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So I put up the dome at Open Mind Festival in Quebec this last week, and it was a huge success!! The amount of help I had was truly unbelievable. The community spirit, the participation, the way the dome changed and fluxed, was everything that I wanted it to be.
The installation took throughout the night and the next morning, about a full day quicker than it went at Firefly. (to see that process, go here.) Many hands make work light!
Installation photos by Christopher Ayling
When the dome was finally up, it fluxed and changed exactly the way I wanted it to, with people adding, subtracting and changing the vibe whenever it was needed. It worked so well, and it was so inspiring to see what simply providing space could do for a community.
I really do feel that sacred space should move though all the levels, such as community vs individual alone time, quietness and celebration, fulness and space. It was amazing to see this dome work in exactly that way, ranging from quiet individual meditation, to packed cuddle puddles, to full on dance parties. The way that people added objects, changed the altars, moved in and out pillows and blankets, made dreamcatchers, made music, and all the various ways that they created and shared in the space was incredible. I could not have been happier.
Although the dome is still a bit much to be quick pop up spiritual space, it was so incredible to watch it function in the way I wanted it to. I am so inspired, and so glad I decided to do this event. THANK YOU TO EVERY INDIVIDUAL who added their energies into this space. It was all the individuals who created this and made it the glorious thing it was.
And here we go, festival #7 in two and a half months! Open Mind, a festival in Quebec, with the main focus of alternative spirituality and being close to nature.
Bringing out the dome again, pictures will come in a week!
a parasitic disease caused by the protozoan Toxoplasma gondii. The parasite infects most genera of warm-blooded animals, including humans, but the primary host is the felid (cat) family.
"Certainly Flegr’s thinking is jarringly unconventional. Starting in the early 1990s, he began to suspect that a single-celled parasite in the protozoan family was subtly manipulating his personality, causing him to behave in strange, often self-destructive ways. And if it was messing with his mind, he reasoned, it was probably doing the same to others.
The parasite, which is excreted by cats in their feces, is called Toxoplasma gondii (T. gondii or Toxo for short) and is the microbe that causes toxoplasmosis—the reason pregnant women are told to avoid cats’ litter boxes. Since the 1920s, doctors have recognized that a woman who becomes infected during pregnancy can transmit the disease to the fetus, in some cases resulting in severe brain damage or death. T. gondii is also a major threat to people with weakened immunity: in the early days of the AIDS epidemic, before good antiretroviral drugs were developed, it was to blame for the dementia that afflicted many patients at the disease’s end stage. Healthy children and adults, however, usually experience nothing worse than brief flu-like symptoms before quickly fighting off the protozoan, which thereafter lies dormant inside brain cells—or at least that’s the standard medical wisdom.
But if Flegr is right, the “latent” parasite may be quietly tweaking the connections between our neurons, changing our response to frightening situations, our trust in others, how outgoing we are, and even our preference for certain scents. And that’s not all. He also believes that the organism contributes to car crashes, suicides, and mental disorders such as schizophrenia. When you add up all the different ways it can harm us, says Flegr, “Toxoplasma might even kill as many people as malaria, or at least a million people a year.”"
And so we go. Up the coast and away from all the wonderful things we have seen and the people we have been with, to a calmer, quieter place; the ocean.
There's nothing that can be said that actually defines how I feel about the ocean. It makes me feel centred, calm, whole. The sounds this it makes, the way that it moves. I feel like it is the essence of the world.
I feel such a kinship with the sea. The boundary of its edge is continually trying to merge. It breathes up onto the land, is refuted and returns. It stretches out its tendrils, grasps for things. It pulls things with it, into its depth. It gifts in return what's inside of itself, spitting things back out to be poked at, prodded and taken away. It tries again and again to merge itself with the land. Pushing them together. Only to be pushed back. And try again.
The relationship between sea and land resonates with how I feel about my own body. My constant desire for people, places, objects to pass through this barrier we call skin, for me to be able to truly understand, feel what others feel, merging of beings in this path we call life.
And then suddenly we realize it must be over, this journey. We have commitments, lives to get back to. This adventure, this exploration of the world can't be sustained forever. And so we finally turn for home, changed by what we have seen.
Driving though the night, the world looks different. We only have one goal now, the return. And yet still we connect, change each others worlds by being together. My friend plays me music as I drive in the dark, telling stories about each track, where it's from, what he was doing, why it's important. We have all learnt more of each other, through the intensity, the journey. The boundaries of our own oceans have crossed a little over. We help make each other's return bearable.
And then we are back. In familiar spaces, which have not changed while we were gone. Still we cling to each other, not wanting this to be over. It will take a while to relearn our own spaces, trying to place the new pieces of ourselves into our old lives. We were gone such a short time, we were gone such a long time.
Ah Boston. One of those places that I love for its strange history, lovely architecture, and amazing people.
I had met a whole new Bostinite crew when I had gone out to Firefly, and so had decided to touch base with a few of them. We arrived, once again in the middle of the night, having no idea where we were going. It was too late to find most normal things open like coffee shops or restaurants (it was only just after 10), and we wandered around the completely empty streets of downtown Boston searching for a meal and having no real idea where we were sleeping. Finally we found a bar that still had their kitchen open, and then headed to meet the friend we would be staying with at a club.
"What are we doing here?" I thought. After the beautiful Vermont mountains, swimming all day, being in the clean air and sunshine, it was quite a shock to enter into the big city once more.
AND THEN, we entered into the world of artist spaces.
The people we were staying with spend every waking moment in an extremely large warehouse. And every single inch and cranny of their space was chock full of artists making and creating. LED light displays, sculptures, paintings, collages, wall decorations, fun fur, stripper polls, adult sized ball pits, things to climb on, woodshops, black light rooms and people just making, making, making. It made me want to drop all my stuff and never go away.
Photo by Russell Azzalina
It was so inspiring to be around so many makers, and see so much space dedicated just to art. Everyone in there was working on something interesting.
The next day one of the people of the warehouse took us to another space so we could see what was going on there. And this place blew my MIND. It was what I had always dreamed of in regards to artist sharing space, energy and tools.
The Artisans Asylum is an open workshop where people can come to train, work and get inspired. For an extremely minimal fee you can rent your own space, or for a smaller fee you can have access to all the tools that are available there. And I am talking TOOLS.
Computer labs, rapid prototyping labs, full welding, wood and machine shops, electronics stations, bike shop, as well as jewelry making and fibre stations, this shop was by far the best set up artisans space I have ever seen or heard of. And it was HUGE.
This type of idea has been a dream of mine for decades. The idea of artists all working together to have access to the extremely expensive tools it sometimes takes to do your work is something I have always desired. It just makes so much sense! It was such an inspiring vision of what can happen when people work together. Sometimes when you do this type of crazy work, you think you're a little bit alone, what a magical place to show just how many of us are out there!!
So apparently me f-ing off to Toronto last weekend just wasn't enough of a break for me, so when a couple of guy friends told me they had access to a car for a few days, we all decided that a trip to the American east coast was in order.
Traveling is one of those things that just grounds and centres me, reminds me how beautiful life is and how wonderful people are. When you travel you have no choice but to be open and available to whatever happens, and if you are, the experiences that can happen are MAGICAL.
The three of us left Montreal spontaneously at about 7pm on Sunday night, with the intention of going all the way to Boston (a 6 hour drive). We didn't actually have a reason, except a few new friends in Boston that we had met at Firefly a couple weeks earlier. A few hours into our drive (and already realizing that Boston was farther than we thought), we decided we needed a break.
We stopped in Waterbury, Vermont because one of the guys had heard about a couple of swimming holes near there. So, in the middle of the night, with only the almost full moon to guide us, we began searching the countryside for the fabled swimming holes.
We made it pretty close, and were wandering by foot on this road. As we were just beginning to lose hope, a car pulled up asking if we were lost or needed a ride. When we asked for directions, this awesome guy Ed not only pointed us in the direction but decided to take us there.
So, in the middle of the night, under a ravishing moon, we swam naked with a stranger in a freezing Vermont river. And if it couldn't get any better, there was a tiny campfire burning beside the river with no one there. So was swam, and then warmed ourselves in the most picturesque possible place, and then Ed invited us to spend the night at his GORGEOUS home. So we went, and he made us food and drinks he had learned to make in Mexico, and we all talked until we went to sleep.
The next day we hiked out to another secret swimming hole that Ed gave us directions to, and spent the day exploring and sunning ourselves, the guys even set of a slackline for some play time.
At the end of the day we were faced with the choice to go back to Montreal, or to continue on. And, in the spirit of adventure, we all decided that Boston was where we said we were going to go, and so Boston it would be...
Sometimes, after a crazy week like the one I just had in Vermont, I need to take some time off, back away from my space, turn off my internet, and EXPLORE.
Because of this I went to Toronto this weekend, taking a breather from my life. Toronto is a place I almost never go, despite being so close. There's definitely a stigma against going there when you're from Montreal. But I went, met new people, partied in new places, sat in some new sunshine, and I realized, Toronto really isn't that bad.
A couple of people that I met this weekend were cinematographer Ian Macmillan and art administrator and photographer Devin Wells. We spent a lovely evening shooting the shit, drinking too much beer, and staying up super late playing with my camera. Yay new friends.
Ian MacMillan
Devin Wells
And, for some extra lovely music on a beautiful rainy night-
Well, its finally over. One of the most intense art weeks I have ever had in my entire life (although I feel like that every time...) I do think I bit off WAY more than I could chew, and although I felt the project to be very successful, I feel pretty burnt out right now and definitely need to take a couple days off.
The dome was installed this last week at Firefly Arts Collective in Bethel Vermont. And the installation was CRAZY. The festival takes place in a forest on a pretty intense hill. I had never been to the site before, but I was aware that everything needed to be hauled into the forest and set up. There are access roads, and the guys we shipped in with had rented a truck that we had assumed we would be able to haul my installation in with. Boy were we wrong.
It POURED the entire first day we were there, making the access road all but impassable except to a couple 4x4s. We were left having to haul almost the entire installation in by hand, up a muddy hill about half a mile each way. 2x4s, framing, camping gear, sound system, full kitchen, camp infrastructure, deco gear, trip after trip, all carried through mud and in the rain.
The site we were slotted for was pretty much a swamp. Just to be able to begin building the whole area had to be trenched out and drained.
This whole process of getting our gear in and making the camp useable took us the better part of a day and a half. That was before we could even begin building on the site. So many thanks to the three people who helped make this site useable- Max, Tony and Robyn, the troopers who carried all that sh*t up that hill.
Finally the next day, the sun comes out, and Tony and I can begin to assemble the dome.
The initial roof pieces go in and I can start adhering fabric into the spaces.
All the centre panels are performance images of myself merging with animal parts, imagery from my art practice.
Next, the Ouroboros panels get pinned onto their framing.
Plastic gets adhered to the dome to waterproof it.
The panels then get screwed into the dome top.
Meanwhile, Max and Tony begin the arduous task of splicing together LED lights to light the dome.
And I hang deco and black light reactive fabric around the space.
Finally, late that night with the help of some WONDERFUL wrangled volunteers, we get the dome top onto its base for the first time and test its initial lighting.
The next morning the process continues as I add string (which in theory was supposed to be black light reactive, although it wasn't. Note to self- check first next time.)
Two and a half days in, I finally sit down in the dome for the first real time.
And finally the dome is done and ready for the festival!
And as far as haul out goes, was it easier than set up? Well, no. This is the funny little thing one of the guys on the clean up crew posted the day after-
Photo by Andrew Kaufman
As for us, our van got stuck for about 4 hours trying to get it out of the lot. We got two tow trucks stuck trying to rescue us, and finally were able to get out with the help of three polaris's hauling at the same time...
Photos by Gearhead Liz
Was the event worth it? I'm sure it was. But I'll let you know in about three more days once I'm finally finished sleeping...
Thank you so much to all the people who made this project possible! Jody McIntyre for convincing us all to come down and for the use of his tools, van and self over the last few months. Deglazer Laser for your amazing lighting job of the site, Tony Wilson for your hardcore labor and anyone who ever helped haul in, lift or remove any of this project. So many thanks. <3
Want to see the before process? Go here, here and here.
Want to see and fund more awesome art that went to the event? Check out a couple friends-
Once of the most amazing things about living in Montreal is that the the city here funds the most incredible things. Every week of the summer there are unbelievable things that you can do, and they're almost always FREE. The priorities here, make me happy.
Last night I went to the Barr Brothers, which was amazing. I saw more today, but the Barr Borthers last night was a huge highlight. They had a harpist, three piece brass, banjo, xylophone, guitars, drums and multiple singers. It was amazing.
As the deadline gets closer, all the pieces of the dome are starting to come together! I finally finished sewing the Ouroboros today, and it's ready to be stretched over the framing for the roof of the dome.
Also finished the majority of the interior framing for the dome today, although I decided to pare down the design a little for this festival. More triangles!!
Today I was working in the same space as a couple of my friends who are also making installations for the same festival. Yay creative attractive people!
Jody got to knock the safety valve off a propane tank with a sledge hammer so it would fully power his sweet flame effects machine. I love my friends.
Everything ships out on Monday to be set up for Tuesday! Woot woot!
They sat and talked for hours
Their feet rested on a table where moments had melted and left a dark stain to remind others of what could happen
The wax was soft and warm,
the people too.
Look around. Check the walls and ceiling as you would the space under your finger nails.
You have no place to go but the place you have been. That place is in the future.
There's not much to be said really, it's just about appreciating the little things.
It's not about talking anymore, it's about speaking in a different language that is louder than words; in breath and in looks.
Don't be fooled, danger isn't real. It's only when you doubt yourself that the enemies appear.
Let what comes out, come
and what goes, go.
It's time to recognize this. For what it is, for what it wants to be.
It's time to see the colours out of the space between your ears.
No time to be confused, only energy to feel.
Be fair to yourself.
You deserve it.
Just returned from Om Reunion Festival, feeling nourished, satiated, and whole.
There is no way for me to possibly describe what it feels like to worship in such a space. To dance until one cannot breathe, to feel the combined energy of those around you. To continue on until everything in your body becomes the same molecules as someone else's, until you dissolve.
How does one translate this lived experience into words, images? How can this be communicated to those who do not live it?
"Each of us is a moving center, a space of divine mystery. And though we spend most of our time on the surface in the daily details of ordinary existence, most us hunger to connect to this space within, to break through to bliss, to be swept away into something bigger than us.
As a young dancer, I made the transition from the world of steps and structures to the world of transformation and trance by exposure to live drumming. The beats, the patterns, the rhythms kept calling me deeper and deeper into my dance.
Being young, wild and free, it didn't dawn on me that in order to go into deep ecstatic places, I would have to be willing to transform absolutely everything that got in my way. That included every form of inertia: the physical inertia of tight and stressed muscles; the emotional baggage of depressed, repressed feelings; the mental baggage of dogmas, attitudes and philosophies. In other words, I'd have to let it all go -- everything.
At the time, I was teaching movement to tens of thousands of people and, in them, I began to witness my own body/spirit split. Between the head and feet of any given person is a billion miles of unexplored wilderness. I yearned to know what was going on in that wilderness, not only in me, but in everyone else as well.
And so, movement became both my medicine and my meditation. Having found and healed myself in its wild embrace, I became a mapmaker for others to follow, but not in my footsteps, in their own. Many of us are looking for a beat, something solid and rooted where we can take refuge and begin to explore the fluidity of being alive, to investigate why we often feel stuck, numb, spaced-out, tense, inert, and unable to stand up or sit down or unscramble the screens that reflect our collective insanity.
The question I ask myself and everyone else is, "Do you have the discipline to be a free spirit?" Can we be free of all that binds and bends us into a shape of consciousness that has nothing to do with who we are from moment to moment, from breath to breath?
Dance is the fastest, most direct route to the truth -- not some big truth that belongs to everybody, but the get down and personal kind, the what's-happening-in-me-right-now kind of truth. We dance to reclaim our brilliant ability to disappear in something bigger, something safe, a space without a critic or a judge or an analyst.
We dance to fall in love with the spirit in all things, to wipe out memory or transform it into moves that nobody else can make because they didn't live it. We dance to hook up to the true genius lurking behind all the bullshit -- to seek refuge in our originality and our power to reinvent ourselves; to shed the past, forget the future and fall into the moment feet first. Remember being fifteen, possessed by the beat, by the thrill of music pumping loud enough to drown out everything you'd ever known?
The beat is a lover that never disappoints and, like all lovers, it demands 100% surrender. It has the power to seduce moves we couldn't dream. It grabs us by the belly, turns us inside out and leaves us abruptly begging for more. We love beats that move faster than we can think, beats that drive us ever deeper inside, that rock our worlds, break down walls and make us sweat our prayers. Prayer is moving. Prayer is offering our bones back to the dance. Prayer is letting go of everything that impedes our inner silence. God is the dance and the dance is the way to freedom and freedom is our holy work.
We dance to survive, and the beat offers a yellow brick road to make it through the chaos that is the tempo of our times. We dance to shed skins, tear off masks, crack molds, and experience the breakdown -- the shattering of borders between body, heart and mind, between genders and generations, between nations and nomads. We are the transitional generation.
Taking off for OM Reunion Project Festival today, and decided to do my first dome stencil tests on my tent. Just another step in trying to make all of my spaces look more inviting and community oriented.
Also, SPRAY PAINT!
First off, taping out the areas I don't want to paint.
Using the stencils I cut out last week. This one is a replica of a doily that I got from my grandma.
So, the project I have been working on lately is an installation that will be ready for Firefly, the Regional Burn in Vermont. This project is built on the inside of a geodesic dome.
Each of my triangles will be about 8 feet, and I will be making a five sided polygone.
What I'm doing right now is building designed framing that sits on the inside of the triangles in the roof. On top of the wood I'll stretch applica and printed fabrics so when you look up through the roof it will show a sacred design. The image that will be the most prominent when you look up will be an Ouroboros, the snake eating its tail.
The Ouroboros is a sign of cyclicality, self reflection and unity. It talks about ideas of the recreation of itself, and cycles that begin anew as they end. All things that are important in my life view. The main part of the ceiling will have this image on it, with the panels to the top and bottom having supporting imagery.
All of this together is a huge job, as I've decided to use almost entirely scrap to build this structure. That means that to make functional wood I have to cut down scraps I find into 1 inch strips.
Then I glue and screw them all together to make longer functional pieces. This is a form called lamination.
Only after all this is done do I finally get to cut them down again to make the shapes I need for the inside of the dome.
The inside of each triangle in the dome roof will look like this, with fabric stretched in all the gaps. From bottom to tip this triangle stands about 5 feet.
And I will just keep building them until I have enough... Although today I'll start sewing the interiors.
Oh yeah, and in case I'm not doing enough work, yesterday I painted and put in moulding on one wall of my closet. Now I have the ultimate dressing room, what every costumer needs.
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."
