whispers of the desert
Art by Shelby McAuliffe
Almost Heard: whispers of the desert is a collaborative project focusing on the complex relationship one has with a desert. A space & place often overlooked.
One may witness the interwoven passage of time visually, metaphorically, and phenomenologically while viewing Almost Heard: whispers of the desert, in which the human condition is transposed onto an ephemeral plane, both in structure and in reflection. The installation is a transient landscape in light, color, texture and occupied space. The interpretive nature of this art installation is referential to the lava beds and alkali flats of northern Nevada. The Black Rock Desert has gained notoriety for becoming a ‘home’ for tens of thousands of Burning Man visitors, through their relationship to the unbelievably extravagant and fugacious city built to experience for one otherworldly week on the desert floor. That which intrigues me, though, is the identity of the desert outside of this event. The desert as a home for rabbits, for sage brush, and for the elusive fairy shrimp, steeped in alkaline dust and surrounded by the playa’s perimeter hot springs. This project aims to empirically embody solastalgia through anecdotes from the arid playa. This inquisitive art piece weaves the traces of human influence and natural elements of the land through a curated immersive representation of the desert. This is a visual interpretation that stands in sharp juxtaposition to the immense desert often thought of as empty or dismissible. If society continues to embody separability to marginalized landscapes, depleted or void of resources, how can we move forward in effective global environmental change towards any communal ground?
 Fox, William L. Playa Works: the Myth of the Empty. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2002, pg 10
Submit your story
Accepted written pieces will be turned into whispers to be used in conjunction with the installation at the University of Colorado Art Museum in March 2021
Write a poem, a prose, a story or haiku. Let your mind wander in inspiration, criticism and admiration for the Black Rock Desert
Submit your written word in the form below with completed release to allow your entries to be transformed into whispers.
Read a selection of submitted entries below.
Art by Shelby McAuliffe
To The Water That Raised Me
An homage to the water that raised me
Geothermal pools, granite rocks and birch trees
An epilogue to the experiences that shaped me
Dancing through trees watching marbled skies
Red leather yellow leather
Little mouse and wide lions
Baguettes served on the metro
accompanied by rose on river banks
An ellipsis to time well spent
A space for all who have not entered yet
What begins and begins again
For all who have seen an end
Forms, ambiguous in admiration
Seeps through my pores until I see them
Mentors and influences
Traumas and lessons
We track only what is needed, shelve the others for later
Performance as thank you
Language as limitation
Calm Before the Storm
I watched as the horizon inched closer, almost imperceptibly. The dark mountains which ring the Black Rock Desert had disappeared long ago, leaving me alone with the dust. Not a whisper of sound touched my ears. But the faintest of breezes kissed my lobes, a portent, like the first heavy drop of rain on a sunny day, felt by nobody else around. A wall of tan-grey, near or far, or in the infinite middle distance. Quiet emptiness, or so it seemed, a hint of gathering gloom.
Wind whipping, confusion of seeing nothing but spirals of dust. A swirl outside time, outside space. The world forgotten. The houses, the offices, the trees, another universe, another lifetime.
The storm was like a failed love story, arriving in a barrage of lust and danger, departing gradually, fading inexorably, grasping. As I gazed to the North, I felt a sense of relief tinged with longing. Longing to be in that power again, to be that gusty strength. Left behind. Turning around, my eyes found the mountains behind me. Dry and angular, but comforting, familiar.
Stark, foreboding, moody, and impossibly beautiful.
The Black Rock Desert.
Snow globe Broken Nose
Is this real? I do not know.
Intense colors. Is this death?
Rock formations, now they're gone.
I love this place? I do not know.
Why do I call this place home?
It burns for so long. Suddenly we are lost. Our one landmark turned to charcoal that he used to paint my face. The stars above are reflected in the dust at my feet. Glad I wore closed-toed shoes.
You salty bitch. I envy you. How can you be so cold and callous? How so hot and ornery? Critters and cracks. Saline and sunlight. You’ve scared me once, and every time I come back, arms wide open like a mouth for the taking. If I didn’t know to bring everything I am to survive your wildly open and unforgiving performance, I’d still be with you. I wouldn’t mind being with you, you’re beauty is sublime of course, especially as the sun comes sideways across your skin...but youre so proud of your independence and secrets, I’d say it’s more hazard than virtue. I guess like all women, you ought to know how to handle the curves before you start driving 100. Please stay hardened, firmer than the first. If you get any softer, I’ll be stuck on you forever. Damned if I already ain’t. **Spitting noise like an old miner**
on the margins of the black rock,
looking out into the desert
the immensity of it,
you never imagined the sheer magnitude of space
the way it can completely enclose you
and also within that space:
dust, and sound,
light, and thought,
and perhaps most of all
the memory of thousands of years,
the memory of a sea
standing on the shores of the desert,
looking out, you begin to understand:
is simply an illusion