I am overwhelmed, positively.  We spent a few days in Minneapolis, and I have decided I must move there immediately, after a 2 year stint in grad school.  I have never been so in love with a geographic point where I don’t approve of the weather.  Although we were lucky to savore a favorable weekend in July, one in which the Minnesota weather too wooed me with whisps of crisp air and lashes of sunlight and lots of excitement in so many realms.

We set up on the front lawn of ART OF THIS, (and the neighboring businesses who were kind enough to allow tent-overflow,) and played games at picnic tables, like dominos and scrabble and patty cakes and ate homemade cookies.    I love Minneapolis.

We were escorted around the city by David and Chrystal, who took us to what I am sure  was the most exciting series of events happening in the lower 48.  I would like to share this list, elementary style, using commas:

We saw a post-high school marching band (complete with cheerleaders and sequins), attended a secret noisy bonfire in the downtown area, hopped a fence, danced to the sights and sounds of exotic sea creatures, hopped another fence, ate vegan soul food, and slept in our bus.  All in one night.  And it didn’t even feel too busy.  I can’t even believe how uncrowded our jam-packed evening was.  And the next day!  Bikes! Breakfast in a bowling alley!  Swimming!  Sights!  Bikes!  More bonfires!  Marshmallows!  Minneapolis!  I’ll say no more.

(I’ll also offer no photographic evidence of these events, as we’re having trouble uploading images from the card reader, however I have posted a lot of new photos from previous parts of the trip on our FLICKR page.)

This is J. We left him in New Mexico.

I am at a library in suburban Minneapolis, and the computer is notifying me that I have only 8 minutesleft for explaining an absence of updates this week, so I apologize in advance for unruly, runon sentences that might have various mistakes, in accuracy and grammar. 

Recap(itulation):

We were in South Dakota, where we spent a few days on the Rosebud Sioux Reservation.  We attended a few hours of a Sundance and spent a lot of hours cleaning and re-organizing the bus. 

We were in Mitchell, SD, where we marveled at the world’s only Corn Palace, ate fried delights in a bar outfitted with a sand volleyball court and video poker. 

We went to a drive-in movie theater and froze atop our bus, listening through a portable radio to the “corny” scripts of the doublefeature, armed with cans of busch beer and woven wool blankets. 

We also camped in a parking lot, which our high-school friend at one of the local tourist attractions told us was “ok.” 

We drove a lot. 

We also tried to camp lakeside in rural Minneapolis last night, at a boat launch.  Jonas and I cooked dinner on the propane stove.  We speculated over the legallity of our actions, pondering the “no camping” sign outside our door.  We hit the lights on the bus, and the squad car lurking nearby did too.  We had to leave.  Instantaneously busted.  Oh well.  We made it to a rest stop a few miles up the road.  (I’m still waiting for a real camping adventure, complete with a fire and marshmallows, which are tucked away somewhere in the bus, rendering themselves less edible with every decision to bus-camp.) 

I’m eager to set up the tipis today.  We’ll be at ART OF THIS in Minneapolis today and tomorrow, and then head towards Chicago, where we have an extensive extravaganza on the ticket.  Be sure to check the EXPEDITION PAGE for event updates.

tipi in cul-de-sac

more photos of tipis in suburbs (courtesy of Gavin)

We’ve long-since completed our tumbleweed act, barreling our way West out of Texas and North into South Dakota (in a few hours.)  I don’t want to sound like a lagging, out-of-touch journalist, relaying the highlights of each day that are no longer relevant, however if we treat this like a chapter book, maybe it won’t seem obsolete.

Now, where did we leave off?  Somewhere between two crisp sheets, a glass of milk and a tray of biscuits, gently accompanying the lullaby that mother/father/babysitter/sibling is reading as your lids fall heavy and visions of tumbleweeds scurry past your lashes.

West Texas.  We crowded onto the bus, 8 of us, and chugged down the road to Marfa.  We didn’t make it there that first night, as predicted.  Instead, we made it to, what we thought was a rest stop, but really was just a roadside gully, a perfectly measured cutout for our bus.  This is not the first time we have camped without a tipi.   Analyzing this disappointing notion, I settled next to a few droopy New Orleans voodoo candles and wrote out postcards, mimicking (and laughing at) my former hopes for this summer:  candle-side, antiquated moments, donned in a prairie frock, communicating by way of feather and ink.  Why I had imagined it this way, I am not sure.

The other 7 made bus-beds in the bunks, hammocks and on the roof.  I, however, could not.  None of the choices the bus provided seemed fit.  I tried the asphalt and was awakened by my sensible side, screaming that we were only slightly removed from a Texas highway with no speed limit.  The tall grasses seemed a comfortable choice until a nearby sassy rattling (probably cicadas) jogged my imagination and a small creature sprung onto my chest, propelling me into a vertical stance.  I tried the roof, but woke up shivering to the blare of a sluggish freight across the road, and eventually landed a wink on the astroturf floor of the bus.

But enough about sleep, for the waking (and I’m running out of time as we are headed to the Rosebud, SD in a few minutes):

We made it to Marfa, Texas (population 2,021) and toured the Chinati Foundation, which houses permanent installations by Donald Judd and a few of his minimalist cronies (Chamberlain and Flavin.)   The tour is done in 2 parts, so after the morning stroll around its campus, we met up with Susannah Mira, a fellow Elsewhere artist.  And to answer a possible question of yours:  why might you meet up with a fellow artist friend in rural Texas where Airstreams outnumber houses?   Because, Marfa is an enigma.   A bizarre, arid outpost, flanked by nothing but nothing, populated by plants with names like “bad woman,” native Texans, Mexican immigrants and escapists from the New York art scene.

Speaking of evading the art scene, we opted to use our time in the Southwest as opportunity to relax and sight-see.   West Texas, New Mexico, Colorado.  And a good choice it was.  A mini-vacation before the rigorous schedule ahead (see updated tour page) presented us with myriad moments of excitement and discovery.  J and I tried to fly via lumber tarp para-sail at Monahan’s sand dunes.  Tiff took on the role of archaeologist at Petroglyph National Monument.  Jonas played chef at Balmohrea springs.  Dan and Ian were scolded like children as they scaled the not-so-flat walls of Carlsbad Caverns in NM.

And now, we find ourselves in Colorado, visiting with Grant and Peggy, founders of Colorado Art Ranch.  We were introduced to members of their board over a scrumptious meal, and were convinced to set up a tipi in the cul-de-sac of their subdivision.  A new backdrop for the tipi.  It’s fascinating how each environment infiltrates the installation, breathing new life and interpretations from each flap of plastic as it soaks up the landscape in which it sits.

And now, as we’re weening ourselves from Grant and Peggy’s hospitality, we look forward to a visit with members of the Rosebud Sioux Tribe.  South Dakota it is.

Woah, horsey.  We’re packing up again.  And again, it seems all too soon.  I feel somewhat guilty and privileged as I’m situated in an air-conditioned facility, saturated with iced espresso and bombarded by the comforts of Mellow Johnny (Lance Armstrong’s bike shop/pit stop).  Meanwhile, the crew is breaking down the site and tightly packing the landship yet again.  (Again.  I’ve used the word too many times.)  I suppose I’m preparing myself for a “real job,” one in which you must diligently check email in luxurious conditions.  I admit, I’d almost rather be the object of the relentless sun.  (ALMOST.)

Austin, thank you.  We’ve been presented with remarkable kindness and I feel that “thank you” isn’t an adequate expression of gratitude.  Randy and the Austin Green Art crew provided a delicious and fortifying meal on Monday night.  We were joined by a few guest campers and were able to enjoy/employ a surprise amenity delivered by Green City Solar–a solar powered generator!  We hooked up our sewing machine, charged our electronics and at last, stored a few perishables in our normally empty refrigerator.  Thank you, Green City Austin, of the solar division!

Yesterday we set up at a tipi at MASS Gallery on the cement parking lot and outfitted it with all the necessary home furnishings found in the nearby Goodwill dump: a cot, a cooler, an oil barrel and an uprooted fire hydrant as its centerpiece.  (And anchor weight.)  We held an artist talk in the evening, which successfully unfurled as a discussion and later developed into a late-night dip at Barton Springs.  59 seconds in a 59 degree natural pool.  I was pretty disappointed when my swim was truncated by a whistle, blown as my flailing limbs hit the cooling surface.  I thought I had done something horrible, but realized that the pool closed at the very moment I plunged.  Oh well.  We might take a quick rinse before getting on the road (momentarily).  I think that’s a great idea, because we now have a crew of 8, and a drive of 8+ hours to our next destination–Marfa, Texas.  I’m looking forward to a rooftop ride, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.  (Now is when the 200lbs of old seat belts and webbing come in handy.  Strap me in, captain.)

So, Marfa it is.  We won’t make it there tonight, which is good, because we’ll have an opportunity for a wilderness camping adventure in a wildernesseque park with a wilderness campfire.  No rest stops tonight.  We’ll be in Marfa for only one day, tomorrow, so we won’t set up camp, but look for us in Albuquerque on Saturday, where we’ll be installed alongside some other tents at the Saturday farmers’ market.

And now I’m getting a breakfast call, which means I need to exit.  But before I do so, I’d like to send out a raging applause to Austin, particularly Randy Jewart of Austin Green Art and Xochi Solis of MASS.  Y’all make me smile–more than a gooey box of delicious donuts.  It always comes back to that, doesn’t it.  (Exit stage left, west to WEST TEXAS. )

Folks, we’re in Texas. It’s true, everything is bigger. Even the, well, everything. But, before I gloat the glamor of Austin, let’s backtrack a bit…Many exhuberant thanks to City Park and The Front Gallery for hosting us in New Orleans, and to our most gracious hosts, Billie and Jessie, who saved our wilting vessels from the indestructable heat. And to every creative soul pulsing through the vibrant veins on the Louisiana coast. Ayo! (bAYOu!)

And ode to the road! And new crew! We now have Dan from South Carolina with us, and Tiff from Florida. Also, we anticipate an evening arrival of Billie and Jessie, who are previously stated saints based out of Nola.  AND Sara(h) Lee and Eliza from Greensboro.  Ahoy.  Landship at capacity!

So yes, back to the bus….yesterday was incredible. And an incredibly long ride over to Austin. But we learned more about bus living, including: how to use a typewriter, suspend and swing ourselves from the interior ceiling rack and how to ask fellow roadsters for donuts. (With proper signage.) I admit, I left Nola with one very poignant disappointment, which is that we never stopped for a plate of those delicate, delicious donuts from Cafe Du Monde. (I think they call them beignets.) The donut hunt is on though. I was just informed that there is a very scrumptious ring of dough waiting for me at “Ken’s” in Austin.

Meanwhile, we’re feeling very lucky to be here with Austin Green Art. We’re situated on an idyllic, expansive vacant lot, sandwiched between aisles of traffic and skyscrapers. We had a few media personelle on site this early morning. Catch a glimpse of the unfolding tents, which wouldn’t have happened as smoothly without the help of a local summer camp

http://www.myfoxaustin.com/dpp/good_day/070609_from_trash_to_tipi_village

Thanks, Randy, Dave, Romeo and pals.

And now, back to the tents.

Well.  We had quite a time in New Orleans.  I don’t feel the need to ever go to a sauna again.  We spent the last day exploring.  Originally we had planned to stay at the tents, guarding them and fielding questions from inquisitive visitors.  I don’t know why I thought that would actually happen, but I’m glad it didn’t, because so many other things were able to happen while the tents managed themselves.  For instance, we were able to prevent passing out and enjoyed airconditioning.  We bought some local produce at the market, we enjoyed air conditioning, went to a 4th of July fiesta, went to another 4th of July fiesta, went swimming, rode bikes, not bus.  Also, I got my tarot read.  There are 2 guardians watching over the bus, so now I know it’s ok to take the vehicle over 50 miles an hour and ignore some of the vibrations.

We’re about to get back on the bus and head to Austin.   I’m not ready to leave, because New Orleans is sensational, and I feel the burgeuning creative front charging from all directions; maybe it’s the force behind the buckling sidewalks and glossy lush vegetation, eager to creep beyond its curbside home.  I’m also not ready to leave because I’m in my PJs.

Please visit us in Austin at MASS Gallery and at our downtown campsite on 5th and Nueces, or thereabouts.  We accept all popsicles and most cold drinks.

(City Park set-up, photo courtesy of Billy Brown)

Let’s go back in time.  2 whole days.  Has it only been 2 since we puttered and gurgled down a North Carolina dirt road, marking the first tenth of a mile?  It feels much longer, but that’s only because we’re joggling and sweating in a bus all day.  At first, I was worried it would be too bumpy to do anything on the ride.  But I believe it will work to our advantage, oh yes.  Whittling?  We won’t even have to flick our wrists.  Chopping vegetables?  Just let your hand hinge at the arm and you’ve got a fancy tray of crudites.   (I think that will work.  I did grind some coffee with a hammer using this principle.)  But actually, we did learn that we can sew with a machine on the bus by manually turning the wheel.  It’s a little slow going, but makes for neat and even stitches.  I made J a pair of shorts yesterday out of rainbow florescent fabric tagged with fake graffiti: “Alley” and “D-zone” are my favorite of the expressions.  I’d label it early 90s.

On with business–today is our first official tipi event.  We’re setting up in City Park this morning and then moving over to The Front Gallery this afternoon to set up 2 additional tipis.  We’ll have the tents on display at the park until early Sunday morning, and we’ll be at The Front this evening to give a casual talk. Come find us at one of our homes.  We’d love to host you:

New Orleans HOME 1:

WHERE:  CITY PARK, between Victory and Dreyfous Streets, located in the Southwest corner of the park.

WHEN: July 3 and 4 (all day)

and

NEW ORLEANS HOME 2:

WHERE: THE FRONT COLLECTIVE, 4100 Saint Claude Avenue

WHEN: JULY 3, 7-9pm