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High Desert Drifter

An image of a street art mural can be seen, which consists of a black and white image of a human face, surrounded by a bright and colorful collage of geometric shapes and symbols. The artwork is an eye-catching piece that stands out amongst the other buildings and streetscape.

PROCEEDING TOWARDS THE EAST

Perusing a map of the City of Angels, the conurbation appears like countless islands in a sea of desert. Yet, aside from the occasional meth-lab incident or cougar sighting, the desert is rarely on the minds of Angelenos. It is too hot, too far off, and too strange.

We tend to look upon the neighboring deserts as empty regions, merely a route to get to Palm Springs, Las Vegas, or, God forbid, Bakersfield.

Without the stolen water, foreign plants, and many Latin gardeners, Los Angeles would soon become devoid of life and revert to its original state.

This ongoing disconnection has caused a great many of us to lose our connection to the region we live in. We have become creatures of an abnormal habitat.

Four years ago, when Andrea Zittel decided to relocate from Williamsburg, New York to Joshua Tree, she created High Desert Test Sites, an annual art event. She had bought up a variety of properties, including eighty acres of land in the high desert.

Of this, twenty-five acres surrounded her house to prevent any other owners from building on top of her.

The remaining land was used for “test sites,” where artists from around the country could display their work outdoors. Zittel, who had grown up near boats, is best known for creating self-contained, personalized living units.

HDTS is unlike other similarly structured activities in that the art doesn’t stay in one place. It is strewn across Yucca Valley, Joshua Tree, Twentynine Palms, and Wonder Valley.

Andrea Zittel has formed an artistic atmosphere that goes against the standard norms of possession, land, and assistance.

She is a firm believer of the concept that art does not have to be owned by anyone, can remain in the habitat it was generated in as a fleeting presence, and will become part of the terrain in the long run.

This kind of art is assessed and admired according to a separate set of rules than those of art galleries and corporations. Although HDTS is situated away from any pre-existing hub, it attempts to find common ground between modern art and local matters.

These matters include the interpretation of land utilization, since, as Andrea found out quickly, the desert has different notions to different persons.

In the 1930s, settlers were drawn to the high desert for its free land and the possibility of a new life, and eventually adopted the same resilient, uninviting attitude of the resilient flora and fauna of the region.

For nearly seven decades, Joshua Tree National Park has been a gathering place for nature lovers who strive to leave no trace of their presence – aside from a few souvenirs.

In the ’60s, the desert was populated by outlaw bikers, and more recently, all-terrain vehicle fanatics. Additionally, the area is home to 19,000 Marines and other military personnel from the Twentynine Palms Combat Center.

Many people from Los Angeles have moved to the desert for its affordability and serenity, and as a result, retailers have followed. The establishment of a Wal-Mart has been controversial as it requires a large amount of land for its operation.

Despite these changes, artist Andrea Zittel still desires to keep the high desert from becoming too populated.

Once a year, a diverse group of individuals, including hipsters, artists, and journalists, travel to the arid landscape to view art.

As an author who mainly contributes to punk-rock periodicals, I can relate to wanting to express oneself outside the norms of society; however, as a former Navy man who drives a truck, follows Monday Night Football, and now has a #2 all-over buzz cut,

I feel I have much more in common with the locals of the desert than those who venture there to “make art happen.”

THE RIMROCK RANCH

This ranch, named Rimrock, is a location of a unique and rustic experience. It offers a chance to step away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life and relax in the peaceful atmosphere of nature.

Guests can choose to stay in the ranch’s cabins, explore the hiking trails, or spend time fishing in the nearby lake. The ranch is a beautiful and tranquil spot to make memories that will last a lifetime.

At 4 p.m., I set off in my aging truck, the Clash blaring from the cassette player that refused to be budged. The radio still worked, but the antenna had been broken since six months prior.

As I drove east on the 10, I was still in the vicinity of downtown L.A. after an hour.

Two hours later, I was still stuck in traffic, and the only thing I could get on the digital dial was right-wing babble. The rest of the journey was done in quiet.

Just after I took the Palm Springs exit, I continued traveling north on Highway 62 for nineteen miles until I reached Twentynine Palms Highway in Yucca Valley.

I had to be at a gathering of artists in Joshua Tree, but it was already past eight o’clock and I was in danger of forfeiting my pricey Rimrock Ranch cabin.

I drove up the canyon and came across Pioneertown, a place constructed back in the 1940s by Roy Rogers as a movie set with accommodations for the actors.

It still exists today as a tourist attraction, although it’s based on a romanticized version of the West that never really existed. In the blink of an eye, I was past it.

Cut off from the glow of city lights, the darkness of the desert while driving was an eerie feeling; I feared making a wrong turn and becoming one of the missing.

I reminded myself there was a Wal-Mart nearby. After nine miles, I reached the ranch, having travelled 125 miles in four hours and seventeen minutes. The elevation of 4500 feet made the air feel thinner and crisper, like I was closer to the moon.

The size of my cabin was larger than my apartment and much more pleasant to stay in. The den had a wood stove, the dining room had decorations of pinecones and horseshoes, and a Dwight Yoakam gold record hung on the wall.

Even in the bedroom, a dream catcher was hung above the lampshade, its net delicately set to capture the faint hopes of the lightbulb inside. It was as if Roy Rogers and Gene Autry had found a hideaway to play together, and this was it.

I made my way to the makeshift campsite situated behind the cabins, where some artists were putting together their tents. Aaron Garber-Maikovska, Erick Pereira, and his brother Josh were together, drinking beers and grumbling about the temperature.

Aaron, a man in his mid-twenties with a slim build, wore a leather bomber jacket and had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pajamas, which he had yet to change out of since the beginning of the weekend.

He explained to me that their project was called SXS Book, though he referred to it in many different ways during our conversation, such as a swimming pool, a pool table, a table saw, and a vineyard. He also made references to a “Frank Roid Light” and something called “SDS.”

What is SDS?

In reference to Walter De Maria’s The Lightning Field, I dub this “Slick Dick Sticks.”

I had a strong belief that Aaron was trying to pull a prank on me.

One could ask if there is a story element at play here?

A large tale was mentioned.

Erick stated concisely that “Most of the items we got will likely be discarded when we get back home.”

My hands were so cold that I wanted to return indoors and heat up something for dinner using the Eisenhower stove.

I felt a bit of remorse that the artists would be sleeping on the cold ground in their tents while I was all alone in the wide Buckaroo Suite, so I asked them to come over for a drink. At around 11 p.m., they arrived and I served whiskey in mason jars.

After talking earnestly and somewhat unclearly for an hour, they went back to their tents. I quickly heated a can of albondigas soup before retiring for the night.

EXAMINATION LOCATION 1: THE AFTERMATH LOCATION

I was awoken by the sound of banging and drilling at a little before eight in the morning. I was still able to remember my dream from the night before, which involved bartering for a pink surfboard.

I heard some scratching at my door and when I opened it, I found an Australian shepherd looking up at me with these pale eyes.

I shared some of my breakfast with him (just in case he was a secret magician) and he spent the rest of the morning with me on the ranch or sleeping on the stoop. His name was Chipper.

I decided to stay at Rimrock Ranch as it was the designated HDTS map distribution spot. I consumed coffee and examined the map, noting the various test sites, each with a star and a numeral from one to sixteen.

The labels of the sites ranged from the artistic (#2 Andy’s Gamma Gulch Site) to the ecological (#10 Ecoshack), the perplexing (#5 Krblin Jihn Cabin) to the ironic (#16 Future Wal-Mart Super Store). The Fallout Site was a presentation of its own, organized by Martha Otero.

The artists were getting ready to set up their displays while the property manager tidied the barn. Kristen Botshekan, an artist from Glendale, was putting up posters on stakes around the premises. They were strange things.

One of them depicted a pair of jackrabbits with the caption “J-T All Star.”

When I inquired about her ideas, she replied that she didn’t want to take the same approach as other artists had before her, which was putting whatever they had in their workspace in the desert.

Instead, she chose to craft a number of posters that were inspired by vintage L.A. punk-rock zines such as Flipside and advertising. The topics were the wildlife of the area like goats, sheep, and snakes–the Joshua Tree All Stars.

Worrying about where to place her posters was a source of anxiety for her.

“We always think about how to organise our gallery,” she remarked, “but come to the desert and all of our ideas go out the window. We don’t know what to do with such a vast area.”

I attempted to be of assistance when I commented, “It can be complicated to discern the limits.”

Erik, Kristen’s partner, reminded her that there should be no limits.

Aaron, Mike, and their respective girlfriends, plus Adam who works with Mike as a builder for artist Paul McCarthy, and Thor, the photographer who I never actually saw take a photograph, ambled around with their hands in their pockets.

They had snaked extension cords back to the barn to power their tools, and rockabilly music blared from a car stereo. Joe, adorned in a beaverskin hat and a clock around his neck, was diligently sawing wood. Astonishingly, the girls were cooking up bacon and eggs.

Occasionally, someone would remove an item from the trailer such as plastic tubing, fluffy white shapes, and fiberglass sheets. From what I could observe, the people were making an installation where the construction was part of the result.

However, there were coolers, lawn chairs and tables filled with snacks that made it seem like a tailgate gathering.

Aaron suggested, as I was preparing to depart for the following spot, that “it’s essential to integrate data to fabricate a circumstance.” He then inquired, “Do you fancy a beer?”

Andy’s Gamma Gulch Site: A Testing Ground

The instructions were to depart Rimrock Ranch, and after traveling 1.8 miles to Pipes Canyon Road, take a left. Continue for 2.2 miles until Gamma Gulch Road and make a left there. Note that the speed limit on this road must not exceed 25 mph.

Then take a right onto God’s Way Love and drive .4 miles until you reach the green flagging tape.

Test Site 2 is located a mere six miles from Test Site 1, or about the equivalent of a thumbwidth when measured on the HDTS map. In contrast, Test Site 13 is located on the opposite side of the map, printed on 11″ X 17″ paper.

I calculated this distance to be around seventeen thumbs from Twentynine Palms. This is similar to the distance between the tip of my elbow and the heel of my palm.

The terrain was extreme. The landscape was awe-inspiring. Cacti, stones, precipices, azure sky. I switched on the radio without thinking. There was no music. The radio searched for a reception, spinning through the channels in an endless cycle.

I drove up to the site and saw a strange rock that could have been taken right out of Chuck Jones’s Looney Tunes ACME catalogue. It was no surprise to me, since I was in an area that reminded me of the classic roadrunner-and-coyote cartoons I used to watch.

The Joshua trees, with their human shapes and spiky branches, made me think of Wile E. Coyote, Super Genius, who might appear at any moment to drop an anvil on my head.

When visiting the site, there were both old and new pieces to admire. One of which was a Joshua tree, covered in plastic bags which were decorated with the Target logo.

This was a commentary on how big retailers have been invading the desert and made for a rather unpleasant sight – which was exactly the desired outcome.

As I ventured through the area, I would sometimes follow the trail of green ribbons tied to the bushes, and sometimes take my own path.

Everywhere I looked, I was fascinated by the arrangement of the Joshua trees, boulders and other natural elements. In the far distance, something resembling a great arrowhead caught my eye.

Once I got closer, I saw that it was an immense twelve-foot-tall red arrow pointing downward into the ground. Beside it was a small podium like those found in parks. On it, three words were inscribed that completely changed the atmosphere of Gamma Gulch Road and God’s Way Love, by transforming it into a three-dimensional map: “YOU ARE HERE.” I could just imagine Chuck Jones, a man who dedicated his life to pointing out directions, smiling at this joke.

FOURTH TRIAL LOCATION: SUNFAIR PARCEL

The roads to Test Site 4 were cramped, bumpy and of poor quality, and the instructions weren’t too clear (“Just go past the wrecked cars and have a look around for information”).

The HDTS map was neither complete nor accurately scaled, and its blank spaces made it seem like a treasure map. Its purpose was not to explain but to show.

Despite this, the more I moved away from the main roads the more hesitant I got, frequently studying the map for clues that were not supposed to be there.

In contrast to the cluttered National Park Service publication with its ‘sixth-grade science-textbook illustrations’ and ‘weirdly excitable prose about death’, the HDTS map was a much more helpful guide.

This latter map, which I had taken from my cabin, was full of playful vagueness and was much more useful than the official map of the area.

The NPS map contained images of potentially-dangerous bobcats and kangaroo rats, and descriptions of the decomposition of Joshua trees and the subsequent consumption of their homes by termites.

When the crumbling mesa gave way to a flat terrain dotted with ruined cars, I felt a sense of relief. The sound of a motorcycle engine could be heard in the distance. There was a white mailbox affixed to a post, with a single sheet of typescript inside.

On one side was the title “Site: Nonsite: Quartzsite”, and on the other side a map. I was a bit perplexed by the title.

Site referred to the actual test site and Nonsite was a term popularized by Robert Smithson’s works, which displayed items from a particular site in Patterson, New Jersey, in an art gallery.

As for Quartzsite, the sheet of paper revealed it is an Arizona town whose population swells from 5,000 to 1.5 million while the snowbirds swarm the sleepy desert town.

A group of artists called the Architecture Urbanism Design Collaborative had created an imaginary map of Quartzsite over twenty acres of desert, and posted photos of life in Quartzsite at the respective locations.

This piece seemed to be commenting on the randomness of why people live where they do, or go where they go, which was something I too was thinking that morning as I drove past the desolate dwellings and questioned, “Could I live there?”

The experience highlighted the unreliability of maps, thus I decided not to consult mine for that part of the journey. Instead of relying on the guidance of a map, I scrutinized the terrain and envisaged where the roads should go.

Astonishingly, there they were! I was quite pleased with this accomplishment when I got to the junction of Sunburst Street and Twentynine Palms Highway, just to find out that my tank was almost empty.

I stopped at the Circle K, a place where strange occurrences typically take place. A robust man in a massive truck asked me, “Are you from around here?”

I couldn’t be sure if he was trying to challenge me. It was like one of those ads that you always see during football games, where the people boast about their truck being bigger and better than everyone else’s.

I uttered a firm, “No,” and then declared, “L.A.”

He informed me that he had come to the area to purchase land, but had gotten turned around. He had the courage to inquire if I had any knowledge of the desired location, and it just so happened I was familiar with the exact area he desired.

I produced my infamous map and demonstrated him the way.

LOCATION 6: HDTS MAIN OFFICE

The HQ for HDTS was located in a large white tent and, instead of cheese platters and carafes of wine, I found helpful hipsters and artists who directed me to a table with maps, T-shirts, brochures, and information about the events.

After obtaining some details, I headed to Test Site 8, which is Andrea Zittel’s house, to meet Chris James, a former Williamsburg artist who now resides in Silverlake and has the laid-back manner of a Californian.

In our investigation of the artwork at Zittel’s house and Test Site 7, we had a great view of Joshua Tree and Twentynine Palms. Chris told us about his project for HDTS, which is an interpretive guide with a map of the Joshua Tree area.

The map is based on a painting from the 19th century by J.L. Gerome, and Chris likened Joshua Tree to “the Oriente,” which he described as the desert areas in between North Africa and the Near East. As he spoke of the map’s contours and colors, I could envision a map of the desert made up of all the road atlases, field guides, and abstractions that I had been studying for the past 24 hours.

Chris was the first to locate Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty, which had been submerged in Utah’s Great Salt Lake for twenty-nine years, when he visited in July of 2002.

There was a woman working the Golden Spike National Monument visitor desk who provided Chris with a map and informed him that the last visitor to the jetty had seen “nothing” two weeks prior.

Smithson had the jetty created in the shape of a spiral in 1970, and it is generally accepted to be his greatest work. Over the years, the water level rose and the jetty was hidden.

When Chris saw it, though, its black basalt was coated in a white alkaline due to its time beneath the ultra-saline sea.

It was as if Smithson, who died in a plane crash in 1973, had somehow accelerated the geological clock to fill and drain the massive inland sea from the beyond.

The complete guide to the Christopher James Interpretive Taxonomy for the California Oriente in the Vicinity of Joshua Tree is available at http://highdeserttestsites.com/catalog.html (click on “brochure”).

The allure of Spiral Jetty is its ability to be both tangible and fleeting simultaneously. It’s a place to locate on a map, but belong to everyone. Its beauty is found in the transformation it has undergone as it is reclaimed by the sea.

However, the works featured at Test Sites 7 & 8 did not possess the same transitory quality. Instead, the pieces stood out and drew attention, being the antithesis of unobtrusive. To make matters worse, many of the works were for sale.

Unless the objects are taken back to a studio soon, the exposure to the elements and the natural decay will result in their devaluation, both in terms of the item itself and the space it occupies.

According to Zittel, after her four-year journey of viewing the landscape as an artist, curator, homeowner, and steward, she now has a preference for owning land without any modifications.

This is why HDTS organizers have begun to advocate for artists to emphasize the temporary in their shows.

The irony is, she might not have enough money to implement her own advice since the taxation on her land is quite high, making it expensive to own land for the purpose of keeping it untouched. Ownership, in this case, is a burden for those who wish to leave the land alone but could be a lucrative opportunity for those who want to exploit it.

The real estate market in the high desert has been on the rise, and whether this is due to an abundance of “high-falutin’ artists” or the new Wal-Mart Super Store coming to Yucca Valley is uncertain.

On the same day, someone handed me a real estate advertisement which had been printed on a color printer.

The bungalow depicted in the flyer was described as a “funky artist’s retreat,” suggesting that the local property owners may have better knowledge of their target audience than the artists themselves.

MEANWHILE, AT THE RANCH

I made arrangements to rendezvous with Chris at Test Site 13 for a beer in the evening.

Realizing I was starting to become accustomed to the arid high desert, I chose to use the two-and-a-half-hour gap in my schedule by traveling the roughly 25 miles back to Rimrock Ranch to assess the progress of SXS Book.

At Rimrock, the scene was familiar yet unfamiliar. Everything was in disarray, but it was clear that much progress had been made. A square frame had been welded together, fitted with clear fiberglass, and filled with water.

A pool table stood nearby, but its felt had been pulled back to reveal a working table saw, as Adam demonstrated by turning it on and shouting “Nature!”

A worklight mounted above the table was housed in a case like those found in bars, yet this one had been designed to look like a Tiffany lamp from the art deco era. To the side, stakes were driven into the ground and adorned with artificial grapes.

All the peculiar phrases Aaron had used the night before suddenly made sense; I was looking at a swimming pool, a pool table, a table saw, a Frank Roid Light, and a vineyard.

The water had drained out of the pool, yet the fiberglass hadn’t been given the chance to settle, nor were there pockets on the pool table.

In spite of this, the pieces of equipment served as an embodiment of the idea that was behind them, although in reality, they were impractical representations of what they were meant to be

– similar to the offerings of the ACME catalogue, as well as all the tools that the Coyote used in his escapades.

Aaron, the prankster conceptualist, stood in the middle of the scene, taking in all of his team’s efforts. He gave no indication of feeling any pride or satisfaction, simply viewing the piece as neither finished nor unfinished, neither a masterpiece nor a flop.

His underlying message in the desert was unclear to me, likely due to the fact that the work would not have been possible without stealing power from the barn at Rimrock Ranch.

I could easily envision Aaron and the crew in the 1940s constructing sets for Roy Rogers in Pioneertown, or assembling a soundstage on the Warner Bros. lot for Chuck Jones.

If the high desert ends up becoming a haven, it is likely that Aaron and his team, or men just like them, will be asked to build the studios and eccentric retreats.

Despite all the cutting, soldering and assembling their venture required, along with the countless hours of intense labor, nothing was left behind. I began to comprehend their installation as a type of performance.

They arrived, constructed, disassembled and then scavenged for a dumpster.

EXPERIMENT LOCATION 13: GALAXIES AT A DISTANCE

I bid farewell to Aaron and Erick along with their jovial bunch, and then set off in the direction of east. It took me around half an hour to get to Joshua Tree and another 30 minutes to get to Twentynine Palms.

This journey took me to the midpoint on the map between Rimrock Ranch and the Stars Way Out bar in Twentynine Palms, and the temperature difference between downtown Joshua Tree and the ranch was 15 degrees cooler for every hundred feet of elevation.

The Circle Ks and Jack in the Boxes had vanished. Streetlights were missing and the roads that occasionally crossed the highway were no longer paved. I could not get cell-phone service.

The unending stretch of highway made me uneasy, stirring a primitive fear that my small number of maps, both real and imaginary, could not calm. When I saw a sign that said “Last Service for 100 miles” I thought I had gone too far.

Then, suddenly, the lights from Stars Way Out became visible like a lighthouse in the night.

I settled between two gentlemen: Dave, who wore a cowboy hat and owned the place, and Late Freight, a former trucker who declared it was not a bar but a hobby. To break the ice, I began to talk about our common military background.

When it became apparent that Dave and Late Freight had served in Korea and Vietnam respectively and I had been in the navy during the first Gulf War, we began to joke around and buy each other beers, presented in personalized crochet cozies by the friendly bartender.

The bar was populated by only a few people, so I made sure to learn everyone’s name. There was a certain tension between the sailors and marines, but I found myself in a sort of middle-ground.

Then, Chris and Wendy, my friend from Boston, showed up, and Dave stood up to shake Chris’s hand. The atmosphere was friendly and I felt like I had been frequenting the bar for quite a while.

Before Wendy had a chance to respond, she was posing for photos, wearing a cowboy hat and holding one of the shotguns Dave brought down from the gun rack.

Above the bar, beer-can biplanes hung by the television, which showed the Boston Red Sox winning the first game of the World Series. I was uncertain why the bar was chosen as a testing site, yet I was thankful it was included. Dave felt the same way.

Dave declared he was buying a round of drinks for everyone.

Late Freight gave a mocking laugh and said, “It’s no surprise that you never make any money.”

Dave commented to no one in particular that this location was available for purchase.

The HDTS bash was just getting going at the Palms, a bar that was ten miles away, but the atmosphere was so hospitable that I could have stayed forever.

Underneath the pool table, there was a bed, so that those who had too much to drink could rest for a few hours among the clacking balls of striped and solid stars.

TEST LOCALE 14: THE PALMS

As I drove down Twentynine Palms Highway, a coyote was seen racing ahead of my headlights. It stopped on the side of the road, seemingly pondering the near-miss it just experienced. I had an urge to lightly press the horn, twice, but instead, I swerved into the left lane.

Unluckily, the sudden movement of my car startled the animal, causing it to dash back onto the road, straight under the rear tire of my pickup truck.

I felt remorseful for violating one of the fundamental laws of Looney Tunes; harming the roadrunner was strictly forbidden. My mistake had cost the life of an all-star.

I took a wrong turn and eventually caught up with Chris on his way to the Palms. As soon as I got there, I went straight to the bar, ordered a portable hole–built by ACME and bottled by Budweiser–and slipped inside.

The atmosphere was amazing and it felt like a post-scavenger hunt gathering. None of us had made the same journey, so it was fun to talk about the art we’d encountered as well as the places we’d been in between.

Chris made me acquainted with Giovanni Jance, the artist behind the huge red arrow in Gamma Gulch. We discussed it for a bit and he mentioned how it had been defaced.

Someone had made their own statement about land use by changing the color of the arrow to brown, so it would blend in with the surroundings.

Even though vandalism was becoming increasingly common, especially in the dry lake bed where a piece of anti-Bush protest art was wrecked by off-roaders during the Iraq invasion, Giovanni appeared to be more amused than annoyed.

He jokingly said that he wished someone would fill it with holes.

The Stars Way Out team and Erik and Kristen from Rimrock Ranch were all present at the bar. Even Thor, with his dark sunglasses, had showed up. The band playing in the background gave the feeling of the next David Lynch movie.

There was a performance artist on the patio imitating a cockroach and doing stunts with a flamethrower. Some were ready to call it a night, others were preparing for a night at the strip club.

Chris and I ended up at a marine corps karaoke bar and the night finished at a Motel 6. The next morning I got a newspaper, had a tiny cup of coffee, and started to drive.

There’s a limited amount of times to get oneself together before its too late. I had a lengthy drive ahead of me and was looking forward to it.

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