was a work away day, but when i got home, after the nap, i placed the first two rocks of the Cairn. It was very satisfying...choosing a scrap, folding in the edges, invisible basting (Jude Hill~Spirit Cloth). It went slow. No hurry. and as i folded in and stitched, i thought about all those rocks Out Side. I was going to take some pics of them this eve, as i Gave Water, but not now. Maybe tomorrow. Tonight i just looked.
I looked for the pics that best show what it was but couldn't find them. That means they are tucked into some book somewhere on the bookshelves. It might be years till i run into them again, but i did find this one which is ok enough. This is when i first came here. That structure is the Asylum that i built out of railway packing crates and salvaged windows. It was my "studio". Had a wood stove. Shelves. a Workbench. A lot of Light. It was built on a flatbed trailer that the old Ford Econoline Van, Fern, pulled here. That's Fern in the pic too. What is not pictured is the Airstream trailer that was my Home then. She wasn't here yet. But the Point of this pic is that there was
here when i came. Just some dried out stumps of Kochia weed. It was August, 1995, i think. Place. The Middle of NoWhere. There weren't even any Rocks. Every single Rock that is here today, I brought here. Sometimes one by one. Sometimes 10 by 10. But i brought them. Some are ones i brought in that old van Fern from the shores of Lake Superior in Michigan. Those rocks still remember their original Place. They are different now. Wind has worked them into different forms. It is said that rocks will tell you stories.