The Short: I spelled “Hi” on the side of a hill using white plastic lawn chairs. Neil Young is next door and I’m hoping he’ll see it and come over!
The Long: I’ve accepted a month-long artist-in-residence program in the sticks. The location is strategically positioned in the middle of nowhere on Dr. Carl Djerassi’s ranch. I am one of eight artists here and it feels like I’m on reality television. I find myself constantly looking for hidden cameras.
If this were a reality show, here’s how I’d pitch it:
Thirty days… eight artists… desolate ranch.
What will happen? Will Cupid find a victim? Will the sculptor be
medivaced out due to a chop-saw blunder? Will food allergies get
the best of the sensitive writer? Will the painter lose her brushes in a poker game? Will someone kill the custodians?
Tune into Artist Reality Television (ART) Every Thursday at 7:00pm.
In real reality, Dr. Djerassi is responsible for inventing the birth control pill and is very, very rich as a result. So rich he can pay for all us slacker artists to be out here for a month.
Communication with the rest of the world is pretty limited up here. As a "media artist"; I’m equipped with a dial-up connection and a pay phone. The only other contact with the outside world is through a consumer telescope, which gives me a perfect view of Neil Young’s living room.
I tried going over to his place to say hello, but the walls were too high and the guards wouldn’t let me pass. Now I’m forced to say “hey, I’m new in town, come over for some coffee sometime” in a different way. So, I arranged 50 white plastic lawn chairs on the side of a hill that faced Neil’s property to spell out the word “Hi”. It’s like a more updated version of the smoke signal.
Neil hasn’t responded, but I’m keeping an eye out. Maybe he’ll tell me something, entirely spelled out in old LPs on one of his hills.
Oh well, Neil is probably really boring anyhow.