tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30753226820570094902024-03-19T05:25:06.332-07:00Tasseograph Trash Tea Temple~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-43943270948974575852008-03-01T18:44:00.000-08:002008-03-01T18:54:52.961-08:00:::shrine:::<span style="font-style: italic;"> Gazes at the curvature of wire he holds in his hands</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Swallows</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Chews his gum, jaw clenches</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Looks away from the wire in his hands</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Drops his hands to his lap and looks to the “art show”</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Deep, chest-heaving sigh</span><br /><br />The last time I was in Chicago I went up on stage and interrupted an art show,<br /><br />flopping on the stage <br />on the ground <br /><br />flipping and flopping<br /><span class="fullpost"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /> Impish grin, looking right at me</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> His head bobs back and forth (eyes roll) </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> The ripple extends through his extremities</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Arms wiggling</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Extension</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Wiggling</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Shakes his right hand, in final act of expelling </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Goofy grin<br /><br /></span>It was like…<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Puts down his wire work</span><br /><br /><br />I was on tour with Sasha and Digweed<br />I did their whole stage set up<br /><br />and went to like<br />sixty shows <br />swirling hand<br /> or something and<br /><br />We were playing in some huge coliseum here,<br />Arms held out, tense and indicating breadth <br />with Chemical Brothers stage on one side<br />Motion<br /> and our stage on the other side<br />Motion<br />His eyes meet mine<br /><br />So during the show we went to,<br />there was this art show at the museum.<br /></span><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="fullpost">[mmhm]</span><br /></div><span class="fullpost"><br />And,<br />uh,<br />One of the…<br /><br />veejays<br />that was touring with us<br /><br />uh<br /><br />knew a bunch of the guys and was having<br />some sortofalittle show there.<br />So he took me in to<br /><br />this show, right<br />And there wasallthis art<br /><br />yah-no<br />and it was cool so I go in to see this one thing<br />and it’s pretty mu—<br />you know,<br />it’s a full like noise exhibit thing it’s like<br /><br /><br />These kids<br />they’ve got like wa--they’ve got uh<br /><br />they mic‘d water<br />dripping<br />bop<br /><br />bop<br /><br />bop<br />bop<br /><br />but it’s LOUD.<br /><br />And we’re all in like an ampitheater,<br />sitting.<br /><br />And then comes on some other kind of like<br />AARN AARN AARN<br />and then some other like sound<br />And I’m like just like sitting there like geez<br />You know like, I’m getting,<br />I’m getting kind of you know<br />amped up.<br /><br /><br /><br />Then I get this thought in my head<br /><br />Sitting here watching this is totally ridiculous.<br />Preposterous.<br /><br />Like I should be able to get up and have a natural reaction to this which would be<br />to kind of<br />go into some kind of like<br />very intense like<br /><br /><br /> convulsive<br />uh<br /><br /><br />out of body dancing<br />you know like really like<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: right;"><span class="fullpost">[Ecstatic]</span><br /></div><span class="fullpost"><br />Yea<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Raises his eyebrows and looks back to the “show”</span><br /><br /> Exactly<br /><br />And then I go<br />Oh man<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Hand rises</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Hand falls</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Slapping his knee</span><br /><br />Now that I’ve thought of it I’m going to feel like<br />you know like<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Knowing grin</span><br />it’s going to bug me forever.<br /><br />And then all of a sudden I was like<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> His eyes bulge</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> His posture stiffens</span><br />Oh No<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="fullpost"><span style="font-style: italic;"> As he elevates from his chair</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="fullpost"><span style="font-style: italic;"> Shrine describes how he took to the stage</span></span><br /></div><span class="fullpost"><span style="font-style: italic;"> How he was ejected from the auditorium</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> How he pontificated the absurdity of his expulsion</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> To unknowing onlookers</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> That was the last time Shrine was in Chicago</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> He resolutely returns to his work.</span><br /></span>~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-32401717047711041762008-02-29T20:48:00.000-08:002008-02-29T23:25:10.261-08:00wired windows...The Black Rock Desert stretches for miles on end. A flat, dry, hard-packed, lake-bed gives way to the eruption of panoramic mountains. At sunrise, mirages glisten in the distance. The illusion of water that once existed in this landscape. No shade, only shadows. No shelter, only dust. These are the elements faced in taking down the temple, but they were also the elements in mind when the Tasseograph Trash Tea Temple was envisioned.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7IHKcXZU57fBdotKDTEJkpa7roCwjXDraRVOy2kcdmplUdeE7LAgGKpcAGtHQOL2uhyphenhyphenx1rYXdNm25XnqSJELfU1HfRnAokeSNhsqBCKsmYm-1B_LdFp8Dxsnrbr2NwR-qxEPbi-WQSw/s1600-h/IMG_0904.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7IHKcXZU57fBdotKDTEJkpa7roCwjXDraRVOy2kcdmplUdeE7LAgGKpcAGtHQOL2uhyphenhyphenx1rYXdNm25XnqSJELfU1HfRnAokeSNhsqBCKsmYm-1B_LdFp8Dxsnrbr2NwR-qxEPbi-WQSw/s320/IMG_0904.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172633440162258018" border="0" /></a><br />Shrine takes down the top layer of windows—those that singularly hang from the steel beams directly below the upper platform. I offer to help and he instructs me to set up an additional ladder and take down the remaining windows on the opposite side. Tucker and I handle the ten-foot ladder with ease, hoisting it on-end near the corner of the temple. I step up the first few rungs—solid in my boots despite their thickly treaded rubber soles. The two over-sized metal buckles that adorn each boot give gentle indications of every step up—cling clingcling—and each wobble of the ladder—clingcling clingcling.<br /><br /><span class="fullpost">Standing on the highest rung where I can reach the top of the windows and still maintain secure balance, I begin untwisting the first of many mangled messes of wire. As with much of the temple, the wire is salvaged—not making for neat twists, but rather unruly spirals, dangerous tendrils, and roughly cut ends. I find a rhythm in the repetition—twist twist unwrap straighten, twist straighten push through tug—twist twist unwrap straighten, twist straighten push through tug. My fingers begin to redden.<br /><br />Freeing the bottom is easy—twist twist unwrap. The window swings gently without restraint. The side anchors prove a bit more difficult as they often need to be manipulated through old window hardware—straighten tug straighten tug… tug… tug…clip. I tuck a pair of needle nose pliers into my turquoise hot pants.<br /><br />Timing is key. Maintaining equal distribution on both mounts, I lift the weight of the window frame and unhinge the top wires. Balancing at the top of the ladder, careful not to bang the glass on the steel structural beams, I slide the wires free from their unforgiving holds. My arm muscles strain as I grip the frame with my fingers—fingers already raw from handling too much wire. With my free hand I grasp the top of the ladder steadying myself for descent.<br /><br />I look up and notice that while I struggled to liberate my first window, Shrine had managed to detach three—three to my one! Despite my slower pace, my duration will prove useful. I won't let Shrine’s mastery of the unhinging dissuade me from completing the task. Stepping off the ladder, I round the side of the temple to where the windows are laid out. We stack them in neat piles of three, ensuring that none of the wires scrape the paint. Moving back around the exterior of the temple, I resume my task.<br /><br />While working along my designated row, another crewmember shows up and proceeds to disengage the lower windows. These windows hang off each other in columns of three, creating the main walls of the temple. None hang perfectly parallel; every one slightly askew. That, paired with the windows’ constant shifting, create a disquieting aesthetic. Just one-way the architecture itself performs.<br /><br />Every now and again, someone rides up on a bicycle, asks me a question, shares praise for the temple, or, occasionally, offers me a hand with one of the windows. More often than not, their timing couldn’t be worse. Despite my struggles bringing down the windows, I still find it easier to manage them on my own than attempt to coordinate a hand-off to someone else.<br /><br />Back on top of the ladder, I hear Shrine say, “looks like there’s a white-out headed our way.” I look up to see that he is right. On the not so distant horizon a dust storm is brewing. I watch the boundaries of the Esplanade disappear as the edge of existence creeps closer. In preparation, I re-tie my bandana over my mouth and nose and reposition my goggles to hold the makeshift dust mask in place. Trapped under the thin black cotton of my bandana, I recognize the sweet smell of sweat mixed with my acrid breath from the coffee I had that morning. I recognize the only smells on the playa are those created by humans. The wind whips through the temple, and the alkaline dust bites at the bare skin of my belly, my back, and my thighs. The force of the wind pushes the window I hold, threatening to rip it from my ever-tightening grip.<br /><br />The anxiety of dropping a window has plagued me all day; the sound of crashing glass cascading over the metal ladder; the wood frame splintering into paint chips and slivers; Shrine’s decorative painting scattering in a million colorful shards on the Playa. In this moment, I am actually afraid it may happen. I struggle to maintain my balance while the wind magnifies the ladder’s vulnerability—clingcling clingcling. It rocks gently. I counter-balance, holding the window frame with white knuckles.<br /><br />The second wire won’t come loose and I’m leaning awkwardly away from the ladder with one hand gripping the frame while the other wiggles the wire—tug tug straighten tug. I can’t see Shrine, although he stands only five feet below me. I hope he can’t see me either, in my precarious position. With a final tug, the wire slides out of its hold. I throw my body back over the ladder to keep from reeling off. I take a moment to regain my composure, but only a moment because the window is getting heavier and heavier.<br /><br />I start my descent—step wobble step wobble, gust and grit. The wind pushes my window. I grab it with both hands in time for it to only softly bang into the ladder. I stay propped there in mid-air, tucking my head near to my chest, holding tight to the window, listening to tiny particles ping against the glass.<br /><br />Only ten more windows to go.<br /></span>~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-19184947690674752672007-12-12T11:05:00.000-08:002008-02-29T23:15:05.070-08:00temple teardown<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">A time lapse video of the deconstruction of the Tasseograph at Burning Man 2007. Footage originally shot in segments over an 8 hour period.<br /><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(duration: 1 minute)</span><br /></div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyNTxOl65YxECNR4UkSaBg9PkLuRXLHQ6eK7maqfRDaz53nvhIE_WJ_pxIdoMAayqAiKMIzvH6veTo4tgh6DQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Music: "Squeeshy"<br />by Gabriel E.L.F.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Film:<br />by Jessica Klinke<br /></div>~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-41107144748383946682007-10-26T19:41:00.000-07:002007-10-26T19:58:16.345-07:00The Moving Temple:<span style="font-style:italic;"><blockquote>Conspicuous and Consecrated Space in Communitas</blockquote></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_dtd5HNS3dn8BBgceolk0HfSHj4JI1_6AORO_iLBh5OzrT7rQV1AWJ1dBoH_8gOiAyl3GkRAf5o88F_ORkKxZg7P91tF8xMjdikAPKmXpJO4ro3caQJSK1m9rjk7_FsbbIb-3vRTy-wM/s1600-h/IMG_0901.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_dtd5HNS3dn8BBgceolk0HfSHj4JI1_6AORO_iLBh5OzrT7rQV1AWJ1dBoH_8gOiAyl3GkRAf5o88F_ORkKxZg7P91tF8xMjdikAPKmXpJO4ro3caQJSK1m9rjk7_FsbbIb-3vRTy-wM/s320/IMG_0901.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125845098761823202" border="0" /></a><br />Temples are sites bound in meaning, whether in relation to specific rituals, cultures, or religions. Their meaning exists continually outside the temporality of specific events. The invocation of spirit persists outside of time, whereas a body’s presence in space is dependent on a moment. Temples are physical and spatial markers of belief. Yet, when the structure itself is impermanent—when the Temple moves—how does it impact the relationship of space, time and belief? How do spiritual aesthetics, and aesthetics as spiritual encounters, express the values of a group? How does a community find holiness in a place? How is space created as ritual and for ritual? How does the creation of space fulfill a religious need within a given community?<br /><br />The Tasseograph Trash Tea Temple is a sculptural object constructed from found and reclaimed objects. The temple is a non-permanent structure that is repeatedly re-located and installed at numerous popular and counter-cultural festivals. It is a monument to conspicuous consumption utilizing a mode of assembled repetition. This aesthetic of abundance can be used as a lens with which to view the communities in which the temple emerges. How does it reflect the ideals, ethics, and spiritualism of counter-cultural, festival communities? At the site of the Tasseograph Trash Tea Temple, I address issues of material aesthetics through the performance of an emergent space created as ritual. I explore the meaning, function and experience of the space on the gendered body, the transcendent body, and the imaginary body.<br /><br />Through the naming of the sculptural object as a space of spiritual significance, the engagement of bodies in that space is altered. The objects transcend their conventional uses. Recognition of the banality of material utilized in the temple’s construction (primarily that of trash collected from kitchens, construction sites, and dumps) creates a reaction of memory for the visitor. The material assumes a collective identity beyond its tacit utility, and in the case of the temple’s primary material, that of trash, from its apparent dis-function; thus moving the material from its existence as profane into a realm of the sacred.~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-33216496200892330302007-09-25T09:16:00.000-07:002007-10-26T19:40:16.700-07:00in the beginning...<div><embed src="http://widget-35.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="cy=bb&il=1&channel=576460752317777205&site=widget-35.slide.com" style="width:400px;height:400px" name="flashticker" align="middle"></embed><div style="width:400px;text-align:left;"><a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&ad=0&id=576460752317777205&map=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-35.slide.com/p1/576460752317777205/bb_t017_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a> <a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?cy=bb&ad=0&id=576460752317777205&map=2" target="_blank"><img src="http://widget-35.slide.com/p2/576460752317777205/bb_t017_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" ismap="ismap" /></a></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Horning's Hide-Out<br />North Plains, Oregon<br />Inaugural Build, July 26-29<br /><br />Lollapalooza<br />Grant Park, Chicago<br />August 2-5<br /><br />photos by Jessica Klinke<br />(c)2007<br /></div><p></p><p></p>~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-5031256256581852782007-09-24T09:12:00.001-07:002007-09-24T09:23:16.261-07:00some facts:-the temple itself is constructed almost entirely of trash and reused materials. in other words, a lot of dumpster diving and scavenging went into the making of the thing. all in all, about 20-30 people touched it in some way, large or small.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjNYMPx9Y4HaW6uY_SHBIoVnviaDqYj41pL9HrQIqduPY4HkG2aNx5XeVks3odez8qsaix0TJMoJsjYy8_YH61HdzBFZ9eedtr3jzV3hAW3AiSqcm2hJzP5s93T1vaYuc-EzRDxBBguQ/s1600-h/templeangles.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjNYMPx9Y4HaW6uY_SHBIoVnviaDqYj41pL9HrQIqduPY4HkG2aNx5XeVks3odez8qsaix0TJMoJsjYy8_YH61HdzBFZ9eedtr3jzV3hAW3AiSqcm2hJzP5s93T1vaYuc-EzRDxBBguQ/s400/templeangles.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113806862397074722" border="0" /></a>-the overall aesthetic was conceived of and executed largely by my friend shrine, a talented artist from pasadena who has been doing this sort of thing (though not quite at this scale) for many years. he is a force of nature and it was a pleasure working with him.<br /><br />-i designed the structure, which when fully built is somewhere between 32 and 35 feet tall. in ideal conditions, it can be built in a single day and taken down in four hours. it packs flat and travels well, and has been to festivals in oregon, chicago, nevada, and colorado.<br /><br /><br />-the lower level is made of painted windows. the second level is refashioned and adorned trim. the third level is random junk (representing four separate faces), and the fifth level are two old steel barrels that were reformed by shira loa and treigh love, two metal artists. that's a fire cannon up top that can send off a nice 15' blast when fully charged. the interior chandelier is constructed of a brass chandelier and a dozen or so deconstructed brass lamps, tuna can lids, and drawer pulls. those four pillars on the bottom are trees gathered from the lazy T ranch (the family farm) in southern oregon.<br /><br />--TukTuk~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-86107096868275246322007-09-22T20:37:00.000-07:002007-09-26T21:47:09.425-07:00the flying ship<div style="text-align: right;">I lay on my back next to Shrine.<br /></div><br />Our heads rest six inches from each other<br /><div style="text-align: right;"> while our feet jut out in opposite directions toward the temple walls.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;">It’s mid-day, and we occupy the only strips of shade on the temple carpet.<br /></div><br /><br />Through goggles we stare<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br />wordlessly<br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /><br /><br />toward the top<br />interior<br />of the temple.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Vx9ZV3YzLnGrQ6kMcwyAl6jf-Tesb5Xu5jGeq6lTcbXO46wopIaNlaRbUVYl3AWfPIGzlVKprPrScXdgVhBQgz0lLi2Wss0jk-y-viqP52VzHMHmJJtSU4IaAAuA8PgoqeJfQiQTpLQ/s1600-h/chandelier.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Vx9ZV3YzLnGrQ6kMcwyAl6jf-Tesb5Xu5jGeq6lTcbXO46wopIaNlaRbUVYl3AWfPIGzlVKprPrScXdgVhBQgz0lLi2Wss0jk-y-viqP52VzHMHmJJtSU4IaAAuA8PgoqeJfQiQTpLQ/s320/chandelier.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5113241515851902194" border="0" /></a>The chandelier swings<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">wildly<br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />playing a tune<br />on its many mobile<br />metal parts.<br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;">Now that the windows are down<br /></div>the dust blows through<br /><div style="text-align: center;">unimpeded<br /><div style="text-align: right;">like wisps of cloud.<br /></div><br />The temple is a passageway.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;">After several moments Shrine says:<br /></div> <br /><div style="text-align: right;">You know<br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"> the way<br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: left;">the wind blows through<br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;">It’s almost as if we’re on a flying ship.<br /></div><br /><br /></div>~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-57033070668526414132007-09-19T20:33:00.000-07:002008-02-29T23:22:06.474-08:00...it's trash. it's all trash...<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(duration: 4 minutes, 15 seconds)</span><br /></div><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyuFlEA_DNpVY0U3dq_leSFu1pOi8HZkFQkUqCmkLnzGvUCl3xHlvGuU0A7VyP-mGC7KSG-o8lRwqscrE-x6Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />tasseograph trash tea temple<br />as told by tucker teutsch 3.0<br /><br />film and audio by jessica klinke<br /><br />shot on location:<br />grant park, chicago<br />(c) 2007<br /></div>~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-40585262368832190082007-09-18T17:44:00.001-07:002007-09-18T22:01:01.179-07:00material matters<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQpe3w29HZ39aIqJ5M59sL8u_4g1jk7-_FYMNxUedStjW51nHXYr7dKvncNxa1aI0gHhvxoJJ4S6jmBX9DAxOz0f7HnA833Cx_vriEvN8nSaS0QeA85jGoodqL_9fYIUr8x-gjnuMsFqU/s1600-h/IMG_0898.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQpe3w29HZ39aIqJ5M59sL8u_4g1jk7-_FYMNxUedStjW51nHXYr7dKvncNxa1aI0gHhvxoJJ4S6jmBX9DAxOz0f7HnA833Cx_vriEvN8nSaS0QeA85jGoodqL_9fYIUr8x-gjnuMsFqU/s320/IMG_0898.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111710326208296370" border="0" /></a></div>~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3075322682057009490.post-80572660000323023872007-09-17T09:31:00.000-07:002007-09-25T10:36:04.743-07:00Tasseograph: The Proposal<p style="font-weight: bold;" class="style10"><span style="font-size:180%;">Tasseograph: The Trash Tea Temple</span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="style6"><span style="font-size:130%;">Grant Proposal</span> </p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPURQ6s9ZAmU9Brsgepnl7AXcnDdIqXU3aHXdsgjp2cLmz9xc95Yc0uMAnuJgm0IZBGOAa9vMhab8aazp3bQgB8ALk5HimRB7R6Gq5GmNtlNYDDQ6_B2dBtzSo9xSYETgvJNvz_s9MCVM/s1600-h/Tea+House+3%282%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPURQ6s9ZAmU9Brsgepnl7AXcnDdIqXU3aHXdsgjp2cLmz9xc95Yc0uMAnuJgm0IZBGOAa9vMhab8aazp3bQgB8ALk5HimRB7R6Gq5GmNtlNYDDQ6_B2dBtzSo9xSYETgvJNvz_s9MCVM/s320/Tea+House+3%282%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112325004747830738" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>Option One</strong></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />Overall dimensions:16x16x26 feet</span></div><div> </div><p style="text-align: center;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:100%;">the base is16x16x1<br /> on top of that 14x14x1<br /> on top of that12x12x1<br /> on top of that the house 10x10x10<br /> on top of that the roof is8x8x2<br /> on top of that 6x6x2<br /> on top of that 4x4x2<br /> on top of that 3x3x4<br /> on top of that 2x2x3<br /></span> </p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:100%;"><strong>Option Two</strong><br /> Overall dimensions:12x12x21 feet</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><p style="text-align: center;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:100%;">the base is12x12x1<br /> on top of that10x10x1<br /> on top of that the house 8x8x8<br /> on top of that the roof 6x6x2<br /> on top of that 4x4x2<br /> on top of that 3x3x4<br />on top of that 2x2x3</span></p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><br /><p style="text-align: center;" class="style2"><img src="http://www.pdxdiversion.org/tasseograph/Tea%20Tree%204%282%29.jpg" height="274" width="158" /> <img src="http://www.pdxdiversion.org/tasseograph/Tea_House%282%29.jpg" height="278" width="156" /></p><p style="text-align: left;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">The outside will be heavily layered with ornamental decoration created from found objects and trash: tin can lids cut into stars of all shapes and sizes, plastic bottle caps, plastic water bottle bottoms, aluminum can bottoms,found wood and branches cut into shapes, etc. all mounted on door frames or discarded wood that can fit together solidly. Like individual mosaics forming pieces to a puzzle.<br /><span class="fullpost"></span><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">There will be several hooks or arms coming off of the structure to hold<br />an exotic array of hanging mobiles made of found objects, etc.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">If possible, nine lights: four at each corner at base, four at each corner on roof and one inside.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">The door can be extra small, like a Japanese tea house, or extra large for easier coming and going. I like a smaller door.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">Inside will be an altar made of found objects similar to what i brought to BM last year or what you've seen in the past. The walls will be covered in cardboard painted in a super amazing way.<br /></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">So basically it’s 16x16x26 or12x12x21 or some other size made out of wood from healthy forest thinning on Tuktuk’s ranch, found wood, found objects and trash from mostly food packaging</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Structural</span>: I will be setting aside four cedar treetops during the regular thinning of our property in southern Oregon. these i will strip on one side and cure in the open, leaving the branches that will later act as adornments and arms to support mobiles. all needles and greenery will be removed and the treetops painted. The treetops will become four pillars that frame the tasseograph, joined by raw log joists between the treetops: lincoln logs, essentially. the empty space will be filled in beautifully by shrine’s trash mosaics, which are mounted to solid panels for easy assembly and transport (and to prevent anything blowing away, everything is nailed or screwed or glued into the panels).</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lighting</span>: I have access to some parr cans for lighting, with or without gels. otherwise, we could do soft, solar-powered lighting (i have a bunch of those lawn lamps which we could disassemble for our purposes, but buying them new might be better cause after three years they are pretty shot.) a small generator is the first option, though i hate the noise they make. I'd rather have people approach it in the deep playa in absolute silence, with maybe just bits of voices wafting out from the inner sanctum. so then, solar is the best option (wind, though less predictable, could also work). harbor freight sells a cheap array for under $200.</span></p><p style="font-weight: bold;" class="style4"><span style="font-size:100%;">PHILOSOPHICAL STATEMENT</span></p> <p class="style3"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”</span><br />—Confucius (who was probably drinking tea when he said this)</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">Tasseography is the ancient practice of reading tealeaves for the purpose of divination. In this case, the Tasseograph is also a fitting analogy for what we hope to achieve with this work: teaching people to find beauty and meaning in the physical detritus (used tea leaves, or in this case, garbage) that most simply discard. The purpose of this art project is to inspire others to see everyday trash as beautiful, to save everyday trash and use it—not because it is responsible or right or necessary to recycle, but because people are excited about the materials, about the medium. In other words, we hope to Jedi mind-trick ourselves into recycling for the good of our aesthetic health.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">The idea is to make something stunningly beautiful and exotic out of materials deemed unworthy, the stuff we throw away everyday. I am speaking of trash alchemy, wherein we create a precious space using non-precious materials, replacing the gold and marble surfaces of traditional temples with the aluminum cans and white plastic water bottle lids that will form the Tasseograph.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">We seek to claim a small space on the playa and make it feel Holy. This will be achieved not simply through beauty, but through ritual. In Zen monasteries, when the master takes on a new student there is a tea ceremony to mark the occasion. So, too will our temple be dedicated to the serving of tea on the occasion of new found knowledge. We shall create a place for people to perform the simple and beautiful ritual of preparing and serving each other tea, inviting different groups or individuals to serve tea in a style they choose. We will undertake a collective effort to gift hot or cold tea and maybe sake to the special travelers of the playa that make up the BM community. Like any good playa art, its value lies in the surprise of discovery, and the gift of its presence to the dazed and confused.</span></p><p style="font-weight: bold;" class="style7"><span style="font-size:100%;">CREW</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Lead Artist/Designer: Shrine</strong><br />Shrine has been a freelance artist for over twenty years. His paintings and found object/trash sculptures have been featured at numerous galleries and events, and his guerrilla murals dot the Los Angeles cityscape, with other pieces in Edinburgh, London, and Portugal, to name a few spots. He has collaborated, both as a visual artist and performer, with Lucent Dossier and the Do Lab in many of their performances (including the flower and flytrap performance at last year’s Uchronia burn), Vau de Vire Society, and the national and world tours of Panic at the Disco! and Warp Tour. He lives at his home in Pasadena, which is in itself a testament to his love for making beautiful art from trash—although it probably does nothing for his property value.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Builder/Designer: Tuktuk</strong><br />Tuktuk thinks about these kinds of things all the time. As one of the main organizers and builder for various theme camps for the last four years, he is primed and ready to bring his vision and muscle to the deep playa in the form of large-scale art. A dedicated burner (He was one of the main planners behind DIVERSION, Portland’s 2006 Decompression, and promises that a check to BRAF should be arriving shortly — heheh), this project is a natural progression for his ever-deepening involvement with the playa.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Structural Consultant (the man with the drill gun for an arm): Benny Cochrane</strong><br />Benny has been on temple crew for many years now, helping David Best and Mark Grieve, and by extension, the rest of the burner community, to put their fears to rest and their dreams to flight. </span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>The Guy with the Crane: Matthew</strong><br />Matthew has worked for years on the artists’ support team at BM. He owns the big blue crane, and works magic. He is also a personal friend of ours, and loves our cold, cold beer. He will be integral to the lifting of the ornamental temple roof into place, and in the safe dismantling of such. </span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Plus, a slew of other folks.</strong> There is no shortage of willing and able hands to work on this. While the main build will happen with a smaller group off-playa at Tuktuk’s ranch in Ashland, OR, there will be plenty of people within our burner network who can be raised to help us get this thing done within a day or two of our arrival, and take down/clean up when we leave.</span></p><p style="font-weight: bold;" class="style9">TIMELINE</p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Now to Early August:</strong> Collection of materials, shout-outs to friends and on tribe and craigslist to save specific sorts of cans and bottles and whatnot. Further refining of structural needs and renderings. Scavenging missions. Spreading the word.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Early Spring:</strong> Culling of four cedar treetops from the ranch during regular thinning. Care will be taken to stack and cure the trees without damaging the branches on one side, so that they may later be used as adornment and arms from which mobiles can be hung. The needles and other greenery will be removed so as to reduce moop, and the entire tree will be painted various colors.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Mid-August:</strong> Shrine will bring a truckload of usable trash to the Lazy T Ranch and we will start to build it, paint it, and learn how it is put together for easy assembly and takedown. Consultations with Matthew to figure out when and how to use the crane. Disassembly into regular parts and preparation for transportation to the playa. Packing.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>August 24 or 25:</strong> Drive it to the playa. Unload camp essentials first then proceed with art placement plan to the site. Unloading of truck and beginning of assembly.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>August 27:</strong> The temple is assembled and we pour our first round of tea.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>Week of the Event:</strong> we host irregular gatherings and performances at the site. Tutu Tuesday Tea Party, Funginears show, Vau de Vire/Lucent Dossier/Do Lab events, art car gatherings, silent meditations, dawn ruminations, lovemaking, saving lives one cup of tea and conversation at a time.</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;"><strong>September 4:</strong> we take it down, load it up, and cart it off to another place (Bay Area or Ashland or Portland or LA) to be reassembled for permanent use as a pagoda. Usual LNT practices in order to ensure no waste or refuse is left behind.</span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;" class="style8"><span style="font-size:100%;">LEAVE NO TRACE “LNT” PLAN</span></p> <p class="style2"><span style="font-size:85%;">I am always fairly stumped when it comes to this section of the art grant/ theme camp placement request/ mutant vehicle application, etc. I have been to the playa for a number of years now, and never once have I had a complaint against me or my camp. But despite what I always put in this section about how we plan to clean up the messes we make (placing our tools and screws over tarps to avoid spills, doing the majority of our painting off-playa, making sure every bit of everything is firmly attached so that it doesn’t go flying away in the wind, etc. ad infinitum ad nauseum), what it inevitably comes down to is crawling around on my hands and knees and making sure there’s nothing—not one bent screwhead or half-burned match—left. It is quite an existentialist exercise, wiping the slate clean of our presence, erasing our footprints, denying the world of any archaeological record of the contribution we made to this specific space/time. But it’s gotta be done, and here I am telling you that I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again. Five minutes after we exit the premises you can go out there with your GPS and find the former location of the Tasseograph, and even with a microscope all you’ll find is the imprint of my butt where I drank the last beer before heading off into the sunset.<br />-Tuktuk</span></p> <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><hr style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:78%;" noshade="1" ><div style="text-align: center;"><span style=";font-family:Arial,Helvetica;font-size:85%;" ><a>http://www.pdxdiversion.org/tasseograph.html<br /><br /></a></span></div>~sicahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15189380230632587694noreply@blogger.com0