Lightning Field

The first time I saw lightning. The second, I witnessed a sunset that ignited the poles, mere matchsticks against a cool blue landscape. It was our first earthwork, six days after we landed in Amarillo.

I took notes. I observed. I walked counterclockwise, drawing numbers in the dirt with my shoe. With my eyes peeled to the ground avoiding snakes, I missed five pronghorns running through the center. I watched the clouds and contemplated drawing them. I saw the others feed the rabbits apples from the cabin's supply.

We ate cereal standing up in the kitchen for lunch after our arrival. We sat in a hammock on the back porch. We woke up at 5:45 AM, trudged to the NE pole draped in blankets, and through blurry eyes, saw the sunrise, an anticlimactic experience after the previous evening. We napped. We read. We wrote. We wondered what the others would see after us, the first time our group had separated due to the nature of six visitors allowed at once.

Sarah Lassiter wrote an excellent post of our visit on Space, Land and Concept in American Art of the West here.