Julie Bird

As soon as my luggage was lost in transit, I knew the stars had aligned.  It was my fourth trip to this destination in two years and I couldn’t justify it rationally or financially, but the call was still there and that was how I knew I still had to go. Art does not want your rationalizing anyways, only your availability.   Upon landing, I rested until evening, shared a difficult phone call with a family member and then sat and felt through where the grief wanted to be directed. With no luggage but the clothes on my back, I headed out alone down the streets of Copenhagen. I stopped for a rare drink and ended up spontaneously meeting two new friends with whom I danced the grief away with until the sun came up.   The next day I sat at my favorite cafe in the world, the type of place that meets you with the safety of a bathroom stall covered in graffiti, letting you know there isn’t a soul in the world that isn’t welcome.  I smiled back at familiar faces, drank coffee and digested sustenance for the night ahead.  The bulk of the afternoon was spent lost in a conversation with Matthias, a kindred spirit on the pathless land of the artist.  For hours we existed outside of time until the last bit of sunlight drained from the sky and we were left to part, our hearts aflame as the sky turned a sea of deep, bruising blue. My luggage finally found me upon return to my stay, and so thoughts of the night ahead and what it would carry.  A deep fog dropped from the sky, descending like a dark blanket upon the city and bringing with it not terror but calm.  We took the long drive into the middle of the sea once again, only this time there was no question of alignment.  The call had come, I had gone, it would answer back, together we would share in the magic of the night. I have long understood in my work that different locations and moments such as these reflect different states of consciousness inside myself.  Upon ascent, I felt myself torn open, aware that I had entered a portal of sorts, nothing visible but the next step up the cable and my enormous shadow cast upwards towards the cosmos.  The clouds dropped and the stars shone subsequently above, a scene I had never imagined I could see before.  It was hard to hold the charge of the night, energy bursting through my body with not a thought of safety or return home. Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” played in my headphones, the lyrics inscribing their way on my heart as I photographed.  All thought ceases, I stare out at that vast abyss and watch it smile back, time and time I return to the work to find both it and I will remain the same–a complete unknown.