by Tim Girvin | Dec 21, 2010 | Diary
In the distance of the night, and the earliest morning, some time in the crossing from one day to another. I was just up. I thought to look at the eclipse, but there were clouds and the raining movements covered the shadowed line. I was thinking about what could be...
by Tim Girvin | Dec 20, 2010 | Diary
NOW, out there, the winds rip and ring the shore like cold waves, rippling. There is a sound in the trees, the waterline that is a rushing fury, I can hear it close, and I can hear it far — out there, up above, across the sounding body of water. The air is...
by Tim Girvin | Dec 19, 2010 | Diary
Being in New Mexico, climbing mesa, reaching out to the tall sky, looking out to the distance horizon, I stacked the measurement of the moment. That idea of creating something — a memento of the moment, stacking stones in the hand, they are the semblance of...
by Tim Girvin | Dec 19, 2010 | Diary
The world mantel and the heaven tent: the canopy of the sky When I was in college, I’d written a paper on the idea of cosmography in architecture — (kosmos + graphos, from the Greek) the idea that architecture is something — a design process —...
by Tim Girvin | Dec 18, 2010 | Diary
THE LADDER As I study the old adobe structures, that look like boulders and slumped stone, polished in the winds and sun of the ranges of New Mexico, the plains that bake in the clearest, azure skies — there’s a contrast to the brilliant blue and the heavy...
