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I'd like to share some images of the tea hut installation, located at the loading dock to the right of the Bain building's main entrance, and also comment on its evolution (thanks to all whose photographs are included!) These include pictures of the main event for this space, a traditional Japanese tea ceremony given on opening day by Triangle Chanoyu of Durham.
The tea was guided by Nancy Hamilton, whose knowledge and enthusiasm for both tea and collaboration helped me to realize the reciprocity between the ideas of tea and oasis, and to recognize that the tradition of tea is an embrace of the rustic, transitory, wild (unvarnished, worn, lonely, beautiful) character of life that is so evident at Bain! The "way of tea" embodies gratitude, contemplation, and wonder - which is exactly what I feel at the foot of Bain and all it represents.
Some background on the process: The location for the tea hut was chosen before spring, for its condition, setting, accessibility, and openness -- it is a natural urban oasis. By April, though, tree foliage, poison ivy and carpenter bees had intruded (on top of the mud and trash that had been accumulating for years). Many hours and bruises later, the space would accommodate backstage (several assistants, equipment, tables) and centerstage (four guests, lead host, assistant host, MC) and be visually accessible to the audience.
I then did my best to turn the space (which happened to conform to tea hut norms in some of it dimensions and especially the exposed beams that define it) into a spare, zen-like sanctuary with the addition of vines, a reed curtain, bamboo, burlap, paper and wood. As I moved in and out of the building (exploring, discussing other installations, practicing tank-music) I was constantly on the lookout for objects (the brown tsukubai, or wash water basin, was Nancy's catch from the third floor) that were needed for the ceremony, or suited to the occasion. In the picture above, see the rectangular, dark brown divider between the tea preparation area and the audience - this is a rusted (rusted-through in the center) sheet of metal that we found on site (in the tea hut) and which local blacksmith Luke House, at Antfarm, kindly gave a pair of L-shaped feet, for standing upright.
The recessed green doors (through which chemicals once entered Bain) were designated as the alcove - this is the place in a tea hut to orient and focus one's thoughts on the beauty of the moment. A Japanese scroll was made for the occasion and hung from the doors, and a rough-cut bamboo vase, into which I had carved a hole in the shape of a droplet, held a small flower.
Afterward, in the absence of Triangle Chanoyu's beautiful presence (in their kimonos no less!) and our combined array of traditional and improvised props, I set up some allusions to what had been there and taken place - mostly as a comfort to myself, but also in reference to the name that Triangle Chanoyu had given the tea hut, "Shadow of Water."
Over the following days, the oasis within oasis (a little tree and root mass which I had protected and enshrined during the clearing process) drew visitors toward the back, and the mulberry trees overhead provided a treat for those who couldn't resist. The wind - which had distracted and ultimately amused the tea givers as they moved through their well-rehearsed choreography - died down significantly in the days after the event, and I hope you can sense the wonderful peace that filled the space.
The tea was guided by Nancy Hamilton, whose knowledge and enthusiasm for both tea and collaboration helped me to realize the reciprocity between the ideas of tea and oasis, and to recognize that the tradition of tea is an embrace of the rustic, transitory, wild (unvarnished, worn, lonely, beautiful) character of life that is so evident at Bain! The "way of tea" embodies gratitude, contemplation, and wonder - which is exactly what I feel at the foot of Bain and all it represents.
Some background on the process: The location for the tea hut was chosen before spring, for its condition, setting, accessibility, and openness -- it is a natural urban oasis. By April, though, tree foliage, poison ivy and carpenter bees had intruded (on top of the mud and trash that had been accumulating for years). Many hours and bruises later, the space would accommodate backstage (several assistants, equipment, tables) and centerstage (four guests, lead host, assistant host, MC) and be visually accessible to the audience.
I then did my best to turn the space (which happened to conform to tea hut norms in some of it dimensions and especially the exposed beams that define it) into a spare, zen-like sanctuary with the addition of vines, a reed curtain, bamboo, burlap, paper and wood. As I moved in and out of the building (exploring, discussing other installations, practicing tank-music) I was constantly on the lookout for objects (the brown tsukubai, or wash water basin, was Nancy's catch from the third floor) that were needed for the ceremony, or suited to the occasion. In the picture above, see the rectangular, dark brown divider between the tea preparation area and the audience - this is a rusted (rusted-through in the center) sheet of metal that we found on site (in the tea hut) and which local blacksmith Luke House, at Antfarm, kindly gave a pair of L-shaped feet, for standing upright.
The recessed green doors (through which chemicals once entered Bain) were designated as the alcove - this is the place in a tea hut to orient and focus one's thoughts on the beauty of the moment. A Japanese scroll was made for the occasion and hung from the doors, and a rough-cut bamboo vase, into which I had carved a hole in the shape of a droplet, held a small flower.
Afterward, in the absence of Triangle Chanoyu's beautiful presence (in their kimonos no less!) and our combined array of traditional and improvised props, I set up some allusions to what had been there and taken place - mostly as a comfort to myself, but also in reference to the name that Triangle Chanoyu had given the tea hut, "Shadow of Water."
Over the following days, the oasis within oasis (a little tree and root mass which I had protected and enshrined during the clearing process) drew visitors toward the back, and the mulberry trees overhead provided a treat for those who couldn't resist. The wind - which had distracted and ultimately amused the tea givers as they moved through their well-rehearsed choreography - died down significantly in the days after the event, and I hope you can sense the wonderful peace that filled the space.
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