Collaboration

I've been working on a public art project for over five years, which legitimately counts as a long time. It is a complicated site located along the Duwamish River in South Park, a neighborhood in an industrial and residential area of Seattle. This place is sovereign land, was once home to some of the richest immigrant gardening in the city, and has forever been home to a loving, creative and gritty community. 

Yesterday I met with some members of my design team, a group that I've recently begun referring to as "the band," as in, "We're getting the band back together," a gentle poking fun at how long it has been since we last met. They are scientists and engineers and project managers who care deeply about this work and the site, and who have taught me about ways to collaborate, listen, stand back and move forward with integrity. I'm excited to see the work beginning to flourish again, and as it unfolds, I'll post progress.

Rust Knot, Hood Canal, 2016

Play

I found this box left in a playhouse by young friends from this past summer. Once again, I am reminded to play and be spontaneous, look for the magic in small things and utilize what is at hand. 

Warm

There is comfort in this array in the same way that a stocked pantry conveys a kind of security: intention within order, clarity of purpose, and a fullness that is far from excess. 

Scandinavian inspired wood pile, 2017

Evidence

What to look for while pumping gas.

Snow and what’s underneath, December 25, 2017

Wayfinding

It is one of our customs to walk together during the holidays, breathing fresh air, moving, visiting with neighbors and each other, getting out in the woods or on to the beach. This never gets old, never predictable. I wonder how many times each of us has hoofed up this particular length of road toward the county park over the past forty years, and what has been truly seen on these walks. Do we notice the aberrations to what we expect to see, or notice something just because it is thought that has been on our mind (and we start to see it everywhere)? Plants, leaning in to the winter, splayed out in a trail connecting back to the memory of summer.

“Trees that had looked like any other to me became as recognizable as the faces of old friends in a crowd, their branches gesturing with sudden meaning, their leaves beckoning like identifiable hands. Clumps of grass and the edges of the now-familiar bog became landmarks, guides, indecipherable to everyone but us.”

Cheryl Strayed, Wild

Rotation

Both the beginning and neither the beginning nor the end.

There is a crazy amount of information in this photo that informs who I am, where I started, and what I've gravitated to in life. The wood slat carport, the tire tube swing, arms extended for flying over asphalt covered by an Army blanket, the earnest regard and the signature outfit. Today was was studded with opportunities to observe and reflect, woven through with loving people, both poking fun and being kind.

Tube swing with Army blanket, Camano Island, WA, 1971

Liminality

"In anthropology, liminality (from the Latin word limen, meaning "a threshold") is the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of rituals, when participants no longer hold their pre-ritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the ritual is complete. During a ritual's liminal stage, participants "stand at the threshold" between their previous way of structuring their identity, time, or community, and a new way, which the ritual establishes.

...During liminal periods of all kinds, social hierarchies may be reversed or temporarily dissolved, continuity of tradition may become uncertain, and future outcomes once taken for granted may be thrown into doubt. The dissolution of order during liminality creates a fluid, malleable situation that enables new institutions and customs to become established." (excerpt from Wikipedia entry for liminality)

Rites of passage intrigue me in part because of the tension that lives within the cultural codification of an often unruly and entirely organic event, moving from one state of being to another. I'm drawn to ways in which people mark these transitions, how physical evidence and ritual indicators are used to verify that these wildnesses are in fact following a trajectory that is familiar. Can we find these things, or create them for ourselves without getting bogged down by obligations to outdated systems that might not serve our needs for seeking, guiding and marking transformation? And how is this the same as or different from ways that we humans also allow for just being -- as Karen Vargas said today -- old like water, knowing how to flow.

paddle board sunset on Swan Lake, MT, 2016

Friend

Solstice today

opened the window

for renewed commitment

to light.

vintage encyclopedia, date unknown

Reflection

rumination

consideration

meditation

These words occupy a wide range of energies, and all describe the process of weighing an idea in your palm. I'm familiar with rumination, which is very like picking a stone from the beach, putting it in your pocket and fingering it compulsively, literally "worrying" it. I can't advocate for this kind of mind-work, which generates a closed cycle of anxiety. Consideration is more equivocal, but still located strictly in the brain: one, two or more ideas or options are collected, then sorted, rearranged, or ranked. There's not a particular outcome with this process, which can be good or not. Meditation offers a calm and vast interior openness, a space where all that is in or on your mind can relax and coexist, flicker and recede from view. 

Wet

I first noticed the rain when I walked to the bus this morning, small drops but so many of them, soaking my shirt through the unsealed seams of my jacket. Later, thick drenching sheets and wind made me thankful that I had borrowed my daughter's knee high boots. Nothing much to say other than it was wet all around, and this lovely detail of a vintage dress makes me think of water.

detail of vintage dress fabric, 2017