Reflections on Journey One

Heike Qualitz

The former Tipover canyon campsite, now waterfront hunter's lodge

Firepoint
     An unexpected lush expanse of forest welcomed us after hours of winding through arid landscapes.  Fungi in all shapes and colors covered the spongy forest floor beneath the Ponderosa and Aspen regrowth, apparently not an everyday sight.  Their vibrant presence reminded me of the vital role the largely unnoticed underground networks of mycelia play in a forest ecosystem.

     The stark white stems of the twisted aspen trees posed as an inviting setting to honor aspects of those complex mycelium networks.  Aided with various pieces of string that fellow land artists kindly shared with me, I went to play.

Webbing in progress (photographs by Eso Robinson)

Night photograph of string in pines

     There is anecdotal evidence of saunas being constructed during land arts journeys.  Outdoor settings such as the Kaibab forest combined with extensive periods of limited access to water (ok, throw in some northern European heritage as well) are somewhat conducive to be inspired to create such spaces.  Fueled perhaps also by having just witnessed an extreme of environmental landscaping and immersive environments - Roden Crater, I woke up one morning somewhat driven.  
     I started transforming the space created by a fallen Ponderosa, right next to our campsite, using the naturally formed hollow that was left by the uprooted majestic pine.  Later in the process, fellow campers joined me to refine the space.  We used mostly materials provided by the fallen tree; branches for support, needles for cushioning the seating, and timber for the fire.  Despite the process being highly enjoyable, the lack of material accessible for covering the cavernous structure sufficiently eventuated in the space being a 'warm cave' (as opposed to a sauna), an immersive experience most of the group shared nonetheless.

Ponderosa sweat lodge

     Upon more pondering the wonders of the Ponderosa pine, I decided to use the fallen bunches of needles, which after being exposed to the sunlight darkened to a reddish shade, their underside remaining pale.  I wanted to use those varying shades to create a drawing with the intricate shape and geometry of a pinecone, which presented itself as an obvious choice and challenge.

Pine needle drawings (day and night scan)

Jenn Hart-Mann with skull: found and returned

Wendover

After a rare desert rain at CLUI

Horseshoes flying in the Wendover evening sun (with Bill Gilbert and Amelia Zaraftis)

Playing with and recording the aeolian harps attached to the
CLUI tower with Celia McKinnon (photograph by Amelia Zaraftis)

Working on the Bonneville Salt Flats

Leaving Wendover

Colorado River above Lake Powell

Muley Point - breathtaking sunset after a rainy day

Muley Point - Army Juno missile launched from 
Fort Wingate, New Mexico, visible in the morning sky

Sparkling Rocks of Firepoint

Katelyn De Luca

August 30th, 2012

       It has always been a hobby of mine to look closely at the forest floor to see what kind of fascinating treasures I can find.  At Firepoint, everywhere I looked I would find these multicolored granite rocks that sparkled in the light. As I walked by, their sparkle would glint and catch my eye like a shiny treasure.  I became fascinated with the effects of light on these rocks, and I wanted to work with them in my art in a way that would emphasize their crystalline surfaces so that others could experience the sparkles as I had.  I gathered up as many of the rocks as I could and arranged them by color, which is another product of light on the surface of the rocks.  When the sunlight shined down upon them, one could see every sparkle and shine.  It was necessary to walk around the installation so that the light had an opportunity to bounce off of all the different angles of the rocks, which incorporated movement into the piece in a way that worked with the light.  Bill Gilbert called it "forest bling!"

From Nature

Jeff Nibert

     Although man came from nature, he is disconnected from the wild.  These two pictures from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon and Wendover, Utah, attempt to show the resonance of the owl-boy.  They strive to show how man is always trying to find his place.  In the case of the owl-boy, he is not wild enough to reside in nature, yet too wild for the city.  The first picture shows the owl-boy in a natural setting where man is interacting with nature by trying to live within it.  The second scene shows the owl-boy in an urban setting where nature is coping with civilization.

Nature Versus Everything Else

Emily Vosburgh
August 30th, 2012

Reclaimed

       Our first day at Firepoint was kind of difficult for me.  I felt like an odd transplant, made deeply aware of a disconnect between myself and my surroundings.  I decided that in order to have a deeper understanding of where I was, I needed to become a part of the space as much as possible.  So, of course this entails wheat pasting the earth all over me.  I thought the experience would be relatively comfortable, but I was so wrong.  So, so wrong.  This photo communicates a stillness and tranquility that were not actually present.  And yet, I wanted to communicate these things.  Why is that?  The ground was rocky, the pine needles were killing me, and the wheat paste was very uncomfortable.  Yet, so often the experience of nature is communicated as being this tranquil, soft experience. This led me to begin thinking about the rift between how we control our experience of nature and the experience of actually being a part of it.

Border Patrol (In Progress)

       I later hiked around the border between the national park and BLM land.  I began thinking about the way in which we compartmentalize our space.  And again, I was thinking about the ways in which we control our experiences of place and nature.  Why do we feel the urge to organize our space like this -- the designation of boundaries, the concept of perimeter?  What affect does this have on our psyche?  Why do we have respect for the places we set aside as being 'special' and not simply a deep sense of reverence for all spaces?
       So much of the way that we orient ourselves to place is arbitrary, dystopian, and abstract.  I think that 'the box' must give us some sense of security.  Too vast for us is this world of far flung hills and galaxies -- put it in a box, think of it in parts, figure out how it works in relation to society, and it becomes much more manageable.  Doesn't this organization of space, however safe it might make us feel, limit our capacity for dreaming?  Finding the space to roam in a truly wild place, unbounded by fence and signpost, has been made nearly impossible.  So tethered are we to the infrastructure of our society that we cannot escape it.  It is just another part of the grid.

Owl Nest

Jeff Nibert
August 30th, 2012

       After four long days of building, my two nests are complete.  I never thought that building bird nests would be so challenging.  The first nest is thirty feet up in a dead tree on the edge of the north rim of the Grand Canyon.  The second nest is in a wooded area built on a fallen tree.

       The two very different sights evoke very different feelings.  The first shows the scale and magnificence of nature.  The second is more intimate and is a place to be enthroned.  I plan to interject myself as an owl-man in these natural settings.  As enacting this owl-man figure, I will portray a sense of place and push the question of where we belong in the world.  Throughout our journey, I will continue this project by putting myself in different settings.  This is in order to push the thought of belonging and residing, how man interacts with nature, and how nature copes with man.  Also, a special thanks to Eric Cook for all his help on construction and his help with the night photos.

     

Snap Shots From the Land Arts Journey So Far

Amelia Zaraftis
September 8th, 2012

     Prior to our departure, the Land Arts 2012 crew meets for seminars over three days at the Mattox Building, University of New Mexico.

     Our group has its first crack at setting up the infamous Land Arts Cook Tent, when we arrive at Fire Point Campground on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

     Having distilled the experience of visiting Roden Crater, the group meets to reflect on the experience and discuss aspects of the work in the context of Land Arts and contemporary arts practices.

     During our time at Fire Point, the Safety Complex outfit explores creative possibilities in the context of the Ponderosa Forest.

     This afforded me an encounter with the Ponderosa's butterscotch scented bark.

     Matt Coolidge oriented our group to the Center For Land Use Interpretation's South Base, where the group spent some time looking at the facilities there and photographing areas of interest.

     The target gallery at South Base shows a variety of shooting targets, both diagrammatic and photographic.  At a nearby artillery range stands this lone shooting target.

     This photograph was taken through the van window on our way out to the Bonneville Salt Flats, which were underwater due to the recent heavy rains.

     Within minutes of arriving at the Salt Flats, we head for ankle deep immersion in the salty brine, leaving a beautifully composed community of boots on the salt shore.

     An ongoing interest in the road signs of the American West was nurtured at the Center For Land Use Interpretation, as the workshop contained an assortment of discarded road signs.  This one prompted a quick sojourn with the Safety Complex outfit on our last day at CLUI.  In the background is the Enola Gay Hangar.

Farewell Wendover and CLUI.  We've packed the van, and have an eleven hour drive ahead of us to get to Muley Point near the San Juan River in Utah.

Spirits in the Aspens

Eric Cook
September 4th, 2012

       One night, around 11:00, Jeff and I decided to take a hike about two miles down the road to a grove of aspen trees in order to try out some long exposure photography.  The moon was bright and nearly full.  Its blue tinted light that shone down surreally bounced off the white sheen of the aspen trees.  I had some light sticks in my pack, and we started playing with light trails.  We ended up making quite a few images involving "wrapping" the aspens in light.  This was an investigation about movement through space and time.  The contrasting colors really popped and played as the vibrant neon colors of the light sticks intertwined and meshed with the purely natural setting.  We set up our tripods so that we would both get the same light trails but from different angles.  This way, we could integrate them as diptych image sets.  Hopefully, by the end of our journey we can expand on this concept, and let it evolve into something more.

Home Away From Home

Eric Cook
September 4th, 2012

       I have always found great pleasure in constructing dwellings and structures out of available materials.  I remember building little forts in the woods when I would camp as a child, and I also remember turning the living room into a huge maze of blankets and boxes.  Over the past several years, I have been researching and exploring many Anasazi and Pueblo cultural ruins, and I am even more fascinated by pre-contact habitation structures.  I am interested in the notion of a home, what defines a home, and how much time must be spent in a place to call it a home.  The first of several, this is an investigation of place using found natural materials and my own two hands to construct a shelter in which I can comfortably spend nights, sleeping under my "home" for a time.  
       This first structure is in a primitive lean-to style, constructed with oak and pine branches, then covered with thousands and thousands of pine needles to protect from the rain and wind.  I built it the day before we were departing from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, so I only got to spend one night in it, but it was an experience I will not soon forget.  I slept better than I had been in my tent.  Moonlight shone through little gaps in the pine needles, vaguely illuminating the inside of my home.  I thought about the Ancient Ones as I drifted off to sleep, trying to gain a better understanding of their way of life by living off the land, even though my experience was only for a short time.  Hopefully, over the course of this interactive project, I can get a better feeling for multiple locations and climates, and better understand how the Ancients would have built dwellings with readily available materials.

Wrapping (Work in Progress)

Amelia Zaraftis
August 30th, 2012

         At the Fire Point campsite on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, I took the opportunity to wrap a tree - a process I have been experimenting with over the last few years.  In this instance, the tree was a small Ponderosa pine.  Using plastic forestry tape, this wrapping process provides a way of getting to know a single tree via sensory experiences, and was markedly different to the tree wrappings I have done in Australia.  Pine needles prickled my skin, sap stuck to my arms and fingers, the rough texture of the bark and the strong smell of pine both left an impression.  The performative nature of this process has been apparent to me for some time, and as a potential way to translate the work for exhibition, I decided to put aside my hesitations about video and, wearing my safety complex outfit, document the wrapping of the tree.  I was pleasantly surprised with the way the video conveys my engagement with the tree.

Please click here to see Wrapping (Work in Progress):

https://vimeo.com/48757488