The unexpected places in which surprises happen are the places where invention happens. Whatever plans I made, the process of creating and performing forced me to push my limits. Those limits left space for the air to pass, and for others to enter and share in the learning.
This performance did not have a title when I started, it began with the feeling of transience and tension that exists in cities between constructed and natural space. I loved Chicago in many ways, but things moved so quickly, especially for me: I worked full time and went to art school part time, trying to afford space and time for myself to breathe was extremely challenging.
In response to that feeling of continual fatigue, my stream of making turned meditative. I did drawings, beading, knitting, manual work that I could carry and which made me stop to breathe.
These small works, however, did not solve the feeling of being stuck in close quarters: a too small apartment, the space between people on a bus, the low-ceilinged platforms of the Red and Blue lines, and no benches or welcoming areas to stop and contemplate the beautiful tall buildings and open spaces.
Out of this feeling of claustrophobia, arose a desire to create a sacred space, created through and set aside for the things that I value. So this performance had four goals:
Creation of an artifact that illustrates or leaves traces in time or space
Consideration of sacred or meditative space as internal or external
Connection to pattern, repetition, but valuing biomimetic or organic
Consciousness of processes for growth
To leave traces of the process of meditation, I designed a structure that could be sewn sequentially, one tube after another like beads. The finished product would be a 5/8 icosahedron. To pull in natural and biomimetic forms, I then wove fabric in and out in a meditative way to create a cocoon-like structure. This was all done with a rhythm and in silence, considering, meditating and creating at once.
Putting all of this together, the dome created a space for contemplation shared with others. The process, artifact, pattern and form being inspired were combination of human and natural forms, and they created an interior space in open air. I chose the spot, on top of the airshafts surrounded by wildflowers because they epitomized for me the tension between natural and urban that I felt in Chicago, and felt like a generative location.
The surprising moments in the process, where the poles fell through the grating, and when the whole structure blew over, illustrate for me something that I have since taken on as key to my practice: There is no such thing as a mistake in art, only a new opportunity to create something new. As you click through the gallery you can read my thoughts on the artwork at the time.
In the Maggie Daley Park, which was at the time pretty empty, on top of one of the vents for the parking structure underneath, I set up the project.No readable text this page. I’m opening up my giant bag o fabric and unrolling the PVC pipes. Text in Blue: “There was a red-wing blackbird who sang to me while I was tying up the dome. He sang ‘chirrup- chirrup…see saw’ and I trilled back to him. He was less than three feet away and my movements didn’t seem to make him afraid.”Text in Blue: “At some point a police car drove up, circled twice and parked facing the harbor. My guess is they would have ticketed me for littering or public disturbance if I had left my dome standing.” (obviously this is May 2001 or I would have been worried about more than a ticket.)Text on white: When I tried setting up; pulling the dome into a circle, the tubes which i used to brace the other tubes kept sticking in the grate, so I unfurled the tarp to stop them from sliding deeper into the air duct. The sign/tarp behaved very strangely, being sucked down the vent.Text in Blue: At first when I assembled the skeleton, I had an extra tube, or a missing tube, so I had a square in the opening I am standing in, instead of two triangles. I had to put it down twice until I came up with a way to tie all 5 at once. Text in Blue: I began wrapping the fabric like a god’s eye around the spokes o the top motive. I stopped to tie them corner to corner, and catch them in the wind. I felt warmer as I wrapped and it blocked the wind. I wonder if caterpillars feel warmer as they unfurl silk for their cocoons.Text in Blue next page: On the outside, the tent is an eclectic flapping bedouin standing outside on an oasis (I meant the layers of cloth that nomads use to protect themselves from sandstorms and sun). Inside the red carpeting and piles o fabric add to the feel of being a nomad. Looking up, the fabric creates a spiral, graphically letting in the sun. Text on White: As I tucked the final pieces of fabric in to the sides, the tent became a sail, and blew over with me inside. Everyone rushed up to help, and I pulled it right-side-up. Then I invited everyone inside. I would have liked to sit in it a few hours, but we dismantled to see our guest.” I don’t mention here, that this was the actual goal: to create a shared space where one could opt out of the rush of the city for a respite: a sacred meditation. Photo transfer by Alberto Antonio Aguilar, “windmill” Text in Blue: I want to make a larger dome and create a painted skin of silk. I want to create a box of chiffon with layers of patterned painting so that a person can look through it like leaves. I want to find a nest of trees and wrap fabric like a god’s eye around them, enclosing myself and the watchers. I want to take the tarp, wear it like a cape and walk all over Chicago; dragging it behind, obstructing the right of way. I want to cut up all the tubes and try to do my miniature sample full-sized. I want to create a tensegrity version of a dome like this. I want to go to the beach and draw a pattern in the sand and watch as it reintegrates, color by color.
