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(My) F A R M E R ‘ S W I S D O M

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 12:00 am on Friday, January 1, 2010
– F O R –
– G E O R G E  G I R V I N —
actually, when I found this, and redrafted it, I’d thought:
dedicated to my ol’ farmer pop, too.
love you, daddo.

T H E
A D V I C E
O F  A N  O L D
F A R M E R

———-

———————————————————
Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.

Keep skunks and bankers at a distance.

Life is simpler when you plow around the stumps.

A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.

Words that soak into your ears are whispered…not yelled.

Meanness don’t jes’ happen overnight..

Forgive your enemies; it messes up their heads.

Do not corner somethin’ that you know is meaner than you.

It don’t take a very big person to carry a grudge.

You can’t unsay a cruel word.

Every path has a few puddles.

When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.

The best sermons are lived, not preached.

Most of the stuff people worry about ain’t never gonna happen anyway.

Don’t judge folks by their relatives.

Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

Live a good, honorable life.. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll enjoy it a second time.

Don’t interfere with somethin’ that ain’t bothering you none.

Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a Rain dance.

If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.

Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.

The biggest troublemaker you’ll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin’.

Always drink upstream from the herd.

Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.

Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in.

If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of some influence, try orderin’ somebody else’s dog around..
Don’t pick a fight with an old man. If he is too old to fight,he’ll just kill you.

Live simply ~ love generously ~ care deeply ~ speak kindly ~ leave the rest to God.
And remember:

W H E N  Y O U  Q U I T
L A U G H I N G
Y O U  Q U I T  L I V I N G

Ravening | A love of the Crow’s Family

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 4:00 am on Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Those of us that have been around…crows, rooks, ravens, jays, magpies and jackdaws.

Have known and loved the raven, and family, in all manifestations for years. Why now, would there be such renewed and continuing enthusiasm about the crow — which, familial to the smartest bird group in the world — is essentially a black bird. For me, it’s a continuing saga that goes way back, so a love of this family is nothing even remotely new. But the saga of the raven — literally, the legend — is indeed something that goes back, thousands of years.

Perhaps, in opening, the real point is about the beauty of black — which, also for me — is a favored garment of color; it’s the easiest to travel in. Wear black, and you can go anywhere, forever. Same with Corvids, I’d guess. And surely they do — arising early in the morning, flying in dispersal from the rookery (and that’s everywhere in the world that I’ve been) to returning home, to roost, just approaching the darkening evening. I see it. I watch it. I wait for the call — the coming; and I wait for the departing — and watch them go home.

What I’ve been noticing, as well, that the raven people ( a group of ravens as you know is a “storytelling”) — a storytelling of raven’s (people) are collecting. You’re finding them online — and twittering in. I’ve gotten, recently, a reach from the team at SeattleCrows - the twitter link. And, really, this is about a crow counting event attached to the University of Washington, here. There’s a link, there, to the CrowCamera, documenting the hatching of eggs — meanwhile, apparently, the Mother Crow stays, while the fledglings have fled (Vancouver, BC) — there’s advertising by Iams, for “healthy dogs”, too. More than 5,000 views, and — all told — 3313 hours, 32 minutes, people watching crows on the CrowCamera.

Why, yet again, would I write another piece, aside from the numerous added crow and raven imagery that I’ve gathered (pretty much all the time)? Just because it keeps popping up. And, this weekend, there’s more on the crow, the planet of crow, in Crow Planet, as reviewed in the NYTimes.

Liesl Schillinger writes about the newest contributor to the storytelling of raven | crow…Lyanda Lynn Haupt, who comments on the kind of passion that seems to relate to the birds, like ‘em, or hate ‘em. “Like human beings, Haupt explains, crows are one of the “few prominent, dominant, successful species” that prosper in the modern world. Their hardiness means they will outlast more fragile ¬species. Before we revile them, she suggests, we ought to understand that there are so many of them because there are so many of us. Because we have built, they have come, and crows and humans today must coexist in the “zoöpolis,” the “overlap of human and animal geographies.”

For me, the study of the bird is something that pretty much goes on all day; it’s the number one distractor for me, standing and working in the office, then, as well, being in other parts of the planet. On and on; keep looking, and it goes on. Here’s where I look, have looked, and have written, on the storytelling of ravens, the murder of crows, the band of jays, a charm of magpies, a clattering of jackdaws. All of them, smart, attentive, playful.

But what I really focus on is: attention. Paying attention. There’s the biggest learning for me. Watching them. Watching us.

Write, here — to my measure:
Crows seeing people.
Personal bird brands.
Ravens, Himalaya.
Ravened, stone.
Tim+Raven
Raven’s storytelling, grouped.

One day, you’ll get it. Them.
Pet one, maybe.

tsg
….
GIRVIN | S E A T T L E: moved
our new address

121 Stewart Street | 212 | 98101
http://blog.girvin.com/?p=2961

Calligraphy on the wind

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 6:28 am on Sunday, August 16, 2009

Notes on installations, surprise and the awakening of beauty, discovered.

I’ve written about the idea of poetry on the wind, words that gesture to an impression, that tied to a string, written on handmade paper or the stock of recycled paper bags, flutter and turn in the breeze.

For me, that fluttering bespeaks leaves, that are turning; and in the etymology of the word, liber — the foundational character of the library, tells, from circa 1374, from Anglo-French, going back in time: librarie, then from Old French: librairie “collection of books,” noun use of adjective — librarius “concerning books,” from L. librarium “chest for books,” from liber (libri) “book, paper, parchment,” originally “the inner bark of trees,” probably a derivative of the Proto Indo European base *leub(h)- “to strip, to peel”. The idea of leaves, books, trees of knowledge, branches of thought, is a familiar range of allegory. And there are surely deeper levels of symbolism.

Traveling in Bhutan, Tibet, Mongolia — you can see the prayer flags, from the broad plains of Mongolia, to the high windswept passes of Tibet, to the monastic Dzhongs of Bhutan, the prayer evocations breathe blessings.

But I’m curious about creating discoveries — things that people find, that are just a moment of surprise.

That could be a cairn, aligned just right, on a mountain path.

Or that could be an arrangement of branches, beachside.

Or something standing in a way that perhaps it shouldn’t, or couldn’t be.

Surprise takes one out of oneself, to surveil something in a new way — an abrupt contemplation.

So these WindWords do that. They flutter, looking like leaves, and then there’s the realization of something on them, that then is something more: writing. This too, is something more — yet another deepening in exposure. To a new vision — a momentary reflective insight. Placing these things, I like to study the reaction of people, coming by. And they do just that. Stop for a moment. Talk about it. Then perhaps, move on — changed, in the instant.

I tear up old paper bags, fold the top end, curl it back, and punch a hole, leaving an opening for twine. Wind, rain, sun, the salty sea — each has an effect, the aging of the object. And that aging is as much to the beauty of them than anything. Eventually, they dissolve, break apart, fall away. And they are gone. Perhaps some number of weeks, in wintering storms, or months, in the calmer seasons.

Someone asked me, sometime back, why didn’t I write a book? About what, I ponder? And I believe, in a way, that it’s more to the notion of what could I contribute, meaningfully, to writing something, rather than pushing it out in some massed theorem. What could I contribue that could be meaningful? Something beauty full, I’d surmise. That would be what I could offer.

More beauty.

All ways.

tsg
Twitter: http://twitter.com/tgirvin
….
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truth: http://www.tim.girvin.com/
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blogs:
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Crows, seeing people; people seeing crows

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 4:00 am on Monday, August 10, 2009

The recollection of a face, reflections on corvid recognition.

I’d offer this: these days, there’s more interest in the corvid population than ever before. Why? Because we’ve all learned about the degree of intelligence that is connected with the family. And somehow, there’s some disconnection from an earlier proposition that perhaps the corvid clan of birds are inherently linked to evil.

Now, there’s a positioning that actually the “renegade raiders” are something that are more interesting, worthy of study, and less so to the issue of rampant garbage gatherers. Being a person that is seen as a corvid champion, people are frequently reaching to me, with yet another story. The idea of corvids having an extraordinary recollection of facial characteristics is fascinating — especially given our challenges in recalling visages. That story, here. That’s one year ago. Now, back again: here’s something to the notion of following faces — even chasing them down (forever), here.

Try it yourself, here: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111040421

Doesn’t stop there, of course. Rooks work out other forms of challenge recognition, like classical puzzles, shown in this story: One of Aesop’s fables may have been based on fact, scientists report.
“In the tale, written more than 2,000 years ago, a crow uses stones to raise the water level in a pitcher so it can reach the liquid to quench its thirst. Now a study published in Current Biology reveals that rooks, a relative of crows, do just the same when presented with a similar situation.”

And, wouldn’t you know — there’s more in line with the thinking here, exploring the bird brains:

SEE ALSO
Rooks reveal remarkable tool-use

26 May 09 | Science & Environment
Meet the brains of the animal world
07 May 09 | Science & Environment
Clever crows are caught on camera
04 Oct 07 | Science & Environment
Cleverest crows opt for two tools
16 Aug 07 | Science & Environment
Magpie ‘can recognize reflection’
19 Aug 08 | Science & Environment
Rooks team up to solve problems
31 Mar 08 | Science & Environment

I’ve linked up plenty in the past, just to the space of personal reflections. My beginnings, with the crow, ravened class. There are other Girvin tellings, of the love of the bird — a personal brand icon, perhaps. Adventuring. Ravening, inspirations. Crows at TED, perhaps one of the most sophisticated forums on design, technology and entertainment in the world. There, to the mere opening, crow|twitter sites. That’s good to know, the community has cawed to another form of quork, like these: ACrowCity; Seattle Crow Project, Crow reports, Crow sightings, Crow Planet, or Crow Society.

Super hip, crows.

tsg
….
Ravens | love | humans:
http://curiousexpeditions.org/?p=361
reel: http://www.youtube.com/user/GIRVIN888

blogs:
http://blog.girvin.com/
http://tim.girvin.com/Entries/index.php

communities:
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D R E A M I N G

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 8:45 pm on Sunday, July 12, 2009

I was taking a rest, after a long week — a contemplation: and things came to mind that recalled the journeys that have been, and what new emergences shall be. And those dreams were deepening, in the meaning — the meditation on making — and the creative spirit that can be unbound, in reflection.
…..

D R E A M I N G


Sometimes, in the work of the week
you stretch back to the weekend
which might not be the end.

there will be more.

It might be the beginning
of more work, to find the right
full balance of things that have

that sparkle in the imaginings

perhaps out of balance, as you work
harder, but perhaps not righter.
What I know is that I’m looking

the right balance

for that, the write, full — the better
balance in my life, that is

creatively passionate. And so I am

scenting on light, the wild rose

drawn into the dream time, some rest
on that afternoon, in which I
traveled, to places that I have

ancient places, that tell some story

been, and places that I’ve not been to,
before; and this grouping of

things that comes before my

the one thing right, for that moment

minds eye, that takes me to that
other dream full space, where
those ideas
are newly discovered
.

moon aligned, on a stone some centuries back

Going back, I’m going forward.
And I’m finding, in going back,
and seeking that, the word

and I’m crossing the crossroads, miles in the air, mind

before, the foreword, which
brings me to seeing things anew,

the present. And that is…

the love of things rich, wonderful, real

a present. Gift, now.
…..

that could be that one thing found, gifted — the moment.

Imagery from my dream(s) and
what shall continue to unfold.

tsg
….

What I wonder about: personal brands, icons and totems

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 5:26 am on Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Why does Tim Girvin love crows and ravens?

Some people have equated the raven as being something inextricably linked to me — my personal brand. That is, when people see something on the raven, or the crow, they presume that I know about it, or should. And they tell me about them, of course. And yes, out there, I know there are others that are captivated by the raven’d compulsion, endlessly fascinating they are.

“Say, did you hear that story about the Raven starting up a bulldozer and driving through the shopping mall?”
“Hey, my Mother was tracked by Ravens for years — finally, she moved to Australia. Then they found her there, too.”
“Man, a Raven called my name — I’m not kidding.”
“Hi, I’m from the Crow tribe, I’m 15% Native…”

All are interesting of course.

With all the talk about the concept of the personal brand — or what Girvin calls the Human Brand — the concept of linking forces of nature to your personal state of being is merely additive to what one would hope would be the robust character of your personality. And your brand.

It’s recognizing a deepening sense of relationship to the phenomena of another world — one which perhaps you’ve forgotten. Why then, might you consider that a personal brand might have something that relates to the spirit of nature — or a force — in reckoning, from it? I’d suggest that it’s about reaching deeper in the psyche of who you are, and what elements might be part of your persona, expressed in the learnings and exposure to — and from — the world around us.

Why then, the Raven for me? It goes back decades to my childhood — and it is not ever initiated as something to the notion of the personal brand — rather, it’s about story. Persona(l) story told — in a sense of significant retelling. Only because they’re the smartest birds on the planet. My thinking, to the international state of mystery, fear and revulsion? They’ve been reviled because they are so hyper-intelligent. And, being black winged yet simultaneously “rainbowed”, their feathers like the oiled rainbows of fuel in water, they’re more magic than others. Looking at you, rather than in your general direction.

Of course, beyond beauty and suspense, mystery and imagination — there are the facts (happily gathered by friend — and apparent fellow corvidophile — Nils Von Veh.)


Temple ravens | New Dehli, India

Minds of Their Own: Birds Gain Respect
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9E0CE6DF123BF932A35751C0A9639C8B63&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=all


Raven banners | Katherine Eaton Skinner studios, Capitol Hill, Seattle

Crows as Clever as Great Apes, Study Says
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/12/1209_041209_crows_apes.html


Drubbing the national emblem, crow and eagle (Photo by Robert Girvin, Tacoma)

Birds team up to solve food puzzle
http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn13544-birds-team-up-to-solve-food-puzzle.html


Imperial vistor, Palace view, from the window sills of the Palace Hotel, Tokyo (Photo by Dawn Clark, AIA LEED®ap)

Ravens– Discover the Brainpower of the Bird in Black
http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/ravens/discover-the-brainpower-of-the-bird-in-black/1507/


Raven raver — Fremont, Seattle, as photographed by Cynthia Hall.

Call me “bird brain”
http://neurophilosophy.wordpress.com/2007/02/05/call-me-bird-brain/


Raven compositing, as documented by John Gallone, Portland

Meet the brains of the animal world

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8023295.stm

Other Girvin contemplations, Raven called Bhutan
http://tim.girvin.com/Entries/?p=722


Meditations on Raven, stone drawn
http://tim.girvin.com/Entries/?p=347

I believe, along with others, that the spirit of the animal — the natural world — is one that is rife with the richness of living, in human experience, in harmonious connection with the force, in focus, nature.

caw|caw|caw…

tsg with the Ravens, Bumthang, Bhutan


Dawn Clark AIA, LEED AP

Roxy Paine | Steel Arborist | Maelstrom Maker

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 7:26 am on Friday, May 1, 2009


Librado Romero/The New York Times

I love trees. 

That’s obvious, given at that I have written dozens of blogs that have something to do with the spirit of trees.

And I’ve written about Roxy Paine, too. 

But, being a designer, my love of trees is really about the extraordinary character of how they work. I won’t get into a long-winded overview of that. But I do marvel at how they seem to be designed to organically fill the space — like a rhythmically expanded vortex, they flow out to fill the measure of light and “fullness”.  

I think that Roxy’s work does that. 

Ken Johnson notes, in the NYTimes, “An awesome spectacle awaits visitors to the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Cantor Roof Garden, which opens for the season on Tuesday: a gnarly thicket of trees and branches extending 130 feet from one end of the open-air deck to the other and rising 29 feet overhead. It looks as if a tornado had ripped through Central Park and deposited its gleanings here. Except the thicket is made of shiny metal rods and pipe: some 10,000 pieces weighing more than seven tons and ranging from three-eighths of an inch to 10 inches in diameter, with larger trunk sections made of rolled plate. It’s as though all that wood had been transformed by a Midas with a stainless-steel touch.” 

These days, I’m not in NYC as much as I’d like to be. In 2007, I was there, working at Girvin | NYC, pretty much half time. In 2008, more like 40% of the time. So far this year, I’ve spent more time out of both offices than ever before, in a melange of places. Nationally, and internationally, I’ve been all over. From Miami to Madison, from London to Dubai. But being there earlier, I was exposed to Roxy’s installations near our offices, next to Madison Park. 

Looking at these, at night, I gazed upward — steel, the tower, to the stars. 

If you’re there, check it out. And I will, too. 

tsg
—-
E x p l o r i n g   t h e  s o u n d  o f  t r e e s :  m e r a p i
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The Exploration of Personal Ritual

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 3:45 am on Saturday, April 11, 2009

Getting to the soul of things.

What is a thing?

I’ve wondered about that. A thing.

thing

O.E. þing “meeting, assembly,” later “entity, being, matter” (subject of deliberation in an assembly), also “act, deed, event, material object, body, being,” from P.Gmc. *thengan “appointed time” (cf. O.Fris. thing “assembly, council, suit, matter, thing,” M.Du. dinc “court-day, suit, plea, concern, affair, thing,” Du. ding “thing,” O.H.G. ding “public assembly for judgment and business, lawsuit,” Ger. ding “affair, matter, thing,” O.N. þing “public assembly”). Some suggest an ultimate connection to PIE root *ten- “stretch,” perhaps on notion of “stretch of time for a meeting or assembly.”

What I ponder is the concept of the thing as a notion of time, as alluded to above. And, as we consider it, the thing is a point of contemplation — that stretch, that moment, when reflection takes place. And, it’s about the object — the thing that is held. And the meaning, in memory.

object

1398, “tangible thing, something perceived or presented to the senses,” from M.L. objectum “thing put before” (the mind or sight), neut. of L. objectus, pp. of obicere “to present, oppose, cast in the way of,” from ob “against” + jacere “to throw”

And, in the sensing of the thing, the object, in the arrangement of time, and the placement of the thing, it can be formed as something more meaningful. That is imbued with meaning. And I meditate on the object, the thing, as something more. Something that is transformational, something that, in action and contemplative rippling, becomes some thing different. It deepens. It is infused, in the conception of ritual.

ritual

1570, from L. ritualis “relating to (religious) rites,” from ritus “rite” (see rite). The noun is first recorded 1649. Ritualistic first recorded 1850.

Which, in turn, is rite.

c.1315, from L. ritus “religious observance or ceremony, custom, usage,” perhaps from PIE base *re(i)- “to count, number” (cf. Gk. arithmos “number,” O.E. rim “number”).

This is the ritual, the rite, the counting of the days and the passage of things, newly imbued with content and meaning. Anything can be there. It’s up to you.

And this is about meaning. And the newly finding of it. The meaning in the thing, the rite of the object.

mean

O.E. mænan “to mean, tell, say, complain,” from W.Gmc. *mainijanan (cf. O.Fris. mena, Du. menen, Ger. meinen to think, suppose, be of the opinion”), from PIE *meino- “opinion, intent” (cf. O.C.S. meniti “to think, have an opinion,” O.Ir. mian “wish, desire,” Welsh mwyn “enjoyment”), probably from base *men- “think.” Meaningful first attested 1852.

Being with my girlfriend, we explored the idea of ritual, in lamenting, in memory, the decade old passing of her sister. And it was her idea to create a place in which this passing could be memorialized — or newly observed, in formality. Finding, then, the form of content.

Her idea was to acknowledge in a manner of her own devising, but something that gestured to our experience together in Bhutan, exploring the monasterial spaces of that extraordinary kingdom, we witnessed the rituals of smoke and oblation.

And she envisioned creating something similar, like the Bhutanese stupa-like altar and fume platform.

The smoke, said over prayers, sends those offerings skyward. So too, her idea and inspiration — for inspiration, as well, is of the breath.

inspiration

c.1303, “immediate influence of God or a god,” especially that under which the holy books were written, from O.Fr. inspiration, from L.L. inspirationem (nom. inspiratio), from L. inspiratus, pp. of inspirare “inspire, inflame, blow into,” from in-”in” + spirare “to breathe” (see spirit).

And, too, the infusion of spirit.

c.1250, “animating or vital principle in man and animals,” from O.Fr. espirit, from L. spiritus “soul, courage, vigor, breath,” related to spirare “to breathe,” from PIE *(s)peis- “to blow” (cf. O.C.S. pisto “to play on the flute”). Original usage in Eng. mainly from passages in Vulgate, where the L. word translates Gk. pneuma and Heb. ruah. Distinction between “soul” and “spirit” (as “seat of emotions”) became current in Christian terminology (e.g. Gk. psykhe vs. pneuma, L. anima vs. spiritus) but “is without significance for earlier periods” [Buck]. L. spiritus, usually in classical L. “breath,” replaces animus in the sense “spirit” in the imperial period and appears in Christian writings as the usual equivalent of Gk. pneuma. Meaning “supernatural being” is attested from c.1300 (see ghost); that of “essential principle of something” (in a non-theological sense, e.g. Spirit of St. Louis) is attested from 1690, common after 1800. Plural form spirits “volatile substance” is an alchemical idea, first attested 1610; sense narrowed to “strong alcoholic liquor” by 1678. This also is the sense in spirit level (1768).

In any object, a thing, there is spirit — and translating spirit, in intention, brings one to a point of contemplation.

To that rippling and outreach to manifestation, we built this, together. Grabbing the right stones and arranging them on the beach — then hauling them up the cliff, to this vista.

And this modeling, in balance.

And the beginnings of the fire, finding the beauty of the transition from solid, to fire, to fume, to prayers and contemplations, born on the wind.

Fire is the translation, it’s the alchemy of transformation — and, in my thinking, fire is about the beauty of the story, the hearth, the spirit in translation — meanwhile, the moon wheels in the heart of the very opening of this notation — movement, in time, passage, in contemplation.

In feeding the fire, in contemplation, there is a meditation on the self (less) and the nature of time in the passing of all things, as we know them. Every thing goes.

And that moment, the thinking on the thing, the translation of the object, takes you from the one place to another place, that is infused with wonder, reflection on your place in rite, and the beauty in mystery.

c.1315, in a theological sense, “religious truth via divine revelation, mystical presence of God,” from Anglo-Fr. *misterie (O.Fr. mistere), from L. mysterium, from Gk. mysterion (usually in pl. mysteria) “secret rite or doctrine,” from mystes “one who has been initiated,” from myein “to close, shut,” perhaps referring to the lips (in secrecy) or to the eyes (only initiates were allowed to see the sacred rites). The Gk. word was used in Septuagint for “secret counsel of God,” translated in Vulgate as sacramentum.

And beauty passes on, as the moon spins through the heavens — time, transiting, ever — to a new view of things.

I offer only one thing, to the nature of the rippling story above. Take that time, to be there — go in, and see what you can find, in the metamorphosis of meaning.

Take time.

For your self.

O.E. self, seolf, sylf “one’s own person, same,” from P.Gmc. *selbaz (cf. O.N. sjalfr, O.Fris. self, Du. zelf, O.H.G. selb, Ger. selbst, Goth. silba), P.Gmc. *selbaz, from PIE *sel-bho-, from base *s(w)e- “separate, apart”.

tsg
—-
E x p l o r i n g m y s t e r y :
http://tim.girvin.com/Entries/?p=712

Tim Girvin | d e c a t u r i s l a n d

The Desert | Mystery Sought…

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 5:55 am on Sunday, March 22, 2009

I have longed for the desert, since I was a child. I’d asked my Mother, after seeing LAWRENCE OF ARABIA, to learn the theme on the piano, so she could play it over and over. And when we sat together, at the piano, the cascades of memory in sound, the long sliding compositions of those strokes would forever beckon to the recollections of those notes, in sequence of story in theme.

Never forgotten. Never shall.

So, being in the UAE, I’d savored the idea of returning to the true desert, to be out in the night sky, experiencing that — the silence, the bold sweep of heaven, in that state of contemplation.

That, really, wasn’t to be. In reality, the desert was aswarm with camps — gas-powered generators and Arabian music flowed through the night — the stars were distant, the moon, while full, was hazy and blurred by the array of klieg-lights on the horizon. Still, I got out there, closer to the heart of my dream of the desert. These were intimacies — they were moments.

And in anything, that is what to look for, the moments.

Dozens of Toyota Landcruisers churned the dunes, their headlights bobbing erratically, as they plowed through the swish of road channels, directed, afar to the city of Dubai. Even getting out that far, was a strange melange of meandering — because roads were built, roads were closed, construction varying states of resolution — and so, rather than simply consult the map and re-tune the sojourn, the troupe of desert cruisers would simply drive off the road, crossing the desert, to eventually get to another.

I will find my way back to the heart of the dark and silent desert. Still, in my own meditation, I got out, past the blasting camplights, to find the night, and the heart — of my heart — in the silence of the cool sands, of the empty-quartered desert, night fallen.

Some of those contemplations are here:

The dust-storm from Saudia Arabia

Sunsetting, the observant camel

Facing, east — out to nothing, except for one

The shadow of camels, caravanned

Ridge running, the dunes

My feet, dunes edge

The rippling sea

It was merely that, a beginning. More to come, surely.
Wishing well, in any adventures.
…..
tsg | dubai | UAE

The nest: an installation

Filed under: Diary — Tim at 6:18 am on Monday, March 2, 2009

The beginning, forming the nest.

I’ve written about creating an installation — actually, many installations and placements — over time.

Dawn Clark (http://dacarc.wordpress.com/) and I built a nest — woven of sticks that we found on the beach. One week later, two weeks later, it’s still there, but it’s moved; it simply lifted up, and drifted to another location. Three weeks out — it’s moved again. Things come and go, and by the time I return the next time, some weeks from now, it will likely be moved again. Another time, in transition.

The woven nest:

Nests, since my childhood, have been a fascination. And that fascination has continued. http://blog.girvin.com/?p=1606, the Bird’s Nest of Beijing — some observations and historical references for me, baskets and the overlay of idea(l)s. And sharing a love of nests with Eartha Kitt — another lover of nests: http://tim.girvin.com/Entries/?p=328; or the poetic implications, the meditations on the nature of the nest, the weaving interplay of life and wonder: http://tim.girvin.com/writings/fall.html. And passage, the Fall.

The contemplation is about the interlaying of forms, energy, beauty — and the meditation on that symbolism. And the formation, was about that weaving, the interplay of found, interwoven beach found objects:

To any word, it’s worth exploring meaning and context:

nest (n.)
O.E. nest “bird’s nest, snug retreat,” from P.Gmc. *nistaz (cf. M.L.G., M.Du., Ger. nest), from PIE *nizdo- (cf. Skt. nidah “resting place, nest,” L. nidus “nest,” O.C.S. gnezdo, O.Ir. net, Welsh nyth, Bret. nez “nest”), probably from *ni “down” + *sed- “sit.” Used since M.E. in ref. to various accumulations of things (e.g. a nest of drawers, early 18c.). The verb is O.E. nistan, from P.Gmc. *nistijanan. Nest egg “retirement savings” is from 1700, originally “a real or artificial egg left in a nest to induce the hen to go on laying there” (1606).
nestle (v.)
O.E. nestlian “build a nest,” from nest (see nest). Figurative sense of “settle (oneself) comfortably, snuggle” is first recorded 1547.

To get to this section of beach, below the house, involves climbing down a cliff — we did that with a shoulder bag of tools, to cut and form the array the timbers, sticks and branches. Finding a grouping of stones, and then expanding the nest as a weaving around that substructure, we built and wove the collection of sticks and branches that had washed up on the shoreline.

And looking down from the cliff, out to the sea, the nest resting on the shore.

That night, we returned, as the water arose, to shoot the nest, and set fire to the heart of the installation.

From there, the following morning, we waited on the incoming tide — and the nest arose in the water, still holding its shape, arising from the stone base, and floated away.

The following day, adrift.

That installation, still holding, has continued to move around the rocky shoreline.

Weaving, symbolically, is about the layering of forms, above and below — the loom of ideas, creates the tapestry of experience. And, in the spirit of ideas, and ideals, I visualize them as being woven, layers of sentiment that form around the heart of an idea. Or an ideal. Or a dream.

Nest from the cliff, near the memorial cairn.

Beauty fullness.

Wonder, I do, about the weaving of things.

What’s nest, next?

tsg | decatur island

—-
Exploring community, storytelling
and relationships | the Human Brand:

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