hours after sunset. cold. heat up a pot of chili that Bill gave me last night, mmm. just the thing to be eating under these conditions. arrange things in the back so I can make tea with cream in the morning without getting out of the bag. it will be brutal in the morning with a clear night at 9000 feet up and wedged between two sets of 14,000 footers. no sun before late morning at the earliest. hanging in the cab writing this text. So far behind on the log. so many things gone down, so many people crossed paths with. so many stories told and heard.

leave Karen and Ron's place mid-morning after finishing off the networked book proposal, needed to get that uploaded before Monday, and no likely internet connections before that. head south. big accident on I-25 south of C-Spgs. western gusts rock the truck. huge streamers of snow coming off Pikes Peak. get to Steve and Gaan's place around 1230 and dump some stuff there. we hang for awhile, catching up, and then the three of us head back to Pueblo West to their restaurant (Puukaow Thai) for a Light and very tasty lunch.



then I head over to Ava's place for Bill and her's Christmas dinner party where Chris, Rick and Sally, John, Jimmy and Wendy, Emi, Rob, and some others show up in the very exotic Kona Kai apartment complex. the building, a rectangular complex with a large courtyard in the center was built in the 1970's. the courtyard was covered completely and landscaped with tropical plants which seem to be thriving mightily thirty years later. a complete surprise when entering the doors, especially given the weather about to happen outside.

always nice to catch some face-time with folks not seen so often.

head back to Steve and Gaan's place where we hang on the deck and get a spectacular display of Geminid fireballs despite the radiation point in Geminii have a fifteen-year-maximum full moon plunked down in the middle of it. hard to imagine the show without the moon, it was intense.

depart from Boulder, gas up in Golden, arrive in good time at Karen and Ron's place in Colorado Springs. chocolate cookies fresh out of the oven, and cold milk. now that's a welcome! but what spaces and times to cover. and in between the words, a better understanding of those far-off times. a nice dinner, hanging out, early evening though, they have to get up at 0430 for weekend work at a correctional facility east of Pueblo. but a nice start to re-connecting with an old friend. Karen and I both headed to Colorado in 1976, she to CSU, me to CSM. and only once meeting in Fort Collins at a party in early 1977, then at the 20th reunion in 1976, and today. Light steps across Light years.

Holly putting up Christmas Lights. Natalie cutting limes. spend some time looking at prints with Rick and Sally and hammering out the parameters for the living room wall piece. not easy, but basic. it will be a completely new combination of images. if I can get the printing and mounting done reasonably.

Jane also organizes a nice Denver dorkbot event along with the Denver Open Media crew live broadcast on community cable channel 57 and on KGNU. she invites me to do an hour talk/presentation on whatever -- networking, projects, community activism -- live. interesting dynamic, I'll get a copy of it at some point. Mark Hosler from negativland does the hour after mine. later there is a small party upstairs.

a chaotic night, as it was also Dona's photo exhibition opening at Sliding Door Gallery, only a block away. very strange coincidence as I practically never had any engagements in Denver, ever. it was a First Friday street night. and the neighborhood was packed. very nice to see such civil activities like that in the US, maybe there is a cultural renaissance about to fire up. maybe in response to the collapse of consumer capitalism in the developed world. folks had consumed enough of all that consumer crap on credit on loan on mortgage on plastic (now, is that hydrocarbon plastic we're talking about?).

Dona had some photographic printwork along with Camilla Briggs and her organic textile set-pieces. Dona's images of the Dalai Lama which impressed themselves into works about Light were distracting, perhaps because of his iconic status, but more basically, to have a human form entering the field of radiative holy-ness of Light, well, either redundant or simply not necessary. or maybe too obvious. dunno, precise problem can't be circumscribed without seeing all the images again. were these stills from a movie? why not. fluid seeing. it seemed to miss the regularity of decisive format choices -- sizing and positioning. a smaller panoramic cloud sequence, while not astonishing for those of us humans who fling ourselves about in metal tubes high in the air, was moving in its internal brilliance. abstraction helps to refine expression of aesthetic. unless the figuration is more personal -- the opposite of iconic. any body would do. any body is holy enough for Light to play with.

Camilla's wax-sealed rose petals needed intimacy, something played out right there in the middle of this civilian crowd. they needed to be touched, to be touching the participating humans in the room. the patio behind the gallery was funky.

and, otherwise, I especially enjoyed the DOM folks, lead by Directrice Ann Theis, and their real passion for what they were doing. haven't run across that too often -- the last time, in Latvia, at the Cultural/Historical Museum dance party in 2001 -- and especially not among US cultural-industry sector folks. usually there is a desperation and even irritated defiance in the air.

I was too distracted by observing the social scene and having rather intensive conversations and interactions with others. very dynamic evening. enjoyable.

bravo!

Sarah invites me to go to a morning pre-screening in the Atlas Center of the movie Speaking in Code along with David and some of the other principles from the Boulder Media Festival. they are considering the flick for screening at the next festival. it's ... okay ... funny how historical the scene got so quickly. ancient times, techno seems.

right after lunch, I meet Holly at the UMC and we take a wander around campus talking about her options upon graduation from high school this spring. we make a visit to David's office to talk about the TAM program, etc. it's cold out. and the art department is now a construction site. I decide to cycle downtown to meet Sarah and Kate later at the Laughing Goat. then still later, we wander back up to campus to catch negativland who Jane brought to CU for a couple (free!) shows featuring their concentrated and comprehensive performance on the mediated social system of religion in It's All In Your Head FM.

We believe that the healthy evolution of art and creativity has more value than simply counting how much money is lost or made. Art, science and technology have evolved because of how we all build upon the ideas and works of those who came before us. Copyright was always intended as a balancing act between giving ownership to creators so as to provide incentive to create new works, and allowing works to lapse into the public domain so that new ideas could develop. But our founding fathers could never have imagined the kind of world we live in today and the amazing new technologies that we are surrounded with - technologies that encourage and inspire us to interact with the world and create in unprecedented new ways. Protecting the author of a creative work is a good thing, but the benefits of copyright have been thrown off balance by the disproportionate influence of those with the most money. In fact, the more recent expansions of our nations copyright laws represents a break from our nations past and from the intentions of our own Constitution. -- Mark Hosler

long day, many ideas are danced around. it's good to see former students so active with things, thoughts, and spirits.

EJ (Arch11) asks me to make some images (and sounds) from a spectacular house he designed and is building under the third Flatiron in Boulder. the work crew are clearly high-end professionals doing very high-end work. and the location, very fine!

pick up Sonya after my yoga class at the Y. she's got basketball practice, so I sit for a bit with some of the parents.

send off the UTS application at the South Boulder Post Office. recognize the guy working behind the counter. he used to work at the Main P.O. downtown decades ago when I had a PO box there. small town. construction work around the corner, and a brisk wind keeping the flag pole cable clanking. I'm not being very quiet with my leather coat on and squatting outside the front door. will Homeland Security come?

Food on the table, in the kitchen, turkey in the oven. Jim and Dona assemble a crowd for dinner. Kamikaze wind-up, uh-oh! stuffing stuffed. mmmmmm. good! second to arrive last to leave, hmmm. party!

Ken updates his latest cheap meat dreams and acorns activities -- and active he is, as always, based there in the central Canadian town of Winnipeg (aka the city with the second largest global Icelandic-speaking population after Reykjavik and before Akureyri, Iceland). what do ya know!

at the "Y" I am in the exercise machine room, and see an elderly gentleman with a Coast Guard sweatshirt on and a ship's baseball cap. moving into his sphere, I introduce myself and ask when he served in the Coast Guard (as a family friend was a commander in the Guard). he replies, nodding his head, oh, '41 to '45. we go on to talk for some time. he tells me about his experiences in the Pacific Theater, how there were never pictures of the Marine LST's (landing ship transport) that he skippered when they returned from the beaches of the Pacific campaign. only the photos of the Marines spilling out into the waves when the doors opened, not when they were full of the dead and injured being ferried back to the mother ship. he says he still wakes up at night with that image in his head.

Migrating Régime begins in Berlin. (a photo from Edwina of a group interpretation of the dialogue assignment, hmmm?) I run a seminar/performance/facilitation on Monday, and will be randomly intervening during the week. not as fun as embodied presence, but hey, what can be done. so, from Boulder to Berlin. the next best thing to being there...

The expression of presence is an essential characteristic of the self-organized body-system. Presence is the announcement of be-ing and viability and requires first an inflow and then an outflow of energies from the body system through the conversion of energies from one form to another. This conversion process alters the entire fabric of local existence. Migration of the embodied and energized organism changes everything around it. What do you change around you? What is changed by those around you?



Shared presence is a dialogue of transformation and change. It is the crux of be-ing.

up early. zero Fahrenheit. low clouds. solo in the campground. spilled water freezes immediately. ranger passes through, we chat for a bit. brewing tea while ravens flock back and forth in the pines. a long slow wander through the Douglas fir and fore-dune scrub, up the dunes a bit, and back. silent. low chill breeze.

have lunch at the bajada in the sun. listening.

stop at the visitors center on the way out and happen to meet the woman who would have been my boss had I nailed that position as educational liaison a few years back. very nice instance.

then to the Center, of course. for a circuit or so.



then onto the Gunbarrel north-bound. dinner with Rick and Sally in Golden, then on up to Boulder. Chris and Scharmin and the kids prepping for their Hawaii jaunt. Sage a bit more gray in the muzzle like some of us.