There is a countless number of ladders across a desert surrounded by infinite
circles of singing-naked dancers. Nearby, there are cliche-islands with one palm
tree, one stranded bearded tatter-clothed man. Inland, there are forests, plazas,
hallways, mountaintops, streets and wheatfields, just as there are darkened rooms
and boarded-up houses. There are cemeteries, bus-stops and dry-cleaning.
The list is interminable.
Messages are relayed -- there is mediation.
There are "watchers watching themselves enact a struggle between mythic, self-appointing
priests and a cadre of equally self-appointing commandos, guttersnipers, and triple agents."
We are interested in the economy of cultural projects.
"Pushing and pulling and tumbling about in an open space which is not our
own but which we allow to come to presence."
Cultural projects are in an open space ... While some work alone and others in
cooperation, there are those who make claim to everyone else's territory, and they
are the ones with whom we are unhappy. Open space is not the romance of the
post-modern cornucopia; everything is NOT available for our use.
