ecotropy

Leap Day

2012-02-29T09:40:00.000-08:00

A familiar trill rang through the afternoon yesterday as I was outside. Two black birds high in the early budded sugar maple chatted and sang a true anthem of spring. Their notes bring me back to the thrill of adventuring in the boggy meadows behind the house I grew up in on the North Shore of Massachusetts. There were flocks of blackbirds there every spring - and the songs they sang along with the wind through the reeds and the cattails created a magical soundscape that's etched into my DNA as an old timey recording would have been etched into a wax cylinder. This being New England - the moment I hear said true anthem of spring - there's 7 inches of snow on the way today - one of the more significant snow falls this season since the freak storm on Halloween. At times like this - I am reminded not to take my reverie too seriously and to keep in mind the admonition of Louis Armstrong....

Life is a jazz riff baby,
The Gods are laughing at us.

To hear a clip of the red wing blackbird - follow this link to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology

Happy Leap Day!

Sugar Season

2012-02-17T06:43:00.000-08:00

Nearly a month ahead of normal - Sugaring has begun around here. Sugar Houses have that sweet steam pouring out of the vents and the collection tanks near the road edges are nearly full. If you go up to the metal collection buckets, there's the tinny plink-plink of the sap hitting metal after they've been emptied.

It's a short walk to our neighbor's who is the last of generations of farmers who have tapped the trees, on this land that used to make up the old dairy farm where we live, since before the Revolutionary war. So it's with anticipation and a sense of gratitude to share that connection with this place for one more year that we all go over there. It truly is alchemy - taking the sap and cooking it and cooking it some more - to make the sweet, smoky syrup that we have grown to love intensely and use for so much more than pancakes and waffles.

Inevitably, there's our neighbor fueling the fire from wood that has been artfully stacked offering us that first sip of the season's sugar when we poke our heads into the steamy, atmospheric shed. It always comes in a little Dixie cup - a humble vessel for such sublime food. An espresso shot of this land's chi.

I love the time it takes to make the syrup. I love that there's no telling when the sap will start running. I love that it befuddles science and predictions and plans. Once it starts, you have to be there or you miss it. Where so much of our lives have been engineered for convenience, this is not convenient. I'd argue that that's why it tastes so good and satisfies me so profoundly.

Thanks to all our Maple Sugar makers.

sugaring yoke

evaporator

Stone and Medicinal Herb Installation

2012-02-06T08:10:00.000-08:00

I was honored to work with Dan Snow, a marvelous stone installation artist/environmental sculptor on a design competition in Bend Oregon. The site is a series of terraces that lead to a science library shared by Oregon State University and Central Oregon Community College. The installation is titled the "Tarriance" and integrates stone cribbing, beautiful found stones and medicinal plants to serve as a metaphor for the dynamic nature of one's learning experience. Some of what we envision follows:

The use of the medicinal plants in the landscape drives me greatly these days. While the likelihood of them being used for medicine in a place like this is minimal, having their forms and presence positions them more prominently into everyday consciousness. The terraces being broken into three levels provided a great framework for the concept of ascending levels of complexity in the learning process to mirror those ascending levels of complexity in medicinal plant potency and spatial relationships between cribbing, stone and plant material. One of the strengths of this collaboration is how well the structures of hard and soft work together to create a piece - that should it get built - all the meaning aside will just be beautiful.

I hope we win!

Black Oaks Concept

2012-02-02T12:09:00.000-08:00

I have been working for several months now with Black Oaks Center for Sustainable living in Pembroke Township, IL. The final design is nearly complete - driven by the melding of several concept models and an overarching concept of a fully-integrated ecosystem dynamic. Moving past the binary paradigm of man vs nature, this plan recognizes the inter-related nature of nature - the concept is as follows:

The developing field of agro-ecology according to the UN definition: “seeks to improve the sustainability of agroecosystems by mimicking nature instead of industry..agroecology is highly knowledge intensive.” Agroecology is congruent with the sustainability mission Black Oaks has committed to. Altieri puts forward the idea that: “Many of the new models of agriculture that humanity will need to transition toward forms of farming that are more ecological, biodiverse, local, sustainable, and socially just. They will be rooted in the ecological rationale of traditional small-scale agriculture, which represent long established examples of successful forms of community-based local agriculture.” (P 103 Agroecology, Small Farms,and Food Sovereignty)

Altieri in his article goes on to argue that small farms have higher profit margins than traditional industrial agriculture because they sell directly to the consumer. Doing so, establishes a regional economic system that is more responsive to the needs of local populations, and has more specific resilience to fluctuations of volatile global markets. To reach people directly, without diluting the power of the fresh food and medicine, to connect them to the land where their sustenance comes from and to support those ecological systems in place on the small farms without damaging petroleum-based inputs is fundamental to this integrated systems model. It is a model that is inherently community based, because it is knowledge intensive, with the transfer of specific skills like seed saving, compost making and harvesting being passed from one person to another. It is also ecology based, mimicking “natural systems” through a diversity of crops, water drainage systems, etc. to handle fluxes in temperature, water volume, and disease that can paralyze a monoculture system.

The vision for this concept connects people to the systems they are part of through the choreography of paths, gathering spaces, and planting design.

I believe the concept below reflects those ideas and principles.

Talk at Goldthread Apothecary, Florence, MA

2012-01-26T06:15:00.000-08:00

I'll be speaking at Goldthread Apothecary in Florence, MA on February 15 from 5:30 to 7 pm.

Here's the info:

Come gather inspiration for spring and learn how gardens can promote healing and restorative power! Ecological Landscape Designer and Artist Todd Lynch will share garden design from history, evidence from modern research studies, and his own recent creative work as a springboard for creating revitalizing and meditative spaces in the landscape around your own home incorporating medicinal herbs and edible plants.

Hope to see you there!

That time of year.

2012-01-18T08:47:00.000-08:00

With the first welcome snow just gracing the ground, I've already started thinking of planting for the next year. It's easy to do so when frosty gales rattle the house and cause stately sugar maples to twist and sway in place like wall flowers at the edge of a James Brown concert. The seed catalogers know their targets, people like me who after the rich, heavy bounty of Holiday eating, and the profusion of root veggies and waxy greens at the farmer's market, can imagine themselves in the fresh air, grazing among the herbs, vegetables, and flowers. The photos are amazing, as are the descriptions that come with the images. With text and photos like this one for the Hillbilly Potato Leaf Tomato ( my favorite!) from Seed Savers Exchange, it's hard not to think rhapsodically about the summertime and the possibilities ahead:

(Solanum lycopersicum) From Ohio SSE member Jerry Lee Bosner. Absolutely gorgeous bicolor beefsteak tomato, great for slicing. Beautiful yellow 1 pound fruits are streaked with red on the blossom end. Sweet and juicy. Heavy producer. Indeterminate, 85 days from transplant.


(image and tomato description courtesy of Seed Savers.)

I am also at the stage in several projects, where I am developing planting plans. Both projects include using medicinal plants as the foundation for the landscape experience. I'll be posting more about these projects in the coming weeks, but conceptually, I've been developing the idea of plants in the landscape as a metaphor for illustrating different stages in journeys. Specific plants in planned locations, through their growth habit, texture, smell, medicinal/cultural value and over all beauty (there can be some argument or room for interpretation here) I believe can help guide people as they progress through a garden and can activate the landscape. So often, people only engage nature through a window - car, train, home, plane and the world then becomes a view or scenery. Activating the landscape can inspire people to venture forth and connect to the land on a visceral level where there is exchange and dialog . Plants, especially for me, have that power to activate spaces and bring people out.

My favorite online resources to help plan landscape plantings and learn more about the plants include:

Horizon Herbs

Seed Savers

Prairie Moon Nursery

Icestallations

2011-12-31T13:17:00.000-08:00

I like taking a page or two from Joyce, Carroll and Swift to make words up - long ones - especially in a time of abbreviated postings, texts and tweets....

I run by this part of the Potash Brook almost every week and as the weather has gotten colder (still no snow) the icestallations around branches, rock and leaves grow and begin to assume their own lives. I had intended to put my boots on and photograph them in their crystalline glory, but holidays and balmy weather conspired against me slipping away and into the icy waters. Today, I was pleasantly surprised by the way they assumed a new life, having been warmed, and then re-frozen...There are now opaque, dripping forms that had some crystalline, cellular structures overlaying that milky white interior. Where before, light could refract through them, to distort the images of what lay beyond, the icestallations had become their own and in doing so formed haunting colonies of the still and quiet suspended above the rushing and chaotic. That's a beautiful poem for me this New Year's, to stay close to the chaotic and powerful currents of life, and craft my form from that seductive energy.

Happy 2012!

Limestone

2011-12-12T07:30:00.000-08:00

Limestone.

There's poetry to it. To me, the resemblance of limestone to human bone engenders a connection that's visceral and magical. As old sea beds, limestone reveals former inhabitants; shells, fish and other aquatic life. Like the wonder I feel when I walk on a frozen pond - I never tire of the sensation that I am walking where I would not have been able to walk before. This limestone has a creamy texture, slightly alkaline on my hands, a soft, soapy feeling that is novel in my ecosystem where acid and rough quartz dominates.This limestone came from Kansas, more exactly, from the sidewalk leading to an Opera House somewhere there. I smile when imagining people spilling out from Tosca, or Carmen onto these rectangles - their bodies filled with arias and stories set to song. I'd like to think that over the years, the music may have made it's way into the stone. I get the feeling that there's more Magic Flute than Ring Cycle in this stone.

The layering of story in the stone, the sea beds, the Opera, and now here, compels me. True, everything has a story. However, there's a power to hearing a narrative from someone, seeing evidence of that narrative in an object and then integrating it into an installation that just does not exist in many pre-fab or over-designed objects these days. The imperfections of chisel marks and wear indicate that these stones were connected to people, the ones that mined the stone and the ones that walked the stone. Salvage materials, antiques, slow food, herbal medicine, these are ways of connecting to deeply satisfying feelings of humanity and the powerful stories that we all carry within.

The limestone patio space is about 450 square feet. The generosity of the stone size creates a bold pattern that relates to the strong lines of the house. Having the patio at ground level creates a more instantaneous connection to the landscape than the previous wood deck did. The renderings illustrate the anticipated final result. The columns that resemble those on the front porch, would support red triangles of canvas that could be rolled and unrolled like a sailing jib, as the weather dictates.The following photos are at the intermediate stage of installation, as well as some details of the beautiful shells and chisel marks. I'll include photos of the finished installation in the spring.

Art Show

2011-12-01T06:41:00.000-08:00

The art show at Meekins came down the other day.

It's always easier to undo something like that than it is to put it up. Perhaps in amongst all the contributing elements to the challenge of installation are the butterflies so present before the opening of the show. I truly enjoyed the experience of seeing my work up and in the world. Pictures framed, in a dedicated space for showing and with others from the same series gives a new context to the work. Having them all there where I could see them from a distance and in different light gave me a new understanding of my work from my own perspective and, most importantly, from the feedback people gave me. It's funny how easy it is lose myself in the minutia of my mind. I loved hearing and seeing peoples reactions to the paintings - and I re-learned that those responses compel me to paint and make stuff as much as my personal need to understand and honor the world around me.

So, Thank you to everyone who came to the show and helped get it together.

Santa Fe Railyards

2011-11-21T10:26:00.000-08:00

We've been back a month now, and I am still living portions of the trip to New Mexico in my mind. We spent alot of time at the Railyards while there. It's where there's some great art, the farmer's market and some beautiful design. Recently - as in 3-5 years ago, the area was rehabbed to accommodate a park, playing fields and the Farmer's market area - among other uses. Walking in an area that has new life without remnants of it's old one stripped away or paved over deeply inspired me. I found it refreshing that the design choices respected the old in ways that are culturally relevant and engaging today without being saccharine, facile and overtly commercial. Keeping the connection to the railroad - with the commuter rail service that runs to Albuquerque, the old Santa Fe Railroad, (even the logo design is iconic) and the layout of the old tracks establishes the sense of place - and establishes a strong rhythm for the site, wherever you move through the site - there is always the datum of the straight line to refer to. These lines run through spaces with mostly hardscape and those without - the poetry of these lines is that they always make sense given their location and retain their integrity as path, incised design element or material. Being such a long site, the lines also helped to choreograph movement though narrow spaces and helped to delineate the different programs going on.

I could go on about the cool, landscape geeky details that abounded. The best summation though is expressed by the joy of the children I saw there - who delighted in the market, waving at the trains, and in the creative spaces for sliding, running and being their age. What a great accomplishment for the city and what a gift for the people that live there.

Light

2011-11-11T07:29:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite lines is “keep redreaming the world with more light.” It’s from the Famished Road, a novel by Ben Okri. What a directive. I attempt to do so in my paintings, and aspire to do so in my daily life. Inspiration lies out the window – there are so many types of light and characteristics of it that it would be a project to document them all.

The light in New Mexico astounded me. The combination of altitude, no humidity and colors in the landscape produced some of the crispest, cleanest light I’ve seen. The sublime scale of the sky and mountains, desert, and mesas displayed the variability of light and deep contrasts of shadow – that trees, hills, and soft, well-watered landscapes obfuscate. (It’s funny that before going to NM, I posted about the nature of Fog.) Walking around every day while there, I could see why artists – especially Agnes Martin, an abstract painter, gravitated to the area. While buildings, hills, mesas and mountains were legible as such to me, the powerful contrast between light and shadow, and sky and earth, created abstractions and compelling patterns on forms that were already engaging – adding unique dimensions to my visual experience. The following are some examples of this light phenomenon. I am eager to explore them more deeply through painting this winter.

Petroglyphs

2011-11-04T07:58:00.000-07:00

Winding through the canyons near Los Alamos and seeing the steep cliffs pocked with holes should have been an indication of the wonder that awaits at Bandolier National Monument to me, but I was so inspired by the beauty of the surroundings they did not register. A short distance from the visitor’s center at the monument, the canyon cliff walls rise precipitously, and in them are many, many caves and dwellings from centuries ago. Since I was little, I have always loved going to places and seeing how peoples there lived before modern times. In these past years, I have had the good fortune to see monuments and sites in the Americas. What I am struck by in these locales, be they in Peru, Mexico, or New Mexico, is the rootedness in place they exhibit with the materials and configuration of the settlement patterns. I have never visited any settlements that were based on the circle as the abandoned pueblo at Bandolier and the thriving pueblo at Taos are. There’s something powerful to me about basing the town pattern on a sacred geometric form. I am no expert, but it’s a compelling way to connect people to the land and to their ancestry. Besides, it’s also very defensible against marauders. The cave dwellings were beautiful and interesting as spaces, and the prospects they offered of the verdant valley were inspiring and at the same time comforting. I enjoyed the adventure of climbing into them and imagining what the scene must have been like centuries ago.

Perhaps the most exciting experience of going to Bandolier was seeing the petroglyphs in the canyon walls above former dwellings. There were many incised circles, spirals, people figures, and abstract step patterns. My favorite one was of a parrot. At 100 paces and after centuries, this rendering had a divine sense of humor, spirit and gesture. I love when art makes me laugh. Seeing this art, in this setting, and how the connection it shared with patterns of settlement and belief was marvelous. As an artist, it inspired me greatly to see that the compulsion to make stuff, to express wonder or confusion or just joy, spans time, cultures and place. It’s a gift for today, the future and the ones who went before.

Water in New Mexico

2011-10-24T07:17:00.000-07:00

I just took a trip to New Mexico with my family. I thought a lot about water, its qualities, and our need for it, how it defines our lives – with either too much or too little of it, or the delight of discovering it in a stream, a landscape, or a hot spring. Driving through the desert, and looking at the mountains, you could see where the streams were – with the sinuous lines of aspens making their way down the mountain sides along the beds. In the valleys, rows of gnarly cottonwoods lined the arroyos to create lush screens between stretches of desert or grassland. The greatest river in the area, the Rio Grande, was sunk into the earth, so, that you had to descend into it to reach it’s cool green waters, and the lush banks that held healing plants. After the great expanses, and muted palette of the landscape it was healing just to see many shades of green. Hearing the water was also a joy - its sounds cooled my thoughts, and refreshed my soul with its melody.

In the midst of the formal settlement of the west in the nineteenth century, John Wesley Powell recommended that the western states be defined by watershed. Experiencing the critical nature of water while there, embracing such an idea would have been genius – considering the legal wrangling over water rights and uses that define modern times. That idea too would have helped to give people a stronger tie to the land – linking them to a specific basin that was responsible for their resource – making them stewards instead of consumers – with little consideration for those down the line or at the other end of the pipe.

It makes me glad to see that while there are the pervasive methods of storm water “management” that funnels runoff into giant catch basins– (the biggest I’ve ever seen) and into deep, deep detention ponds, notable examples of alternative storm water “management” are to be seen in that area. They include blue/green infrastructure in a traffic calming bump out by the Georgia O’Keeffe museum in Santa Fe – with an infiltration strip and plants instead of a giant gutter, and the well-preserved corridor around the river in Santa Fe to give a semblance of an intact riparian zone. Through thoughtful planning and design, the culture is beginning to change around storm water, rain and its critical role in sustaining life.

Perhaps the most inspiring water related experience I had there though was learning about how the Taos Pueblo people won back their sacred blue lake that had been portioned off into a National Forest. This lake holds significant spiritual value to them, and its waters sustain their daily life. In the Pueblo, a Unesco heritage site, the stream from the blue lake is the only source of water. It runs directly through the center of the Village – from east to west. Along its banks are signs that ask visitors to respect the waters and keep them clean. The banks are verdant, and Cottonwoods and aspens thrive nearby, offering shade and color. I sat by the river for a large part of my visit there – listening to the water and looking to the mountains – following the colors of the aspens to observe the course of the water to the lake I would never see (only tribe members are allowed to go there). I am still struck by the power of being connected to your water source, making it sacred and part of a daily meditation. I don’t want to project too much onto anything that I don’t know much about, or romanticize, but that experience was powerful to me. It’s marvelous to see the caring people are capable of when given a sense of connection to where they are, and how the relationship they share with the landscape can go both ways and develop into a something profound and lasting.

Santa Fe River

River, Taos Pueblo

Hot Spring by the Rio Grande

Rio Grande

River, Taos Pueblo

Rio Grande Gorge

Fog

2011-10-08T12:34:00.000-07:00

There’s something reassuring about waking up in a fog. Everything blends, the world is softer, not so bright. Fog always seems to be around in these transitions days between seasons – easing us into a new awareness of the change around us. I always feel a deep sense of poetry with fog – it befuddles the clarity grasping part of my mind and pushes me to accept the multi-tonal variation of the scene before me. As a human, that’s tough for me. These days there’s a premium placed on being right, clear, concise, and decisive. I agree that there are indeed situations that call for that – when in long lines at the local coffee shop, being an important one for example. However, there’s a joyful confusion that’s good for my mind to enter into while walking through the foggy landscape.

I guess that the foggy landscape enhances our peripheral vision (the importance of which is in my consciousness because of an old friend) a faculty I would like to focus on – yes, I note the irony there - maybe develop is more apt?….It’s not too often that I get a chance to be muddled and be safe about it. It’s part of my mind and self where I believe the creative process wells and then spills over onto the page, the landscape or the canvas. When I think about it further and where many fertile and exciting areas are in an ecological context, it’s the ecotone, or the transition zone – the periphery of determined ecological areas. These ecotones, examples being: salt marshes, forest edges, Black Oak savannas, etc., are where diverse species meet, intermingle and cross paths. Because of the degree of “slippage” from one context to the other, they are therefore hard to classify and defy common taxonomy. Fog is the ecotone of conscious states for me, and as such, I can glimpse elusive dreams, more defined landscape forms and a range of elements in between.

Art Show

2011-10-08T12:05:00.000-07:00

My Art show of oil paintings and essays - titled "Vegetable Portraits...explorations of land and produce" will be on view at the Meekins Library in Williamsburg, MA for this month of November. The opening is Saturday, November 5th at the library from 1pm - 3pm.

Here's an excerpt from an Essay about the project....

I love food. My family is the kind of family that plans its meals in the midst of the ones that they are still eating. Living here in the Pioneer Valley, there is amazing, fresh food grown with love and care. The food culture here not only has implications of healthy eating and living, it shows a deep consciousness of the importance of regional food systems, resilient, small-scale production, and the critical nature of regional economic development. While inherently enjoyable, eating Hadley asparagus can be seen as a political act that embraces the local, the small, and the regional in the face of the industrial, and the pervasive global agribusiness. My paintings reflect the magic of where we live and the power each of us has to choose the smaller, more resilient local economy.

In addition to the paintings,essays reflect the moment of each painting, the nature of the subject or the thoughts that the subject inspired within me. The large canvases I have done further explore the color, space and compositional relationships initiated in the smaller pieces.

The depiction of each vegetable represents an iconic time of the calendar year (asparagus season, strawberry season, tomato time, etc.), in essence, a calendar of the senses and of anticipation. To me, fresh, crunchy fiddlehead ferns and the soft nutty flavor of young nettles have more to do with May than any store-bought calendar image may be able to represent. The Vegetable Portraits project represents my relationships with these farms, these vegetables as well as the way I choose to live my life

Zea Mays

2011-09-30T06:50:00.000-07:00

Zea Mays. It’s such a beautiful name. It comforts me that the Latin name sounds a little bit like the Italian word for Auntie – Zia. It’s the backbone of industrial agriculture in this country. It’s also one of the true joys of summer for me. Corn.

The variety we grew this year is a Oaxacan green dent - far from an industrial agriculture breed. In fact, there will be little capital gain from this crop... We purchased the seeds from Seed Savers, a fantastic non-profit devoted to saving heirloom seed stock and connecting people who are passionate about preserving our shared plant heritage. The Corn grew to thirteen feet + in 2 months. One of my favorite things to do this past August was to sit amongst the plants on a windy day and listen to the rustle of the leaves.

One of the best parts of harvesting the corn was to shuck it. Each ear revealed dazzling colors of jewel-like quality. Perhaps that sounds cliché, but I had never expected the wide spectrum of iridescent green, purple and blue with yellows and golds occasionally mixed in. Our aspiration is to dry the corn and mill it into flour for use in making tortillas, tamales or corn bread. It’s a lot of labor to do so, and I am grateful for the option to have this project be a project and not survival. That said, I truly enjoy the process of learning about how to grow plants and then how to prepare them in traditional ways. I believe it helps to connect me to my forebears, and to the community of people like me who care deeply about the quality and the stories of food. That time to process and make special foods is precious and rare for me these days. But when I can get it, I always feel refreshed.

The following photos are from the Harvest this year....

Equinox

2011-09-23T13:09:00.000-07:00

Today is the equinox. Well, to split hairs, it happened already at 5:05 am. According to one op-ed I read, the equinox produces a reduction in the Earth’s magnetic field, “allowing easier access to other dimensions, making this a propitious moment to be in a power spot.” I believe it.

Light falls differently, somehow, more intense than in summer, but more fleeting. The exuberance of the summer vegetables fades, as the last tomatoes cling to droopy vines. Basil, always a rich emerald green, begins to sport brown spots on its leaves. There is a sensation of the land letting go, and the systems of life preparing for dormancy that winter brings.

As ever, there are the stars that herald the arrival of this time, Asters. For some reason, there seem to be more varieties of aster this year than I have noticed in previous years. Purple, light blue, white. Shots of joy and delight. Thinking about the reduction in the earth’s magnetic field, when I see those asters everywhere it’s easy for me to imagine that they are poetic reminders of the sanctity of this time, where we all begin to slow down, gather what is important, celebrate the bounty of summer and prepare for the coming winter, somewhat like the bee in the bottom photo is doing.

Cupola

2011-09-21T11:27:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, after a trip from an Indiana Dairy farm, a stint in Turner's Falls being restored, and a test run through hurricane Irene to see if the new paint would run, the barn cupola was put up. Testimony to how right it looks is that few if any neighbors noticed that it is new.... a feat for a 10+ feet high metal object with a big red ox on top of it.

Since getting here, we've been restoring this old farm's landscape to honor the history of this place, the sublime beauty of the surroundings and to contribute our share to the spaces here as a reflection of who we are. Getting the cupola up with the ox is fitting for this time. It represents a beautiful end to the great amount of work to stabilize the barn's foundations, to shore up its walls, to add windows and to get the barn cleaned to a state that befits it's elegance as a structure, and it's status as a living memory of the people and animals that passed through it's doors. In this barn, the last in many generations of farmers of this land died doing what he loved. If all of us could be so blessed to go doing what we love.

I think alot about the power of history, memory and place and how they all intersect. Living in New England, it's part of the deal, though I guess that anywhere it's part of the deal. Looking up at that ox, an animal in the Chinese zodiac that represents steadiness, reliability and determination, I am reminded of the commitment I feel to honor the gift I receive which is to wake up and do the work I do and love.

Thanks to everyone who contributed to the projects on the barn over these years.....

before

weathervane

Bryan

Mitch

Bridge

2011-09-15T10:29:00.000-07:00

Be like water the Tao advises. I remember that advice because it blew my mind when I first read it in high school. With all the talk of molding young men and sculpting minds that was the pedagogy of my school, and having been the object of said molding and sculpting, I experienced a deep relief to know that I could be like water;

"Water never resists, Water accepts all. You don't have to compete."

Funny, this advice came in handy while building a bridge the other day. In the plan, the bridge was beautiful, elegant, harmonious and balanced. In the field, it was not going to work because a hard gravel base 3 feet below the surface of the water with giant stone interspersed through out the soil made it nearly impossible to get the proposed configuration. The spontaneous evolution of the bridge reduced the impact to the wetland by only sinking two posts instead of four in the wettest area, and created a strong connection to the rest of the landscape design features through the granite cribbing used for steps. By letting the genius of the moment work with the combined experience I shared with Bryan, the carpentry sage, the bridge functions on a physical level to go from point A to B without getting wet, and on the metaphorical level as well. Be like water, and you don’t have to get wet at least some of the time.

Late Summer Poems

2011-08-24T06:44:00.000-07:00

Summer's waning. Cool nights. The light is intense, but lower. On the terraces, the play of plant edges with steel and rock begins to become satisfying. The garden develops its own rhythms. Spaces evolve. Sure, there's the design and the vision to establish those spaces at the outset, but the processes happening now are poems and verses that happen of their own accord and I just happen to encounter them while moving through the landscape. There's a Utah Phillips song I think about where he talks about a man who does not write poems - he finds them. That's an inspiring meditation...

Microclimate and Ecology

2011-08-03T10:28:00.000-07:00

Understanding the nuance of existing microclimate is part of the assessment I truly enjoy. It's here that components of landform, canopy, soils, winds and sun, buildings, and roads among others come together. In my understanding, microclimate best represents existing conditions of what some might call urban ecology - where human actions and "natural phenomena" are put together as opposed to the traditional - natural and man made categories. I'd argue that ecology always did include people everywhere, not just in urban areas. As a species, we've had a tremendous effect on the planet, and to separate humans from the rest of the species and systems on the earth creates problematic dissonance. I have experimented with my graphic representation of microclimate shown in varying intensities of yellow below, combining it with human use, and overall physical landform. For a first go round I think it's compelling.

I've included some other diagrams below to illustrate current conditions onsite at the center's core.