Here’s something I worked on with an evolving motivation. The base, made of the larger stones available at the site, was thrown together unthinkingly, instinctively, shakily. I began to widen it from its narrow footing, thinking to make another flare like I did with my mirror plane piece earlier that week. The whole thing was swaying in the breeze, a dangerous collection of barely balanced, unrelated pieces. With no attachment to the current formation, I introduced a set of four feet formed from single stones, stacked simply (haha, alliteration), topped by a large element that perched upon them with the barest minimum contact. A girl around the age of 7 walked up at this point to inform me that my work wasn’t strong enough, and that it was going to fall down soon. I thanked her for her wisdom, and she sat down to watch as I continued in my foolish endeavor.
Secretly, I completely agreed with her, and didn’t think any further work would stand. the whole thing seemed too unbalanced. Yet, strangely, as I continued to build, the whole thing got more and more stable. I couldn’t believe how without any attempt to balance the stack, it was coming into alignment, seemingly out of its own volition. Synchronicity was in control despite my inadequate understanding of the forces at work. The hollow chamber sitting atop the barely stable plate went up without a hitch, perfect elements appearing before me right when I needed them to fill some gap. I was standing on a large rock in order to be tall enough to work the piece before I knew it. I got to a place where I felt the need to make a new layer; I stopped and photographed before moving on. I’ve posted this first stopping point as a separate post from the full height of the work, because I think it has a charm all its own, very similar to my St. Stephen’s day stack.
I’ll post the complete tower soon.