Journal Entry for Kenneth Worgan
4/3/03 Poly Canyon
The wind sweeps the tall grass and raspy birds bellow day songs. The wind is
starting to chill and the crickets are beginning their night song. As the sun
creeps below the hill tops, shadows splice the all surrounding greenage. The
architecture is baffling. The shell house and the rock arch are all amazing.
Everywhere around me the urban concrete is mixed with the untamed heart of
nature. Nature's rocks and grounds tickle the senses. Green and grassfilled
are the playground for many splendid creatures. Horses sputter and crows
climb the icy blue skies. The clouds have all but left, for the night is
drawing close. Looking around: drainage ditches, paved paths and reminants of
all those who have been here in the past. A train is heard in the distance,
most will never know the beauty over the hill top.
Wordsworth-Ode Intimations of Immortality
"There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, the earth, and every
common
sight, to me did seem apparelled in celestial light, the glory and the
freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore,--Turn
wheresoe'er I may, by night or day, the things which I have seen I now can see
not more."
I really think this poem has a very powerful opening. It reminds me of my
time I spent in Thailand, and how I wish I could see splenders like that
again. My time there seems like a dream, a four month long dream where
everything shinned with celestial light. It doesn't feel real, as if it was
a
made up country where beauty overpowered civilazation. The crystal clear
ocean with its aqua colored water, the mist rising above the valleys of Chaing
Mai Mountain, and the seven degrees of waterfalls from Erawan National Forest
seem like a fairy tail story with a very happy ending. Yet here, in
California, I am surounded by natural beauty. I see the green mountains, the
pretty flowers, and the gorgous sunsets, but I still can't find anything that
compairs to the sights I saw in Amazing Thailand.
By Marie Bruning
I sit on the front porch of my apartment, clean, dry, and warm, but tired and
think about my bike ride today. I was unmotivated to ride after a long week,
but I finally got myself out of the house and I am so glad I did because it
was a glorious day. It was so clear that I wanted to see the whole valley, so
I headed up See Canyon. The first few miles are gradually uphill, with some
small rollers and lots of shade. The oaks and sycamores almost completely
canopy the road sometimes. All of the apple orchard shops were quiet but the
apple trees were shouting! They joyously celebrated the new spring with their
explosion of delicate pink blossoms and the beginnings of pale green leaves.
It was kind of a day of extremes, hot sunny uphills and cold shady descents,
constantly changing, but still incredibly beautiful. It reminds me that even
if life is constantly changing like that road, it can still be a wonderful
thing.
Errin Benesh
Gabrielle Serrière
April 4, 2003
Weaving with Time
First of all, any time I take a trip to the Palm Theatre in downtown San Luis
Obispo, it is an experience in itself. Little independent film theatres have
such a charming presence from the tiny candy counter with amazingly cheap popcorn,
to the quaint size of the screening room complete with strips of miniature white
lights lining the deep red carpeted exit ways. I attended the film, Rivers and
Tides with my classmate, neighbor, and friend, Kristen, and as we found our
seats neither of us really knew what to expect.
The entire movie was a natural wonder in itself, with a calming vibe and serene
cinematography style. The overall approach brought upon me a peaceful sense
along with intermittent suspenseful periods. As Andy Goldsworthy attempts to
form one of his egg-shaped sculptures of a shale-like rock as the tide increasingly
rises onto the beach, I was holding my breath for the inventive artist?s sake.
All of a sudden, one large stone is vicariously placed centrally on the creation
and a significant shift can be heard in all the smaller stones underneath. A
quiet gasp emanates simultaneously from the audience. Another shift of stones,
cracking noises, and then CRASH! ? Disaster. The fabrication crumbles to pieces
returning to its original natural state, scattered amongst the pebbles. Is it
truly disaster though? This is a brittle and unstable art form to work with
which requires much patience from the artist.
Goldsworthy exudes such amounts of this patience and determination it seems
he is perfectly matched with the ever-changing media. In his words, a bit of
discouragement and nervousness sets in as the tide continues to creep closer.
Especially after four times this sculpture has fallen to pieces, Goldsworthy
sounds worried. Throughout his descriptive process however, I can?t find doubt
in his face. It seems this trial and error in this type of artistic fabrication
is par for the course. He continues on faithfully, starting from square one
again. The finished mini-monument is a masterpiece, so impressive in its false
image of stability. And even though it crumbled multiple times, this time it
stands strong and still. The ocean?s relentless tide arrives and slowly laps
at the bottom, eventually engulfing the entire form within a matter of hours,
its rounded top disappearing under the continuous waves. Andy mentions how he
is always in awe of the tide?s never ending cycle. It is proof of time, a measure
of a natural occurrence that never ceases.
Every one of his amazing creations in nature is beautiful and inspiring to me.
It is one thing to travel and sit amidst nature, enjoying its presence. But
it is a step beyond observation to notice nature?s presence and then build on
it, carefully and creatively seeking out the patterns and color palettes that
already exist in front of our eyes. Andy?s words are inspiring as well, being
a modest fellow; he seems humble and very true to his work. He truly has a gift
to seek out and show some of the most curious relations between different entities
of nature giving his audience, in witnessing these creations, an unparalleled
experience to remember.
04/14/03
1:30 pm Santa Maria
The colors in the landscape are wonderfully intensive today, every tone seems
to be a little stronger than normally. The reason for that might be that it
is overhung, the white cloud-ceiling functiones like a reflector shield, like
a whire sheet in the sun and creates this intensification of the colors. The
sky is so light, is is almost blinding.
The yellow and green of the gently rolling hills are almost neon and the full
and deep black of the cows on the meadows creates an eye-catching contrast.
The air is very fresh, a little breeze comes from the ocean, who's green and
blue shine a little brighter today, too. Near the beach the water is a light
cristal blue and a little further out, as if somebody drew a line the water
becomes a dark, lapis-lazuli blue.
The mood feels if somebody is holding his breath.
Bettina Fauser
Amy Linnens
With the first day of spring past so long ago, a part
of me expects a sudden heat to sweep over the land.
Instead, the cool wind still blows reminding me of a
cold winter. Yet, there is hope in the green that now
surrounds me as I sit in a field in front of some
muddy sheep and the proud mountains that guard the
north side of Cal Poly. With cattle grazing to my
right and sheep with their new lambs to the left I am
renewed and looking forward to seeing the calves and
the lambs mature. In their maturity comes time and
with time healing and challenges for growth. Growth
as recognizable as the grass I am sitting in. The
stocks and leaves are in such a rush that they are
compact and are not taking full advantage of their
potential length.
It sounds busy out here in the wind. Almost like you
can hear the field growing but it is actually all the
foxtail brusseling one another in the wind. The sky is
brilliant as ever with happy white clouds that look as
if they are all cried out. Almost absent of darkness
with only a slight remainder of gray. Gray like a
discoloration of a scar on flesh. Not hurting, but
there because at one time that flesh was wounded and
the cloud did spill its' sad tears over the earth. Not
today. Today the earth is clean because of them.
Today the sun shines through them revealing them as
pure. Today the sun gives grass the gift of green.
Today the lambs are nurtured by their mothers. Today
is the day when everything proves to be a beginning.
4/5 "Rivers and Tides" Thoughts
I just went this evening to see John Goldworthy's "Rivers and Tides".
I
am so overwhelmed with thoughts and ideas that I can only remember some of
them. I will mention a few thoughts that came to my mind.
The first questions that I thought of, and I admit its a bit short
sighted are "Why is John doing this? What is he looking for?" The
only answer I
could come up with was for meditative purposes. Like the Zen Buddhists who rake
elaborate patterns into gravel, John is imitating something he has seen or felt
in Nature in an effort to understand it and reach a higher state of being.
The next thought involved the round sculpture John created out of
driftwood that was carried away by the tides. Instantly after watching this
the
thought of kids building sandcastles on the beach raced through my mind.
Somehow both images represent the very brief existence of all things in this
Universe, complex like John's sculpture ans simple like a child's sandcastle.
Time is so much bigger than any of us that it swallows us up like a black hole
swallows up stars. The same idea about the hopless race against time comes up
again with John's efforts to build a stone structure before the tides come in.
All of John's sculptures with stone bring to mind the permanence of one's
foundations. Stone is the building block of the Earth. Although it, like
everything else of the Earth, goes through a cycle, stone shapes the landscape.
Without stone the landscape would have no backbone. John's sculpture that
withstood the tides and the stone walls are analogies to the importance of
strong foundations.
The section on stone walls especially spoke to me because of my native
roots in Massachusetts. I have very fond memories of hiking past old derelict
stone walls and cellar holes in the woods and contemplating on them; the change
as time goes by; the inevitable reclamation by the Earth of all man's
creations.
I found the leaves snaking through the river a particularly moving piece
of footage. I'm not entirely sure why. It reminded me of the sheer pleasure
I
feel when I watch the Nutcracker section of the original Disney's Fantasia.
Alexandra Coombs
from Tobias Heinsohn, entry of the first outdoor-session on 4/6/03
"The ground I am sitting on is really hard. Viewed from a distance these
green hills I am looking at look so soft, smooth, and leasing to the eye. But
if you sit on them and have a closer look at them, there are rocks, poison oak,
and dirt.
But it all fits in, harmonically merges in together. The only things that are
not pleasing to my eye are the buildings the architecture students set up out
here. It would be arrogant and ignorant to believe that they make this place
any nicer. So why the hell did they do it? this landscape looks so perfect and
beautiful and everything humns build here can only look distracting and superficial."
(Poly Canyon, First Hike)
My right hand becomes like my left in the cold
and my butt squashes nettles to my nerves' dismay.
The grasses are dancing to the wind's music.
The ants don't care about Shakespeare -
They have about as much to contribute to literature as I do now.
It is fun however, to stare at a piece of grass
until vision becomes 2 dimensional,
until shadows of known objects become
shades of green.
As shades of green become shades of darker green,
I decide its time to be like a tree, and leaf.
Next time, I bring a jersey.
Hmm... everyone's still writing in their journals though.
It hardly seems natural to continue, but lets see...
ah, time passes. good enough.
Dan Brownell
4/18/03
Being held in the palms of serpetine outcropping
I stare into the depths of the riparian arealaid before me.
The steep tributary of Brizzilari Creek cuts down the backside of Poly Mountain,
like a
case scolios.
The bluish green boulders rubbed smooth by sediment passing over themduring
peak
flows of the stream. Soil now eroded away shows the skeleton of the Bay laurel's
tangled root system. The silence only interrupted by the song of a Junco perched
above. peaceful...
Kyle Ray
April 16th
As I pulled my steaming oat sustenance from the micro this morning at 7:00ish,
I heard the distant rumble and squeaky-chalk grating sound approaching from
south down the tracks. As I bemusedly gummed my mush, I looked out the
rain-spitted window, waiting with bored excitement for the beast to emerge. It
rolled by slowly with a tired, early-morning whistle blast. In return my
body slowly vibrated, along with the window, the spoon, the mush. Three
two-story engines told me it was going to be a big load. Flatbed after
flatbed of naked trees were carried by. Like a train carrying Jews to Auschwitz
–thin, pale, reeking of sap and chainsaw oil – the ethnic cleansing
procession lasted about five minutes. As the last car disappeared, I realized
I had stopped eating the oatmeal.
John Neal
3/13/03
I'm viewing the outdoors through my sliding doors. The wind is blowing
slightly and it appears to be somewhat chilly. The wind moves the chimes to
make a beautiful sound. It also moves the leaves on the tree. However, I think
the best effects of the wind is seen by looking at the palm trees sway back
and forth. It looks like a storm is coming with the background of the gray,
overcast skies. The woodpecker is out there again, I hear it. Oh, it's a
different one. This one is gray and white. They must have a really solid beak,
so that when they peck it doesn't jumble everything inside their little heads.
Karina Ramos
Tonight, I surfed Pismo Pier again. I was out in the water until sunset.
The most amazing light display occurred just before the sun pierced the clouds
over the horizon. The sun was totally hidden behind the heavy water filled
clouds that were traveling west to deliver. What caught my eye was the
way the light eliminated the legs of the Pismo Pier. The sun shined the
brightest gold on the large wooden beams. They all looked like golden
legs that were hidden to most peoples view.
I felt lucky to experience this site. It was almost as if it was my reward
for fighting the line of broken white water lines that the even gust did to
the surf. I spend maybe a half hour fighting the current just to get out
past the break. The wind was blowing strong-almost strong enough to destroy
the shape of the waves but not quite.
When I was out past the break and as I noticed this amazing light display I
began to think of how many people were missing this view. I'm sure no
one has ever saw what me and a few other surfers witnessed that day. The
old Pismo Pier of all places looked like a brand new Roman Monument designed
to worship some sort of a sea God. What almost made me laugh was there
were a few fishermen and families on the pier enjoying the view when the best
one was right below there feet.
Ryan Gardella
Thursday April 3rd 2003, Cal Poly Canyon, 5:30pm Endless carpets of fresh green
grass cover the hills that surround me at
Cal Poly Canyon. Yellow, purple and white flowers peek out of the deep green,
proudly presenting themselves and waiting to be seen by the hikers. What a
beautiful scene! From a distance, I can hear the joyfull song of birds
singing as if there is no tomorrow. The sun is slowly setting down behind me
as the shadow from the hill keeps moving toward me, indicating the end of
another sunny day. Along with the sun the warmth of the day also goes away
making me feel the unpleasant bites of the early spring wind. My hands are
starting to feel numb as I am trying to write in this journal.
Anastasia Kontaxaki
April 18, 2002
My quads are really sore today. So is my back. I've already taken three advil,
but I haven't loosened up a bit. But I'm not complaining. Yesterday, we hiked
up Poly Mountain from the backside, all the way to the top, and back down the
front. Yes, the same Poly Mountain with the "P" on the front of it.
I'm telling you though, that when I was standing on the summit, overlooking
the entire campus, and feeling the cold wind hitting me head on, I really felt
alive. Looking down the valley, seeing all of the seven sisters all lined up
in a row was a really amazing sight. I had this weird energy and excitement,
half in awe and half from exhaustion, but the world looked completely different.
It's funny seeing how small the city of San Luis is, tucked in between two morros,
and how it fits in with the entire landscape.
This is one of the only "urban" areas, that has this much open space
around it. I know now, that when I'm working in LA, I'm not going to be able
to look out my window and see open space and a small mountainside, untouched
by development. I'm going to be lucky to see the building next to me through
the smog.
It really is the unused land that makes San Luis such a great place. The students
help the town stay "hip" and "with it", but the city really
is incredible. And right now, with all the shades of green and the blooms and
the spring really makes things even better.
I used to never have allergies, but since I've been at Cal Poly, I've had them
really bad every spring. But I know that I'm going to miss blowing my nose 30
times a day in Southern California. It's a small price to pay for all the beauty
and life you find in SLO.
Blair Evans
This entry was written during the class hike on April 10th.
The valley ahead is framed by two large peaks, with the edges of the city lying
at their base. The rock formations that cap these peaks are like castles. The
left peak is an older castle, its walls crumbling and overgrown. The peak to
the right has shear walls visible, and is much more imposing. Further back the
coastal ridges from a solid wall, keeping this land back from the sea. A line
of clouds can be seen behind the ridge. They are piling up against it, and it
looks like they will soon breach this wall and enter the valley.
Chris Friedenbach
Drawing by Rachel Aljilani, fingerpainted with pigments from petals of these plants
Jeff Huang
Went on our nature walk today. What a great hike. We had the chance to lead
the class. We decided to walk along Brizziolari Creek, through Poly Canyon and
up the Poly mountain range on to a great little watering hole. You can tell
that at some point in time cattle or other animals were raised here because
of
the big water tanks at the bottom of the ridge. I also found some dear tracks
on our path that we took. Today we are walking like Thoreau did in his
writings Walking. We walked free with no restrictions with the effortless
nature of just wanting to go out and explore. I can hear two birds chirping
in
the background but cannot see them. The grasses are dancing with the wind as
the cooler breeze comes over the Peterson Ranch hills. I am writing under a
cluster of Coast Live Oak woodlands. The wind is whistling through the trees
and making the trees seam to shutter like a person on a cold day. The sun just
cut through the dark rain clouds that did not rain today. The sun is now
warming my back as I gaze into the scenery around me.
Dominic Pitigliano
April 3, 2003 Poly Canyon
Dudley bursts out the rocky outcrop.
Tips of sycamore leafing out,
Thriving along the riparian corridor.
We come to the place where imagination
Is no longer constricted by materials and building codes.
Sweet are the uses of adversity.
Behold the sway of nature,
Leaves clapping in the wind,
Grass chattering under our steps.
A turkey vulture glides over.
Cold air wakes the senses sending runny noses wild.
The crickets rub,
A bird sings the melody of beauty-freedom.
A kamakazi fly hits my face.
The artificial sounds of the world are once again relevant
As I hear the screech of an incoming train.
anonymous
April 1, 2003 12:00 pm Buckley Boarding Stable
Decided to hop on Brent bareback today and wonder around the ranch. It
is cold and overcast but not much wind. Brent is in a quite mood and is
happy just to walk and at times stop and graze. As we near the back pastures
I see a large bird circling overhead. It looks like one of the red tail
hawks that make them self at home in the trees around the ranch. It glides
down and lands on the side of the hill and as it does I see the white on it's
head and how large it is. It is not a red-tail hawk but a bald eagle-
either a juvenile or a molting adult. The head is not completely white.
The bird is watching me as I ride close and takes to wing when I get to near.
As it starts to circle I see one of the ranches red-tail hawks swoops down towards
it and as it does the eagle rolls over and shows it's powerful talons.
He rights himself and fly's on. I am amazed at the bravery of the red
tail hawk which is half the s! iz! e of the eagle. Again the red-tail
dives and again the eagle rolls. With powerful strokes he/she pulls away
from the hawk and I watch as it fly's off into the distance. I wonder
if it is going back to where it has been wintering, like Lake Lopez or
farther south at Lake Cachuma or was this eagle heading to it's summer range farther
North. Alaska or maybe the Northwest Territories? I can only guess
but what a picture in my mind it has left me. As I watch the red tail
hawk return to ranch and circles over head I can hear the song Kate Wolf sung
so beautifully.
"The Red tail Hawk writes songs across the sky
There's
music in the waters flowing by
And
you can hear a song each time the wind sighs
In the Golden Rolling Hills of California
In the Golden Rolling Hills of California"
How fitting and how true.
The Redtail Hawk
Words & Music by Gearge Schroder
--- Caitlin Blunt
Wildlife chapter exposed as i read...
Morning dove is among the sweetest thing grace ful and
"with a short neck and small head"
Western blue bird "sure produce oohs and aahs" As i
sit here in front of the campus market reading the
chapter on wildlife and the birds...
I sit next to a tree and to my surprize a Western blue
bird sits perched on the branch overhead. Blue, yes a
blue that is almost metallic. when the sun hits it
just right. It is brilliantly colored. I heard the
wings flutter and then the branch sway and to my
surprize it was there. beautiful, gracfull and with
it's perfect posture it glances at all the people
eating their lunch, scoping out the places were he can
get some droppings and crumbs. to satisfiy his hunger
for treats. of courses our crumbs to him, is like ice
cream to us. it is a treat , it tastes better than
the slimmy worms he ate for breakfast or perhaps some
seeds. It takes flight and has a brown back. it
seems gold tented that ig beautiful .. the sun most
hit is just right too. Its rusty red chest was facing
the opposite direction but i bet it is a sight to see.
Graceful, beautiful humble little creature. his
world so different than our. air vs. land. wow how
creation does open our eyes. His wings as arms with
no hands. his feet that don't wear shoes. he is
beutiful and mysterious. The peaceful bird flutters
away. his world so different than ours. The view,
the concept of its life so different , you would think
easier but he must survive as we. His flight looks as
a float its graceful beauty he shares with me as i
watch him disappear out of my sight behind the
building. who know to where. i supose another tree,
or perhaps to seek a friend :)
Amy Aldinger
all photos by Anastasia Kontaxaki
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