Tag Archives: ecology

Drying up

….and the drought continues into mid-November. This is a very long stretch of dry weather, and the rivers I’ve crossed recently–the Delaware, the Schuylkill, the Lehigh, the Susquehanna–are looking mighty low. Little islands are showing up in the center of the riverbeds. Tree roots visible along the banks. I found this government website that filled me in concerning the current situation. Looking at the charts, wow.

My low mood continues, for a number of reasons: the recent political news, the continuing wars, my mother’s consistent decline, the drought, my physical distance from my grown children on the other side of the continent, a friend’s death, a bunch of recent poetry rejections, the fact that I can’t go into a store without hearing Christmas music…granted, some of these reasons are not earth-shattering but the effect is, well, cumulative. Han VanderHart’s recent blog post speaks to the rejection, reminding me of things I know and should keep in mind. The challenge is just getting through and occasionally finding delights at which to marvel, for the delights surely endure. Ross Gay’s Book of Delights is my book group’s next selection, a book I’ve read before but which–at this particular moment–will probably benefit me when I re-read it.

I also feel creatively dried-up, and that’s dismaying. Reading novels (see my last post) offers peasant distraction but seldom gets me writing my own work. I’ll never be a novelist. I’ve been reading poetry, online and in books, as I always do; yet right now, the poems I have been reading, no matter how wonderful, have not inspired me to work on my own.

I’m not even revising! This is not my usual self, not my poetry “norm,” not a space in which I feel happy or well-regulated or at least inspired. Perhaps I have encountered the dreaded writer’s block. Or rather, a drought of some kind, an inner sluggishness of the imaginative flow. Despite the glorious stretch of sunny days and moonlit nights, the incessant blue sky reminiscent of those high-altitude desert environments I seem to love, despite these delights, I’m discontented.

How very human of me.

Listen, there’s a trio of redtail hawks along the woodlot. Their nasal “screeee” and their graceful swoops between the bare branches catch my attention. Sunlight on the field tells me, “You could at least get outside and take a walk.” Okay. Can do.

What are we doing here?

What is a self-directed, multi-disciplinary, eco/environmental artists’ residency? Why are we here? Or, since I can only truly speak for myself, why did I choose to participate in this experience, off the grid in the only true desert in Europe, with people I had never met? Several of my friends have been asking me these questions. I couldn’t really answer in advance because I had no data! I chose to come here partly to get some time alone, partly to visit the land where Lorca lived, and partly because everything would seem new to me.

Not everything seems new to me, as it turns out. Which is also something I expected. For example, my college experiences, both undergrad and graduate, were largely self-directed and multi-disciplinary; what’s changed is that now art disciplines include things like 3-D imaging, computer videos, podcasts, software-as-medium, and the like. Even blogging (here I am, composing creative work for humans to read through a computer screen). For example number two, the artists here are not so different from artists I have met in many circumstances and places over the years: they are curious, intelligent, creative, willing to take risks, and often quite mindful. Another example of things not so new is that, having spent a bit of time in the Albuquerque NM region recently, the lay of the land here and its exceptional flora, fauna, and aridity are not completely alien to my sensibilities.

I’m seeing a number of ideas about xeriscaping, creating fire-breaks, and about stopping erosion and saving water–such as environmental water systems that include basins, ponds, and plants as filters–in process or already in use here at the cortijo. We watered seedlings using water from an in-progress swimming pool near a small natural pond (one of only a very few up in this region) where the natterjack toads were croaking contentedly. The orchard is not producing much, as the trees are still small; but in a few years the farm should be able to get much of its fruit on site.

I’ve learned about the environmental history of this region, too, and how it has changed as the ecological ravages of humans have both worsened it and tried to revive it over centuries. In the Neolithic era, there was more rain. Bison roamed here, and people set up hunting camps in caves. Millenniums later, the Moors settled in the 11th c, built fortresses and small castles up in the hills. The close of the 15th century signaled the rise of noblemen, haciendas, bustling towns and small farms (cortijos)…and major deforestation. During the 19th c, the imperial government instituted a plan to reforest areas of what is now the park, and the economy grew, with more small farmholders; then the economy and population shrank in the 1950s and 60s when the climate became harder to deal with and infrastructure available elsewhere (electricity, paved roads, etc.) hadn’t gotten up to the mountains. People left for the cities. There are many abandoned houses/farm structures here.

Joya-Air explores and promotes sustainability, through mindful conservation and technology that uses fewer resources, along with creativity: art and ecology. The organization is “an advocacy association for ecosystem restoration / rural culture and residency for international contemporary artists and writers.” Simon Beckman is the curator/founder.

People volunteer at and attend or participate in these sorts of residencies and experiences for a host of reasons. For me, it’s a chance to switch perspective, view things from a place far from home, compose poems in a quiet space meant for just that–creative thinking and reflection. To inhabit, however briefly, a place intended to coexist with the flora and fauna, to find out what “off the grid” is like. And to learn new things, all of which contribute to the art of poetry.