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 equalfy 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.