[Shinrin Yoku: for Endsley]

Today I performed a modified practice of forest prayer that was part Shinrin Yoku--the Japanese practice of forest bathing, part walking meditation borrowed from the Montreat Conference Center in North Carolina, and part creative expression. I dedicate this piece to Endsley Barrett, a beautiful woman who embodied joy and kindness and who left this world too soon.

Thanks to McNair and Patricia Evans for sharing Prayer Path from the Walk Jones Wildlife Sanctuary at Montreat with me and to Jon Brown who wrote it for his thoughtful walk and words. Thanks also to Christopher Kautz at CQK Studio for the "DonkeyPad" that accompanies me everywhere, holding the pens and paper that allow me to catch my moments of inspiration. 

[notes: cool plants]

Recent spottings at the San Francisco Botanical Garden, CA

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Gunnera tinctoria, Chilean Gunnera:

Image credit: Stan Shebs

Gunnera tinctoria, Chilean Gunnera

Perennial, aquatic plant

Evergreen

Spacing: 6' - 8'

Height: 6' - 8'

Texture: tough, rough, thick knobby leaves with significant translucency

Hardiness: Zones 7a-10b

Sun: Full sun

Water: Lots! Obligate wetland plant, requires consistently wet soil

Danger: Spiny, spiky, can cut

Stand-out plant!

Image credit: Spencer Alley Blog

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Puya alpestris, Sapphire Tower:

 Image credits above: San Francisco Bromeliad Society, Lana Fisher

Puya alpestris, Sapphire Tower

Succulent, cactus, tropical

Evergreen

Spacing: 36"

Height: 24"

Texture: spiky, arcing and straight needle-like leaves

Hardiness: Zones 9b-11

Sun: Full sun

Water: Minimal, drought tolerant

Danger: Very pointy tips

Great needly texture against any groundcover and mixed in with other dry shrubs, perennials, and succulents.

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Protea obtusifolia, Limestone Sugarbush:

Image credit: Bluehillescape Blog

Protea obtusifolia, Limestone Sugarbush

Perennial, shrub

Evergreen

Spacing: 6' - 0"

Height: 8' - 0"

Texture: Long, smooth obovate leaves

Bloom: red from fall-spring

Hardiness: Zones 9b-10b

Sun: Full sun

Water: Minimal, drought tolerant

Danger: N/A

Great overall form in a wild, dry garden

Excellent pollinator plant

[quick note on a performative line]

Jetty at Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina

[notes on performative lines]

Contrast is the primary way we perceive the world. Without seeing something's opposite, the thing being observed is imperceptible. From studies in color theory to research in how people physically sense the world, contrast is critical to our experience of the world. For example, our body only becomes aware of ambient temperature by a marked change in temperature. It is the change itself that triggers our proprieceptors. Or take the eye which registers objects either by a change in the quality of light on the surface of one thing or by the comparison of light hitting two adjacent objects differently.

A line in landscape is the point of contrast to natural forms and to the elements. And so a stagnant line is performative. Meaning aside, it is a datum, a marker, a point of contrast, a perceptual cue. It allows us to register form, depth, age, color, texture. A line is perhaps one the of the greatest quantifiers of all time, yet its ability to measure quality is profound. Is this perhaps why humans have been so intent on making lines in the natural landscape for our entire existence? They create a sharp register not only of what exists, but of our existence. 

Beach Line by the author, Point Reyes seashore, California

River Lines follow contour lines, American River, California, by the author 

Mountain Lines in progress also follow contour lines, reducing erosion, American River, California by the author

Images from human lines in landscape from past civilizations to present. Below are the remarkable Nazca Lines in Peru whose purpose is still debated: lines to be noticed by the gods, celestial navigation markers, constellation renderings, UFO runways, and on...

Nazca Lines, Representational
source: Martin St-Amant, Wikipedia, CC-BY-SA-3.0

Nazca Lines, Peru c. 400-650AD
source: http://earthobservatory.nasa.gov/Newsroom/NewImages/images.php3?img_id=5103

Earth artists of the mid-20th century used line at geologic scale. Here, Michael Heizer's Double Negative at Mormon Mesa, Nevada, about which the artist said, "There is nothing there, yet it is still a sculpture." We continue to be obsessed with this work and other great landforming line works of human civilization.

Double Negative
source link

Aerial view of Double Negative
source: Michael Heizer, World Art Web Kiosk

Double Negative from the ground

Or Agnes Denes' Tree Mountain - A Living Time Capsule, a reconstructed and reforested mountain at the Pinziö gravel pits near Ylöjärvi, Finland:

Source: Agnes Denes

Here, images not of ancient settlements, but of the ephemeral Black Rock City that is created and destroyed annually at the Burningman event in Nevada:

From art to quotidienne, we draw lines in everyday landscapes for purpose and efficiency. Here maple syrup tap lines criss cross the woods of the American Northeast:

Maple Syrup Tap Lines, Vermont
Source: Ron Hay Photoraphy 2010, flickr

[notes on skyscapes]

Yes, I'm romanced by the sky. This despite a lifelong veneration of my grandmother, an artist and a hater of outlandish sunsets. I'll never forget her disgust at one of the most beautiful Montana sunsets I'd ever witnessed: "how gaudy!" However, there's more to a sky than its evening striptease which she also taught me. Skies influence the way we see and understand the ground and the spaces we live in. They sculpt our moods and our interactions with people. They create an imprint on us, in us.

This weekend I spoke with McNair Evans, a San Francisco-based photographer about the collective effect of regional light and skies on artists. The light quality of the humid skies and filtered gray pine forests of his home landscapes in North Carolina are the cadence of his work, regardless of where he shoots. The skies of his youth have carved his fingerprint as an artist. While I am very aware of the sky in the landscapes I design and in my work as an artist, I've been wondering since this conversation how the skies of my childhood in Montana and Colorado work their way in. How have your skies shaped you?

Below: "Car Moon" triptych, the author, Kenya, 2007 that inspired "Car Drawings" Kenya, the author, 2007. Both track my vision of the sky and the movement of my body:

My home landscape of the Rocky Mountain west:

"Centennial Dust Storm" by the author, Centennial Mountains, Oil on Canvas 2010

Climbing to the sky in non-home landscapes: 

Ugh, how gaudy.

[notes from a landscape of Thanksgiving]

This is a landscape of Thanksgiving. A place where a tradition of annual community gathering around the harvest takes place. Even as a landscape architect and foodie, I didn't really grasp the meaning of the other half of Thanksgiving aside from cooking and chowing down: the collective harvest. A couple of weekends ago at two separate events around San Francisco, I took part in two such events: my cousin's cattle branding and friends' olive harvest. Friends and family gathered from around the state and country to help out in exchange for the chance to show off skills or a new horse; eat, drink, and be merry; and tell tall tales with good company. However, more than anything else, I now realize, they come to be a part of something that is much greater than any individual effort. They come to feel helpful, to feel a sense of purpose, and to feel a sense of belonging to a community of people who have shared a completely unique experience. 

Images of the harvest from George and Kit Lee of Mendocino County's Chatham Ranch: 

Persimmon tree (Diospyros spp.) famous for their gorgeous fall color and late fall crop. 

Not only was I inspired by the event, but I was equally impressed by the quality of their trees and the stewardship of both their land and of their crop. The difference in taste and health benefits between olives that are picked and processed by hand is undeniable. The final product: 

The second event was the annual cattle branding hosted by the Baldwins in Rio Vista, California. Although my preoccupation vaccinating some 200+ head of cattle distracted me from taking pictures of the branding itself, I did eek out a couple of sketches and images from the after party. I feel lucky to have been part of these and look forward to helping out at many future collective harvests. I hope you get to also.