Mitten Park

trail of flowers, Echo Park, Colorado, May 2010

Two days here in Echo Park already. Three nights, one night alone, Friday and Saturday there were a couple of people in, then tonight, Sunday, no one around at all. A bit creepy, especially with the mountain lion kill I just discovered over in the middle of the walk-in camping site. Saw that on the way back from Mitten Park this afternoon. Been thinking of the cougars the whole time I’ve been here. Seeing evidences of kills scattered widely across the entire space. Wondering what the total range is for a single cat? I just don’t want to meet one. Having fantasy imaginations, and on the way back from Mitten Park had composed an Ode to the Puma, not able to memorize it sufficiently to record it, but recite it loudly on the way back.

The trail is choked with small purple flowers where it starts from Echo Park. Then there are the vague petroglyphs, then one set of rafters float by, small against Steamboat Rock. Looking at things great and small, it’s all relative to the eye, and the unfolding context.

Eight years ago, I leave a stone from Iceland in a cavity of the standing carcass of a burned piñon, the stone is now gone. Where?

Pat’s Draw

edge, Echo Park, Colorado, May 2010

hike up Pat’s Draw and around the fault area, up a steep talus slope below the high scarps of Harper’s Corner, as far possible, and even some slow trundling down some very unstable and steep terrains. Seeing more 12-16-point elk racks, more mountain lion kills, and the weather is warm.

arrival and meditation

edge, Echo Park, Colorado, May 2010

Have an incredibly erotic dream with Jennifer D., back from the Culture Capitals 2000 project in Prague. Will have to email her. Otherwise watery squint-eyed perusal of the rotating stellar field in ma’ face.

This morning, a raptor circles a hundred meters away with its mate hidden in the trees along Pool Creek, making a creeeewing sound. It’s the same noise it made when I wandered over to the creek earlier in the morning. All the birds are noisy—it makes a multi-dimensional flow which lies on the ear with pleasing insistence. No need to move the head, as the sources are in motion and occasionally in sight.
more “arrival and meditation”

CLUI: Day Thirty-One — sturm und drang

leaving the casinos behind, going to South Base, Wendover, Utah, May 2010

Pick this night to sleep in the CLUI southbase unit as I had to return some equipment down there. It’s the first night possible to do it after the occupying troops retreat to where-ever they came from. The wind is howling all night long, threatening to take the whole Quonset to … Kansas. Bad nights sleep, still blowing in the morning, and most the day, gusting up to 50+ mph, ach. Dust, and noise. Would have been nice to hang around here for some days and enjoy the further isolation (and distance towards darkness, away from the casino glare!).

CLUI: Day Twelve — Silver Island Mountains

Silver Island Mountains, Utah, April 2010

Neal makes it in from London after last weeks aborted attempt from having the flu.

A loop north around the Silver Island Mountains paralleling the Bonneville Salt Flats traces many textures of rock, sky, and the interface between. Numerous forays away from the truck into the landscape, looking at everything, smelling everything, hearing … nothing … or so. The space vehicle rumbles onward on the bad road. Bad road. All bad roads lead away from, further away from, Rome.

Leave the car, be here now. The desert commands that (or the fearful response, deny here now, and insulate the embodied self from any manifestation of here, get back to the car, now).

Turning to the west at the north end of the mountain fault-block, I am suddenly met by five huge white Maremma (or Great Pyrenees?) sheep dogs, each over 100 pounds, ready to shred whatever fleshly appendages might be protruding from the truck. They were guarding a sizable flock of sheep who were busy razing the already marginal winter foliage. gah, why they allow sheep farming up here, I’ll never know—the BLM’s “multi-use” philosophy destroying what land cover there is left in this place. The circuit continues across the playa from Pilot Peak and on to Leppy Pass and a human installation.

(Ed. note — have solved the image gallery as you can see. Seems to be relatively glitch-free and less work than my previous solutions. This is one image from a number — Pennsylvanian-Permian-aged lime/mud-stones, highly contorted. Do hope to get all of them up from this trip so far, sooner than later. But there is so much code to do for that — I still haven’t settled on a means to display images on this blog — there are several pre-packaged plug-ins for WordPress in this regard, but I haven’t decided. Not going to Flickr things nor use Facebook as the data management and control is passed off to those cloud services (not to mention the perverse End-User Licensing Agreement terms). The travelog blog means was good, but the file structure of WordPress does not lend itself to any automation if I use that older technique, and I desperately want to get out of the manual compilation work that I have been doing all along. It’s incredibly time consuming and easily bunged-up with (simple) code errors. Ach, as this site evolves into its 16th year, it remains something of a millstone, given the relative paucity of traffic (1 – 2,000 hits a day total).

CLUI: Day Seven — shorelines

looking north to Pilot Peak, off Rt. 93, near Wendover, Nevada, April 2010
Aim for the nearest topological features to the south, some small intrusives, an isolated fault block, likely, rhyolitic basalts of some sort (with some peridotites or greenstones possibly?). Lake Bonneville paleo-shorelines are visible, with a prominent one slicing the hills like a poorly-made isometric topo model. The hills are technically on the Air Force test range, but I disregard the signs (parking behind some low hills across the road in order not to attract attention).

Definitely a different regime than, say, the Sonoran desert. Here, the land seems more sterile and has only very low scrub, most less than a foot high. Low or black sagebrush (Artemisia), salt brush (Atriplex), rabbit brush, black brush, tumbleweed (Salsola pestifera), and a handful of other species are thinly scattered, with either desert varnish, pebbly sand, or the occasional small colony of cryptobiotic soil. Can’t really tell if this lack is a direct result from severe overgrazing (this is, after all, BLM land) or just a harsh (colder, drier!) regime here compared to the relatively abundant biota of the Sonoran.

Plenty of evidence of other human intrusions on top of the igneous stuff that these hills are made of. Bullet casings, scraps of glass and metal everywhere, bullet holes in anything worth shooting at. Two mines have burrowed into the earth, leaving debris, holes, and mounds, a refrigerator with major firearm damage, a twisted bike frame, and the shattered glass crunching underfoot.

The hills are much larger than they initially appear, a frequent phenomena in a landscape without the normal metrics for scale (trees and human structures). A great view in all directions from the top.

A lake shore sand deposit in the form of a light tan mudflat attracts my attention on the talus-skiing descent, as it is bisected by the old roadbed which exhibits the typical roadbed riparian affect — with visibly larger brush on either side of the eroding pavement — the direct affect of the slight concentration of runoff precipitation. Walking here in the flats one feels … exposed … as the occasional mining truck speeds by a mile or so away. The only relief among short sage brush are the holes dug by coyotes into smaller varmit holes, now that would be something to watch! Good for spraining an ankle if step is not watched closely. The only other difference are the widely scattered aluminum beer cans, mostly effaced of any markings by the brutal sun, sitting pell-mell in the sand.

I notice later that the Nikon has more crap on the CCD, about which nothing can be done — you can see two spots in the lower left center of the images. My irritation with this camera system increases as the years go by. I am constantly astonished at the poor quality of the lens, along with the dirt accumulation on the CCD — it’s a closed system, for god’s sake, how does it keep getting dirty? I don’t even take the lens off, ever! I think the Canon system is superior both optically and technologically. But nothing to be done about it, unless I decide against getting a new laptop and instead get a new camera. Ach, I get tired of technology!

Stonehenge energies

Stonehenge, in a stiff wind. fenced, parking lot closed. the Place looms, well, not looms, but appears between oncoming lorries and a small wood. small and along on a gentle slope that opens up on closer approach. we can’t park, so Jo does a u-turn (aaaaaaa, on the wrong friggin’ side of the road, IMHO!!) and parks on an available pull-out. a full 180-degree rainbow appears over a flock of sheep across the way, almost along the sight line of the standing line stone. there is a hooded figure appearing and disappearing around the base of the main circle, beyond the chain-link fence. I have a sacrifice stone to image there. and some panoramas, but the wind and light rain makes any absorption of the Place not so easy. sunset Light appears, horizontal brilliance cutting from the southwest. clearing the air. there it is. there we be.

I run back to the car, kicking and wiping the beige chalk mud off my boots. getting in , the wrong side always. and fighting the urge to grab the stick-shift even though I don’t have the wheel in front of me. a few missed turns so a larger circled homing-in on Huntsham Court. dark, running the hedgerows. machine-trimmed close and tight. especially with the van that we are driving. high on each side three or four meters. a chill, cold dark. small pullouts for tractors to turn into fields, or leading to stone houses. finally the manor appears. massive stone building with many many windows, stairs, halls, and rooms. three floors, 20-foot ceilings.

we’re not the first to arrive, Jo’s parents and a couple family friends are there trying to stay warm around the enormous fireplace in the Great Hall.

elk and impala heads, jaguars, leopards, bronze owls with glass eyes. swords. closed doors open to reveal more and more incredible rooms. a snookers room, library, sitting room, dining hall set for seventy-five, and on three floors above, the bedrooms and bath, each unique, furnished with a scatter-shot mix of period furniture from stuffed animals to magnificent Tudor oak woodwork and 18th century porcelain bath accoutrement. not to mention the two lions at the front door. wow!

development rant

The local controversy around widening Williamson Valley Road continues. It is a microcosm of the more general issue of development in the southwest of the US. Arizona has one of, if not the fastest growth rate of any state and the Prescott – Prescott Valley – Chino Valley “Tri-city” area is near the fastest in the state. When the folks moved here and built their retirement home (purely my father’s impetus — the clear-sky suitability for his astronomy), theirs was the second or third home on the street, and the view — a 200-degree panorama that reached 100 miles to the San Francisco Peaks near Flagstaff — was long and relatively free of any spurious Lighting at night. Williamson Valley was still populated by several large ranch spreads, and the road was narrow and twisting as it approached Iron Springs Road and the fringe of northern Prescott proper. more “development rant”

pixelache over

pixelache finally finishes up with Tuomas’ and Mukul’s analog vs digital dual in the Kiasma Theater. enjoying a quiet morning without a particular agenda except for catching up with communications, especially answering Frieder’s pro-vocative recent email that is inspiring me to think and write toward my doctoral studies. heavy work, but ultimately feeling quite good to commit to paper (well, hard-drive) a concise framework for the explorations that may ultimately become the thesis. even if not, the exercise is extremely valuable.

ambienttv also performed their work TRiPTyCHoN, a complicated work-in-progress that is rooted in mapping human experience across a physical space. in this case, messages sent in from participants who were invited to make a walk between the Parliament steps and the steps of the cathedral, about a kilometer. along the walk, using a gps unit connected to a gprs-enabled palm with a custom interface, they were to write text messages. these messages were then sent to a server which recorded the location and the text into a database. I did a walk on Friday afternoon, slowly making my way, avoiding satellite shadows, and drifting through a space of emotional history. spontaneity was somewhat inhibited by the Lightweight but cumbersome physical interface. cold fingers. despite, I ended up drifting through parts of the history that was mapped across this very neighborhood through relationship. cafes, clubs, theaters, bars, corners, bus-stops, trams, shops all had a tangible memory overlay. poignant, as memory can often be about what has been lost. direct, as the triggers of place are very much real. silent, internal. Mukul called me after I had returned the device to Antony in the Kiasma Cafe, saying that it was a nice performance, the best one they got. He and David were on the island, actually neighbors in one of the nifca residency flats, they were monitoring reception of the ‘wander’ in real-time.

interesting experience. it was a measure of my ability to push through a technological interface, enabling some kind of flow-through. drawing focus, projecting energy, emotive force.

next five minutes 3 – tactical education

into the NextFiveMinutes conference. I have been burned out for much of the time for some reason, almost catching a cold yesterday evening, then this morning, spraining my back with the most minimal movement zipping up my suitcase, I wasn’t even bending over. scared the shit outta me. my panel presence (Tactical Education/Media Competence) was shortly after, and that went quite well, but by mid-afternoon I hobble back the the hotel, barely able to walk because of the sciatic pain. missed an appointment with Nan which I was quite looking forward to, not to mention several dialogues with new contacts. really don’t believe it, that I have done something serious. been stretching all afternoon and evening between bouts resting in bed. nothing else to do! Faugh! miss a dinner with an interesting artist. following are notes for the Tactical Education presentation (on the neoscenes occupation project):

sotto voce: introduction: start by restating my conviction that:

venues like this can, by their nature, only mirror or document what is happening “out there” — and although this precise venue here — me speaking to you is probably not anyone’s first choice of interaction — but I was eager to participate in this part of nextfiveminutes as an opportunity to open some dialogues on methodologies and experiences. I would wish that the expressions here will represent ideas so vital that there will be nothing to do after our brief time together but to ACT. but I suppose that the most one can hope for is that some of these thoughts would be on a level fundamental enough that some of you might share these dialogues at future times. or at least be entertained by my ignorant display of polarized generalizations.

put neoscenes occupation within a larger context of praxis, personal philosophy, and reality. more “next five minutes 3 – tactical education”

Fujiyama

I am in Japan with a carload of friends. we are touring around. after some scenes, telling someone that, no, Mt. Fujiyama is not 6,000 feet high, it is 12,365 feel high (learned this on a tour bus on the way to the mountain in 1974, by saying 12 months, 365 days…). we are climbing the mountain. it is a mix of the Matterhorn at Disneyland, and the mountain has been sliced through by some kind of retaining wall. there are lots of volcanic rocks. there is a paved parking lot next to an outdoor cafe where a few Japanese men are sitting at tables. I start to photograph a triptych panorama of the scene, but the camera is either on time delay or the shutter is locked, I keep trying to reset the delay but it keeps coming on. the large seated Buddha is in the background, we begin walking towards it, somebody is talking about Michael Jordan. the alarm goes off.