WE’RE MADE OF CLAY alludes to common threads in creation myths and Native American ruins in the American Southwest. Like GONE DYKE, it is a peripatetic performance involving the creation of site-specific and geo-located poetry that unearths hidden histories and contemporary contradictions. Prior to his trip to the Canadian Rockies and later the Yukon (for GONE DYKE), Stephen was unsure how to reconcile his own privileged status with Native American histories – not wanting to trespass, nor relegate as exotic fetish, or exploit as marker of one’s “wokeness”; all of the historical and ongoing issues in narratives of Native Americans.
The expulsion of First Nations to form National Parks was brought to fore when Stephen took a boat tour of Maligne Lake in 2016. Towards the end of the tour, the operator mentioned that although the company had been operating in the area for decades, no one knew the significance of the lake until a few years ago when a few elders of the tribe that used to inhabit the area paid for the boat tour to see their ancestral home. Mountain peaks lost their native names in favor of, as Stephen puts it, “Whites of dubious accomplishment.”
Stephen saw parallels between the Native American experience and his own; having his name and history erased and displaced by the fetish of colonial progress of the Singapore government, and his later struggles in exile in North America. It also prompted Stephen to confront the problematic histories of the protected natural spaces he admired, how colonial history and discourse systematically erases and excludes Native peoples from the landscape to be offered as a playground for predominantly White and well-off under the hypocrisy of protection.
When Trump dismembered the Grand Staircase-Escalante and Bears Ears National Monuments, it brought to the forefront the racist legacies of National Parks – a North American invention where validation and value is only in exploitation and (white) tourism. As a result these spaces have lost their sacred significance; white experts leading tours to Native American ruins, the desecration and damage to unprotected sites, white ‘adventurers’ whooping it up and befouling pristine lakes etc.
In WE’RE MADE OF CLAY, Stephen traverses the area occupied by the former Grand Staircase-Escalante and Bears Ears Monuments that were eviscerated and opened up for mining interests by the Trump administration. Generally perceived as a barren and empty landscape, the area is abundant in sensitive habitats and Native American history and ruins. Through site-specific poetry, Stephen attempts a Foucauldian archaeology of the space. At each site, Stephen offers a flute song to re-sanctify the space – as empathetic recognition of the loss of sacredness in by the contemporary use of those spaces for predominantly-white exploration and leisure.
Finally, he closes the loop at the Grand Canyon National Park – home to Native Americans for centuries and a janus-face of protection and exploitation; underscoring the implicit ethos amongst administrators and armchair environmentalists that a place is celebrated because of its accessibility for casual tourists. It is also a personal closure for Stephen as the Grand Canyon changed his life path 20 years ago, and bittersweet one in he can no longer descend into its embrace due to leg injuries.
Conceived & Created by: [cvlink] | Duration: Mar 29 – Apr 14, 2018
Before the white men came? /
Prior to the people who flock /
for a picture for a while? /
Where the Colorado contorts /
Bent back by will of gods and earth. /
People preen instead of pray.
#WereMadeofClay
Because the white men saw /
edifices of their superior god.
#WereMadeofClay
with forgotten waterfalls /
The earth gives birth /
to an ancient child.
#WereMadeofClay
petrified I could not find a way /
The crests too steep to climb /
The potholes and canyons too deep /
and sand that will not bear me.
#WereMadeofClay
and something grandiose. /
I find my home instead /
in moments of intimate beauty.
#WereMadeofClay
Saw the land unbroken like peoples past /
Not patchwork bisected by fences /
and highways to die beside
#WereMadeofClay
Above the canyon floor /
safeguards the seeds /
sown by the sun
#WereMadeofClay
splintered off a mesa records /
the moon’s many faces /
Painted on perimeter /
of ancient walls
#WereMadeofClay
unlike countless others, /
given over 20 scenic turnouts /
for people to recreate /
White Western fantasies.
#WereMadeofClay
Offbeaten, nothing grand, /
tucked in a forgotten canyon /
littered with cow pat. /
No interpretative signs /
telling you what to look. /
I had all the time to uncover /
and contemplate what /
the alcove handprints mean
#WereMadeofClay
Is a wild canyon /
almost as Grand /
Drowned with its artifacts /
This dam lake rationalized by electricity /
Approved by waterfront opportunity
#WereMadeofClay
farms and rolling green hills /
Not a European postcard.
#WereMadeofClay
perspectives /
each turn brings. /
The view’s the same /
on mountain tops. /
On mountain tops /
You only see far.
#WereMadeofClay
between each plant is patterned /
after a perfect equation /
a garden microcosm. /
I wept /
at my insufficient lifetimes.
#WereMadeofClay
and before the reptiles and ferns. /
When the Earth was yet unpronounced /
with no air to breathe. /
With will unmatched she pushed /
aloft the history of our births, /
each succession of ancient seas.
#WereMadeofClay
generous and wizened /
Reduced now to just /
a Southwestern flavor
#WereMadeofClay
of this mighty sandstone spine /
stretching farther than crow flies /
as others have done for millennia
#WereMadeofClay
Past the walls and the washes echoing move on /
It’s not farewell as I pack my belongings and fears /
I may yet return when the yucca blooms /
in seventy years.
#WereMadeofClay
And my eyes will dim in the sun. /
But my heart still yearns where the wind goes /
And my song will cease when I’m done.
#WereMadeofClay
And my body drenched from the sun. /
Oh my arms are thrashed by the willow /
And my head will rest when I’m done.
#WereMadeofClay
Quietly collects them /
Percolating /
Past each grain of sand /
Eventually emerging /
as life-giving springs.
#WereMadeofClay
hugging the San Juan /
Galleries of rock art /
from each succession /
of those who passed. /
Except us, /
We only vandalize.
#WereMadeofClay
abandoned, released, broken free /
from their colonial fetters /
not heeding imaginary /
lines cut across the land.
#WereMadeofClay
I scout for signs of those who passed /
3 days, 3 weeks, 3 years past. /
Hint of heel /
Shadow of sole /
Indicator of where I might go. /
In so I leave my prints /
a guide, a marker /
for those who come after /
to follow
#WereMadeofClay
this dusty canyon road as their own. /
The only reception is an ongoing sermon /
this time with reverb.
#WereMadeofClay
to contemplate the spirit. /
People just keep passing through.
#WereMadeofClay
Under an immense alcove /
Vaulting over 200 feet /
A divine cathedral.
#WereMadeofClay
manifold moments /
of beauty. /
For this feature /
named after a white man.
#WereMadeofClay
in sole-sucking mud /
deposited here /
from upstate Utah
#WereMadeofClay
in the Paria full of /
mud, silt, quicksand
It wears me down. /
This river clear /
as Mormon scripture
#WereMadeofClay
Into sinuous sandstone slots /
That once had the quiet /
an antelope might pass through.
#WereMadeofClay
a staccato counterpoint /
to the canyon birds /
greeting the morn.
#WereMadeofClay
of people to be myself /
In these scarred /
canyon walls that weep.
#WereMadeofClay
these travails /
Saps my soul /
Breaks my bones /
Thorny obstacles /
Bushwhack, Backtrack /
Ground crumbles /
Path uncertain /
Yet the trail teaches me /
I shall prevail.
#WereMadeofClay
of past migrations /
Past landscapes /
of unphotographable /
beauty and unnameable.
#WereMadeofClay
alternating sagebrush slick and striated /
Where wind dinples ancient dunes /
and reveals petrified waves.
#WereMadeofClay
these bisected cliffs /
Silhouette of giant beast /
or profile of a sleeping god /
awakening /
in the light of distant suns.
#WereMadeofClay
Intimate yet majestic /
I draw strength to carry on.
#WereMadeofClay
once more /
at every turn /
In this canyon /
of heart stopping beauty
#WereMadeofClay
to canyon walls /
basking in last rays /
golden /
wistful /
When the sun sets /
in this dreary city.
#WereMadeofClay
stories left behind /
in stone eroding /
forgetting /
Elegy for a dead world.
#WereMadeofClay
who accompany me. /
The birds, the lizards /
whom I greet /
And tracks of deer /
I occasionally meet.
#WereMadeofClay
