The Sandstone & The Sound of Stones (text), 2018
A particular sandstone formation where I live has long captured my imagination; it is a sand and clay, sandstone outcropping, high on a hill, that has numerous deep caverns that you can look into but cannot enter or see the bottom of. I have spent quite a bit of time on “the sandstone”, carefully, however, as it feels precarious to go too near the holes; it is an intriguing formation. I think this feeling, an incessant curiosity, is part of the human desire that seeks to explore the unknown, part of the drive to go into the earth, the subterranean, to find new minerals and matter. Another part of the theme of exploration surrounds the alchemy of transformation, the unique lithospheric geography of this region has given rise to the proliferation of oil extraction from within sandstone, and the use of technological means to facilitate state transitions in materials for economic profit.
The video was commissioned for the exhibition Sandstone City at the Lougheed House in Calgary. It explores the topic of sandstone in a more abstracted imaginary of discovering intimacy in a stoney place, a mineral relation through touch. It is not the oil or coal layered deep within the sandstone that is valued but the strange beings that live on stone such as lichen. The video attempts to reference a kind of close relational possibility that is not part of the material everyday of oil, plastic and mineral extraction but that is connected more to a spiritual adventure of mind, of the imaginary and of another kind of natural energy resource all together.
Narrative for Video:
The sound of stones makes impossible the idea of interruption. To intrude, as is an interrupt, was only a recent gesture, vibratory, slight, trembling. How can this slip qualify as a stoney surround? You may query lichen, but which of billions in this place? Lyrical, orbicular whirl, imagine how silly, how subjective their answers will sound, will intrude upon your intellect: what is the sound of stone and four million years old lichen? It may result in giggles. All the lichen I have met are radiant, with a sense of humour one has when immortal. I think I will never feel this weighty glee. Astutely sensitive to their surroundings, are the feelings of these creatures, they will never stay where the airs and rains are not well.
Look at all your colours, shades, gradients, dear stones. What plants, what trees, what meadows, were you once? This is a mystery far beyond the years my spirit group can know, can observe with beady little visions. No, we don’t know the deepest gentle giants that give their full intensity of being, stratum, one stone perhaps is one compressed acre of life from another dimension if one comprehends the difference in dimensions as the modality that is given to an expansion of a collective assemblage moving through an energy field completely dependent on Soleil. Spirit of stars, celestial sisters, what infinite beauty in all the variations that exist between sun and the great sound, one small stone.
The sound of stones you will not know in this time because even anything near of thinking this thought into being shatters the force of existence. Inviting into the fabric, another map, of another black hole.
Why not interview the lichen? Will dance, will spiral, will dizzy-dizzy perpetually. Amaranthine constellation of ancient beings, in lichen laughter, this is not the sound of stones but much more after —
This sandstone is a new place, a soft sculpting near of water, not a sea, mineral water for the old ices deep and high, a soft malleable gently and warm, kind, what kind of plants were you? You take the warmth of the sun and the chill of the moon, keep your form, what is your sound, sandstone?
Lichen bonds, you may ignite a temporary assemblage, waters will dissolve you and this will be your bliss. Separated and free, sand in pure space you can be.
For over thirty years, my family has lived on an acreage in central Alberta, about an hour and a half from Calgary. Along the border of this land is Frogg creek along a wooded area that runs about 5km and joins the Red Deer River. Since I was young I have spent a great deal of time in this space, and recently, even more, as I have moved back after being away. As this is a vast area, we have come up with different names for places within the land to identify and discuss things that are happening, things that we notice; snake valley, the blarney stone, bat lake, the flats, haunted forest, red shale hill, and this place, the sandstone. the sandstone has always captured my imagination, it is a sand and clay erosional-run-off formation on a hill. There are numerous deep caverns that you can look into but cannot enter or see the bottom of. Over the years it has eroded a great deal, or maybe I grew taller. It feels much smaller than it used to. It used to be enormous. I have spent quite a bit of time on “the sandstone”, carefully, however, as it was very dangerous to go too near the holes;
It is an intriguing formation.
I think this feeling, an incessant curiosity, is part of the desire that seeks to explore the unknown, maybe even part of the drive to go into the earth, the subterranean, to find minerals and matter. its also part of the never ending cycle of transformations - from mineral to vegetal to mineral a cyclical looping of expansions and contractions, exploration surrounds the alchemy of transformation, the unique lithospheric geography of this region that has given rise to the proliferation of oil extraction from within sandstone, and the use of technological means to facilitate state transitions in materials for the economic benefit of some.
Exploring an intimate imaginary, not the oil or coal layered deep within the sandstone but the strange creatures, plants and minerals, close attention to this formation and those that inhabit it references a kind of magic that is not part of the material everyday of oil, plastic and mineral extraction but that is connected more to an adventure of mind and of another kind of energy all together.
The Sandstone &The Sound of Stones, Kelly Andres, 2018.