I love rocks and stones as you would know if you saw my home. I bring them inside, arrange them outside. I find comfort in them, admire their slow and steady pace. Sometimes they fall apart on their own as though they need more space and air.
Robinson Jeffers gathered stones on the beach in Carmel and built his home and a tower, Tor House.
He said, "My fingers had the art to make stone love stone."
The book store in Pt. Reyes has wonderful books. I am tempted each time I enter. This time I came away with Dan Snow's beautiful book, Listening to Stone.
In one chapter he writes about myth making, about what happens after a work of his is made.
Out of all that gets forgotten grow stories to fill the ever deepening void. The complete inspiration for a work is not known until long after it's been made. Over time, the fact-littered history of the building process fades and is replaced by a freshly minted awareness and viewpoint. The experiences between the time a thing is made, and when it is looked back upon, morph into a creative intelligence that imbues the object with the power of prescience. It's as though it came to being when it did in order to be there in the future, when a place for the memory of new experiences would be vital and welcome.
The ideas that initiate a piece of work in dry stone, and the processes that take it from excavation, through construction, to completion, hang over the work like decaying fumes until, eventually, they dissipate. And all that's left in place is the overwhelming and everlasting presence of the piece. The discussions about siting, access, footing, proportion, scale, drainage, stability, materials, tolerances, and grades are what the piece is made out of, but not what we are left with. What remains becomes an open receptacle for dreams to fall into. A mass of rock becomes fertile ground for myth to grow.
The piece of work drains free of former associations and begins to take on a personality. It is recognized as being able to carry more than just its own weight. Because it has proven unquestionably that it can stand the test of time, it is entrusted with timeless fantasy. And right then and there it begins to open itself to interpretation. Into opportunity pours possibility. Out of possibility a selection is made and an ensemble created. Impressions, reflections, emotions, recollections, and dreams all mix and match until they settle into the piece, fill all the cracks, and infuse the mass with myth.
Wow! No wonder I love stone.