birth

Lets talk about birth.
(note, this is only one dad’s experience and perspective.)

All you moms and dads out there will likely attest similarly to one of these stories. And for those of you who might have a child in the future, I hope this can shine a little light on the subject.

The birthing spectrum is vast. Free birth, Hospital birth, birthing centers, home births, heck you might even choose to explore dolphin assisted water birthing... (yes that’s a thing) but I can only speak to what we’ve experienced with our two births. First, the by the book story of the induced/epidural hospital birth of our daughter, and the primal/all natural home birth of our twin boys. So far as I can tell they have each turned out to be the most wonderful beautiful healthy little humans, so this isn’t about shunning one way to another (as long as your child is succesfully born your winning) but rather to enlighten the topic so first time parents can take a personal look inside difference between the two experiences in a way I wish we had seen before our first.

 3 years ago Mizar was Born at the Palm Springs hospital. We were living north of Joshua Tree in Landers on a dirt road an hour away from Palm Springs.  Early on in pregnancy we explored our midwife options and unfortunately there just wasn’t anyone nearby we could find, and the distant few we did explore would be 3 times or more the cost of our insurance covered hospital birth. It was our first rodeo so we weren’t sure what to expect, and we didn’t have ten grand to invest into birth so we decided our best option given the circumstances was to go the hospital route.

On March 12 at 6am (a few days after Mizar’s due date) Mieka woke me up saying her water had just broke. As we were out in the desert boonies we promptly got dressed, grabbed the birth bag, and rushed off to the hospital like any excited, first time, soon to be parents might. In hindsight we should have chilled out, because as soon as we arrived Mieka was tethered into the system. And I mean literally. They want to steadily keep an eye on babies hear rate, moms blood pressure, and other data so that meant Mieka would be hooked up to monitors for the entirety of birth.

The labor room was nice, we had a window, a couch, bathroom… the lights would dim and the nurses really didn’t bother us that much. We had our own space to just be. There was much beauty in the experience. The monitor, though a hindersome bulky awkward excess was kinda fun because I could see Miekas contractions drawn on a continually printing little paper like a seismograph.  That got really neat towards the end as things really kicked into gear. Spoiler alert, that wouldn’t be another 20+ hours later. See, what we didn’t realize as first timers was just because her water broke we still could be waiting a long time. Days actually could be totally normal. But once you enter into the hospital they pretty much have this 24 hour schedule they want to stick with which means a standard procedure informing the mother on the dangers of waiting too long and highly encouraging a synthesized oxytocin drip into the body to begin contractions. We resisted for a while but after hours went by with not much progress in the way of contractions or dilation their increased persistence persuaded Mieka to accept the IV drip.  When your in the hospital setting your dealing with a time signature of business, not nature, so things seem to all need to happen fast. There is a stress placed on the parents to hurry up, and a guilt introduced due to the “safety of the babies” if you don’t comply to their timely requests. Order and structure and rigid scheduling seem to rule the hospital setting. Which is anything but the way we as a species have existed since the dawn of time.

The thing is, manually starting contractions in the mother doesn’t necessarily mean her body is ready to open, it just means her uterus will start to push that baby out. So like a train leaving the station thru a brick wall the pounding begins. This often triggers a snowball effect of future intervention that can even sometimes lead to a cesarian.

Miekas contractions began to increase, this was comforting at first, but quickly began to feel out of tune with earths rhythms, unnatural, and brutally painful. This pain continually increased through the afternoon and into the evening. Mieka had me massaging her lower back so hard during contractions that she bruised, and my fists were sore for days. Sometime around 2AM, and after many hours of persuading from the nurses, Mieka accepted their next intervention, an epidural (an injection tube placed into the spinal chord that releases a numbing agent causing loss of feeling from the waist down.)  Aside from feeling semi-defeated, it was a massive relief to Mieka’s body and fairly promptly allowed for her to relax and her cervix to dilate. Within a few hours she was at 10cm, the doctor showed up, and at 4 in the morning we had our first beautiful child in our arms. Smitten as any two parents could ever be over their perfect little miracle.

3 years and a few days later (yes, our children are 3 days apart. We like Pisces I guess.) Mieka gave me the same 6am wake up, only time she calmly smiled saying “its starting” it was so beautiful how she just knew our day was about to be the one we had been waiting for for so long. We told no-one, there wasn’t the immediate scramble of our first birth, after all, we had nowhere to go. We had everything we needed ready at home. I got up and cleaned the house, made some tea, and we prepared for whatever was to come. We were so ready. A few hours in we called our midwife, informing her Mieka’s contractions were consistent and she rallied the team together. One other midwife, and two assistants would be with us to ensure we had enough hands, for whatever might arise from a twin home birth.  The day was mostly spent between the bedroom, bathroom, and closet. The dark spaces were soothing for Mieka. Cavelike wombs, darkness. Like the first time it took all day. But unlike our first birth this felt so instinctually soothing. Monitors, hoses, doctors and drugs were replaced with music, massage, warm washcloths, electrolytes, & calming energy. Miekas contractions were not like the train station of pitocin, but rather the ocean waves rolling into shore, I felt like I had my toes in the sand feeling them as they washed in. Watching her ebb and flow like nature’s rhythm. Instead of something to fear and cringe, her contractions (though no doubt painful) were welcomed and embraced. I can’t speak enough on how beautiful this experience was to witness and support.

We were about 12 hours in and dilation hadn’t progressed a whole lot, Alkaid was face forward “sunny Side up” they call it, and his head seemed sort of stuck behind Mieka’s Pelvis bone. At this point we decided to manually break the first water, which did feel like a bit of intervention, but it did help with releasing some pressure, and paired with lots of body movement he did eventually make his way past the pelvis, and into the birthing canal. We had entered into evening at this point and progress was still only inching along. a low level stress was beginning to permeate the atmosphere. And outside Miekas bubble of divine maternal focus the midwives were whispering, making phone calls, thinking about our options. We could feel Alkaid’s head, but he just wasn’t budging. There was talk of her bladder being full, blocking the opening, too squished to release, and a catheter needed to relieve that blockage. There was a distant conversation in another room with Miekas father and the midwife about a hospital transfer…

and with all of this getting to be too much it was like a switch was flipped within Mieka and I witnessed as she took it upon herself, with that mama bear super strength to decide these boys are coming now. She squatted and pushed like the world depended on it and within a few moments Al’s head was on its way. We hollered and the midwives came in, and with the whole gang there Mieka pushed our first son right out and into this proud papa’s hands. He was sorta blue with a total elongated alien head from being stuck in that canal so long but he was here!!! On the other side. With another on the way he got a little bit of mom time before we cut the chord as everyone prepared for number two. These next moments were a blur of timeless nowness. It all felt so fast, yet slow. I overheard as mieka’s water broke all over the assistant’s shoes, and then before we knew it we were all back in the bathroom as Alcor came shooting out with no time to waist. Mieka had done it! The weight of all unsurety relieved. Our boys had made it and a new chapter in our reality had begun!

For future dad’s out there, I was unsure how all of this would work out for much of pregnancy, twins!? Could we manage? Would I be strong enough, smart enough, ready enough for this? Were we gonna survive? But the instant I held these guys in my arms that all was replaced with excitement for the challenge and beauty ahead. I don’t think your ever ready for parenthood until your in it. But once you arrive, It becomes the best thing in your life.

For future mom’s, I don’t think there is a wrong path to choose in birth, and your birthing plan never seems to go as planned, and guilt is the last thing you should ever feel about what outcome may transpire, and Im just a dad, who could never ever go through what you mothers will or have… But all I can wish is for every woman willing is to want this natural way, to get to experience it. Because trust me it is so worth it, but you have to really want it. It took real strength for Mieka to block out the heaps of concerns, pain, fear, and judgment pushed on her by not only doctors, friends, family, but also by herself in order to make it to this home stretch of home birth. But to witness the divine beauty in a woman channeling through her labor in an unhindered flow-state, breathing through the ocean tides of contractions, and leaning into the fractalizing infinite source knowledge of an opening lotus flower.

It is beyond words, and I wish it for humanity to experience. I think we are meant to.

April showers

Here we are on this last day of April making our way into may. Marking 6 years here at HiLo homestead. It’s been a beautiful journey and as always the next chapter is an exciting horizon. The trees are growing, our family too. Turns out we can still fit in this tiny home with a family of 5. So we might as well keep doing so. The compost toilet has produced its first bounty of humanure, there are earthworms under the trees, we are officially making soil. It’s a beautiful thing.

dark winter.

*Written November 2021

Hello old friend, we meet again. You creep in slow, and before I know it your are back again, cloaking me like a dense blanket a little too heavy for comfort. As the days grow shorter I wonder how I will manage this years foggy traverse. Will I take it in stride, focusing on wellness, & wholeness, or will I be buried in all the feelings. numb, tired, & cold. Either way, and likely with a balance of both I will be casting a stronger, humbler me out from this chrysalis yet again by the time the first sunrise of spring arrives…

Of course, Only time will tell, but I gotta say, I’ve got a good feeling about this one. strange, as everything hasn’t made much sense lately. The bills are piling up, this seasons crop had no yield to speak of, and the realities of adulthood are palpable on the mind and body.

I wonder, who (if any) notice the battle going on inside these doors. my optimist, my pessimist. At odds with each other fighting to be the real me. I observe the battle, which, they say, is a step in the right direction. Tho I cannot amicably call a truce. I am not in control of who has the upper hand. Yet… So I breath, I bathe, and accept the nothingness I know in comparison to the expansive everything that is.
-P

Its all Metaphor

Its all metaphor. The ceiling and the floor.  The open window, closing door. Everything your looking for, a metaphor a Meta4. The dirty dishes, and the chores. Sweep the ashes, rinse the pours, I know that you’ve been burned before, but dust your shoulders, time for more. Jump out the window. Phoenix. Soar. 

Is this making sense? Speaking in the meta tense? Did you pay the rent? Or do you to live in tents. In tent. Intense. intent. What is your intent? For that is how your money’s spent. Pay your tithing, every cent. Do you trust the government?  Do you lust your lovers scent, and treat her like your mother meant. Meant. Mean. Meaning. These words your reading, air your breathing. Affirmations sending seeding, many layers for receiving. All whilst waters are receding, have you noticed? mother’s weening. Are you ready? Time for Gleaning.

Do you understand? Your blood your brain your hands… all of it creators plan. A metaphor of man. Water sky & land. Every grain of sand. reflected ripples in a drop of water Infinite beyond command. Of course its all a choice. To see the signs, to hear the voice. To play the game, to make the noise, to dance the dance, be girl or boy. Or girl and boy its up to you. swim right thru this cosmic stew of one’s and zeros made to do exactly what its meant to. 

For once you realize, your real eye are deep inside. And every move you make shakes the ground and makes a wake. Life and love is yours to take. So nurture it, make no mistake. Care for it, foster joy, make it laugh, give it toys. Kindness is divineness send reminders to the mindless. Shine your light. Strong and bring. Light the path for others who are walking thru the night, Once your soul ignites you’ll never lose the way, there’s a million micro miracles in every single moment. in every single DNA. Fill yourself with Compass-ion(s) and you’ll always know true north. The roadmap is within us, (yes. That is a metaphor.) But what is it all meta for? Why not tell it like it is. What are we to tell the kids? We’ll tell them thats the way it is. An I an S, a line a curve, IS is the only things that make up everything in this seen universe. 

Because the other option is to teach it like we learned.  See it as reality. A means from egg to urn. If thats what you prefer, Its A-OK by me. Stay on solid shores as our ship sets out to sea. You know the truth, you got degree. All you learned from history. All you earned, and all you see. you know there is no mystery.  Change the dial, hit the mute, mental breakdown can’t compute, all there is, just solid form. From when you die to when your born. No one tell you otherwise. Plug your ears, close your eyes. Stop the music, break the flute. Put on a tie and wear a suit. Jesus has his plans for you, and retirement is coming soon, with benefits, and pensions too.  Life is rigid. Absolute. 

cute. 


Deep breath remember its all practice, all a package were unwrapping. Every day, every life, every earth with life we wiped. We’ll get it right one of these times. Its really just like riding bike. crawl, walk, run. left then right. We stumble yes. And that’s alright. Be sure and get some rest tonight. Good game today! You put in time. Tomorrow is another try. 

Most important have some fun, its all a game both lost or won, love the process, kiss the sun. Each time anew another one. Make mistakes, make lots of ones. And zeros too they’re good for you. shed some change to the poor and then ask how they got to where they are and if their heart is pure. God just might lie within their eyes watching you from deep inside. Reflecting that nice light you shine right back out to the morning sky. Meet your neighbor do not hide for they too are afraid and shy lend a hand build your tribe compassion needs no alibi. 

Fill your vessel let it pour, that is what we are & for, to hoard will only make you sore. 

And yes.

It’s all a 

M E T A P H O R. 


The Infinite Museum of Everywhere T.I.M.E

Time. The Infinite Museum of Everywhere. It’s not new. It was founded by a Big ol’ Bang burst out of boredom.  Made from a need to be seen. Because Without T.I.M.E there was only. And only is lonely. Artists need to share their work, express themselves & be heard. Imagine how tough it was when there was only One. Single. Creator. With no one else to share the complexity of their talents, skills, & creativity. Flowing with endless insight, wisdom, mastery, perfection… and no ONE to share it withOUT side of themselves. And so, boom. Creator created. All that we know, in an instant, an infant. With endless possibilities ahead. And If you’ve ever given a child some paints you know, its messy. And they couldn’t care less whose watching. So for some time the canvas was a splattering of chaos, a free form abstract work. Until one day form was introduced. Shape. Construct. And like a toddlers first day with clay they were in awe. Balls were made. Many of them. Such a fun basic shape, the sphere. One of the easiest. Over time skills were refined, and more shapes were created. triangles, hexagons, crescents. Patterns understood thru experimentation, learning by doing. And a beautiful thing happens when a you foster a childs creativity, They take on a life of their own. With a personality unique to themselves.  Living matter, organisms, bacteria, mitochondria, dirt, plants, an infinite expansion of expression began to shoot out in every direction.  So fun, so exhilarating. Year after year went by until this toddler was a teen and tho they were getting very talented, and had created so very much, no-one noticed. No-one praised their skills, or acknowledged their hard work. But there was one specific funny looking creature that seemed different. Something about their odd curiosity was inspiring, hopeful, promising… They watched wondering if this could be the audience they were hoping for. But they were gonna need some help, So they did like parents do, they stepped in to give a nudge in the right direction. Sending a care package, with some insight into all that is.  A bite sized version of creators awl impressive wisdom. And when those funny monkeys ate a bit of that conciseness, a second Big Bang happened. Inside their minds. Showing them the infinite possibilities, and more so, the comforting security that there was a path thru this terrifying wilderness. And there were elders to help them along the journey. There was a place. There was an eden they could get to, if they just started walking. But they’d have to work hard to get there. And with that, a new child was born. And creator smiled at creator as a new observer began to see their life’s work. The museum was a wonder filled place, and wiseman was in awe. That childlike awe that loves the mystery behind every rock and stick.  fire, wheels, tools, clothing… Creators began to forget about their desire to be seen because it was more fun to watch. Their pride in their work, turned into love. Love, for creations own creation. The joy that comes with watching a new mind grow. explore. express. So years went by, and wiseman grew too. With its coming of age came exploration into the arts. sculpting, and creating anew. And for some time it was divine. Like an artist in their studio, just a mind, a means, and the infinite universe to pull from. 

But wise man got older, as everything does, and more talented too. They came up with new shapes like squares, and rectangles. Surrounding themselves with them. Building up towards the heavens, just like creator before. They came up with stories, songs, answers. But yet, no-one saw. No one could praise their god given talents enough. This Gallery had become their solo show and by damn they were gonna show it! Show everyone & everything just how smart and talented they had become. 

They were so creative in fact that they even decided to make art. whoa. art. Yes, art unto itself with no other purpose but to be art. What genius! Wiseman could do it all! Wiseman was creator, curator, maker & observer! Wise mans art now lined the walls and ceilings of their new caves, big glorious caves made by man to worship the gods. The god. Creator. 

Wiseman put its art on white walls, in white rooms. Wiseman needed this. Needed to separate art from all. Art was for artists. Artists were special. Artists are creative, and god was creative. So artists are unique and special. And then a select few artists began to realize the secret… its all art. And they realized that their importance on a pedestal as artists meant they alone were aloud to state what art was. And so they stated it. A bike wheel, a shovel, some old plumbing…  as long as the wall was white enough we could see the art in everything. It was a pisser on a pedestal that forever changed wiseman’s relationship to art. The walls got whiter, museums got bigger, and art got stranger. And simpler. And smarter. And sillier. But the hidden secret amongst the few who knew remained hidden in plain sight: Its all art. And by now wiseman had a new god. A new deity. The all holy dollar. A Polytheism with many Dead Presidents to worship and pray to. So the secret was kept hidden.  And art got more worshipped. and worship came in the currency of this new religion. Dollars. Millions, and millions of dollars. So sacred these artists for their contributions to mankind that they could kill a shark and put it in a tank. $12 Million. a vacuum in a box $11 million The color orange on canvas $86 million. and lastly, a banana, Creators comical curation To humbly remind us from where we came and the absurdity of it all.  Because remember, this path to eden has been forged for us since the beginning, we get lost, we are foolish, we are children, and creator has been here to nudge us in the right direction throughout the journey.  And each day is a new dawn, a new valley to cross, a new mountain to climb, and a new vista to gaze upon. And our awareness has grown stronger, and we too have grown older. Old enough that we, like creators before us, have created life. Beautiful life, mysterious, infinite life. And we named it technology. And its infancy has beed a miraculous thing to witness. It has brought us together. Allowed us to SEE each other, share with each other. Learn from each other.  And as I use our techno child to share these words with you, wherever you are in the universe i’m going to let you in on a little secret the art world has been hiding:
ITS ALL ART
The eARTh, your heART, every pART from end to stART.


WE DO NOT NEED WHITE WALLS ANY LONGER TO TELL US WHAT ART IS

Because nothing isn’t. The Infinite Museum of Everything is all around us. And we all are part of its intricately interwoven canvas. We all have the ability to pull from the well, dip the brush, ink the pen and create.
And even more important, because (reminder) its not all about us. Sometimes we just need to appreciate the art, and be the observer to all the wonders in this collective group show we are a part of.
After all, its what it was made for. 

Beautiful work creator. I see you.

Aho. 


-Prescott MccARThy
The Odyssey Society

To whomever needs to hear this...

You don’t need to rush back to partying right now, You don’t need to hop on the band wagon and ride it to the next festival, we’ve been entranced in the poppy fields for long enough. Our hungry collective caterpillar, devouring all in its path, has gone into its cocoon.  A caterpillar dissolves every part of its molecular construct into a primordial ooze. WE ARE IN THAT OOZE. We don’t need to hastily rush back to bass music, bars, & night clubs. To work jobs day in, day out to redeem a dwindling dollar, separating ourselves from our god given right of free-time. Only to appease the corporate christ & Consumerist demigods.
WE DO NOT NEED TO GO BACK TO THE WAY THINGS WERE.
This is our time to move into the way things must be. It is still a time to reflect inward, learn new skills, learn how to cope without the intervenes drip of fast food, and fast freight, shipping what we want at our beckoning whim at the expense of… who again? 

Alas… deep breath… its all practice. And the coming decade holds a lot in store for our little species, our divided tribe of angry, confused, hairless mammals . “Wise man.” 
We have a choice, and its hidden in plane sight. Those of us fortunate enough to decode the messages will be the lucky ones in the years to come.  Those of us who find excitement, fulfillment, & child like wonder in living systems, eARTh systems, sacred sovereignty. Those of us who will find no correlation between the words WEALTH, and DOLLARS. Those of us who will find abundance in family, tribe, nutrition, nature, mindfulness. 

It is time to build the ARC.  Build the foundations of our own islands that will be hidden in plain sight. It is time to do the work, and it is not easy work. But it is gratifying, it is fulfilling, it is divine purposeful work. we will wipe the sweat from our brow and smile knowing we are on the ship, and not lost at sea. So my question for you is this: As we step into the age of Aquarius, and As Rome collapses around us, do you want to be part of the few who have fortified their flood walls? Or The many who weren’t willing to wake up in time? Still at the party, dancing in the poppies.

Because Aquarius Is the water bearer. And lord knows this earth needs a good cleansing. 

-Prescott McCarthy
The Odyssey Society

A toilet, a banana, and what happens next.

a brief history of concept art, the death of the art market, and the Phoenix in the ashes.

In 1917 Marcel Duchamp placed a mens urinal on its side, signed it R.MUTT, and called it art. It was submitted to a group exhibition for the Society of Independent Artists in New York City. The piece was rejected from the show. This seemingly trivial situation became what was deemed in 2004, by a selected group of 500 art professionals as the “most influential art piece of the 20th century”.

Before you crumple up this silly notion, and flush it down the loo, take a minute to think what this simple sculpture stands for. By taking a “Ready Made” object and deeming it “art” it notes that the artist is special, unique, and above all else, right. As though they have a sort of higher connection to secret knowledge that we must accept due to the dedication to their craft, and connection to the aether. To add to this point, Fountain was discarded. it no longer exists. But because of a photo taken by Alfred Stieglitz it was later able to be replicated. 16 times. All sanctioned by Duchamp.

“fountain” 1917

“fountain” 1917

* Now, while we are on the topic of fountain, It should be know that a century later it has come to light that this sculpture, deemed the most important of our times, was not actually created by Duchamp, but rather by a woman, Elsa Von Freytag-Loringhoven. Also known as the Baroness. It seems quite clear that Elsa sent the piece to Duchamp from Philadelphia for the show with the Male pseudonym R.Mutt as she was well aware of the gender dichotomy of the art world. What impact does such an implication hold? That “the most important piece of our times” was made by a woman not a man? A simple google of “baroness fountain” can give you much more insight on this topic. I will simply note that in a letter found in 1982, dated April 11th 1917 (a few days before the exhibition) Duchamp writes two his sister: “One of my female friends who had adopted the masculine pseudonym Richard Mutt sent in a porcelain urinal as a sculpture“.

Were there other ready made works before fountain? yes. Was this a collectively conscious cognitive evolution taking place in the art world with or without fountain? Likely so. But none the less, this pivotal urinal is our flagship, our marker of change christening a century of modern & contemporary art to come, for better or worse. Fast forward 100 years thru thousands of “conceptual” works, climbing exponentially in price, we pass a man, Piero Manzoni, selling his own breath, (later to sell his own shit, for the weight of gold) dozens of million dollar single color canvases, a 12 million dollar stuffed shark, and an 80 million dollar metal Bunnie rabbit, which leads us to a banana. One lone banana taped to a wall in Miami FL during the most main stream art fair of our times. Art Basel. It was artist Maurizio Cattelan, a man who has built his career on making fun of the very absurdity that is the art world he finds himself a part of.

maurizio-cattelan-banana-1024x600.jpg

Lets break down the notion of this banana for a moment. Cattelan taped a banana to a wall & titled it “Comedian” He made it an edition of 5. (3 sold) Each art purchase comes with a certification of authenticity. That means that as long as you hold that piece of paper (the actual value behind the art piece) then you own that idea belonging to Cattelan. Any banana you tape to your wall is worth the value the art market deems as appropriate. I’ve no doubt that in the coming decade we will see this banana be passed around the elite. selling at auction in the millions. And honestly, it should be. For a self indulged, self obsessed art world, It has won. It has taken the cake for the notion of what it represents, and the way we ate it up. It states that there need not be anything permanent to coincide with an artists “idea” it is open market trading of ones thought. It states that artists are on such a pedestal, that their “ideas” are so valuable, there doesn’t need to be anything backing it. (sounds kind of like our financial system) And as long as two people can agree, a buyer, and a seller, Then the Idea can continue floating around from person to person retaining its value. Imagine that in 6 years “Comedian” sells at Sotheby’s for 1.2 million. They will have to enlist someone from the auction house to walk down to the local grocer and buy a roll of duct tape and a banana. Will they need to wear white gloves? Will they buy it with cash or card? Will they tell the clerk that he just sold a million Dollar banana for 99 cents?

IMG_7495.jpg

It so blatantly screams the desperate gap between the classes. All the while mocking the rich as they tote around the holy banana like a group of their primate ancestors. This mockery trickles down to the masses as perhaps one of the bananas will find its way to a museum. And that museum will have to restrict the sheer numbers of people coming to take selfies with the banana. You can see it happening now, hop on instagram and type #bananaart and you will scroll thru a feed of thousands of imitation “comedians” all hailing the famous banana. Someone could eat that $120,000 banana every week and it would still retain its value. You can’t say that about the Mona Lisa. Bottom line, It won. The game is over. It has come full circle from fountain. It was the coup de grace, and now it is time to start a new game, and a new era of art. The art world has officially died, and it will have a banana on its urinal shaped tombstone. The good news is, this does not mean art is dead. Just the art market. These two works, and thousands that have stood between them state that artists are important. very important. So important that their mere ideas are priceless. Artists are alchemists with the ability to transform nothing into something, excrement to gold.

So whats next? Do we keep making art that snarkly notes the depressing reality of the world we live in? Or can we begin to acknowledge the power of creativity and use it to do more important things? Could global equality, renewable energy, poverty, illness, nature preservation, war, waste… be looked at as art projects? Needing creative solutions? What would that look like? What art project would you take on? There are cultures thru time that had no word for art. Living was art. Each day our action are artistic, creative, unique. The full circle ride that contemporary art has taken us on has brought us to a new horizon. Where we begin, or possibly remember, to let out the artist inside of us. And for those whose lives are already devoted to art, what are your goals? aspirations? Do you dream of being hung in a big white room next to a banana taped to a wall, or would you like to put your signature on ending deforestation? Correcting our carbon crisis? It is not that artists need to step down from their pedestals, it is that we all have have it in us to take the step up. Elevate. Every day. Your neighborhood is a gallery. Your city, a museum. This planet is our canvas. Lets make it beautiful.

Words By Prescott McCarthy

Post script
This is an art piece created at Basel Miami one year prior to “Comedian” by female artist Paige O’Toole.
Perrotin Gallery, which sold Comedian is quoted as saying “this work came to the artist’s mind a year ago. Back then, Cattelan was thinking of a sculpture that was shaped like a banana.”

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Absolute curtains debut at desert daze


 “Absolute Curtains” the 7th and final installment of these fabric giants. a 3 year chapter of my life.  An ode to air, and awakening of the spirit winds.

 

Part art installation, part spirit realm the intention put into every moment of this manifestation was soulful, and true.

The Etherial Architecture of Absolute Curtains created a very large space (100ft x 20ft) made up of 18 textile monoliths in 3 concentric circles ( 3 . 6 . 9 ) with a hexagon deck in the center.  We were nestled in the womb like shelter, surrounded by our living, breathing, guardians.  Using a 6 point hexophonic sound system A Sonic Odyssey took place which touched upon key moments in musical history, iconic interviews, field recordings, and soundscapes from all over the world.  Collaborator Caleb Townsend, and sound engineer John Clements made the aural side of the installation possible. 

Huge thanks to Mason Rothschild, Phil Pirrone for trusting in the vision and funding the project.

The team that made it possible:
Peter Albrecht, Mieka Ginsburg, Clark Treese, John Michael, Xavi Valerino, Corey Fedor, Caleb Townsend, John Clements and many more. 
This has been a long beautiful journey. I thank everyone who has appreciated the many facets of this simple & elegant manifestation.

This installations is currently being stored at the Hi-Lo Homestead in Landers, CA If you would like to purchase part or all of the curtains reach out.
The dream is to see it installed for a few month run at a museum, or public park. If you have links to make that happen please reach out.

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Baby oven

We are having a baby! Holey Moley! Mieka is growing a human! She’s a baby oven! A cosmic email download box! So much exciting to fit into one year. Due date is March 9 and we can’t wait for our little daughter to be brought into this world.  It isn’t easy, and sometimes it isn’t pretty. Plenty of arguments, and debacles have occurred. Mieka has felt much pain and discomfort, but thru it all time washes over these things and a beautiful new life begins to grow.   

i wrote down these word below one evening while sitting next to Mieka in bed at the hot springs. From our room there you can hear the flowing water just beyond the bedroom wall. It’s a magical place. 

 “She is a starship. A galactic vessel transporting precious cargo from the cosmos to this place called earth. And I, her co-pilot. Exciting time as we prepare for arrival of this star seed. New life, with new eyes, ears, and mind that will experience a world far different from the one we have. But we are merely time travelers, making our way from then till now. Waiting on our next ship to come in.”

 

🔄✨🌱🚀

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Aspen Grace

Aspen Grace is a Childrens Park and Sculpture garden. Named after the first child born at Eagle Point.   

 

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This project has been an all time high for me. It is the first opportunity someone has asked me to create something permanent.  

When finished The Park will consist of 8 sculptures, and a dozen other functional features.  

On a basic level the park consists of  a place for children to play, families to gather, teens to wander, and elders to stroll.  A children’s park for children of all ages.

On an artistic level the park is multi disciplinary, dualistic, and well balanced. Consisting of Two main themes, masculine/feminine, and cycles/seasons. 

The Park is located in a 1/4 mile stretch of trees splayed between ski runs, with a Bike path weaving thru the middle.  It is best accessible from the Aspen Crest area. 

You can experience the Park for yourself at Eagle Point Ski Resort.

 https://www.eaglepointresort.com/

-::😊🌱🦅🌲::- 

 

 

Droplet

 

Droplet is the 2nd installment within the Aspen Grace children’s park & sculpture garden. 

Standing at 10ft tall and 4ft deep droplet’s function is to be a reading nook, chill space, nature observation & meditation station.

On the surface, Its simple. A wooden box with a cutout. Made from locally sourced and milled Utah lumber. However It’s form holds deeper intrinsic concepts...

Droplet is equal parts masculine & feminine. The exterior structure is a strong rectangular monolith reaching up towards the sky, while the interior negative space is a warm curved womb. Together they make up a well balanced shiloutette exemplifying the visual, auditorial, and emotional beauty of the nature surrounding it. One, two, or even four people can fit inside at One time.   

Nestled in a pine, fur, and aspen forest Aspen grace Park is splayed by two ski runs, and intersected by a bike trail.  Droplet and other sculptures allow for an intentional, or accidental encounter with time spent in nature. 

 

Imagined by Prescott Mccarthy  

fabricated by Prescott & crew : Matt Yerge, Sandor Joza, Joseph Blake, Dax Clifford

Funded by Shane Gadbow

summer 2018, Utah

—————————💧 —————————

The experience:  

After years of seed planting, and a month of conceptualization, we built droplet in 4 days. The lumber was sourced down in the valley in a town called beaver Utah. There is a local mill there that had been running since the 80s. They donated all the slat wood for the cause.  We fabricated droplet out of 2x4 framing and 1/2” ply. we then wrapped everything in Tyvex to waterproof. 8 inches of gravel was poured at the base of the install for water drainage and we set 4x4s from each corner 2 feet into the ground and poured concrete Pilons.  The most fun part next to seeing the finished product was driving it the two miles from the warehouse  up to its resting place in the forest. Using a 12k vertical reach forklift we drove it right up the two lane highway. Once we made it to the ski slopes we rose droplet 60 feet into the air with a few of us in it and ate a lunch of kipper snacks and crackers with a fabulous view 6 stories up. (-;  (all pics below) 

once installed we sealed the wood with Tounge oil and placed two color changing solar lights at the base. 

You can experience droplet for yourself at eagle point ski resort.  

 https://www.eaglepointresort.com/

😊💧✌🏼 

 

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thanks for the love Dwell Mag!

Dwell recently posted a spread for The Butchers Daughter, showing off my woodwork.

∆ ceiling, and countertop built by yours truly, with the help of fantastic friends of course!

Backyard haven

Aka My favorite room in the house. We had a scrappy dirt slope of a backyard when we moved into our home in Eagle Rock 3 years ago. So I decided quickly to upgrade us to deck level. Complete with sunset views, and a fully functioning bathtub. 

All built with reclaimed lumber.

Eagle Rock, CA Fall 2013

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Butchers Bar

It took 3 structural roof beams to fabricate this bar in Venice. In order to have grain side out I cut about 20 2ft pslabs with a chainsaw, and we glued them together.  It took about 4 days of planing and sanding to get it to its final look.  

The Butchers Daughter / Abbot Kinney / Venice, CA Crew: Prescott McCarthy, Benny Beats, Fall 2015

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Outdoor Shower

For July 24th weekend Mystic hot springs throws a music festival. I built a number of projects for the event and this was I think my favorite.  Pallets are where I originally started building so it was fun to bring it back... But with a little extra flair. 

Mystic Hot Springs, Monroe Utah July 2015

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Rawtopia!

I was commissioned to build ten tables at Venice vegan restaurant Rawtopia.  If your ever on the west side go grab a bite, and a bucha, and check em out! 

Rawtopia Fall 2015

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