art research

feb 22nd: sun tunnels by lisa waud

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 by lisa waud

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 by lisa waud

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 by lisa waud

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. 


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.

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.


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 o…

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.


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 …

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.


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.

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.


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.

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.


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 (wes…

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.


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.”

feb 11-14: synthesis + sanctuary by lisa waud

day twenty - twenty-four: santa fe quiet time

in santa fe, i was able to take a couple days to lean into some tidying i was hoping to do on this trip. it doesn’t make for terribly interesting journaling, but i will say that i finally got all the random bits of ideas for art installations pulled into one place. i now feel that oxymoronic freedom that comes from being organized. *pan out to the 10,000 foot view: i’m so grateful i could take this trip to experience art and adventure—and to also have the time to synthesize what i’ve seen. it’s rare that i (we?) have the second part.

one afternoon, after coffee with friends carole and bill from michigan, fri and i went on a lovely hike, which was right in town, but after the first 50’ into the trail, you’d never know. it was quiet and beautiful. i wish i had a trail like this in detroit. palmer park and belle isle are close, but it’s a special thing to not hear city sounds for a bit. the dorothy stewart trail had some hills that got me moving, and some icy snow—i was wearing boots with barely any traction, so friday and i worked out a sled dog-type system where he would pull me up the slippery uphills with his pup momentum. we’re quite the pair.

after our hike, i stopped into the thoma art house and was metaphorically electrified by the collection. when i travel to places with muted palettes, i often feel quenched to see bold color and illumination. (this happened when i was in rome and discovered la galleria nazionale.) the collection at thoma features digital works, and i wandered around and drank them in.


one morning, we headed over glorieta pass and through las vegas (las vegas, new mexico, to be clear) to the tiny town of montezuma, to experience dwan light sanctuary. conceived by virginina dwan, friend and funder of many now-iconic land artists, with prism and astronomical art by charles ross, and architecture by laban wingert.

i didn’t know what to expect at dwan light. after the hour drive and navigating the small campus it’s situated on, i was so genuinely pleased to walk up the pine-scented path and into the subdued space. i was the only visitor in the sanctuary and pulled a padded camping chair off the stack provided and reclined on the floor to watch the prisms travel across the room.

my friend dan recently gave me the book ‘the power of moments’ and in the spirit of one of the elements in it—elevating a peak moment by boosting senses—i cued up pachabel’s canon in D quietly in the space and let my heart soar. the song is ubiquitous, sure, but i turned down the self-talk of feeling cheesy, and my memories of the song from childhood and my surroundings.


logistics
heated floors—two of my airbnbs on this trip have had heated floors. it makes for next-level yoga. it’s so choice. if you have the means…

a deeper dive—this vid is quite dated, but includes an interview with the architect of dwan light sanctuary and he talks about some of the elements of the project that i haven’t been able to hear anywhere else in my research.


jan 30th - feb 10th: mark making by lisa waud

days nine - nineteen: the longest stay of my trip—marfa, texas.

adventures
this may read more like stream-of-conscience than a cohesive post, but i’ve just spent 11 days in the desert thinking and looking and listening.

i had long been curious about marfa—a declining west texas desert town infused by artist donald judd’s purchases of many buildings and much land beginning in the early 70s. i was nervous i would be turned off by an overwhelming feeling of high art and high snobbery, but i kept to myself most of my visit, so i did not encounter said fear.

i haven’t spent time in the desert for this long of a stretch before. it’s both smallening and biggening, if you’ll forgive my made up words. to see the horizon everywhere you look—the privilege of space.

my house was something from a dream. a diy shipping container home with heavenly natural light inside and more decks than i knew what do to with all the way around the exterior. i unpacked my art supplies and stacks of notebooks and the dog ran free, quickly learning about “goat’s heads” and other things that stick in paws.

my only social activities were art classes and art tours. i only ate one meal out (pozole). i read whole entire books. friday and i hiked at davis mountains state park in the day and explored marfa at night.

my first art class i took while in town was botanical watercolors at workshops marfa. clara williams taught, and with a gentle and encouraging style. during the class, i thought a lot about how challenging it is for me to slow down enough to notice details. i painted a close-up of a fan palm leaf and had a tiny epiphany (with clara’s steering) about highlights. i also had a larger epiphany, realizing that i’ve messed around with watercolors many times before, and i just don’t love them. and that’s ok. (a few days later, after a tour of donald judd’s art collection, i tasked myself with using up all the watercolor paints i brought in my own ‘homage to the square’ series. and by doing so, realized that on the practice of exploring ideas through repetition: i’m a yes.)

the next morning, i toured “the block,” donald judd’s former home and site of architectural projects and installations. my tour guide, susa, from the judd foundation, was so very lovely, and with her guidance, we explored muted, quiet spaces. no photography is allowed, and i was thankful to be free from my phone. i took notes on a small pad, and it’s already enjoyable to re-read them.

that afternoon, i toured the architecture studio and cobb house, which is where judd displayed much of the art he collected and it has remained. (i questioned: what’s the line between hoarder and artist? i think it’s having enough space to display your lifetime of objects.)

the following day, i took another class from clara—kintsugi. i bought a pitcher and a votive candle holder from the local resale shop, smashed them with a hammer, then pieced them together. absolutely cathartic, and oh! the metaphors abound.

that afternoon, friday and i drove over to a neighboring town, fort davis, on the monday were in marfa. we went on a hike in the state park, and saw some bones—both gathered and in the wild. passing back through the small town on the way home, i stopped for the most delicious chile rellenos…and was also able to purchase 4 pairs of vintage earrings from the resale shop in the front of the restaurant. this should be more common.

the next day, it was back to workshops marfa for a double-header with clara: mark making and portraiture.

in our exploration of mark making, clara encouraged me to think of anything as a paintbrush—natural items or human-made things or even things tied to fingers. that alone was a nice mind-expander…and then we got into crafting brushes. i was enamored with the process of choosing the materials for the brush, handle, and wrap. the objects themselves are perfect items, and then they become a tool once you fill it with paint. the materials, the idea, the shape.

and our portrait class. what a true thrill to learn a new detailed process. like with the watercolor class, i loved the slowing of time to observe distances and shades and angles. i felt deeply connected to the practice, and can see myself doing more portrait drawings simply for the enjoyment.

diving back into the world of donald judd, i took a tour of the chinati foundation. i appreciated the vast space of the former military base, repetition of shapes, the meditative motion of looking at pieces very similar to one another, and as with the west texas landscape in general, the muted colors and volume. we could take photos outdoors, and a captured a few, but i truly love not engaging with a phone for most of a day.

despite the idea of the chinati foundation being a time capsule, sealed up during a specific time when women artists weren’t given much of the spotlight, i couldn’t help but feel slighted on behalf of all the extraordinary women working during the judd heyday. just one woman’s work is at chinati, roni horn’s things that happen again: for a here and a there. i loved her solid copper pieces—they are heavy as hell, a weight usually reserved for male artists.

one tour bonus—i befriended our guide, matt scobey, who later in the weekend showed me his own art and a terrific local art space called z ranch.

friday and i hit davis mountain state park a couple more times, exploring the skyline and old CCC trails, with immense views and botanical delights. i even identified mistletoe growing in the wild—globs of parasitic foliage, that i used to pay WAY to much for at the flower shop during the holidays. and i loved spotting the rock formations that just the day before were referenced as inspiration for robert irwin’s installation at chinati.

one more class with clara—plaster casting. i was slow to warm up to the idea, but once i did, my mind really latched onto the artistic explorations one can experience with plaster. my favorite objects that i made were simple plaster-wrapped branches and a wide stiff cuff for my forearm. after i painted the cuff black with india ink, it reminded me of when i took archery lessons and had to make myself a leather arm guard to avoid intense bruises.

on our last night in town, friday and i walked around marfa under the light of a monstrous full moon. i also created an installation inspired by my time in marfa at z ranch with logistical assistance from matt. it was composed of foraged dried sotul bloom stalks painted with pink spray and wrapped with orange tie-down rope, both of which i found at the local hardware store. i built it by my car headlights after the moon hid behind the clouds, and had to revisit it at dawn to photograph it. i call the piece mark making.

after i photographed my installation during a rainy sunrise, friday and i headed out of town. there was one last sight to see, a half an hour west of town, in valentine, texas. the prada marfa installation. much like bracing myself when i drove into marfa the first day, i was expecting an involuntary eye-roll at this over-grammed site. but, just like my experience in marfa, seeing it in-situ was better than i expected, and i was thankful that people are out in the west texas desert doing things.

logistics
my marfa airbnb—but don’t you dare book it when i want to go back!

music—things are getting weird on the road trip playlist.

jan 27, 28, 29: to go see…if by lisa waud

days six, seven, eight: party at the moontower

i kicked off my time in austin, day six of my trip, with an early 7am class at practice yoga austin. i practice my own yoga at home nearly every day, but it was nice to be in a class. i’ve been working with erica treais-holm in detroit for a while now. we met one of her classes, and then started working together for 1:1s so i could finally understand my recurring injuries and daily practice better. she also helped me develop a daily routine for this trip. i was anticipating driving thousands of miles feeling a little differently on my body than it did 20 years ago when i’d cruise across these united states to portland or olympia during my PNW years.


i’m also working every week day while i’m traveling. i am the experience coordinator for IDEO in detroit, which basically means i take care of the designers that are traveling to detroit to work with ford—i tell everyone where to stay and eat, who they need to know, and what they need to see. my job is to be an ambassador for detroit. i don’t know that i could have designed a more perfect position for myself. when i discussed the possibility of taking this art trip with katie, the woman who brought me into IDEO, her immediate response was to question how she can help make it successful for me. katie is inherently supportive of the direction i’m growing my art career, and understands if i’m inspired, i can inspire our visiting designers. i’m so thankful i found a job i love that gives me freedom and balance to explore what fuels me.


the special thing about my time in austin was my dad was also visiting. if you can believe it, we both planned trips to austin, texas for the exact same dates without knowing the other would be there. wild!


on the morning of my second day, i went to the blanton museum on the campus of U of T. it’s small, but mighty. i noticed more women artists than i usually see in museums—maybe this is their m.o. or maybe, hopefully, this is a slow sea change happening in the art world.

above: thomas glassford, jo baer, frida baranek, cildo meireles. not pictured, but i was enamored with: mary corse

above: thomas glassford, jo baer, frida baranek, cildo meireles. not pictured, but i was enamored with: mary corse

i was so captivated with the collection at the blanton that i nearly forgot the reason i came to the museum—to see ellsworth kelly’s ‘austin’. it was the reason—and i drove myself there, parked the car, paid for admission, stuck my backpack in a locker, and walked out of the museum and up to the door that was so heavy i thought it was locked. i did all those things but i was not prepared for the feeling of being inside. it was muted and soothing. i was nearly paralyzed, and with gratitude to the docent who noticed and engaged with me, i was lead slowly through each simple element with just a bit of background to give me a deeper appreciation of what was experiencing.


as if my first james turrell skyspace weren’t enough back in houston, i scooped up 4 tickets for my dad and our friends annie and heid to see the color inside, the skyspace at U of T in austin. while we were waiting for the daylight to fade and the show to begin, i looked across the oval room and thought i recognized someone. i’m always doing that—going to places where i don’t know anyone and thinking i know everyone. i gave the person one more glance just to be sure, and then i knew i knew him! it was my friend matt that i had worked with 13 years ago at jerusalem garden in ann arbor. unreal!

i’ve been thinking about my recent visits to the two skyspace installations. i appreciate the simplicity of materials and lines, and that the only not simple part of them is the humans within the spaces. a major part of the experience is interacting with other humans—tolerating, ignoring, enjoying, or however you define interacting. in houston, on the upper level, the seating places every body at eye level, with only faces showing, staring in at one another, and thusly, you have choices to make about where to look. in austin, you are in a small room with about 20 other people, and you can hear everything, even whispers.

an interesting place: you are in a beautiful, contemplative space, but you are not alone.


on my last day in austin, i ventured to the contemporary austin’s marcus sculpture park at laguna gloria.

firstly, dog friendly, like EVERYWHERE in austin. but a sculpture garden? fairly rare. what a wonderful way to live—dogs everywhere.

apologies. i digress.

the sculpture park at laguna gloria was a complete joy for someone who consumes contemporary art as voraciously as i do. and again, many women artits. i like this. most notably, at the end of a scruffy path, i discovered my first nancy holt.

time span was installed in 1981, and expresses holt’s interest in human perception, the natural environment, and the passage of time. every april 5th—the artist’s birthday and the date time span was completed—the afternoon sun shines through the wheel to frame a plaque on the ground that is inscribed with the date.

floating on the elation of seeing nancy holt’s work IRL, i drifted around the sculpture park and discovered more clever works.

marianne vitale, common crossings

marianne vitale, common crossings

ugo rondinone, the true

ugo rondinone, the true


on my last evening in austin, i took my first art class of this trip. i learned how to work with alcohol inks from julie pelaez at craft. working with a medium that is so unpredictable and not easily controlled is therapeutic, and dare i say…simply fun. i’ve gotten away from the trap of take-a-workshop then buy-all-the-supplies, but i did, in fact, scoop up everything i needed to continue exploring with alcohol inks immediately after this class. i’ll be honest, on this trip, i am seeking an art practice that i can enjoy without the urge to make things for any reason other than the joy it brings. maybe that’s alcohol inks. or maybe they get their own shelf with all the other art supplies when i get home.

that’s why we explore, right? to go see…if.


logisitcs

food—i LOVED lou’s in austin. former service station (as we know i love), great coffee, otherworldly breakfast tacos, inventive healthy salads, and so very dog-friendly…even for austin standards.

research—i’ll be seeing more nancy holt and more ugo rondinone later this trip if you want to brush up.

jan 26th: 20,000 miles to an oasis by lisa waud

day five: little rock to points south

adventures
after an absorptive day’s journey from nashville through memphis, i arrived in little rock in time to get dinner at three fold noodles + dumplings for my first restaurant meal of the trip—and oh the noodles, the dumplings—then ‘home’ to a lovely airbnb with a fenced yard for friday.

after a superb night’s sleep, the dog and i hopped on the road at sunrise for the long drive to austin through houston. i had hoped to stop for a hike in hot springs national park, but there was some rain following us since nashville so i pointed us south.

the drive was easy. lots of miles but nothing to note. i hit that zone of life on the road.

there was a lot of the anthropocene reviewed podcast. i love how honest and dark john green is, and we’re almost the same age so his cultural references are spot on—and he had a life-changing trip to northern michigan. i give him 4 1/2 stars.

oh, and of course i listened to R.E.M.’s texarkana whilst driving through texarkana, texas.

speaking of texas, just moments after crossing the state line, an unfamiliar feeling came over me. it was the warmth of sunshine. i didn’t realize how long it had been since i felt warm sun on my skin, and i applauded myself for seeking in this winter. i also took a ‘family photo’ and witnessed the misalignment of emotions that the dog and i were feeling. friends with children, i can only imagine this may be a similar and frequent expression of your teenagers?

we finally made it to houston, and it was sunny and there were folks everywhere, it being a sunday afternoon. fri and i joined them on a hike through memorial park and enjoyed moving on our own four/two feet instead of being in the car. when it got closer to the day’s end, i found rice university, and subsequently my very first james turrell skyspace, twilight epiphany.

the light sequence began about 10 minutes before sunset, and a docent greeted everyone—a student at rice who explained it would be 40 minutes long and asked everyone to speak quietly but not to be shy about moving around to see the work from different perspectives. at dusk, the houston’s skyline’s palette was in sync with the lights and i was losing my mind with awe.

after a bit, i moved to the lower level, a sunken middle area where the angle of your vision is greatly reduced and you’re even more fully immersed in the slow waves of light. eventually, i took a wide lap around the exterior of the large courtyard the skyspace is situated in, and i was thrilled in a new way as i wandered and stared at the glowing object.

after JT’s skypace, fri and i hit the road again, this time for austin.

logistics

lodging—my airbnb in little rock was built in 2019, and is called “the layover” which i recommend if you are traveling to little rock. there’s a killer fenced yard and everything is clean and comfortable inside.

music—more songs from the big slab on the ever-evolving road trip playlist.

jan 25th: american history by lisa waud

day four: more mounds + museums

adventures

so it would seem that i’m really into archeological mounds now? who knew! when i left nashville on saturday, i took the long way to memphis and detoured over to pinson mounds state archeological area.

the largest mound, #9 and also known as saul’s mound, had a staircase and platform built on it. i always love a view and a change in perspective, but it felt a little odd to climb up on something pre-historic.

i was pretty smitten with the museum, built in the tradition of the mounds. friday and i explored the park before the museum was open, and didn’t see another soul in our explorations. it was cold and quiet.


an hour west of pinson, i visited the tina turner museum. the museum, set in her childhood blacks-only one-room schoolhouse, is part of the west tennessee delta heritage center. i was struck by the juxtaposition of her glamorous costumes housed in the humble flagg grove school building.

the earrings that tina turner wore in max mad, beyond thunderdome. i mean, DANG those are EARRINGS.

the earrings that tina turner wore in max mad, beyond thunderdome. i mean, DANG those are EARRINGS.


it was another hour into memphis, and before i went downtown, i drove past graceland, just to see the sight.

it was a complete and total shitshow.

this was as close as i cared to get. don’t get me wrong, i love a few elvis songs, maybe even a dozen. but wow. the commerce and traffic of this man’s legacy.


the lorainne motel, where dr. mlk, jr. was assasinated || the memphis sanitation strike of 1968 (NCRM)

the lorainne motel, where dr. mlk, jr. was assasinated || the memphis sanitation strike of 1968 (NCRM)

when i finally made it downtown memphis, i was immediately struck with a connection to the city. unlike nashville (sorry, nashville—it may just have been bad timing), right off the bat i could feel the vibe, and i was into it. it was a saturday, and sunny, and folks were out and there was an energy in the air. friday and i were walking around town and came around a corner and i was stopped in my tracks. it was a feeling that i’d been there before, but i’ve not been to memphis. what it was, was what i was seeing. the lorainne motel. i’d seen it a hundred times before in images—the balcony where dr. martin luther king was shot.

the national civil rights museum of memphis is built around the lorainne motel, and is one of the most moving museum experiences i’ve felt. i learned more in one afternoon than i have in my lifetime. which is embarrassing—and motivating. living in detroit, i am often encountering local black history, but this place’s offerings are on the scale of our nation’s history, and its timelines, movements, and people came into focus for me. i had plans for the remainder of the afternoon, and they all went out the window. taking my time in that museum was one of the most important things i’ve done in a long while.

i want to go back again, and i want to take friends.


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after my time spent at the civil rights museum, the dog and i went for a walk and discovered a WAY cool thing in memphis—big river crossing—a pedestrian bridge across the mississippi river. we walked to arkansas and back.

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after what i already thought was a packed day, i realized i could still stop in to see the stax record museum, fri and i high-tailed it over to SOULSVILLE. i was just in time for a 20 minute movie on the history of stax records (with a little motown shout out thrown in!) and a self-guided tour of the museum.

my visit to stax, paired with my afternoon at the civil rights museum, really has me thinking deeply about american history. there’s a lot to think about, so i’m thankful i have many more miles to go on this road trip. the two thoughts i keep returning to, and i challenge you to as well, are—black history IS american history, and that black history and black culture ARE what make this country great.


logistics

hey—what happened to day three? boring admin tasks and more grumpiness—nothing too interesting. except! if you visit nashville, go to barista parlor in germantown. five stars on the aesthetics and coffee, plus, they play all vinyl all the time. lisielikey, as they say.

music—more mounds, more museum, more music. check the evolving road trip playlist for new additions.

jan 22: serpents + mammoths by lisa waud

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. by lisa waud

robert smithson’s spiral jetty under construction

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.