This recent visit was a hot one. Sweltering temperatures on those rocks with a
sticky breeze whipping around, swirling stuff up and flapping the measure
flags. Something struck me this time in
terms of how it felt to wander around the periphery of the ridge, looking down
the slope of the incline from the highest point on the site (the sloped,
fabricated half-mound that will be the top of the runway, with the highway
below that bifurcates the space). Well,
it wasn’t so much looking down, but stopping and turning around. You’re immediately transported to an arid,
almost otherworldly landscape that seemingly extends as far as the eye can
see. White sand/rock/stone covers the
ground with nothing but a series of cans, poles and flags coming between it and
the blue of the sky. It’s a strange
feeling to be on top of such a flat
expanse, feeling simultaneously grounded and suspended.
As well, I found myself fixated upon a certain lighting
fixture run by a generator alongside walls being built on the bottom, opposite
side of the runway incline. Something
about the heat emanating from the lamps in the mid-morning sun, causing this
sort of flickering shimmer on the metal where the two light sources came into
contact. Behind these bulbs a swaying
slice of iron hovers in the breeze, seemingly light as a feather
but knowingly heavy and precarious.
Anyway, something nice about all of that.
Some first edits are below, as well as a wee little clip of
video.
