The beast stands but man's intrusions are difficult upon it.
Yucca. My friend.Little does he know but he will be recruited into my battle with my wall critics. I must say that this type of problem-solving is more real and meaningful than any insulated sophistry. There is tangible risk. Each time I approach there is the expectation of some alteration that I have no control over. My ego in checked down. Imagine artists what that might feel like if
everytime you walked into your studio, your work was changed, damaged and alter beyond your control.This is working in real time and real space.
On working on the shared space. The type of space is important. My action of intrusion is important and lends itself to the type of conversation that will ensue. My action finds it roots tied closer to that of street/urban art than land art. There is the sense of the street in the action. My actions are not sanctioned by the state or those that formerly occupy/ied the space. I am a violator in the whole sense, a tresspasser. Am I there to integrate, yes, but I am not asking permission or do I apologize. I work in No Man's Land.
Pure time/space and applied time/space overlap completely on this particular project. The applied time/space refers to the functional moments that I am actively engaged with the project, the making. This is impacted by pure time/space, those moments that act upon the environment, myself included. When I approach the space I have an intuitive sense about its becoming. I first examine the physical opportunties available, while imagining the possibilities for alteration. The space may be in the process of its own natural transtions and this will influence and inform some of my interactions and proposals.
The five photos above are a continuation of the mural piece. " The Three Skaters of the
Apocalypse" is just south of the Dog poem and Garrett Hardin piece which will eventually occupy the whole of the north side of the foundation. The south side will incorporate the skaters, with tagger names on the boards and shirts of the figures as well as a cartoon road to tie them all together. The woman piece is
pre-existing spray can work that I am redesigning, and filling in.
The is the
northside of the berm. To the right of the photo you can see how I have dug down to create elevation. On the right middle, is the pile of dirt from the trench piled creating another berm. If my detractors action continue I have a contingency plan to counter this
latest response. Tomorrow I will rebuild and structurally enhanced the wall. If the counter-response is more destruction, Plan
Norte will begin...
There is an psychological element to this project I did not anticipate. It is the emotion that wells up when I see my work intentionally destroyed. My immediate response is to lash out in anger. I am perplexed by the act that destroys and bythe seeming lack of humor or imagination. It confuses me. I see it as an assault not on me personally, but on things constructive, creative.
My actions, the making are designed to explore "deep" into the spaces we occupy. The digging is meant to expose that which is hidden. The geo-historical secrets are revealed in the stratification of the soil. A repositioning of the self in relation to the surface beckons me to reexamine thoughts of heirarchy, privacy, seclusion, a deeper contact with the soil, immersion into the abyss, the delicate balance between inhalation and suffocation.
...I
restack.
8:30 in the morning I began working at the dig site. I worked for two hours straight, hauling heavy chunks of concrete, stacking, balancing, fitting the piece to build up the wall. After that I continued the digging down on each side of the berm. On the north side, opposite the sitting area and the inscribed surface I dug to a depth of three feet, creating a trench approximately 4 feet long by 3 feet wide. The strategy is to dig down on each side in order to make construction of the wall thicker and more stable and still attaining a desirable height.
I always expect some damage, but this is different. The reaction is the same as to the "beast" sculpture. It was more of an attack as evidenced by the photograph above. The concrete was pulled down and thrown into the northside trench. The message is clear, and my response is crystal. You tear down, I rebuild. You fill, I dig deeper. You approach my work with hatred and intolerance, I will present you with patience and perseverance.
This is my work. One aspect, the digging, has blossomed into active theater. I am communicating over the space, about the space. It has become so contagious, that those now visiting the site are "tagging" into the surface of the site.
In some respect this is a very historical dialogue. One side clings to possessing the space while the other side does not comprehend property rights. Which side I am on, I don't know.
Top facing W,below N toward wall.
The Photo below shows the depth of the trench that is adjacent to the wall I am building. From this view you are facing west with the wall to my right shoulder. In the spine of the inverted "L" trench you can faintly see that I have dug to the depth of the old plumbing. This discovery indicated that I am either in or very near another structure. I am at about four feet here. I occasionally hit the root system of the pepper tree. I intend to keep the main roots intact but may expose them as I dig down. I have worked and lived with pepper trees going on twenty years, and these are by far the hardiest tress in creation. Nearly impossible to kill. So I am not too concerned that my digging will adversely affect the tree's survival. What I am working at in these photos is th attain a suitable depth around the piers, six feet as the new floor, with potential raised seating areas, to carve out and design. Each idea is omly a potential idea. I must contend with unknown factors that alter or completely destroy my initial intent. 
Why the digging? It is a fair enough question that should have a definite origin. The first notion came a spring ago as I prepared by garden for planting. Anyone who has a garden whether as ornamental or a functioning food source knows that the soil needs to be treated , the soil conditioned with compost, maybe the addition of redworms and manure and the dirt finely worked to accepted tender roots. It was then that I became "aware" of a sensual pleasure with my hands in the soil. Digging, working in the soil triggers certain pleasure points in my brain. I wondered if the origin of this pleasure was not genetic. Is the proximity to the soil coupled with the pungent odor of moist manure and the physicality of may hands and arms deep in the soil part of my DNA? It's possible. Both sides of my family are connected historically to the earth. It could be in part what I am. 
