is said to be the most beautiful place in the world...
I'm not sure about that, I think myne might be somewhere with more open skies, but it's hard to think of only one place. Certainly Lake Louise and the mountains around are gorgeous, perfectly framed for looking out of the chateau windows at the views enjoyed a century and two before. Certainly it was the most beautiful day to visit, with warm spring sunshine, wind sweeping the clouds, the melting snow still covering the frozen lake and clinging to the mountains, creases showing where avalanches may fall - one did in the distance whilst we were there.
And inspiring: the place and the journey there.
A piece of work I've drawn out to make, sound recorded, photographs, plan for an installation, I think I have most of what I need and can rustle together the rest... I can see it fitting into the studio here.
The trails and even lakeside path are still pretty snowy to walk, so I found a little stopping place to find some space not to think. Just to hear, here, to empty and to read the landscape. [Half way there already with flow yoga this morning followed by a divine raw food breakfast at Wild Flowers in town - cinnamon date roll with a sweet nut butter]
So the space of stillness within recording became a space where thought only comes with an intention to act, interaction with others in a world passing by.
I've had a dilemma the last few days. I've found myself wanting to set the context in these posts, annotate the grids, catch a little more of the passing time "this is what happened, this is what I did". I think it's just a reaction to a week gone by, a tension of work imminent - wanting to be done, which feels very present in this program.
I would prefer to stop and just to paint pictures with my posts. Whisper what is rippling in the wind.
Pedro Reyes' Fragments were an inspiration: reading for the first seminar last week. Fragments of conversations over the years. Pointers of inquiry, strands that make one want to find the source from which they came.
I haven't written anything about the seminars yet. Preferring to mull, take time to reflect, see where this all leads.
What will I want to remember that I am not tracing here?
That was the question I asked myself sitting by the side of Lake Louise, motionless, for half an hour just still like the mountains, ears as the microphone recording the sounds of time.
