10 planet of the arts / october 1997 SERENDIPITOUS SPACES ubterranean City esa by Prophecy Sun he impression of existence, of life is thwarted in a web of thin tentacles of clay. Relief inside your tunnels, your underground passageways, with scurrying workers; leaves me provided with a sense of protection from the insur- mountable dangers of the world above. Dark is the lit hallway of endless clay, polished smooth, or carved and overhung with memory. Dark is the past, a one time haven for those of the present. Dark is the endless clays downward into tunnels artfully scented musty and ochre or like, with light globes — spaced at intervals throughout hollow chambers dwarfed with mammoth corridors of squatting clay. Here among vestigial forelimbs, your workers and their tasks are done to completion. Individuality never separated or deter- mined. Here dominated virtual life, spun around a hyperextend- ed sense of faint buzzing, high-pitched as a beat of insect wings. Here a history was created arched and vaulted — crumbled into dust and tons of black earth below — unseen was this spell — wrought earth devastation. To caution the past is curiosity and need to aggressive risks. Here I reminisce of a past of tunnels carved and made by an intelligent mysterious people. Crouched at rest, pressed by curiosity, the silence becomes eerie in its intensity. Why the life chosen underground, above ground — beneath heaven and hell? Was the world around, above, so dangerous a place to exist? What would your tunnels conceptualize above ground? Spiraling arch- es, naked to the sky.... would the tube-like centre rooms still exist — delicate to precision. Ancestors, above the earth, your clay dwellings would smell the air frozen with colours. Wondrous were your creations, bril- liant as untamed birds singing in spirit. And yet, the distilled moments of inheritance protect the present... homesick for sights of darkness underground. Ol! Clay sculpture by Prophecy Sun The Two Night Phish Phry by Ryan Tunnicliffe cott and I left my tense tired base- ment abode in search of the open road. We expected a trip that would deliver us out of our treasured techno- logically infested neurotic delirium and transcend us somewhere near Blue Skies. We had no idea that we would end up camping with twen- ty thousand travellers in the middle of the desert in 97 degree Farenheit heat. Thank God we were in the USA, where four dollars can still buy a case of union-brewed beer to maintain a proper perspective on the event that was going to unfold. As we approached the gorge — which is near George, Washington — I take a moment to ponder the amazing geography my eyes are sur- rounded by. I am in the middle of flood channels cut through the Columbia River Plateau basalts. The Columbia River basalts are conti- nental flood basalts — huge volume, low viscosity, high temperature lava once spread over this entire region. We arrived at the gorge on Friday evening, one night before the two concerts. Things look a little peculiar as we drive into the camping area/parking lot. The concert that is on this night is Kube Summer jam, With 12, GENUWINE, AALIYA, ROME, BILLY LAWREN, LAU- RNEA, & SALT N PEPPA. The urban crew that came out for this show was not the clan I had expected to see. The expected melting pot of road caravanserati that follow Phish were pulling in and beginning fes- tivities. We set up camp in our sloped parking partition and listened to the around the clock party that would be our life for the next 72 hours. On the Friday night, there were definitely two tribes in the parking lots, but I'd have to say the biggest difference was that the Phish people had a lot more things to sell. Everybody was there to party, listen to music, take drugs, have sex, and then drive back to their suburban identities. Our neighbor Peter from Arizona has brought his two dogs, Denga and Kudra. They are named after Tom Robbins characters and I happened to bring a Tom Robbins book, and our other neighbour was reading a Tom Robbins book. I was wondering if Tom Robbins was at the show. On Saturday morning I woke up to the cry of “come get your banana chocolate blueberry pan- cakes here” — the day’s entrepreneurial endeavours had begun. A necessary prerequisite to tour at Phish shows is that you have to have something to sell. The top sellers (in order) were veggie burritos, dank fatty nuggets (mari- juana), ecstasy, grilled cheese sandwiches (everything at the Phish show was phatty #&¥ as in really good, or exceptional) braided hemp jew- elry, psychedelic mushrooms, tabs (LSD), t-shirts that mocked a multinational company, left-over Grateful Dead artifacts, cigarettes, clothing and hip- pie crack: nitrous oxide. The average Phish follower seemed to be on a pilgrimage towards spiritual tran- scendence and monetary gain. Saturday was a grim survival — to go into the sweltering sun meant deathly dehydration in a matter of minutes. Both shows were sold out and the campground was packed. There were hundreds of kids walking around with one hand in the air, their index fingers pointed toward the sky, which signified their need fora ticket. The gate opened at six and we ate some poison and went to go see the band perform their musical mélange of folk, acid, medieval, rock, funk and barbershop quartet. On the way to the show, we gathered with the herd and cruised toward the amphitheater. On our way we spotted a lean tall blond hippie type doing his training to meet the whirling deverishs. He was running through the crowd, spinning, jumping, dodging bad pieces of karma left, right and centre. While the rest of us & smiled and marched, waiting for our time to see the show, this Zen master show was already going full tilt. AND THEN BOOM the tall blond spinning hip- pie ran into two goddesses and there a cosmic quake surged the land sending spiritual lacerations into the crowd. We approached the gates and had to empty our water bottles. We would have to enter inside the gates before getting the opportunity to buy little bottles of water for a mere two dollars. As you walk into the amphitheater and if you are on the right poi- son then the sight you see makes you humble to the power of nature — the power of nature to create such an awesome landscape behind the stage, the power of nature to create all the beautiful people that follow Phish and who have the respect to know that we are temporary visitors on the planet and while we are here, we might as well groove, funk, and get a little crazy. The energy in the crowd was little low on Saturday due to intense dehydration. On Sunday, Phish followers had definitely taken over and turned everything into fatty dank magnificence. People stayed in their own sweaty clusters and banged on instruments while some kids ventured to the swim in the river. I remained in the shade sharing wisdom and anecdotes with my neighbours. There were kids from Vancouver, Washington, on the right, and kids from Arizona and New Jersey on the left. Beside them were kids form Colorado and Idaho. There were potentially people from almost every state. The sense of commonness: common aspi- rations, the pursuit of pleasure, Coleman stove-based culinary skills, the sharing, and the ideals of freedom, were admirable. Even timid me had suspicious spiritual encounters involving a piece of water melon and a ballet dancer. The music Phish makes is amazing but needs to be experienced. To listen to a Phish CD does nothing to justify the élan of the group, the ésprit de corps must be visited. Phish probably won't stop touring — they are probably making far too much money — so go check out their funkified fugues if you have the time to escape from your dirty dark dank fatty veggie vegan seven bean burrito blues. ce) 10 plonet of the orts / october 1997 SERENDIPITOUS SPACES Subterranean C by Prophecy Sun rain af een VE eae We T= Ro er nde errs gin eee ere te pot el ee peta ion ee Darks th ley ede dy poled aot of esl oe Th le ee wie. fe se sed ty dca, Ha ei ined rouge al rie einen carte ae pee ee are done to completion. Individuality never separated or deter: ‘mined Here dominated virtual lif, spun around a hyperestnd ed sense of faint buzzing, high-pitched asa beat of insect wings Here a history was created arched and vaulted ~ crumbled into dust and tons of black earth below ~ unseen was this spell = wrought earth devastation. To caution the past is curiosity and need to aggresive rss Here [reminisce ofa past of tunnels carved and made by an intligent’ mysterious people, Crouched at rest, pressed by ato, the silence becomes cere in its intensity. Why the ie chosen underground, above round ~ beneath heaven and el? asthe world around, above so dangerousa place to exist? What ‘would your tunnels conceptualize aboveground? Spiraling arch «naked tothe sky. would the tube-like centre rooms sill exit ~ delicate to precision Ancestor, above the earth, your cay dwellings would smell the aif lant as untamed bids singing in sprit. And yet, the distilled moments of inheritance protect the present. homesick fr sights of darkness underground. en with colours Wondrous were your creations bri ‘lay sclpture by Prophecy Sun The Two Night Phish Phry by Ryan Tunnicliffe aa S= — ae rad. We expected trip that would Aelver us out of our treasured techno: logically infested neurotic delirium and transcend us somewhere neat Ble Skies, We had noida that we would end up camping wih wen ty thousand travellers in the middle of the desert in 97” degree Frenhitheat. Thank God we were the USA, whe four dollars can sill buy a ase of union-brewed beer 19 maintain a proper perspective ‘on the event that was going to unfold [As we approached the gorge — which is near Georg, Washington — "ake a moment to ponder the amazing geography my eyes ae sur rounded by. ! am in the middle of ood channels cut through the Columbia River Plateau basalts, The Columbia River bass ae cont ental flood basalts — huge wolume low viscosity, high temperature lava once spread over this entire region ‘Wearrived atthe gorge on Friday evening, one night before the to concerts Things look a litle peculiar as we drive into the camping arealparkng lot. The concert that ison this night i Kube Summer jam, With 12, GENUWINE, AALIYA, ROME, BILLY LAWREN, LAU NEA, & SALT N PEPPA. The urban crew at cae out for this show eas not the can I had expected tose. The expected melting pot of road caravanserai that follow Phish were pling in and beginning fs tives. We setup camp in our sloped parking patton and listened to the around the clock party that would be our life forthe next 72 hours, (On the Friday night, there were definitely two tribes in the park lots, but 12 have to say the biggest diference was that the Phish people had alot more things to sel, Everybody was thereto pry listen to musi, take drugs have sex. and then back to their suburban identities ‘Our neighbor Peter fom Arizona as brought his ‘oo dogs Deng and Kura They are named afer Tom Robbins characters and I happened to bring a To Robbins book, and our other neighbour was reading a “Tom Robbins book. I was wondering if Tom Robbins was at the show: (On Saturday morning I woke up tothe cry of come get your banana chocolate blueberry pan cakes here" ~ the day’ entrepreneurial endeavours had begun. A necessary prerequisite to tour at Phish shows stat you have to have something to sell The top sles (in orde) were veggie bursto, dank fay nuggets (mat jana), ecstasy, grilled cheese sandwiches (everything atthe Phish show was patty 4s in relly good, or exceptional) braided hemp jew ele, psychedelic mushrooms, tabs (LSD), tshirts that mocked a- multinational company, lf-over Grateful Dead artifacts, cigarettes, clothing and hip Pie crack: nitrous oxide. The average Phish follower seemed wo be on a pigrinage ward pital an un meant deathly debyation ina ster f mnutes Beth shows wer sold oat andthe ompeound was ocd There wee hundreds a id walking around with one band in thea he fdex ager Pointed toward thea which sige heir eed for a ick. The gat opened atacand we ate si polon aod wel pose ‘he bd perform thee musi melange of fol, cid, medieval rock funk and barbershop quartet. On the way to the show, we gathered th he rd and cried toward the anphiheste On i ay we ‘pete ain all blond pple type dong his trating to meet te hiding Serbs, He was anolig through the Beg