Linguistic Vision
As others have yet to post new threads, I shall post one of mine own, then sit back holding my breath like a child for the month of December waiting for Santa and the presents of your repsonses to come on in.
As briefly or verbosely as you'd like, take us on a tour of Pangaea, the Pangaea of your dreams.
Walk us through the grounds. What do we see? How does it smell? What do we hear? What's the feeling in the air? What can we do? What do we see others doing? How does Pangaea look as we approach it? Are there animals? What is the shape of an average day from the rise out of bed to the head hitting the pillow again?
We want to walk with you. Take us away.
Note: Consider whether or not you want to read other people's tours before you write your own. Either way could be interesting and illuminating.
As briefly or verbosely as you'd like, take us on a tour of Pangaea, the Pangaea of your dreams.
Walk us through the grounds. What do we see? How does it smell? What do we hear? What's the feeling in the air? What can we do? What do we see others doing? How does Pangaea look as we approach it? Are there animals? What is the shape of an average day from the rise out of bed to the head hitting the pillow again?
We want to walk with you. Take us away.
Note: Consider whether or not you want to read other people's tours before you write your own. Either way could be interesting and illuminating.
posted by Sinclair at 9:27 PM
2 Comments:
Halloo Croth!!! So glad to see you up on the blog again.
I'm excited by the visions of Pangaea that you have all been sharing. However, in an effort to better differentiate this thread from the earlier thread of "What we Want..." can you guys go into some more specific detail of concrete, physical elements? There are already examples of these in your posts, but I'd like to see more. Perhaps you can edit and add?
My goal in beginning this thread was to start a individual/collective creation of what it's like to walk around Pangaea, what it feels like to be there. When you wake up in the morning, what does your room look like? As you walk to breakfast, what do you see, smell, hear and taste? What's hanging on the walls? Are there half finished projects that you come across? Are there daily chores that you need to tend to? What's a day shaped like? What do you do after breakfast? What's running through your mind as you walk around? (Hmm, how can I realize this artistic idea....shit, the goats are eating the garden, gotta build a better fence....the Prairie dogs are lost in their maze, gotta help them...what are those strange sounds coming from the basement recording studio...what's that delicious smell coming from the kitchen?
You don't have to describe all of Pangaea by any means, but at least a few rooms or spaces, that we might together construct a vision of its ambience in totality. This would be a good thing to keep as individually running projects, even if they're not posted on the blog. Crystallizing a vision of what we want is very important, but individually and communally.
I can't wait for more, and to share my own thoughts.
smiling with a burritoful belly,
Sinclair
You awake to the sound of scuttling on the roof and a strange singing. Peering out from under the comfortable weight of a thick down duvet you see the feathers of one of Pangaea's peacocks dangling from the eaves of the roof.
It's early, the heat of the day still building. The air is thick with possibility. You hear a grinding noise from downstairs. Ah, Patrick must be hand milling a new grain mixture for one of his experimental loaves of bread. You go down and find Patrick in the kitchen thick with flower on his face and apron. There are already a couple of loaves cooling on the counter. You greet each other with smiles. Patrick laughs as he tells you of a new recipe, a fruitcake that people will actually like filled with fresh fruits, pears and apples and cherries from the trees outside.
You go to pour yourself a cup of coffee, but change your mind and instead rummage through the tea drawer for something alluring. There's an assortment of boxes and mystery bags, and numerous tins, antiqued and dented with all sorts of blends. You pick one with a smoky odor and let it begin to steep.
Carrying the cup into the reading room you head for your favorite chair. The ceilings are high, the walls interspersed with large windows letting in gentle morning light and floor to ceiling bookshelves. Randerbone is already in there, curled in an overstuffed chair with an afghan on her lap, reading next to a fire. It's still a little early in the year for a fire, but the light it produces is as satisfying as its heat.
As you're settling down with a giant art book Wright comes zooming in in a pair of bright pajamas, a boombox on his shoulder. Prince is pumping as Wright gyrates between the chairs and cheers a hearty goodmorning to you. He acknowledges that you're reading and departs shortly to greet Patrick with a dance in the kitchen.
Looking up from your book you look through a window to the enclosed porch to see Becky, Allison, and Toby doing yoga looking out over the massive lawns, a sculpture here and there breaking up the otherwise panoramic view of forest and farmland stretching away from the house.
When you've had your tea, you head for the shower to get ready for the day. On the way to the bathroom, you stop to consider the odd debris you encounter on the way. A suit of armor, a tailor's mannequin, a collection of gas masks on the wall, a wall of photographs from Pangaea's history. Pictures of huge feasting gatherings, theatrical productions, the earlier days of building and renovation, Tyler and Toby looking humorously similar in the their overalls, shirtless with hammers in their hands and nails sprouting from their mouths. Croth and Patrick dressed as Coked up Kate Moss and "Bad" era Michael Jackson from a past Halloween. You laugh.
It looks like Tyler and Becky made some progress on the mosaic wall of found objects from the property. Fragments of pottery, pieces of rusty farm equipment and horseshoes, broken tiles from the old bathroom, colored pebbles from the grounds, inlaid potted ferns cascading across the whole piece.
A sound catches your attention from the basement. It sounds like Randerbone singing. You go down the stairs to check it out. There's no recording light on, so you open the door. Wright has exchanged his boom box for a mixing board and keyboard. He's pounding out funky tunes while Rachel improvises a wild ballad of turkey's and cats and mischevious monkeys. She sees you watching and throws in a line about how she used to hate singing in front of people, but now she can't get enough. You laugh and throw in some backing vocals. Wright changes the beat and melody into a familiar song...It's Abba's "Take a chance on me." You and Wright take the intro away, take a chance take a chance take a take a chance chance and Rachel hits the lead. You guys know this one back and forth. You even throw in some ridiculous choreography.
When you finish, you hear clapping behind you. Becky's standing there with a face red from laughing. She's excited, "come into the dark room she says." You follow her to be greeted by huge enlargements of a recent project of hers. 2 feet by 3 feet they hang drying from a wire. They're spectacular. You've been talking about her process for some time, even taken a look at the contact sheets, but this is better than you could ever have imagined. You tell her so. She asks you if you would be willing to help her hang them in the gallery later on as their will be a showing the next week. You agree.
As you head out of the basement, past the pool table and various musical instruments, you hear Wright back at work on a recording component of his new show. He has been collecting interviews with people from within the recovery community and working them into a rich tapestry of experiences that form a dialogue with the audience through both recordings, live speech and conversation between performers and audience members.
Coming up the stairs to the ground floor you see the Croth walking up the long driveway with her lovable dog. She appears deep in thought. Not wanting to disrupt her, you only nod, but she smiles and motions you over. She's been on a long early walk, with fresh break from Patrick in her pocket as breakfast, sketching ideas for a new line of accessories she's working on incorporating images and textures from the area around Pangaea, somehow capturing something of nature in her fabrics. She has also been thinking of designs for an upcoming show she's working on with Rachel and Tyler. They're creating it in a workshop format, the choreography of the performers movements largely influenced by the confines and unique characteristics of their costuming apparatus. Part dance, part circus, part theatre, the workshopping has been going on for some time, with rough versions of the costumes made of canvas and muslin. It's time to start building the real deal. She also shows you a fantastic find for the mosaic wall, a pair of rusted handcuffs found broken in a ditch near the edge of the property. Oh, the stories they could tell.
With the show on your mind you head out towards the converted barn/theatre and performance space, wending your way through curvaceous paths lined by tall shrubs and pompous grass. Monkwell another of Pangaea's canine pets comes trundling up to meet you. Hi "monker, monkey boy, well well!" you say in dog/baby voice. He licks your face and goes bounding off after a squirrel.
It's a good thing you've gone to the Theatre, for upon entry, you here a distraught "hello?!!" You enter the main room to find Tyler suspended from the 30 ft roof tangled in a mix of harnesses and pulleys. He has apparently (and unadvisedly) been working on something for the show by himself, dangling up there for the better part of the morning. You let him down and he hugs you with relief. You talk briefly about the show, then decide to go up to the "space" together.
Up the hill you go to the octagonal structure on stilts. The trees you helped plant last summer are doing nicely. The deer haven't gotten to them hardly at all. You grab a cardboard toboggan on the way up for a rollicking ride on the way back down to the house. The "space" is empty, there's no siign on the door. Before entering, you look down on the grounds, the yurts and cabins hidden here and there among the trees, the huge rope swing from the ancient elm, the tree house in the stand of oaks. The proud main house with a slightly sinister Addam's family mystique.
You go into the space. Observing the rules, you're silent upon entry to the foyer. You change into one of the sets of plain comfort clothes hanging by the door and proceed into the main area. You really haven't an idea what will happen, but it will happen, and time might even disappear for a while.
Back down to the house for lunch. Whizzing on the cardboard toboggan and into the garden and greenhouse to pick some fresh tomatoes and lettuce for salads and sandwiches. Everyone's inside and you all cook together, laughing and babbling away.
Eating brings talk of the afternoon. You have an article to write for Pangaea's publication. A run needs to be made to town for supplies. There's a mailing that needs to organized to donors and visitor's about the upcoming shows, exhibits, and programs to be offered. Toby, Wright, and Tyler need to get into the highschool to continue their theatre workshop with their students. Patrick needs to go by the local delicacy markets and cafés to get orders for the next week of various delights. The Croth is off to the local planned parenthood clinic for one of her shifts. Becky is meeting with a local sculpter to discuss some of her work and learn about a new layering technique she's been perfecting. Allison is tying up some loose ends in the arrangements for a couple of visiting artists that are coming shortly and then off to the nursery to get some new plants for a terraced garden sculpture she's been working on. She's also meeting up with someone in town to discuss topiary work. She's been thinking of including an animal or two amongst the more natural plants of Pangaea.
Oh, it's a busy busy day, and all this before dinner, cooking and eating together at the massive table built from Pangaea's own trees, then the daily hour in the reading room, talking, reading aloud, listening to records in silence, telling stories, no planning, just creation and enjoying one another's company before bed and another day.
Post a Comment
<< Home