The reality of my trip is dawning on me more steadily as I get closer to it. It feels a bit like moving. This is due in part because I may be staying there beyond the duration of the 5-week workshop. There are possible Graphic Design and Web Design positions at Arcosanti—if not paid, then volunteer based (which offers free lodging as compensation). I am never good at planning in advance—things sort of come over my brain like what to bring, what to expect, slowly. So I've steadily considered more and more what I would choose to bring should I end up, in the possible case, of staying beyond the duration of the workshop—perhaps a great deal longer.
I am of course excited. I mentioned in a previous blog post that I'd first gone to Arcosanti before I was in high school. I've also admired Paolo Soleri sort of in the way that one would admire a well-known intellectual—an Albert Einstein or Jacques Derrida. I've read many of his books—or, at least, tried to, and have delved into some of the deeper aspects of his theories, such as the effect on the arcological theory of the city on the advancement of human evolution (in short: the city, built as an organism rather than a construct, can accelerate the development of humanity, if not physically, then consciously and spiritually).
I, in the meantime, am concerned with more mundane things, such as what kind of clothing I'll need to bring and the fact that I'll have to watch out for things like scorpions and rattlesnakes in the desert. Which, after you get over the initial anxiety, seems romantic. I'm eager to see how my insulated, air-conditioned self will do when put to work in a rustic environment that is ecologically on-par with its desert surroundings. It's one thing to say you're going to live in harmony with the desert; it's quite another to actually do it.
I'm fully expecting the experience to be a shock to my system. In fact, that's partially why I'm going. There are a number of reasons for me going to Arcosanti, all at once educational, economic, and personal. In the wake of my year off from school and MICA (the fine arts institution I attended for two years), I've been left with, to be honest, what I think is a half-baked freelance career in a shoddy economy, with no degree to speak of. I am lucky that I am able to attend the University of Maryland in College Park, which I will enter into after my period at Arcosanti (which I'm expecting to be another shock all to itself).
But I am in something of a bubble, and this is a bubble I want to break. I am going to Arcosanti not just because it will be extremely educational, but because I want to gain back some aspects of my self that, I feel, I've lost over the past year, maybe two or three years. This may be in part due to my family's falling out with the Church finally coming to developmental head in my own life. Readers close to me personally will know the story behind that—for new ones who don't, it would take another blog to tell the story entirely. The short of it is, for the purpose of this blog post: when you've dedicated yourself to the development and life of a human community built around a certain set ideals—and then you come to feel that the entire structure was a sham—well, it's not unfair to say that a bit of purpose may be drawn out of your own life in the process. Arcosanti is an idealistic place. It is ultimately optimistic, daresay even utopian, in an age of information and virtualized reality that sees personal identity as ever more shattered, web-like, and lacking of any consistent pattern or purpose. This phenomenon of shattered identity is not due to any specific reason, but a number of various ones, which culminates in a sort of "it's just the way things are" feeling—and most people go on thinking none the wiser.
I would like to think that I've experienced some of the deeper aspects, good and bad, of my generation—the internet generation, the shattered identity being only one of many things. For instance, there is little that I do that does not involve an LCD screen. If I'm not carrying my laptop, it is like I'm missing half of my brain. I get my entertainment, my information, my work, my communication, my finances, all through a screen. Anything that does not utilize some base bodily function is somehow done through pixels and a hard drive. Which I don't think is uncommon—I may be an especially potent case, but my generation's society is completely affected by the internet age, for better or worse. I remembered an instructor of mine at MICA who was consistently floored by the fact that I listened to my iPod every moment I was making artwork. He had been teaching there for 40 years and had seen the evolution of music go from the invention of the Boombox to the iPod. To him, my compulsive addiction to music was just that—an addiction. For me, music was a focusing lens that was a consistent source of inspiration, and allowed me to remain in my introverted "artist space" wherever I went. We had a great many "discussions" about this difference in perspective—all good natured of course. But I can only wonder what he would think if he knew that I listen to music almost 24/7, even when I'm sleeping.
And to his credit, I don't think he was wrong. There is something to be gained from silence, from stillness. But our world is one of noise, both seen and heard. The information age is not interested in the economy of senses, but the overloading of them.
Baltimore, is not a quiet city, for example. Not in any sense of the term. Arcosanti however… with its sienna-colored apses and tanned structures—that place has a quietness about it that is almost monastic. Something is to be said about good architecture—architecture with a soul, even. Even if you don't believe in such a thing as a "soul."
In short, I'm looking forward to being in a different world, and absorbing it as much as I can. And, of course, I will let you know what happens.
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