“Social justice work is about creating systems of justice and equity in the future, creating conditions that we have never experienced. That is a futurist focus, and the practices of collaboration and adaptation and transformative justice, are science fiction behavior.” – adrienne maree-brown

As the ghost moves from the machine to the cloud, and onward to a reinvigorated quest for space, let us stop to imagine a prehistory without the predatory nature to kill, an impulse that is so prevalent in our species. A future past that is lost. Earthworks get their name from a science fiction novel. These citadels of dirt, the dissolving jetty, the tunnel displacing ground in alignment to stars, the trenches of intention but no function. These are works of science fiction as well. Philosophical inquiries to our relationship with the earth. Reconciling geological time with human time, we are not only understanding our past, but predicting our precarious future. There is now an obvious paradox, as Sun Ra looked to Saturn, what seemed to be more than a metaphor is co-opted by unending colonial mindsets. Perhaps we will let the billionaires take their friends to Mars and the Moon, and give earth back over to those it was taken from, perhaps a reinvention as a Saturn beneath our feet, as a satellite floating through the expanse of it all, a laboratory for consciousness. 

Space is the place from the perspective of the Arkestra, but also from the perspective of political geography, spatial justice, property as a manifestation of freedom, the requirement of a volume for experimentation, to hold consciousness. To be present in a physical yet invisible helical toroid, to vibrate through time, one must have the space to do it, to live in a place, to reclaim a place, it is a capture of volume. The true measure of an artist is how much water they displace, a choreographed cannonball of the ego into the pool that is the space time continuum. It is a möbius commute, it is the noosphere, not as elevated consciousness hovering like ozone, but land, structure, roof and sky weaved together by our travel through its fluidity. 

Our thoughts splinter to cover ground that is reminiscent of the distorted organ solo from Sun Ra’s Atlantis. It meanders but not without melody or purpose, evasive, however, like the shadow of a moving dragon.