Showing posts with label smudge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label smudge. Show all posts

PLUMBING THE GEOLOGIC DEPTH OF “NOW”: CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

Over on our Friends of the Pleistocene blog we've posted a call for submissions. We welcome all smudge readers to submit and spread the word!

PLUMBING THE GEOLOGIC DEPTH OF “NOW”: CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

FOP/smudge studio announces a CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS for a proposed edited collection of brief writings and visual essays, tentatively entitled “Making a Geologic Turn.” The book, which we are now proposing to publishers, is part of our larger project to both document and make something more of the geologic turn in contemporary cultural practices (see below).

what we mean by “making a geologic turn”

Until recently, the word “geologic” referred simply and directly to the science of geology–the study of the origin, history, and structure of the earth. But that’s changing. (We reported our first whiff of this change in a recent FOP post: geologic time is now). Something is happening to and with the ways people take up “the geologic,” and that’s intriguing to us as Friends of the Pleistocene.

Contemporary artists, popular culture producers, and even philosophers are adding new layers of meaning and sensation to “geologic.” Humans seem to be sensing (in new ways?) that the geologic is not only an area of scientific study–it’s also a condition of daily life.

Nevada Forest Fire, 2005, image NASA Johnson Space Center – Earth Sciences and Image Analysis (NASA-JSC-ES&IA)

At some point in the recent past, the geologic became sense-able (with new physical intensity and from new angles of thought) as a situation that we live within, not just something “out there” that we study.

Contemporary visual culture, art practices, ideas and values are now signaling the fact that the geologic is a force in contemporary life. There seems to be a growing recognition that the geologic, both as a material dynamic and as a preoccupation, shapes the “now” in ever more direct and urgent ways, through geologic forces such as: deep time, slow accumulations and metamorphoses of the world’s materiality, tectonic plate movements, erosion and displacement of landforms, dramatic earth reshaping events, geo-bio interactions. These are forces to be reckoned with existentially, creatively, and pragmatically as humans work to meet the fact that our species is both vulnerable to geologic forces and also has become a geologic force on the planet.

You could say the geologic has become a condition of contemporaneity.

And that brings us to contemporary art practices. One definition of contemporary art is “art created within the conditions of contemporaneity.” As if embodying that definition, FOP and other artists are making work within the geologic as a condition of our present time.

Many contemporary artists now locate their work primarily within the situation of the geologic–within the jostling and unstable physical, social, political, and economic situations that arise from and act back upon geologic materialities and forces. And they actualize their inspiration, motivation, materials, and gestures there. The result is a growing body of aesthetic works and practices that plumb the geologic depth of “now.”

If we were to say what’s propelling this geologic turn in our own work, and more broadly within visual culture, we’d point in at least two directions.

First, we’d cite recent “natural” and human-made events, some unprecedented in scale and consequence. These seem to have compounded–both actually and within human consciousness–to lay bare the reality of just how deeply human life is embedded in the “brute materiality of the external world”–in the very “stuff” of the geologic.

A few examples: the discovery in 1997 of The Great Pacific Garbage Patch; the 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami; Hurricane Katrina (2005); the 2010 eruption and disruption of Eyjafjallajökull; the 2010 Haiti Earthquake; increasing awareness of and preparedness efforts for the long overdue “big one” along the San Andreas Fault in California; ever-clearer signs of climate change both man-made and earth-made; recent “near misses” of earth by asteroids; growing stockpiles of high level nuclear waste and the urgent attempts to design ways to contain it–within the geologic–for up to 1 million years; the 2010 oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico; geologic-scale engineering projects capable of altering planetary dynamics, such as the Three Gorges Dam in China and carbon sequestering.

DOE image, retrieval of buried nuclear waste at Hanford, 2005

Second, we’d point to new developments in human thought and culture. These include new scientific understandings of geologic dynamics–especially the deep interplays between the geo and the bio; shifts in popular consciousness about the relation of the human to the geo; emerging philosophical concepts that use the geologic as metaphor, model, and inspiration for thinking about space, time, and change; radically new insights about our own evolution and existence as the result of an immensely long process of geologic time; and qualitatively new ways the humans experience time and space on planet earth.

These new ways of making sense of the geologic are being made thinkable and possible by new technologies and unprecedented lived experiences. For example:

New tools for visualizing the geologic may have precipitated the current turn from seeing the geologic as an area of scientific study that is abstract at best (nerdy hobby at worst) to experiencing the geologic vividly as a situation of daily life. Perhaps the turn began in 1972, on the day that humans first saw the “blue marble” photograph of earth taken by Apollo 17 astronauts from 28,000 miles out. Our abilities to visualize Earth as a wholly interconnected and dynamic geo-bio system have grown only more acute, refined, and now even interactively palpable thanks to Google Earth. Today, dynamic imaging technologies allow us to “see” and “sense” unimaginably slow and vast geologic dynamics as “flows.” Data animations make geo-forms such as mountains and deserts perceptible as motion through time.

Because of such vivid experiences–first hand, mediated, and imagined–it’s becoming increasingly possible, even necessary, for humans to further heighten our abilities for sensing geologic time. In the 1980s, word started getting out that the geologic conditions of life on earth can be–and have been–transformed in an instant: dinosaurs probably went extinct because of anasteroid impact. Today, some scientists think dinosaurs were wiped out by volcanic eruptions in India. Regardless, their disappearance happened fast and most likely because of geologic events that were planetary in scale. Journalists and Hollywood filmmakers are peaking audiences’ curiosities–and even adding to the scientific knowledge of laypersons–about very real (past and future) catastrophic geologic events. Scientific facts about how the geologic is capable of throwing our entire species into a crisis of existential risk are now part of pop culture (see the movie 2012 for a special effects version of everything from Noah-scale tsunamis to the movement of tectonic plates to the periodic and believed-to-be-overdue geomagnetic reversal of the earth’s poles).

Coal mine, image Stephen Codrington. Planet Geography 3rd Edition (2005) [1]

Perhaps most starkly, geologic time is beginning to have applied, material meaning for non-geologists. Not all that long ago, geologic resources seemed to be infinite. No nuclear waste needed to be stored. Carbon emissions didn’t exist. And the oceans contained zero tons of plastic. Two hundred years ago, concerns about what the planet might be like in 1000 years seemed irrelevant. No longer. In the face of rapid planetary-scale change, much of which has been human designed, today’s humans are confronted with realizing that life on earth hasn’t been like “this”, or looked like “us” for long at all. Humans seem to be having first inklings of the reality that geologic time hasn’t been composed of us–though we are composed of it. We (modern, Western people) are realizing all over again that our species’ existence is incredibly recent–that the human is a mere blip in geologic time. The sense of ourselves as a “blip” is only reinforced by the fact that “we” aren’t likely to be here much longer: most mammalian species last only one or two million years at the most, and the genus homo has already been around for almost 2.5 million years.

The internet and globalization (global flows and exchanges of information, human beings, manufactured products and earth materials) are radically transforming human experiences of time and space on earth. Philosophers and popular culture producers alike ponder the consequences for how humans sense and making meaning of time and space–including what it means to have a body. New, lived experiences of time open humans to evolving new ways to sense geologic time.

What we will make of our growing abilities and needs to sense geologic time, and what they will make of us, is a new and starkly different possibility. Already, in some realms of regional and urban “planning,” designing for geologic or “deep time” has become a design specification: deep geologic repositories for nuclear waste require engineers to plan for one million years into the future, and regional planners now actually consider what it might mean to design for the fact that the next ice age is a pretty sure thing.

Rising Currents exhibition entrance MoMA, Photo: Jason Mandella

Most recently, thanks to transdisciplinary exchanges across traditional fields of science, it’s becoming difficult for geologists and biologists to distinguish between the “brute materiality” of geology’s “external world” (rocks, minerals, mountains) and the soft, “inner” worlds of biology’s living things. According to current science-based stories about life, earth, and life on earth, we humans are walking rocks–we are actually composed of geologic elements such as calcium, iron, phosphorous; from humans to lichen, comparatively tiny living organisms are key players in monumental geologic processes (the earth would have a completely different geologic self if there were no life on it); and the geologic must now be taken into account in any concept of “the environment.” Best sellers that help us think across biology, geology, and environmental sciences, such as “The World Without Us,” fuel another growing realization about deep time: while the human species can’t get along without the geologic, the geologic will continue on in some form or other long after we have ceased being part of it.

“The Crude and the Rare,” curated by Saskia Bos and Steven Lam, at Cooper Union, photo Andrew Russeth

Contemporary artists, speculative architects, and hybridized cultural producers are making work from and within these events and ideas. As part of the geologic turn, their works and processes heighten collective awareness of the geologic as a condition of contemporary life. As Friends of the Pleistocene, we draw inspiration and insight from the themes and gestures that characterize their work.

still from Into Eternity, courtesy Michael Madsen 2009

Some of our sightings of those who are working with the geologic as a condition of contemporary life include:

Rachael Sussman’s photography project: the oldest living things in the world

Ilana Halperin’s works of “geologic intimacy” exploring the relationship between geological phenomena and daily life.

Karthik Pandiam’s Unearth at the Whitney examining relationships between the ancient and the modern.

Trevor Paglen’s Debris project, documenting orbiting space debris that will ironically outlast humankind’s presence on the planet

Lucy Raven’s photographic animation China Town

Ed Keller’s Design and Existential Risk 2010 lecture series at Parsons, The New School

David Gersten’s literary/visual work on architectonics

Geoff Manaugh’s ongoing visual research as cataloged on the BLDG BLOG

Peter Galison’s upcoming documentary on wilderness, wasteland, and nuclear “zones of exclusion”

Michael Madsen’s documentary Into Eternity on Onkalo, the world’s first deep earth repository for high level nuclear waste

Hiroshi Sugimoto’s recent show, Day After at Pace Gallery, exploring the origins of life millions of years ago.

Recent exhibition at Cooper Union, the Crude and the Rare where artists were commissioned to creatively respond to rare earth materials.

The Long Now Foundation’s ongoing programs and projects.

Brian Eno’s 2010 album Small Craft on a Milk Sea, including tracks such as Late Anthropocene and Paleosonic.

Rising Currents a 2010 exhibition at New York’s Museum of Modern Art exploring how a rise in global sea levels will affect New York City due to geologic force and event.

In addition to Making a Geologic Turn, we plan to produce an exhibition that maps the geologic turn in contemporary art and creative practices; facilitate gallery conversations and pedagogical events to discuss the ideas and works at the heart of the project; and offer an online, college-level course on the geologic turn in contemporary culture and art.

SMUDGE LAUNCHES FOP


Smudge has launched a new project, Friends of the Pleistocene. FOP extends smudge's long-standing interest in art + environment with a twist of geologic time.

We welcome you to visit the project website to learn more http://friendsofthepleistocene.com and check the "news | repository" for frequent updates http://fopnews.wordpress.com. We also invite you become a Friend! We hope you'll follow us as this project takes us into deep time.
Hoping your new year is off to a creative and healthy start. And, see you in the Pleistocene!

Friends of the Pleistocene (FOP), founded in 002010. Friends of the Pleistocene is a research and communication design organization. We are dedicated to exploring the conjuncture between landscape and contemporary human activity at sites shaped by the geologic epoch of the Pleistocene (2.588 million to 10000 years BP, Before Present). Through our projects, we create contexts and speculative tools for humans to recalibrate their sense of place within the geologic timescale. As a FOP member, you can evolve new pathways of cognition and use them to sense, design, and act in accord with deep time.

In 2010, FOP will focus on Pleistocene Lakes in North America.


To learn more, visit the site: friendsofthepleistocene.com
news | respository: http://fopnews.wordpress.com/

The Bog Quakes in Provincetown


Quaking Bog IV opens in Provincetown, MA

Smudge is among six artists who have created site-specific works in Provincetown, MA for the fourth annual Quaking Bog installation. The works ranged from conceptual to "restorative" to whimsical, and from entirely composed of found materials at the site to deliberately introduced "artificial" materials that commented on how people relate to landscape.

Provincetown is well known as one of America's earliest and preeminent artist colonies. Its natural beauty, remoteness, and acceptance of eccentricity and difference has inspired generations of fine artists, playwrights, photographers, and performance artists.

While much of the work that artists make here responds to Provincetown's dunes, beaches, and light, and many of its artists express concerns for its fragile environments, this small town at the tip of Cape Cod's spiral of sand hasn't been particularly known for "land art."

For four years, the annual Quaking Bog installation has challenged artists to create site-specific work suitable for the scale, fragility, and unique eco-systems surrounding this, the world's largest quaking bog located on a seacoast. Located just outside of Provincetown, the bog was purchased by the town to preserve it from development. In a town that thrives on luring visitors from around the world via a calendar filled with special weekends and week-long themed events, the Quaking Bog installation is a relatively intimate and local project. There is a palpable sense in this installation of the artists' own intimacies with the natural forces of the Provincelands, including the forces of its landscape.

Frank Vasello organized Quaking Bog IV, created one of this year's works, and hosted the artist walk-through on a brilliant October day, October 11. Each of the artists took turns presenting their works to a group of about 20 visitors who walked from site to site.

The Provincetown Quaking Bog Art Installation remains until the end of October.

(Click photos to enlarge
)


Paula Draper's "Spiritual Tree Healing." Artist statement:
Dead bottom branches on living trees are wapped in strips of sheeting to resemble bandages. the idea is adapted from the Shinto Shrines in japan where parents tie bibs with wishes for their sick childrens' health on rock and then ring a bell for the Kami to heal their children.


Connie Hatch's "Vessels." Artist statement:
Plant materials and rusted metals exhibit the muted colors of this season in abundance all around us. I tried to contain them for a bit of time.

David Bastien's "Weather Vane." Artist Statement:
Natural material, primarily thin sapling wood, is used to create a 'drawing in space' that will turn with the wind.

Hannah Verlin's "Agro-Culture." Artist Statement:
We humans have a strange--almost estranged relationship with nature. We might embrace it, but only on our terms. Think of public parks that are designed to look wild, or manicured paths running through woodlands. This installation will explore how we attempt to both tame and cultivate the wild.
traces of a piece by Frank Vasello from a previous Quaking Bog installation

Frank Vasello's "Nautilus." Artist Statement:
Using sticks gathered on site, this sculpture seeks to invoke a feeling of movement from what are normally static materials. Originally thought of as a nautilus, the piece evolved into the form you see before you.

tsmudge studio's "Signals from the Deep." Artist Statement:
This piece is a creative response to the meeting of geologic, biologic and atomic forces. These forces make the deep past, present, and deep future of Provincetown's Quaking Bog. A peat-moss sculpture and take-away "newsprint" invite visitors to expand their capacities to sense and live in relation to geologic time.
Read the newsprint here.




CLUI's Bus Tour of New Mexico's superlative ground-sky resonances

"...Instant annihilation. Once we've done that, gotten it out of our system, what else can we do? We can go forward."--Matt Coolidge, Director, The Center for Land Use Interpretation


smudge photo

On June 27, smudge and 55 others boarded a bus to--we didn't know exactly where. Neither did our tour guide, Matt Coolidge, Director of the Center for Land Use Interpretation. That's the way Matt ensures that each trip is responsive to its own unfolding. His work as CLUI's director includes curating and performing periodic bus excursions-as-collective research for the Center's land use interpretation projects.

This one, entitled "Reflections on the Land of Enchantment," was offered as part of the recent LAND/ART symposium weekend. Now, it's part of the lives of 55 people who were drawn to CLUI's tour description:
"The Center for Land Use Interpretation (CLUI) will take passengers on a guided bus tour through some of the more compelling and dramatic built landscapes of New Mexico, places at the core of this landscape-centered state. The tour will examine the cultural stratigraphy of the contemporary technological sublime; the veneer of test space; the reach upwards; the security of entombment; and the flare of the nuclear furnace."
The nine hour odyssey took us from Albuquerque "up the mesa" to Los Alamos, through security gates into the highly restricted Los Alamos National Lab. Here, the Manhattan Project mobilized what Matt called "a landscape machine" as it integrated sites and landscapes nationwide to extract, collect, concentrate, refine, and form rare elements into a few pounds of fissible material: "a global concentration of power." Our unprecedented crossing by bus into the Lab served as the trip's fulcrum. From there, we then turned "downstream" of the nuclear flow generated at the top of the mesa, and headed back and down that stream through Santa Fe to the mines, ranches, and changing communities of Cerrillos, Madrid, and Galisteo.

On the way up the mesa, Matt set up the thematic "lens." He then invited us to use that lens to see and make sense of the immediate New Mexican landscape, its human-built veneer as well as its human-altered sub-surface, and their histories. The tour would take the branding of New Mexico as "The Land of Enchantment" literally. Matt invited us to consider the reality of the celebrated resonances and tensions between the ground and the sky that exist here. And to follow the resulting "vibration" between sky and ground--to the nuclear: the spell of the man-made sun, the blinding white light of the truth that is also the death unleashed by the bomb.

The format of CLUI bus tours requires passengers to literally "go there" themselves. As Matt pointed out about the saying "been there, done that:" you haven't done it 'till you've been there. So, rather than attempt a descriptive narrative of the journey in a linear fashion, smudge offers the following creative responses conjured in us by the process of moving with the CLUI through this particular landscape, on a journey from the cradle to the grave of the bomb.

Enchanting



Matt spun a series of images and metaphors as we headed for Los Alamos--playing off New Mexico's reputation (and "branding") as the Land of Enchantment. He suggested that the sense of enchantment here might be very real--not an illusion or commercial ploy.
"This sense of the technological sublime in New Mexico runs from the earthships of Taos to the test tracks of Holloman; from the Virgin Gallactic tourist spaceports of Upham, to the alien crash sites of Roswell;. . . from the Very Large Array to the very large pointy spikes of Lightning Field; ... from the hollow nuclear chambers of the Manzano Mountains to the electromagnetic pulse test trestles of Kirtland. This land was made by you and me."--Matt Coolidge, on the way up the mesa
Nothing less than a "synthetic sun" was created in New Mexico on July 16, 1945. It was engineered by people whose imaginations and efforts stretched between terra firma and the stars, between the (under)ground and the sun. Its conception and fabrication took place on a mesa formed by giant fingers of an ancient volcanic flow. The "little town" built at the top of the mesa was inhabited by scientists seeking both the dawn of a new age and the end of a war.

Trying to be human and beyond human at the same time, they levitated momentarily between ground (a solid sense of what we know) and sky (what will always exceed us). Matt asked us to consider how these two poles became superlative here, and to sense them here, above all other places, as real.

New Mexico is the cradle of the nuclear. It is also its grave, the site of burial for nuclear waste generated by weapons research and production. Cradle: The Trinity "Test" (Jornada del Muerto). Grave: WIPP (Waste Isolation Pilot Plant, Carlsbad, NM).
"I have felt it myself. The glitter of nuclear weapons. It is irresistible if you come to them as a scientist. To feel it's there in your hands, to release this energy that fuels the stars, to let it do your bidding. To perform these miracles, to lift a million tons of rock into the sky. It is something that gives people an illusion of illimitable power, and it is, in some ways, responsible for all our troubles - this, what you might call technical arrogance, that overcomes people when they see what they can do with their minds." -Physicist Freeman Dyson, as spoken in the film The Day After Trinity
Ex cursion

smudge photo

"Excursion" is an apt name for a CLUI bus tour. Maybe more so for this particular tour than any other.

Excursion is defined as a "deviation in argument," a "departure or deviation from a direct or normal course." People familiar with the CLUI's work would likely recognize both of these definitions as appropriate for a CLUI trip.

But "excursion" is also a term used in the nuclear industry. There, it means:
"A criticality accident, sometimes referred to as an excursion or a power excursion, occurs when a nuclear chain reaction accidentally occurs in fissile material, such as enriched uranium or plutonium. This releases neutron radiation which is highly dangerous to surrounding personnel and causes induced radioactivity in the surroundings."--wikipedia
Our CLUI excursion did indeed reach a state of criticality as it unleashed a chain reaction of meanings and implications among sites both unusual and the exemplary (CLUI'S criteria for the sites that it includes in its land use database and bus tours). As we turned to come back down the mesa, Matt launched into a miles-long, seemingly never-ending litany that compounded: names of multitudes of weaponized "Technical Areas" that occupy the mesa and make up the Lab; names of sci-fi sounding projects and operations that take place within those areas; billions of dollars being spent there today; endless restricted areas; sites of unexploded ordinances; "danger" signs along our route. All of these bounced off of juxtapositions that strained credulity. On our left: the site of 49 small nuclear tests that took place in tunnels, while across the canyon on our right: Bandelier's ancient cliff dwellings. On our left at the tip of a lobe of the mesa that points our way back toward Santa Fe and Albuquerque: Tech Area 54's radioactive nuclear waste site holding enough waste to fill an estimated 1.5 million 55 gallon drums; while on our right and just below TA 54: the suburban community of White Rock and its 6000 inhabitants. And all of this uphill from everything living below. Connected to it, resonating with it, via gravity, and a matter of time. Matt comments:
"It will take awhile for it to migrate, but it definitely will."
smudge photo

Atomic Ed

Or, as Ed Grothus, former Los Alamos machinist and founder of Los Alamos' Black Hole put it:
"What goes into the Laboratory comes out of the Laboratory."
As we headed down the mesa, Matt popped a video into the bus's player and we watched Atomic Ed and the Black Hole, a documentary by Ellen Spiro. It chronicles Ed Grothus' campaign to raise and change consciousness about what takes place on the mesa.

smudge photo
"Over 30 years ago, Ed quit his job making "better" atomic bombs and he began collecting what he calls "nuclear waste", non-radioactive high-tech discards from the Los Alamos National Laboratory which are auctioned off dirt cheap every month in a gigantic government yard sale.

As the self-appointed curator of an unofficial museum of the nuclear age called "The Black Hole", Ed reveals a history of government waste that was literally thrown in a trash heap. By transforming his ironic junkyard into a genuine museum, Ed hopes to preserve the artifacts of Los Alamos' hidden history."--Mobilus Media /atomic.html

Ed passed away in February, 2009, but his surplus-store-as-museum continues to offer an excursive view of the Los Alamos Lab and its history. Our stop at the Black Hole and Spiro's video were pivotal. They turned us from the glitter of stars and synthetic suns to the deeply material infrastructures of nuclear industries.

Obsolescence



smudge photo

“We shape our tools and afterward our tools shape us.” --Marshall McLuhan


"We created, in the bomb, the means to end not just a war, but existence, all life, the world itself, at the press of a button. Technology evolved to the absolute limit in one direction."--Matt Coolidge on the way up the mesa
We signed up for CLUI's bus tour in the midst of a 32 day research trip to archives and various land use sites across the West and Southwest. We are focusing on how human uses of the nuclear alter the geologic--especially in terms of deep time (past and future).
Blowback: Unintended negative effects suffered from one's own weapons or actions.
Our repeated encounters with historical and contemporary human attempts to use the nuclear as a form of power have left us thinking that the term "nuclear technology" may be a misnomer. Given the blowback (environmental, strategic, economic, moral, psychological) that results from any use of so-called nuclear technology as weapon or as source of power ... we might be forgiven for thinking that this "technology" is, finally, useless. Any use of it produces, ultimately, more work than it accomplishes. It has, after all, not only generated untold amounts of human suffering and cost ... it now seems to have enslaved contemporary humans and countless unborn generations with the task of working for it, rather than the other way around. Humans are now obligated for thousands of years to come to dispose of, shield, and keep track of what the nuclear does best: render vast quantities of the earth's materials and human-made objects both lethal and obsolete.

Perhaps nuclear technology is the ultimate generator of obsolescence--uselessness. If so, it breaches the limit of what constitutes a technology by becoming a "tool" that can't be used. Except to make or assist the accelerated decay of what has been made, of materiality itself.

The Geologic


smudge photos of aerial and topological views of Los Alamos

Traveling with the CLUI is to travel in direct and intimate proximity to the processes and degrees to which humans have altered the landscape. It is from such exposure (also by way of CLUI newsletters, database research, residencies, exhibitions) that land use has taken on real and material form for us. Over the years, our work and individual capacities for sensing such forces have expanded in turn.

On the way down the mesa we began to imagine potential responses to our day with the CLUI. Our focus came to rest on the geological forces upon which we were traveling.
"Geologically speaking, the history of Los Alamos is vastly more explosive and cataclysmic than its better known, recent atomic past. Compacted pumice and ash fallout "drape our cliffs like a snowfall" (Heiken) - the result of 17 million years of volcanic activity. A crack in the crust of New Mexico's earth, known as the Rio Grande Rift, has been widening for the past 20 to 30 million years..."
- exhibit caption on the "Natural landscape" of Los Alamos at the Los Alamos Historical Society
Los Alamos: volcanic fingers. The land we had just transversed might have been terra firma for LANL infrastructure since 1945, but it was once pure moment and flow. As hard as it is to imagine, even this distant reality is only a short chapter in an immensely longer and varied geological tale.

Though human nuclear intervention into the landscape of New Mexico is deep, wide, and total, at this point it is actually quite shallow in terms of geologic time. The sixty years of land alteration that took place at LANL can easily be swallowed by the tectonic furnace.

It appears (to us) that there is at least one force continuously able to meet and exceed the nuclear, and that is the geologic. The nuclear waste that humans continue to generate will last much longer than what future humans might remember as the nuclear era. The planet will far outlive the waste we are burying in it. The chance that humans will outlive that waste is less likely.

When situated within the context of the geologic, the topic of nuclear land use becomes something else. It becomes something less about "destruction" of the earth and more about a distinct and dramatic alteration of what it means to be human on the planet from this point forward. How will all life have to bend and reshape in response- far into an unknown future? Our potential to imagine our species moving forward in geologic time becomes compromised by the depth of our present nuclear realities. The fundamental geologic forces of the Earth (plate tectonics, the Earth's continuous recycling of land itself) are, however, unmoved by human uses of the nuclear.

It is through direct, embodied experience of land use that our (smudge's) capacity to sense geologic time has developed. Grasping geologic time is about being "there" and "feeling it for ourselves." It is through land use interpretation that the immense degree to which humans have altered the landscape of the earth begins to take on significant and three dimensional meaning. The nuclear totality is humbled when land use is contextualized within the geologic. Human intervention in the geologic is relatively short. What this means for humans today, at this contemporary moment, is something that is wide open to creative response.

broken arrow

Matt Coolidge will take the results of the CLUI's collective research excursion in New Mexico and make them a part of an interpetive facility that the CLUI will open on August 1. Part of LAND/ART, it will be housed in a mobile office structure on the edge of ABQ--in the vicinity of the site of "Broken Arrow."



Broken Arrow nuclear accident site,
just south of the Albuquerque airport
(smudge photo)

Artists + Environments web exhibition launch


Today smudge studio launched a web exhibition of its recently completed project entitled: Artists + Environments: Generative Practices and Conversations.

The project began with a three-week long web event in March, 2009. smudge studio orchestrated a collaboration among 16 artists, art educators, museum educators, and media designers whose works address natural, built, and virtual environments.

Collaborators used a blog to experiment with and creatively respond to five gestures (drawn from the Walker Art Center's "Elements and Principles of Today's Art') that shape contemporary art: hybridity, time, space, performance, and appropriation. Each week, moderators kicked off the conversation with provocations. Moderators included Bill L. Fox, Susan Rotilie, and Colin Robertson.

On March 26, 2009, we took the results to graduate students in Penn State’s School of Visual Arts “Web 2.0 Pedagogies” class, taught by Karen Keifer-Boyd. There, Karen and her students helped design the web exhibition during a charrette facilitated by smudge.

You can view the project's press release and description here.

You can experience the exhibition, along with documentation of the design charrette, on ExtremeMediaStudies.org (click on "web exhibitions" or "web exhibition: generative conversations"). You'll find video, interactive image and text "echoes," extracted themes, and contextualized text excerpts from the conversation's flow.

We invite you to creatively appropriate the web exhibition for your needs as artists, teachers, and museum educators. Please pass it along. Let us know what you think and how it's taken up.

smudges' new blog

smudge studio's Edges of Feasibility project, Rachel NV

We welcome you to smudge studio's new media initiative--a hybrid of blog and periodic web exhibitions.

Our new blog sifts, bridges, maps, and cross-pollinates networks among an expanding field of artists + environments. We offer the site as a generative media resource for a growing network of contemporary artists, designers, urban planners, researchers, and scientists variously referred to as “New Land Arts," “Artists/Designers + Environments,” or "land use interpretation."

We launch the blog with smudge-generated posts of ideas, works, news, conversations, and provocations relevant to this emerging field. Also, in collaboration with and thanks to the Land Arts of the American West program, we launch with selected announcements of events, exhibitions, and opportunities posted to their Land Arts Listserve. Finally, we launch with a web exhibition in the making--a response to our upcoming work with the LAND/ART project in New Mexico this summer.

With this blog/web exhibition, we hope to give you a dynamic image of the emerging "field | practices" of land arts + land use interpretation + artists + (built) environments + design. We want to help map its expansion even as it (happily) heads off the map.

smudge studio at LAND/ART (June 2009)


smudge studio will design, produce and web host information, documentation, and creative responses to LAND/ART, a collaborative exploration of Land-based art in New Mexico, Summer and Fall 2009.

We will be in Albuquerque to cover the LAND/ART Symposium Weekend June 27 - 28, 2009. The LAND/ART Symposium Weekend will take place around the opening of Experimental Geography (curated by Nato Thompson) at the Albuquerque Museum, and include a series of artist talks, discussions, excursions and tours.


The Center for Urban Pedagogy, The Cargo Chain (detail), 2008, from Daniel Tucker (project organizer), The We Are Here Map Archive, 1997–2008

Our participation is supported in part by a grant from the University of New Mexico College of Fine Arts.


Support LAND/ART and receive smudge studio's artist edition of 30 postcards depicting Limit Case landscapes and land uses encountered on our recent journey in the Southwest. To view the postcards and order your set of 30 for a tax deductible donation of $20, please visit the LAND/ART BOOKS page.