Everything we do at the farms is considered performance. Even the environment gets involved in collaborating and transforming the site-specific installations: there are times when special performances become a part of the work. Investigating the human and animal covenant is a common thread throughout my work.

  Sheep Sail, part of the  Windscape  installation. Here a shepherdess, sheep dog, and sheep maneuver through twenty-five, 10-40 foot tall woven meadow sails at Shelburne Farms.

Sheep Sail, part of the Windscape installation. Here a shepherdess, sheep dog, and sheep maneuver through twenty-five, 10-40 foot tall woven meadow sails at Shelburne Farms.

   The Animal that Therefore I am

The Animal that Therefore I am

   Live Myth : Poet Doug Anderson reads his poem  Live Myth  to Foxy the Shire in his stall at  Blue Star Equiculture

Live Myth: Poet Doug Anderson reads his poem Live Myth to Foxy the Shire in his stall at Blue Star Equiculture

Live Myth

I would believe in the unicorn if it stood heaving and slathered,

snapping flies off its flank with its tail. It does not smell

of sweat and stable, does not snort at the wolf in the brush

and twitch its ears. A unicorn does not get dirty,

kick up mud when it runs. I know that I would throw

my leg over a bareback horse sooner than I’d step

into the stirrup of a saddled unicorn. For spite, I’d shoot

and slaughter one, roast choice bits over a fire, and hang

its horn from my belt, just to outrage the legions

of tourists of the imagination, the kind who flock

to séances, or invite Rasputin to tea. A unicorn

is impossibly cute, it doesn’t shit or rub its rump against a tree.

But a horse, my god, can swing its neck around at a dog’s yip

and break your jaw, can brain you with a hoof.

It makes the ground shake. Look at him, the black pool

of his eye, muscle rippling along the flanks, and how

he stands, placid, chewing, as the little girl lies on top of him

braiding his mane, whispering, my magic, my magic, my boy.

Doug Anderson

 

   To The Barn and Back,    m  imicking the rhythm of the farmer I walk over the canvas

To The Barn and Back, mimicking the rhythm of the farmer I walk over the canvas

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