1 Failure + 1 Failure = 1 Success or Another Failure? TBD

It began last October when I had an idea about inflated globes floating in a pool. I do not ever stop thinking about water as a method of suspension, swimming pools or globes, therefore what would it be like to combine all three?  I called my friend Tricia to see if she had access to a swimming pool that had not yet been drained. Turns out she was closing on a house in three days that had one and if I could acquire the props, borrow an air compressor, and photograph it in a small window between 6 hours of sleep and a 10 hour work day, I could do it (and so I did).

I was never a math major nor did I know the dimensions of the pool despite staring at the satellite view of it on Google Maps hoping it would come to me. Surely thirty would be enough, right? Wrong ....

 

... but it was a beautiful fall day though and I filed it away as something to consider later.  

A month later, another thought occurred to me. What if I brought a 4' inflatable globe balloon to the U.S. Mexican border wall on my trip to Arizona in January and document it there?  If I could acquire the prop, borrow an air compressor and convince two incredibly generous friends to help me photograph it, I could do it (and so I did).

I certainly do not have a degree in meteorology but having lived in the desert during the winter, you would think I would have remembered the wind in January but no, I did not. I took some mediocre photographs and Camden made a slow motion video of it before it popped on a cactus (above are the remains).

It was a colossal failure but I could not stop visualizing it and felt it necessary to make art along the Border Wall when it is a daily occurrence in the news. The concept of bringing "far closer to here" is very much a part of my current series, Metaphorical Antipodes, and I wanted to find a way to make this happen.

When something is unsuccessful on a smaller scale, one would logically deduce that resolving it before moving on to far larger would be a wise idea but no.... I purchased a 7' inflatable helium globe with several misspellings (yes, I will count them all and no, I will never be able to fold it in such a small square again).

On a rainy day in April, I inflated it after borrowing a compressor once again. I applied for a couple grants and (insert great amazement) received one of them.

The first thing I purchased with the award money was an air compressor (surprise) and after several trials and errors, a leaf blower with a funnel attachment proved to be the best way to inflate this beast without access to electricity.

So what are the odds of failure once again? Is the third time really the charm? Am I truly driving 5000 miles in the heat of the summer and monsoon season to try? If I could acquire all the equipment, reserve the rental car and accommodations, and concoct an itinerary in a manner of three weeks, I could do it (and so I will).

Iceland Day 2: Onward to the Snaefellsnes Peninsula

After I misinterpreted directions on our map (we became well acquainted with several grazing sheep and a road running parallel to our destination), our first stop was Reykholt. Iceland is full of men named Snorri, we were quick to learn. Snorri Sturluson, a medieval scholar, chronicler of Norse sagas, and chieftain once called this sleepy village his home (though during his time 60,000-80,000 people lived there). I was interested in viewing his pool, Snorralaug.

According to the Iceland bible, Lonely Planet, it is possibly the oldest manmade structure in the country. The stones are original, dating back to the 10th century. The little door in the background covers a drafty tunnel which leads to his farmhouse. Snorri was murdered here centuries ago, hacked to death by his former son-in-law. We would discover a lot of this in Iceland. Areas that looked calm and peaceful had a brutal history which years and years later, still taints the atmosphere.

Our first introduction to the foss in Iceland was Hraunfossa. These waterfalls emerge from a lava field one kilometer away. I am envious of anyone taking a geology class in this country. Not only would the field trips be incomparable, but one would learn how this phenomenon takes place.

The milky blue water of Barnafoss (The Children's Falls) was also a favorite. One of my missions was to photograph as many variations of blue water that I could find and this toothpaste hue was a rarity.

Gatklettur, the Arch Rock, in Arnarstapi took our breaths away. I have only seen water this blue in the North Atlantic and suddenly it occurred to me that we were getting closer to the Arctic Ocean. I began dreaming of obtaining water samples from all the oceans in the world.

Snaefellsjökull, at not even 5000', was constantly present and spectacular to watch. Only for a few moments over the next two days, did we see it without a swirl of meringue hovering over the summit.

Words cannot fully describe Djúpalónssandur, a black stone beach with immense rock formations in Snaefellsjökull National Park. This is the path one takes to the water with a glimpse of the glacier through the heart shaped hole.

There are no rodents in Iceland. No squirrels nor chipmunks begging for food in the parking lots. We settled for finding zoomorphic forms in the outcroppings. There is a squirrel here and perhaps a few other anthropomorphic features as well. 

The sun was in the awkward, high noon position for several more hours during the day, resulting in unwanted silhouettes. It made this image more imposing than reality. Insert a 44º F temperature and it is far easier to understand what a day at the beach in June feels like here.

If this was the United States, the remains of this shipwreck from 1948 would have long disappeared. The metal parts, spread over several hundred feet, continue to rust on the pebbly sand.

After checking into our room for two nights in Hellissandur and eating dinner in nearby Olafsvik, we took a walk to the beach at 11:30 PM. I stayed awake until the sunset and it was not for another full hour. As a night owl (writing this post at 1 AM), I grew to like the long evenings but they were detrimental in convincing myself that it was time for sleep. Visiting in the winter would be problematic. It is far easier to accept these conditions than living in the darkness for most of the day. The Aurora Borealis might make up for it but I am not fully convinced.

Viva Las Vegas!

One of my favorite art encounters of Earthworks Road Trip Volume Two, featured James Turrell's Akhob (Egyptian for "pure water). We were not allowed to photograph it and the first two images below are by Florian Holzherr (via).

Akhob "is a series of rooms designed to cause peripheral and visual disarray through the intensity of 900 color-changing LED lights. With no apparent edges to walls or ceilings, the exhibit eliminates one’s ability to comprehend depth, providing a mystifying sense of infinity."

To view the installation, one must make an appointment with the Louis Vuitton flagship store and arrive on time (they were adamant about the latter). We were escorted into an elevator and deposited into a dark space reminiscent of a hotel lobby. Guides dressed in white introduced the artwork and James Turrell's other projects and then led us around a corner to the room above (far darker in real life). We sat on the bench on the right, removed our shoes and phones, placing them in wicker baskets, and ascended the stairs. The rooms were green when we entered and exited.

As with most of Turrell's artworks, the color slowly changed from warm to cool. In Holzherr's image above, the man is standing in front of a six foot drop and the entry stairs are in the extreme foreground. We stayed long enough to watch the edges of the walls disappear. Although I have never experienced this in person, I thought it could be similar to standing on a ship's prow in the middle of fog and seeing nothing but soft blue light and clouds.

Outside the Vuitton store in the Shops as Crystals, we were able to photograph another Turrell installation which our guide informed us was "broken" (the color stayed the same rather than shifting).

We took the elevators into the installation and even saw ...

... a magenta and purple cast sprinkler head on the ceiling (a small detail reminiscent of the plant growing in the Flavin installation at Chinati).

It was no surprise that swimming pools were high on the Las Vegas agenda. The weather was not as hot as anyone predicted over the course of two weeks and unfortunately, Las Vegas was no exception. Envision the above as a body of water one would jump into quickly and immediately search for warmth on the other side of the rocks. We spent time in all four of the Excalibur swimming pools...

... found our way into two at Luxor ...

... and later that evening, were asked to leave one at Caesar's Palace.

We visited the Neon Museum at dusk (and unlike a handful of inebriated people on the tour, were not dismissed because we could barely stand up straight). A few of the signs were restored while others were illuminated from multicolored lights on the path.

Here were some of my favorite details from the hour long tour.

The final two images remind me of the era my grandfather and his wife visited Las Vegas, sending postcards and the occasional $1 Eisenhower coin. The Strip's history rotates on a regular basis and we learned from the tour guide that the Flamingo will be the next to be demolished. The Neon Museum needs a few more acres to cover all the signs that will be donated in the future. In the meantime, it is one of the best places to see decades of history condensed into a small area.

Adios California

Funniest little hot tub in Palm Desert

View from the Palm Springs aerial tram at twilight (scary)

Vik Muniz's Pictures of Cars (after Ed Ruscha) at the Imago Gallery, Palm Desert

The Cabazon Dinosaurs through the front window of the Corolla (remembering Pee Wee's Big Adventure)

 Adam's birds stored on top of the refrigerator

View from Griffith Observatory at sunset (amazing!)

Jim Hodges' The Dark Gate at the Hammer Museum

From Jeff Koons' Banality series or custom made gingerbread houses at Gelson's in Pacific Palisades

Shadow Mountain Resort - Palm Desert, CA

In December 2007, Adam took me to a pool in December in Los Angeles and I was able to swim laps outside. It was especially gratifying because my leg had been encased in an air cast for a torn ligament for three months. It was at that moment that I established that swimming outdoors in the winter was a future goal (hello, giving snowbirds a good name). Last fall, I determined that the specific pool did not matter, it was the act that was important. Even though I have no previous history with the Shadow Mountain Resort swimming pool in Palm Desert, it became a source of inspiration over the course of 2.5 days.

It was difficult to convince oneself to dive in despite the 80º temperature of the salt water since the outdoor air was hovering around 65º most of the time. The most significant thing about my first California December lap swimming experience was watching the sky while doing the backstroke. In the images, it was important to include evidence of what lay above in addition to what was below. Anyway, these are the three I am thinking about (yes, there is repetition but it will be narrowed down).

As with everything in this series, none of the images are final. They are part of a greater whole (installation, book, sculpture, sound piece, video, mail art, etc.) that I hope will start to materialize once documentation from all the locations is collected (at this rate there are only five more - I may have added yet another one, damn it).

Coincidentally, the swimming pool opened in December (the 10th) in 1948. Above is a terrible photograph of it in a display case next to the clubhouse. Twelve people on surfboards is a good indicator of scale.

This postcard had my name on it (and will probably be featured in the end product in some fashion). Oh the times of dangerous ladders and pool toys that will never see the light of day in the 21st century and when Palm Desert still looked like a desert rather than an over irrigated, environmentally problematic oasis.

Madonna Inn

"Let's say that Albert Speer, while leafing through a book on Gaudí, swallowed an overgenerous dose of LSD and began to build a nuptial catacomb for Liza Minnelli. But that doesn't give you an idea. Let's say ... Chopin's Sonata in B-flat sung by Perry Como in an arrangement by Liberace and accompanied by the Marine Band."

- Umberto Eco in On Ugliness

The third visit is the charm. The Swiss Rock is booked and this time, I hope to have access to the swimming pool (though this tennis court color scheme may be photographed once or twice during my visit).

I am either going to love or hate this (hopefully the former). In any case, my intolerance for pink may be tested. [All images via.]

Arizona Inn - October 2014

The week before leaving for Arizona, I kept thinking about the most important pools that informed my experience of living in Tucson. The Arizona Inn featured many attempts to float a cake in 2010 and is the epitome of a pool one would want to sneak into (as this action is often a topic of conversation in the summer time). I began to look at satellite views and made prints the day before leaving.

Even after soaking all of them in the pool that is featured in the satellite view, I am more interested in the warped, smudged and dried original (not so much the photograph above). Still thinking and collecting...

The water was murky but inviting. Unfortunately, I have a far better image of this noodle on my iPhone but this is the best one from the digital SLR.

I left a souvenir from the 2010 cake float (back then all the chairs were covered with yellow fabric).

 

Here are the prints drying in the back seat of the rental car.

 

The two other pools that made a lasting impression on my time spent in Tucson. I did not trespass and photograph them during my visit which is leading me to believe that there is something more significant to be made by this act of capturing the image rather than visiting the location itself.