swoosh

i still have my nike “just do it” poster from my 90s bedroom; and what a concise message that is. little did i know back then—thumbtacking those words into drywall as a teenager—i would become friends with sammi and scott bedbury, who created and built the nike brand during that era.

swoosh!
do you know do you know do you know?
just do it.

i’m thinking about those three words this morning in a couple of ways.

one: i’m officially freeing myself from “needing” to catch up on my land art road trip in this journal before i write about other ideas! nobody cares if i tell you chronologically about my visits to laumier sculpture park and nathan manilow sculture park—and my subsequent fascination with mary miss, right? you’re here and reading this. it’s today, and i’ll get to all of that later. i’m just doing it.

two: in having conversations with sammi and scott about their lives in branding, i’ve been encouraged many times to think about distilling one’s brand into one or two or three words. in the past, doing business as pot + box, i was focused on growing my business, and chose oxygenating as my word. i love(d) that word as my word, and it motivated me when i needed it.

as i move into feeling the foundation of doing business as me, ‘lisa waud, botanical artist’, under my feet, i have been applying much of what i’ve learned in small business to building out a structure of supporting myself while producing public art. almost everyday, i copy and paste my bio and statement for interviews or grant and residency applications without revisiting their meaning. this morning, when i was thinking about writing this post, i realized i have not yet distilled my work down into my word. i paused, re-read my statement out loud to the dog, and rolled some words around in my mind.

the word “transportive” is bubbling up. i want to do work that gives people a hard reset, a pause button. and i want to do work that shares my platform with others who might not have access to share their work. and i want to do work that’s BIG and multi-sensory. so transportive it is.

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so, that’s all i have to say today. i needed to get out from the arbitrary rules that i had in my mind but had no reason to exisit. if you are still with me, and have read this far, thank you.

sometimes i won’t write much here; i might only share inspirational, motivational, and beautiful things. today, i’m doing both. here are some things i like this week:

alberto baraya´s expedition berlin, herbarium of artificial plants

design duo isabel and helen talk us through their handmade contraption that creates “imperfect perfect circles”

from filmmaker alison klayman, a short doc about the work and process of azuma makoto.

feb 22nd: sun tunnels

my voyage to sun tunnels is in my top ten things i’ve ever done. three hours west of salt lake city, i left at 3am to arrive for sunrise. on my drive, i could feel the salt flats all around me, but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. i wove in and out of nevada and back into utah. once i left the paved road, i briefly wondered if i would be able to find nancy holt’s installation. then, suddenly, i saw their hulking silhouettes in the desert landscape. i rolled the car to a stop and stepped out, instantly shivering. i hadn’t thought that it would be so cold.

i watched the sun rise while i circled the two pairs of concrete cylinders, until i was so frozen my legs felt heavy. i get back in the car to warm up and stared at the tunnels, as if i needed to keep an eye on them or they’d get away from me. as the sun rose, the colors of the muted materials changed with the light. i was awestruck.

nancy holt completed sun tunnels in 1976, on 40 acres she purchased in the great basin desert. from DIA: “as holt articulated in 1977: ;the idea for sun tunnels became clear to me while i was in the desert watching the sun rising and setting, keeping the time of the earth. sun tunnels can exist only in that particular place—the work evolved out of its site.; composed of four concrete cylinders that are 18 feet in length and 9 feet in diameter, sun tunnels is arranged in an open cross format and aligned to frame the sun on the horizon during the summer and winter solstices. each tunnel is perforated by a series of holes corresponding to stars in various constellations—capricorn, columba, draco, and perseus—so that shadows cast by the sun through these small apertures into each tube trace the earth’s rotation. the work centers holt’s interest in perception and involves a focus on time—sculpting the sun’s light through the interplay of land and sky, and celestial shifts from day to night.”

minerology

feb 21st: spiral jetty

spiral jetty is perhaps the land art that is most iconic in the movement. built in april 1970 by robert smithson, it was submerged entirely or partially for the first 30 years of its existence, emerging after droughts in utah in the early 2000s. i walked on the salty sand coil and imagined the front end loader bobbling along, with robert directing the 7,000 tons of basalt into place.

feb 16-20th: NM + AZ + UT + NV

from santa fe to salt lake city, my friends isabella and simeon joined me from detroit. we made it to the grand canyon for sunset on our first night all together and then stayed in a cabin up on the border of arizona and utah—where our airbnb host provided us with the most delicious fresh eggs. i’ll never forget those eggs.

we explored zion national park, finally found michael hiezer’s iconic land art ‘double negative’, hit ugo rondinone’s seven magic mountains, cruised the vegas strip, and hiked water canyon with our local hiking expert friend julie.

solid crew.

and that double negative—it really got me. the volume of earth moved. that absence can be a sculpture. really makes a girl want to learn how to run a bulldozer.

feb 15th: star axis

day twenty five: monumental inspiration

star axis is a naked eye observatory near santa fe, new mexico, that artist charles ross has been building for over 45 years. i had the thrill of touring the ‘architectonic sculpture’ with charles and his wife, artist jill o’bryan. star axis is scheduled to open to the public in 2022.

it was requested that no photos be taken at star axis. the photographs in this post are courtesy of the artist. 

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i called jill from the gas station to let her know that i was close, as she instructed me to. i then drove down a paved two-lane road that looked just like every other road i had been driving on in new mexico. at a certain mile marker, i started to look to the left for a two-track i had been told to watch for, and eventually i saw it. passing the cattleguard, i pulled onto the dirt road in my friend’s borrowed 4runner. my stomach was full of butterflies. 

i drove down the rugged two-track wondering if it was the right one, and for what seemed like forever. then i saw a hand-built bridge that i had heard charles talk about in an interview and again my stomach electrified with nerves as i crossed it. i continued on the road until i came to a fork, and looking closely, i saw faded, rusty metal sign that read ‘star axis’. 

i took the fork to the left, as instructed, and combed the high mesa for a clue that i was on the right track. 

and there it was. 

a structure i was so familiar with, but seeing it in person, made me catch my breath. it was thrilling. i stepped on the gas and took the trail around the far side of the mesa until i passed a first, and then second gate. as i began to climb up the muddy incline, i passed the newly finished (and outer space-looking) guest houses and immediately knew that i would come back and stay in them one day. 

the climb grew more steep and more muddy, and i was certain i was going to have to walk all those miles back to the gas station to call my friend to say that i left the 4runner in the mud at star access. but then my childhood growing up and learning to drive on northern michigan country roads kicked in and i confidently made my way over the mud and ice and snow and craggy rocks. 

when i came around the last turn, i saw that a pick-up truck had been in front of me and i knew right away that it was charles. i followed the rusty, dusty truck up the curved hill and star axis came into my vision. 

i parked behind charles‘ truck, and as he opened his door two dogs leapt out from behind him. i stumbled out of the 4runner in my excitement. i couldn’t decide what to give my attention to first—charles, the dogs, or the massive presence of star axis. 

charles introduced himself, pointed at the smaller dog at his side, “this is pi,” and gestured toward the edge of the mesa where the other dog was barking, “and that’s tika." he then invited me to follow him and we walked out on one of the two overlooks of star axis. he accompanied me to the thick granite railing and swept his arm across the entirety of the horizon, explaining “you can see the curvature of the earth ever so slightly from up here.” i was immediately overcome with feeling very tiny in the immense landscape. i could have stood and stared all day, but charles lead us along the overlook until we were at the center of star axis. crossing over the middle, we paused and looked down at the stairs rising up and underneath—the stairs we would climb in a few minutes. we continued on with pi at our side and tiki running wide laps around us, barking, as charles explained that she must hear something out there. he told me that he and jill had found her on the side of the road a few years ago, so weak she was unable to even climb into their truck when they offered her a ride. they loaded her up and took her to the vet and tika had been with them ever since. he said she was a lucky dog that day, to go from seeking out garbage to eating prosciutto on a plane to new york. 

from the star axis site: the solar pyramid is a 55-foot high granite tetrahedron whose form is defined by the summer and winter solstices.

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we walked around the opposite side, down a path framed by thorny shrubs. after descending around to the bottom, we were then at the base of star axis. the massive angled entrance made me very aware of the weight and density of the earth on either side of me. charles pointed out one rough boulder unlike the other smooth flat finished surfaces of the hundreds of other stones, and said he haven’t decided if he was going to leave it like that. i hoped that he would.

we walked slowly toward the base of the stairway and i felt more and more enveloped by the earth surrounding us. 

from the star axis site: the star tunnel is the core of star axis. it is exactly parallel to the earth’s axis and points to our north star polaris. as you climb the ten-story stairway toward the aperture at the top, you see larger and larger views of the sky. each view frames an orbit of polaris for a particular time in the 26,000 year cycle of precession.

the stairs in the star tunnel are dated to identify the years. the smallest orbit of polaris, viewed form the bottom stair in 2100 AD, is about the size of a dime held at arm’s length. the largest orbit of polaris you can see at the top of the star tunnel. It occurs in 11,000 BC and 15,000 AD and encompasses your entire field of vision.

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at base of the stairs, we each ducked into the alcove on either side, looking back the way we came. charles explained that on the solstice, the sun will shine directly down the face of the wall, in perfect alignment.

tika barked, i think in agreement.

from the star axis site: from the equatorial chamber you can observe the sun’s path at equinox and the stars that travel directly above the earth’s equator. the equatorial chamber is located in the entrance to the star tunnel, the core of star axis that is precisely aligned with the earth’s axis and frames our north star, polaris. the equatorial chamber alignments and those of the star tunnel converge at a perfect right angle.

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charles then asked, “well, want to go up?” and we began the 10-story climb, with tika far ahead and pi leading up the rear of our star axis parade. 

halfway up, we stopped to catch our collective breath, and charles stood in the middle of the steps, “if you hold the railings like this,” taking a railing in each of his hands, “it centers you in the very middle of the stairs.” i took his advice, and i felt definitively balanced.

when we got to the top, we each took a side, like we had done in the equatorial chamber. he explained to me that if you sit with you back along the wall, as he demonstrated and leaned back looking up out of the aperture, then you are aligned with the equator, and looking up along the axis of the earth. i mirrored his actions, and felt greatly supported by the bench’s solid angles. 

and i felt as if something a little more than physical may have aligned in me, sitting there with charles.

from the star axis site: the upper room is at the top of the star tunnel. here the rim of the aperture encompasses your entire field of vision and frames the circumpolar orbit of polaris 13,000 years from now.

i looked out of the aperture, imagining the past or future orbit of polaris. what a vision charles had—to build something that will outlive himself, me, and most likely all of humankind. “oh! watch yourself there. we’ve got an owl who likes to perch there, and, err, make some donations…” charles warned me, and thankfully, before i placed my hands in bird poop disguised as mortar. 

nature. always with the last word.

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we descended from the upper room and made our way to the shadow field behind the solar pyramid. as we stood in the winter shade of the structure, charles knelt down and drew a bow tie shape in the earth, explaining that this was the shape the shadow makes over the course of the year. i longed to scoop up the drawing in the dirt; i felt an immense gratitude for this moment i was experiencing with charles.

from the star axis site: the shadow field captures the shape traced by all of the solar pyramid’s daily shadows over the course of the year.

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we then entered the base of the solar pyramid and took some wide block spiral steps up into the hour chamber. charles lead me to a wooden bench (temporarily wooden, soon to be granite) and gestured for me to take a seat. he sat on a bench next to me made of a board on two cinder blocks, which i found endearing. i imagined all the visitors who’d come before me, and sat next to charles, listening and looking.

from the star axis site: from inside the hour chamber, you can view one hour of the earth’s rotation. the north star polaris is framed in the apex of the 15 degree triangular opening. it takes exactly one hour for a star anywhere along the left (west) edge to travel to the right (east) edge.

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as we made our way out, and into the new mexico sunlight, charles asked if i’d like to see his studio and meet jill. i followed him back down the muddy, slippery switchback (SO muddy, SO slippery!) and out both gates, then he motioned for me to park the 4runner and hop in with him. i did, and tika and pi welcomed me into the truck with them.

we rambled up the neighboring mesa, and while confident in my off-road driving, i was quite thankful charles was at the wheel over the cliff-hugging track. we rounded a corner and his solar burn lenses (so familiar to me from reading about his work) were revealed along with the house and both his and jill’s studios.

after i saw charles’ and jill’s studios, i met jill and gave her the 2 jars of overnight oats and 2 tangerines i brought for them, suddenly feeling silly, as if they hadn’t been coming up to star axis for over 40 years with ample breakfast provisions. jill accepted graciously, as well as letting me know how much they appreciated my interest in the project to make the trip.

charles and i walked back outside where the dogs greeted us, and he offered to drive me back down to my borrowed truck. he also offered for me to head back up to star axis to spend some time there alone. i was overcome with gratitude and excitement, and would head back up the mesa to star axis for another hour or so after he dropped me off.

charles pulled up next to the 4runner and thanked me for coming. i reciprocated, thanking him for touring star axis with me. i also asked him, as i was climbing out of his truck, “has your motivation ever waned, over all these years?” and without missing a breath, charles said, “no. never.”

jan 22: serpents + mammoths

day one: friday and i set off early from detroit to battle semi trucks and car haulers as the sun came up through the window of our trusty vessel, a green VW GTI known as ‘the cocoon.’ (thanks to eileen at aura aura for the name!)

adventures
stop one was serpent mound in adams county, ohio. this made the list—and was a perfect kick-off to this art research trip—after i read that serpent mound was inspiration for robert smithson’s spiral jetty. i was unprepared for how moved i would be by this millennium-years old effigy. (sounds obvious that would when i type that, but that’s why we seek things out IRL, right?) of course, being the a-hole i am, i loved the typo on the sign, but just repeat it a few times and tell me you don’t love it too— “these ancient sacred mound. these ancient sacred mound.” and i LOVED the observation tower in itself. rickety, a little terrifying, and perspective-altering. the very center of my venn diagram.

stop number two was mammoth caves national park. just like serpent mound, mammoth was very quiet with only herds of confident and curious deer and very few humans. fri and i walked the green river bluffs trail and i was SMITTEN with the moss-covered stones everywhere. we discovered the historical entrance to the caves and i could feel the intensity of being beneath the earth even walking up to the locked gate 50 yards underground. the cold wind blowing from within was quite disconcerting to the dog, and we sprinted up the stairs with adrenaline pumping.

logistics
music—during this adventure, i’m building a road trip playlist inspired by my explorations and adventures if you’d like to sing along in the car with me.

dietary note—thus far, i prefer michigan jerky to kentucky, which i find too salty, too thin.

jan 22: here we go.

robert smithson’s spiral jetty under construction

this morning, i’m leaving for an art research trip around the US, with a focus on land art. i’m calling this my self-directed mobile artist residency, and i’ll cover over 7,000 miles before i arrive home, back in detroit.

i don’t know exactly what i’m looking for, but i’ll find it.