my climbing obsession now also turns metaphorical

well… i officially had my first fainting experience in the studio with steve!

thank god i finally got that over with.   those of you who know me well, know i pass out at the sight…. even at the thought… of blood.

yes, it’s pathetic. 

yes, i am an embarrassment to my family and loved ones, and to doctors everywhere.

yes, i even understand it’s all mental.

but no, i cannot change.

i was sure this was bound to happen eventually, and knowing steve, i knew i’d get no sympathy… so i was dreading the inevitable moment when one of us would get hurt, i’d immediately pass out, and he’d be utterly disgusted with me.

tuesday morning i was working on fabricating a short steel pyramid to cap our new piece.  steve was working in the back of the studio, and we were mid-conversation (i can’t remember for the life of me what he was talking about, but i was listening).  i strolled over to the pile of sheet metal, grabbed two sharp-cut 4 x 1 ft pieces, and held them up in front of me just below eye level, staring down along them, trying to gauge their relative thicknesses (they ended up both being 1/8”).  somehow, one slipped through my work glove, and guillotined straight down on my left foot, mostly on my big toe.  i let out a loud shriek, and the first two thoughts immediately in my head were:

1)     did i just chop off my toe??

2)     i think i just chopped off my toe.

then i panicked that steve would panic.  but amidst all the noise he was making, i could tell he somehow hadn’t noticed.  as i waited for that initial delirium of pain to stop, so i could actually think what to do, my next two thoughts were:

1)     this initial delirium of pain will stop, right?

2)     did i just chop off my toe?

finally, i cut steve off (he was still talking), calmly saying, “i think i just really hurt my toe…”  he walked over as i nervously unlaced my shoe (thank the lord i wasn’t wearing flip-flops, as we’d been doing clear through october), and pulled off my sock…. to see… my toe!  attached!  and a gurgle of blood starting to seep out the top right behind my nail.  i didn’t want to make a big deal in front of steve, so i decided to get it out of sight ASAP.  i put my sock right back on as it bled, laced up my shoe, looked up at steve, and we both laughed.  “i’m an idiot,”  i said.

from that moment on i don’t remember any more of the conversation, as i followed him, half-limping (my foot was still numb and not hurting yet) into the machine shop and back.  just then ruth came out to say goodbye (she was heading into town), and steve made a joke about her bringing back crutches for me.  i think i half-laughed, as i started to feel pins and needles and hot flashes in my head at the same time.  i knew what was coming, and pulled over a stool to sit down.  steve and ruth didn’t notice.  pleeeeease don’t faint.  pleeease.  i tried deep breaths.  my vision was going spotty.   finally ruth left, and i said, “yeah, i’m really not feeling so good,” and steve looked at me, ”jesus!  you’re white.  lie down on the ground.”  i was half stubborn and tried to maintain calm on the chair… until steve insisted “no i’m not kidding, get your head down on the ground level, you really have no color in your face.”  so i laid on my back in the middle of the studio, instructed steve to go work, and tried to maintain consciousness (i think i did) for the next 15 minutes.  i tried getting up once, went white again and almost lost my feet, and laid back down.  steve was chuckling to himself and trying not to comment.  “well, you were really calm about it, i would have been cursing up a storm!!”  i could tell he was just trying to make me feel better.

anyway…. needless to say, i finished fabricating the steel piece (it took me all day tuesday), and by wednesday night, and again thursday morning, we decided it didn’t work as well in steel, and i remade the whole thing in stainless.  but we’ve saved the (deadly) steel version, and already have a potential plan for a new piece to use it in.

just another example of how this process is always a constantly changing course.  with this piece specifically, we have maintained a really cool combination of strategizing and letting go, giving control over to the materials.   in fact, steve thinks it might just be a piece where we’ve achieved a pretty near perfect balance of CAT (concept, art, technique).  this has been able to happen, in part, because the piece will be a donation – there are no requirements, no hopes to fill, only room to evolve.  we’re going to donate it to an awesome environmental non-profit called the wildlands conservancy, which steve is a huge supporter of.  it will be auctioned off during a large-scale art event at their whitewater canyon preserve in march. 

we want it to sell, of course, to be appealing to a large audience.  so we didn’t just play around until something cool came out (which easily could have worked), but instead decided on a few hallmark components that we really wanted to include. 

one was the notion of “stainless steel driftwood”, composite pieces constructed of processed scraps that interlock and flow into each other (you saw this with the raven and rising sun kinetic).  i have become quite enamored with this.  there are a lot of directions to take it (and we have some newer ones already on the front burner!), but i freaking LOVE the concept of taking scraps, re-processing them, then using them like paint on a canvas, in structured and non-structured ways to create lines, movement, natural repetitions and rhythyms.

another component we wanted to include in the piece, which steve refers to as an “endless screen” (ES), is something he has played around with a lot before.  essentially it looks like a chain-link cage made out of steel rods that are welded together.  for this piece, we liked the concept of having the ES wrap around some precariously-balanced stones, on which sat the stainless driftwood bird form.  we used three rectangular pavers, and covered them in weathered copper (we spent a few days alone just strategizing the wrapping).  the ES, in this case, serves a visual/artistic role (makes the viewer curious as to how the stones got inside the cage, and how the stones, balanced as they are, can support any weight), as well as a technical purpose (the welded steel screen forms the strength of the entire piece), and most fun... a conceptual role (the screen grows from the base of the piece and as it climbs and wraps upwards, turns into human forms, climbers actually, weaving and wrapping their arms and legs around).  

creating the steel structure has involved a lot of wire welding (MIG welding).  this is far less enjoyable than TIG welding, (mostly because it’s messy, and i’m a scientist), but fascinating in its own way.  and steve and i got to work together on the design of the screen, which was a ton of fun.  we knew we wanted to make human forms, and we knew we wanted the screen to transition slowly and subtly into human forms, but chosing the right design and materials took us a few days of experimenting.  i spent a few hours making bits of steel rod into different thicknesses, lengths, and with various kinks to create our material pool.  and then came the fun part.  steve and i sat on the table, literally like kids with a toy set, and assembled these climbers into various positions, as we held heads and arms and arm-bodies for each other, passing the MIG welder back and forth between us.  we were oooo-ing and aaaah-ing and laughing at the michelen-man-like fat arms or fat-shins that would suddenly emerge depending on choice of segment.

and looking at it more and more, we have both gotten such a kick out of the expression in the movement of the climbers as they wrap and fling themselves upwards on the piece.  we are both most excited about how different people will react to it, and any dialogue that wil be created in the variety of interpretations.  so far it’s just been he and ruth and i chatting about it.  but we are going to put the piece up in JTAG (joshua tree art gallery) asap to see how people are responding.  we have some sort of vision for what the piece represents, but i almost hesitate to share it.  in one way, the climbers represent humanity, emerging from “the mud and the muck” (as steve loves to say), and climbing up, maybe in desperation, maybe in blinding competitiveness, maybe at times in a beautiful web, through eras of time, ever grasping after nature, creation, perfection.  and nature?  it’s saying, “i’m getting the heck outta here”….

or maybe not.  any other thoughts??

 ..........

and after a week of letting the artwork fuel my climbing itch, i got to snag two days in a row this weekend out on the rocks!  major winner!!  saturday i went out with john (yes, famous HAMBAM john) and my friend matt, and we did some classic crack routes in the park.  by classic crack routes, i mean that there was an equal number of curse words emitted from my mouth as there were scrapes on the back of my hands, wrists and knuckles.

sunday ended up being perhaps my favorite day of climbing yet.  i got a call from todd last minute, and pulled myself out of bed after 4 hours of sleep (and the most wild night at pappys – we had raging crowds with blitzen trapper playing, AND i got to wait on both helen mirren and the entire queens of the stone age band).  i met todd early and we went out with a few of his good friends, hitting an area in the north part of the park, where we saw no one else the whole time.  it was about a 2.5 mile approach in, and we got to do a bunch of new routes, finishing off with a two-pitch route where we had 360 degree views all across the park and back to 29 palms.  best high ever.

(some of the climbing photos courtesy of todd)

and in other exciting news on the homefront, we’ve had such a beautiful week that the snakes came back out!

all the talk of rattlesnakes out here, and i have yet to see one (although when i first got here, we were seeing tracks every morning in the canyon sand along our morning walk).  a few days ago we saw a big 4 foot long red racer snake, slowly gliding across the sandy driveway, basking in the unseasonal november sun.  unfortunately, they are not poisonous, and thus the excitement factor dropped rapidly… but it is pretty damn incredible to watch one of those animals move.  he was out multiple days in a row, leaving trails that were somewhat intimidating to us, but were pushing his luck with the predators, and eventually one of the cats (stripey) got a good bite of his tail.   we helped him escape, and haven’t seen him since.

been falling asleep to the hint of woodsmoke in my cabin all week and savoring every….. every, bit of time.  the things i’m thankful for defy articulation, but i thought i’d send you all off with a couple more photos.  steve and ruth have two good friends (harlan & fraulke) who recently had us over to their house for dinner.  they live outside LA, but have a little haven of a spot up here, which they are fixing up & decorating (including 2 of steve's kinetics).  one of the major things i’ve loved about being here is seeing different people’s houses, and they ways they’ve integrated their ideals, their visions, into the design.  in the high-desert, as far as homes go, the most valuable thing you can have is a lot of rocks.  rock piles.  the more, the better.  the national park itself some may consider to be merely a sh*tload of rock piles.  but… when you are physically amidst them, it really sinks in.  the enchanted wonderland quality of the formations, their simplicity, and the way they catch the light, is something truly magical.

 hope you all have a wonderful and love-filled holiday…

late nights and lift-offs: 60 hours on the east coast

so last thursday, after a long and distracted afternoon in the studio, i threw a carry-on of clothes into my car and drove down into the low desert, across the miles of electric windfarms, and towards the sprawling lights of LA.  any sadness at the loss of starry skies to a sea of shopping outlets and smoggy air was immediately outshadowed by the feeling in my stomach as i waited in the jetblue terminal for the red eye to deliver me to boston’s logan international airport.

i planned the two and a half day trip to surprise adam on his birthday (friday), and to be at his big show in boston that night, where they released their newest album, ragtop angel.

it felt like a brilliant plan, and one of few things that would happily pull me away from this magical nook.  plus, i’ve always had a secret infatuation with traveling long distances for short amounts of time… the crazier the idea, the bigger the thrill of putting it into action.  (for this, i thank you, mom and dad, for being parents who never wanted to hold me back, or encourage me to play it safe.)  this trip, of course, wasn’t such a crazy idea, but certainly the culture shock of it all feels like a bigger deal than it is.

that, and getting to see someone you love after a 2 month hiatus. 

which is really not long, compared to what many people go through, not to mention when lives are on the line.  but it was enough for me. 

steve and ruth were so excited that ruth insisted on giving me a haircut in her kitchen the morning i left.  she spread newspapers everwhere and had a stool set up in the middle, flanked by her kit of scissors and fancy hair clips.  i must say, that woman’s got technique!  it felt exactly like that stuff they do at the hairdressers.  might have been the best haircut i’ve had in a while (king lear, don’t worry, yours are still the best.)

of the 60 hours i was on east coast soil, about 4 were spent sleeping.  i got in at 7:34am, surprised ad at home (a knock on the bathroom door to an annoyed “what??!??” is pretty much the best way to surprise someone), and spent the morning at the greater boston food bank, where two of his closest friends had organized a surprise volunteer day, as a birthday present.  i must give credit for both surprises to our friend sammy, who i never imagined could help orchestrate something so brilliant and secretive (since he doesn’t read this, i can use this opportunity to officially tell you all how many times i kick his ass at board games).  but on friday, sammy shined… pulling a scheme that involved emails from paris and cooperation from the entire food bank staff, in order to keep the cover as we showed up to a room full of family and friends and donuts with birthday candles.  we all spent 3 hours hanging out, rollin up our sleeves… loading turkeys onto trucks, putting labels on sacks of ravioli, and sorting thousands of pounds of food to feed the staggering amount of hungry families in the boston area.

it was a beautiful thing.

and an incredible way to spend a morning with people you love, reflecting back on how lucky we are, and how easy it is to make a big difference in the lives of those who need it most.

*thank you, bemis, for all the photos, since i didn't take any..*

from there, the weekend included, of course, the show itself – a sold out concert at brighton music hall, which also raised a ton of money to support the family of kevin houston, a local navy SEAL killed in afghanistan.  in addition to celebrating the release of their newest CD, a collaboration with royal avenue music (see here to check out the album on itunes or amazon), they were also releasing a new music video they made for one of the songs, miss hallelujah.  this was… for sure… the highlight of the show.  it is brilliantly done, and on a giant screen in front of a packed room, it brought hundreds of people together in laughs, raucous cheers, and eye-welling sentiment.

have yourself a good look.

the rest of the weekend flew by.  there was a private show at a friend’s family party, where they were celebrating their 15-year old son’s remission from leukemia.  the room (a tented and decorated garage) was busting with spirit, and there were middle schoolers dancing alongside grandmothers, as well as wood-fired pizzas, s’mores, and the best salted almonds ever.  the weekend also entailed 6 hours of driving, during which we got to frequent multiple dunkin donuts’, catch a glimpse of the fading fall foliage, and most excitedly attempt a new york times crossword (there is only one place to get the NYT in the hi-dez… and it’s open 11am-2pm).  there was a hearty diner breakfast, there was catching up with best friends and old friends (so much talking that my throat hurt!), there was birthday delivering of handmade bronze belt buckles, there was... never... enough time, and the rest of it... well, twas happiness that can't be put into words.  but perhaps most memorable of it all… was sunday morning, when i was awoken with a giant plate of bacon in my hotel bed.

and at the end of it all… sure enough, jetblue delivered me back to the west coast just as quickly (albeit with a lot more turbulence) as i’d come, and at 2am monday morning as i pulled into the cabin, where steve and ruth had left my little porch light glowing, it was really hard to believe that this all had just happened.

the quickness of the trip made the contrast in landscape and culture so noticeable, and so clear how different life is, how much harder to stay your course, when experienced with all of the distractions and chaos that exist out there.  i wasn’t necessarily ready, or prepared, for the switch.  but it was amazing on both ends. 

this week has brought some insanely beautiful weather, cozy nights, and low hanging moons.  the woodstove in my cabin is full and smoky, and steve and i are getting very excited as we near the finish on a new piece we’ve been working on!  i've got a few pics and a couple good stories on their way for ya!!

who says lead is poisonous?

for everyone out there reading this who was concerned that by coming to j-tree i’d give up my scientific career, i can assure you, this is far from the case.

instead of haphazardly attempting to cure a disease that those who study it know will never be “cured”, i have instead chosen the much more direct, much more selfless, and effective route:  giving myself cancer.

sort-of kidding.

a few weeks ago, we were in the middle of something and steve asked me to go grab the JB weld for him (a high strength epoxy we use to bind a few things that aren’t possible, or are risky, to weld).  “it’s in the grey cabinet just inside the woodshop,” he said.  i run inside, and unlatch the old cabinet to find more cans of toxic chemicals and substances than i ever thought could exist in a square-mile radius.  and i thought the bleach/ammonia day was bad!  i timidly swam my arms through shelves and shelves full of DANGER labels and skull and crossbone symbols, until i found the two tubes of JB weld.  scampering back to the shop, i immediately told steve that as dr. welsh, i was officially naming that the “cancer cabinet,” and was refusing to ever go in there again.

we thought that was hilarious at the time.  now, i’d just as soon sleep in there.  we have spent the past week melting pounds and pounds of lead… setting a few things on fire in the process, and creating every other hazardous byproduct humanly possible.  i mean, we took some precaution.  we did turn on a $2.00 swap meet box fan to blow the fumes past us quicker.  and we had the fire department (two buckets of water on a rolling cart) on call.  on day 1, i was hovering behind steve, behind the fan, mouth buried in my flannel shirt, holding my breath in intervals as long as humanly possible.  i was afraid to even lick my lips.  on day 2, i was feeling a bit more acclimatized and relaxed, digging for raw material through old buckets of wheel weights and scraps and metal dust and cigarette butts from steve’s autoshop…. yes, totally relaxed… until i accidentally went and pulled off one of my gloves with my mouth (good one, alley), and was tasting lead (and god-knows-what) for the whole afternoon. 

steve was hysterically laughing.  i was wondering how my family would take the news that i could no longer have babies. 

by day 3, i was eagerly torching the lead myself (steve had to suggest i step back from admiring the molten metal so closely), and secretly starting to like the smell of burning lead that stuck in my clothing and hair and on my skin for the next few days.  really though, the process was one of the most exciting things we’ve done in the studio since i’ve gotten here. 

it was one of the final steps for a piece i’m calling “birdhouse 2”, which steve & i have been working on for three weeks now.  steve had designed it long before i got here, in fact had made tons of drawings and built various models based on an original concept, and had recently completed a first piece (birdhouse 1).  that version alone is one of his all-time most impressive pieces, in my opinion, and was receiving a ton of attention at the studio tours. 

but, as i quickly learned to admire, steve is never satisfied – whether that be with a piece, with a theme, or with a medium.  he is constantly evaluating his work, pushing the boundaries of his assumptions, and asking himself how to take things one step (or three steps) further.  it’s a mindset and approach common in many aspects of art and life in general, but i have never… never… met anyone who does that to such an inspiring and successful degree.  be it from one piece to the very next, or from a career in automobiles to product design to watercolors to metal sculpture, this mindset is, without a doubt, what has allowed (but i still can’t fathom how it was really possible) steve to be SUCH a prolific artist over the course of his life.

that, and of course living in the desert, working his butt off, and very minimally indulging in the variety of “distractions” (social, material, ego… you can fill in the blank) one might consider to exist in modern life. 

that, and of course, being badass.

anyway, when i arrived a month ago, steve and i talked about the birdhouse 2 concept, his visions for what next generation pieces might be, and the models he’d attempted to build.  he had finally solidified a new (and hopefully feasible) idea, and the detailed blueprints of the design were measured and drawn on large sheets of drafting paper.  some of the metal had been cut to size and already partially assembled (tack welded to hold it in place), but basically, most of the technical work remained to be done.

which means…. who wins?

me.

it started mostly with a boatload of welding.  and, of course, the grinding that comes along with it, which takes about twice as long as the actual welding.  steve loves to joke that the best TIG welding teacher i ever had was the grinder.  very true though.  the bigger, the uglier the weld, the loooooonger it takes to grind that joint down to an even, flat surface so you don’t see it anymore.  if you can manage a clean and rhythmic weld, just melting enough of the metal on either side of the joint to sew together the two pieces, it takes just a couple passes of the grinder to make it look like one smooth surface.  of course, this is only possible if you have a really nice fit between the two pieces of metal, otherwise, adding excess rod to fill in gaps is inevitable.  so by the transitive property, the best measuring, calculating, and precision-making teacher i ever had was also the grinder (and, of course, my science nerd skills).  but when you do get into that rhythm with the TIG welder, where you can just push this little bead of molten metal along a joint and zzzzzip it up…. man!  it is one of the most satisfying things ever.  like centering clay on a wheel, it involves fully giving yourself over to the material in a way that is at once full of focus but also of letting go.  

i could weld for hours and never get sick of it.

now…. grinding, on the other hand….. whew!  there were a couple days in the beginning where i could barely hold my coffee mug in the morning (even my toothbrush!) because my hands and opposable thumbs were so sore from hours of gripping grinders (not the hoagies and grinders kind). 

NDEOTW (near-death experience of the week)? i was smoothing out a big awkward joint on the piece using an extra tough angle grinder steve has.  the tool itself is heavy enough that, even using two hands on it at most times, my wrists and thumbs get so sore, and are vibrating so much, that i literally can’t feel them.  so, every few minutes as they’re about to give out, i have to turn it off and shake them out.  but… “with this grinder”, steve mentions as he leaves the studio, “occasionally the trigger clogs and it wont turn off!  so what i do is just transfer it to one hand, and ‘burp’ the tool as hard as i can with the other hand,” (he hits the thing much more aggressively than a small child), “to jolt the trigger free and slow down the wheel.”  and with that, he’s off.

well… you can guess what happened.  i’m grinding along, and in standard alley-fashion, refuse to stop until the bitter end when my hands are so close to giving out i can barely hold them off the table any more.  i release the trigger with a big sigh of relief…. only to notice the wheel does definitely not stop spinning.  oh lord.  i keep my calm.  i transfer the tool to one hand, shake the other out to get some feeling back, and then grip like hell while i beat the back of the grinder with my hand. 

nothing happens.

this goes on for about 10 minutes, seriously (which felt like an eternity), as i trade hands and try everything including hitting the tool on the workbench as hard as i can.  is steve really that much stronger than i am?  man, this is embarrassing, and hilarious.  meanwhile the heel of my hand is going numb from hitting the thing so hard.  alright, i decide, it’s time to call for steve… i give up.  then i remember he’s out in the machine shop, drills and lathes whirring all around him.  on top of it, i’m well aware that even through some fancy ear-aides, he has a tough time hearing me when i’m 5 feet away in the same room.   slight panic sets in.  i holler out his name over and over…. nothing.  finally, i decide that banging the tool on the workbench will make a loud and strange enough sound to attract his attention (and it might even turn it off in the process), and finally, it works.  he is chuckling to himself the entire time he slowly rounds the corner and weaves his way through the studio to get to me.  the look on my face must have been priceless.  to my credit, he couldn’t turn it off either (this doesn’t usually happen.  he usually makes me look like an idiot).  so we eventually unplugged the thing, and life went back to normal. 

anyway, while i welded all the pieces together, steve was in the machine shop making all the elaborate axles.  have i mentioned, he has a full machine shop?  it’s pretty unbelievable.  in addition to making just basic tools, he has the ability to basically machine anything he can dream up if he has the desire.  in this case, we needed 4 custom-made sets of axles to join all these heavy parts and house the bearings, which would allow it to glide and move.   steve disappeared into the shop with some long steel bars from the boneyard.  one would think an axle is a pretty straight-forward thing.  but each one, when steve was finished with it, consisted of 9 pieces, plus two bearings, each perfectly sized to the 1/1000 of an inch, and complete with sheaths, threads for screwing, and inset ridges so everything sat completely flush and didn’t move side-to-side.  they were designed to screw in and out of each other (using two different pairs of screwdrivers), so we could take them apart and together multiple times during construction and installation.  this proved insanely helpful.  insanely.  the foresight that must have been involved in their design blew my mind more and more every day, as we assembled and reassembled to no end.

one of the last major steps of the construction process was balancing the piece.  creating the magic.  this alone took us a week and a half, and was one of my favorite things i’ve gotten to be a part of, as it is probably the most complex engineering involved in any of steve’s kinetic pieces.  and here’s where the lead came in. 

essentially the piece is a small stainless steel birdhouse resting atop a long rectangular steel column.  the column actually consists of 4 different interlocking segments, each designed to rotate in alternating directions.  thus, while the piece appears linear and geometric at rest, it's wind-activated to bend and sway at 5 different joints, each alternating N-S or E-W.  the quirky part is the design of the segments, all of which appear very linear and angular, but move in slow and smooth arcs as their long and lanky limbs somewhat magically fold into each other.  it all has such a human-ness and personality to it, in the movement, in the forms, and gestures.  here's a sneak preview in the shop, when the steel was all skinned (post-grinding) and ready for patina...

we balanced from the top down, meaning we work to get the top piece meticulously balanced on the second piece (this can take a half day), and once this is complete, we move on to get the top two pieces balanced on the third (potentially can take twice as long).  next the top three get balanced on the fourth… and so on.  by the end of it, the number of variables involved in each balancing procedure seem never-ending, as a single degree off 90°, or the tiniest dot of weld can throw off the entire 200lb piece. 

in order to get the parts to balance, we filled their insides with a very specific amount of lead.  this involved creating a mold (which would theoretically fit easily but snugly inside each steel part), melting and filtering pounds and pounds of lead, pouring them into the mold, cooling, then sliding the lead blocks into the steel parts, and holding them there using homemade steel nails that we welded off.  we’d purposely fill too much lead, then we’d hang the half-assembled piece from an open-air axle and torch the bottom, to melt and leak lead out from either side until the piece slowly swung up and hung perfectly perpendicular. 

piece of cake, eh?  i would guess at least 60 hours went into that process…. which involved all sorts of creative strategizing (temporarily welding half-assembled pieces to the bench-top, rigging elaborate pulley systems) to move these pieces around, on and off of each other, as they gained more and more lead weight.  the precision alone was incredible.  for example, if we’d drill a hole into the lead (for a nail), we’d save the miniscule corkscrew scrap that spun out, weigh it on a gram scale, and make sure to add that exact amount back in afterwards.

it was THE most exciting thing to be a part of.

so exciting, in fact, that the actual finish of the piece has been wildly anti-climactic.

we put the patina on the steel parts over the weekend, and by monday afternoon everything was cleaned up, final touches put on, and all the parts were laid out on the bench top ready to be assembled and installed outside the next day.  tuesday morning steve and i were moving like choreographed actors, hauling the parts outside to the chosen location, and assembling it as if we’d done it a million times (because we actually had).  as we lifted the birdhouse on top and made the final balancing adjustments to the axles, ruth crept outside, and we all gathered across the courtyard to take a look.

none of us said anything.

it wasn’t wow-ing. 

we all quickly decided the location and the light were not actually great where it was, and even though it’d take another 2 hours, we should try moving it across the property to a better spot.  so we did.  no change.  it wasn’t bad, but it clearly wasn’t as powerful as any of us had expected, and it seemed to stand in the shadow of birdhouse 1.  we were all somewhat puzzled, intrigued, wrestling with how our impression of the piece could have transformed so much from the benchtop to the natural environment.  we talked for a bit about what it was that didn’t seem to be working as well as we’d imagined.  inevitably, it was discouraging.  steve and i spent the afternoon starting work on a new piece we’d already planned (the benefit of having so many projects going at once), but all evening that night the birdhouse was on my mind. 

yesterday morning when we convened in the studio, steve looked at me and grinned.  we laughed, decided we will probably alter it a bit more before it’s finished, and that was that.  within 5 minutes we were absorbed in our new piece, which has already captured my fascination.  steve and i were trading stories as we filled a concrete mixer full of bits of steel and sandy sludge, and then walked over to the boneyard to get some scraps.   we were both commenting on the epic morning, and the almost-full moon still in the sky.  i felt like a million dollars.

it was an amazing reminder that the beauty of the experience here has had almost nothing to do with the end result.  the daily processes, the possibilities that line each mundane minute, are what keeps me so giddy at the start of every day.  that’s something i’ve never been this familiar with before in my life.  what metal scraps show up on the bench top to play around with, what type of grin steve has on his face when we come up with a wild idea, how dirty my fingernails will still be after the fifth washing, what nugget of insight on the world will come out of our 7am canyon walk, what color the rocks might turn at that split second of dawn... even what half-eaten lizard an ugly roadrunner may leave on my porch... all of these things have filled me up a thousand times more than any benchmark of success i could think of.  i can't possibly describe that feeling...

but speaking of incredible things, to everyone who has written or emailed, while i feel a bit like i’m living on my own planet here (stealing wireless in a joshua tree parking lot to post this), you are keeping me inspired every damn day.  deciding to write this has been such a self-indulgent endeavor… and i’m definitely having a hard time proceeding through with that.  but sharing something with others is so much more powerful than sharing with one’s self…. and knowing you all are following along has made this whole experience just incredibly surreal.  i can’t thank you enough….