30 maj 2011
vi tuggar och har roligt uti oslo (kan läsas melodiskt a la fred åkerström). det kan också
läsas i retrospektiv, ty nu tillbringas all vaken tid på skolan uti oslo.
chewing and laughing and celebrating birthdays. that was a few weeks ago. now the course
deadline is coming up and i'm enjoying the sun through a window.
28 maj 2011
my immediate passion for arcosanti still puzzles me. it was strong. not logical. there we
were, set aside from the world for a while. i believe the affection arose by us being there,
right in that moment, with our common experience in the group. our tentative steps at first,
followed by curious voices. a slow accustomization to the place. in the end habituating a
roof that no one else showed interest in. a part of a larger structure that we shared with
people we'd never met before. spaces inseparable from oneanother and the surrounding
grounds. giving an impression of evolving of its own through natural growth.
spontaneously and unplanned. an infrastructure, physically appropriating as little of the
earth as possible, still claiming the whole valley in the attempt.
25 maj 2011
today. the strongest emotions so far. we turned off the main road through cordes junction,
onto a dusty desert road that made the bus driver swear. we got off and approached a
village we knew by the name arcosanti. wrapped concrete structures clung on to a rocky
edge of a valley. bells of bronze were ringing in the wind. a dramatic view intensified by
the red sun. where were we supposed to go? - to the dorms, said someone.
paths, stairs, terraces, levels. domes, arcs, circles. spaces in the earth. concrete,
concrete, concrete. and the desert views. new unfamiliar spaces, almost sacred, still human.
it felt used. it felt abandoned. small sounds from a piano. why was i so touched?
intoxicated by architecture? by that evening sun? by the desert? students in perplexity,
cameras in our hands.
we walked into a lit up dining hall. a concrete structure in golden glory when hit by that
red sunlight. a tall squared room with large circular openings that allowed our gaze to drift
out. allowed the desert to come inside. there we sat around lit up tables. had organic food
among the indwellers. i was amazed and delighted. dusk was falling fast. went exploring in
the dark. a flashlight and whiskey in my pocket. climbed some stairs up onto the huge
concrete arcs. there were the others. an euphoric moment up there. a sanctuary of concrete
in the middle of the desert. freedom. vastness. laying on our backs on the top of an arc in
the night. whiskey, cigarettes, beef jerky and the neverending milky way. i told emil a
native american story about seven little sisters that eventually became stars. life is
eventually it was colder and we returned to the dining hall. had raspberry tea, mint tea and
beer. quite a stir when a black widow was found behind a trash bin. the indwellers insisted
in not killing it, since it doesn't go hunting but stays in the web... help. we sat in a
corner, singing and playing guitar for hours. awaited evas birthday. guo, anders, aleksander,
eva, marco and me. when the clock struck twelve we went up on the highest roof, with wine
and cigarettes, whispering a birthday song, howling to the moon. the coyote answered!
24 maj 2011
23 maj 2011
det här är arkitekten rick joys territorium. adobehus i tucson. kontor och små hem. jag och
sara råkade bli inlåsta på bakgården. bra tyckte vi.
this is territory of the architect rick joy. adobe houses in tucson. office, workshops and
apartments. me and sara were locked in by accident. we kind of liked it.
22 maj 2011
21 maj 2011
vi åkte hit. till den biologiska sfären. i skolan på nittitalet fick vi lära oss om forskarna i
amerika. dom som skulle bo i ett eget ekosystem för att sedan, om det funkade, flytta till mars.
dom kom visst ut efter två år och världen skrattade. eller? vår guide verkade fortfarande
förnärmad. trots att ingen av oss skrattade fick hon oss att känna oss skyldiga. i det världs-
största växthuset fanns fem olika biomer / vegetationstyper. ocean, regnskog, öken, savann
och mangroveträsk. det mest imponerande var "lungan", den gigantiska kupolen som
kontrollerade lufttrycket i hela anläggningen. vi sögs in och blåstes ut.
in the swedish schools in the 90s we were taught about the crazy researchers in america.
the ones who were supposed to live in a closed eco system on earth, and if it worked, move
on to march. after two years they came out due to oxygen loss. and the whole world was
laughing... or? our guide still seemed pretty offended. we did not laugh now for sure. the
coolest thing was the "lung", a giant dome controlling the air pressure. we were sucked in
and blown out of it. impressive.
20 maj 2011
19 maj 2011
this is emil. he wrote a great text about the kitt peak experience. enjoy.
The vastness of the world which disquieted us before, rests now in us; our dependence upon it is annulled by its dependence on us.
Arthur Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Representation
April 2011, 56 miles southwest of Tucson, Arizona
State Route 86 leads us straight in a southwesterly direction through a vast landscape with an unbroken horizon. Behind us lies Tucson and ahead Kitt Peak comes closer. We are in the land of the Tohono o’odham. All around, waist-high creosote bushes and cacti grow, every plant with a certain distance to the others that makes them on one scale to appear as individuals, but on another much larger scale to disappear again in a seemingly endless repetition. After a sharp turn, the first in a long time, the ascent begins. The immense space that spreads with the desert seems to grow as the bus climbs higher. A space that is not fully perceptible. With the height, the wind is increasing as well. Outside the sheltering windows of the bus, the air is dry and strong winds shakes the body. The sunshine is sharp but both height and wind keep the temperature down. On the summit, the observatories stand, abstract geometries, completely directed up towards the sun, the sky and beyond. Inevitable, a feeling of being infinitely small, both in time and space, appear. It starts at the desert floor and reaches its climax in the wind on top of the mountain, with a gaze searching far away in the unmeassurable. Over there, on the edge (or can it be on the other side?) of the horizon, disparate dreams are built in steel and concrete. Dreams about colonizing mars or a community without cars and capitalism. I leave the peak with great happiness. But my feelings are in conflict. The observatories were built on Kitt Peak due to its isolated location and many hours of clear sky, in spite of the fact that the Tohono o’odham named it “Home of the Clouds” and in spite of that it is their second holy mountain. Yet another territorial violation by the colonizing power. Who’s dreams and ideas are projected on that mountain top out in the desert and who’s are not? The bus ride continues. We pass many suburbs with high walls erected between the desert and the houses and i recall the remains of a wall framing the Hohokam compound at the Casa Grande ruins. With the Kitt Peak experience in mind I wonder if walls were raised not only to protect from rattlesnakes and sandstorms but to give shelter from a space that strains the mind at the edges of itself and at the edges of its conceptuality, to quote Jean-Francois Lyotard on the sublime. Walls to establish a space and order that is graspable and under control. A fixed sedentary interior as different from the ever changing nomadic exterior that doesn’t give any answers. Two different ways of thinking space, or rather, two different spaces of thinking.