Because the subjects affect other people.
But if I think about me...
All you get is a kind of
Having decided to take seriously the notion that stone circles (timber circles!) were made with the sun and moon...
But I can't test out what I think.
All in all The Sanctuary has proved a very frustrating kind of experience.
There are so many things that I haven't done there.
I don't mind looking a fool laying out lengths of string and taking measurements.
But I have to fight the impulse to lay out the ancient pathways with candles (in blue paper bags...weighed down with sand).
On one hand I wish to reactivate it.
Like the workings of a Tibetan prayer-wheel, or Torma
There is a sense of machine within art.
Like a plastic snake, spider or turd
The replication of form
Is sometimes enough.
The Sanctuary was an enclosed space.
Its form wasn't functional
Its form was its function
At Woodhenge I fight the desire to make some kind of memorial to the 'lost boy' originally buried in the ditch.
And to connect the posts dot-to-dot to make a labyrinth.
It would be very confusing to do that!
But I see that other people have begun to add him to their accounts of the place.
So, that's good.
As it is, I confine myself to coming to terms with possibilities
Accepting the impossibility of certainty.
Allowing myself to entertain theory.
A diagram to show that the position of the six, inner most post holes could have been predicted by shadows cast from sun rise and sun set at Midsummer.
It is interesting that you could use Midsummer, sun rise and set shadows to decide where to place the first posts...Midsummer doesn't fit the current, Gothic vogue, for the Midwinter pig-fest of the dead.
But your hands would freeze
Digging holes in December!
It also means that I will have to be there in June
With a stick of a known size, tape measure and compass
At an unearthly hour
I'm not really interested in what actually happened.