River Prayer

By Erin Fussell
San Rafael Swell
August 27, 2015

A vingette.

Mud and Monsters

By Paula D. Barteau

San Rafael Swell

August 28, 2015

The first day here I built a face in the hill for it to scream through.

Digging stone teeth into dirt and the sky.

If it screamed, I didn’t hear it.

But maybe I wouldn’t.

I covered myself completely in clay from the riverbank and was turned into an organic matter mosaic.

              

                      

The next day it rained all day and I went walking and wrote. I found that perfect clarity of mind where I could think entirely through my eyes and hear every word I wanted to write and nothing else.

Kacie held a reading in her rain gathering structure that night and invited everyone to come and drink rain water and listen. It reminded me of the incredible power of well-written words, skillfully constructed art, why it’s so important.

I finished the Face On The Hill the same day I had to take it down.  I invited everyone to come see it and took pictures of the finished face with Orianna.

I spent most of our last day here in the river, it was over a hundred degrees out in the afternoon and I swam for most of the day.

It was too hot to disassemble The Face during the day so I went to take it down after dinner. I came back to the beautiful surprise of Harriet and Clark’s tea ceremony. They served everyone tea in bowls they had made out of clay from the river, painted with iron oxide from the canyons, and fired in a stone oven they had built over the campfire the day before. The tea was sweet and earthy, like an aged Pu-erh, brewed from sumac berries they had gathered earlier on our last day here.

A Swell Week

By Sarah Molina

San Rafael Swell

August 24-28, 2015

082415

I can’t figure out how to change my watch back to the standard 12-hour clock. I guess I’m learning how to tell military time.

082515
I have an extremely small tent. It’s quite lovely.

23:07 

082615

I tried out an early morning hike on my own. I got stuck in some very thick brush. Was not motivated to go any further. Only about 20 minutes outside of home base. Found a cow skeleton. Collected it’s vertebrae(s). Carried a stick on my shoulders.

“JUMP”

23:45

  

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Alarm didn’t wake me up. Almost swept away by the river. Got chased by bees. “JESUS!”

22:43

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Early morning. A tent pole is broken. Finally bought a tarp. Showers are so great.

17:48

Place

By Orianna Pavlik

San Rafael Swell

August 27, 2015

Anticipating our first trip of the semester, many of our conversations revolved around the concept of place. What does place mean, and how does a place come to have meaning?

At San Rafael Swell, Utah we settled into a quiet campsite nestled in the valley of surrounding mountains. Under a group of cottonwoods we set up the camp tent, and from there individual tents were spread out along the river.

I set up tent behind the main camp tent, and on one occasion managed to sleep through breakfast. On our first day our ventured into the extreme desert heat to explore the valleys branching out beyond our site.

The sun was strong, bringing temperatures up to nearly 105 degrees Fahrenheit. We reconvened at camp at our scheduled 7pm dinner and enjoyed our fifth meal together.

The following day, the valley was covered by rain clouds, and many of us spent the day lingering around camp. I spent the day documenting the spaces people had occupied, and left. After documenting stills of the objects we’d left strewn around camp, the next day I decided to photograph each of us with our tents.

These images are meant to capture the way we occupy space, one that once was new, and the melancholy of leaving what we begin to call home.

Settling In

By Kacie Erin Smith

San Rafael Swell

August 25, 2015

On the bank of the San Rafael River, my tent is perched below a cottonwood. After setting up the camp kitchen, hiking into surrounding buttes, and making videos with fellow artists, I constructed a secondary ‘home’ structure. Adjustable poles are joined by a tarp made of parachute cloth, staked out with p-cord. Inside is space I have used as a studio, protected from the rain and sun. The corners gather rainwater, which I collected and tasted in my cup on Wednesday. I can see the river bend, the sun set, and the nearly full moon. After dinner on Thursday, I held a reading of ‘Joyas Voladores’ by Brain Doyle inside the structure. It’s been a place for settling in – to this place, this group, this self.

Gathering

By Joanna Keane Lopez

San Rafael Swell

August 28, 2015

During my time at San Rafael, I focused on collecting natural materials. I also played with ideas of shelter and exposure to the forces of nature. I collected natural earthen pigments that range from ironoxide red, ochre yellow, dark purple, cream to chalk white. I collected by hand the cotton from cottonwood seeds that I plan to use for future projects. I also made an unfired clay pot from the mud of the riverside. I planted a baby cactus inside.

  

San Rafael is so beautiful. I found petrified wood stumps, countless animal tracks in the sand, dried up witchy juniper branches, cow carcasses, and other special things I will probably dream of tomorrow.