Church of the Dog
Church of the Dog
“I want to do a tribute to our Lady Godiva runs.
Everywhere you go out here there is metal junk just rusting in people’s rangelands. It’s junk to most people, but to me it’s art waiting to happen. How would I know about all this metal junk, you ask? I confess I am a trespasser. I like to explore, sometimes naked, and I like the unlawful act of trespassing just for the thrill of being naughty—well, that and my belief that no one really owns the land. They only agree legally to take care of it. Some of them are doing a mighty poor job, I might add. Anyway, I figure my trespassing doesn’t hurt anyone.
Lately, the thrill of trespassing has proven not to be enough. That metal calls to me. It wants to be art. It wants to be my tribute to Edith. I don’t want to haul it anywhere. See where I’m going with this? Doing the art on-site seems appropriate for the person and the act I am paying tribute to.
It’s the week of the summer solstice, and the moon is full. I’m caught up in the freedom of summer.
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