21 09 07
Its that friday feeling
Sleep in late
vivid strange dreams
At least that shows my brain is working
The basement flat is very dark
a strong contrast with the outside
There is a sense of Africa in Marsala
The cities edge lining along a cobalt sea and sky
A wind from the north
The Egadi Islands beckon
A close haul with one reef in and the jib just right
The wine warehouses emit a must of grape
and the fragrance of wine from the vat
At the Saline watch a young boy getting his dads boat for him
His father loading it full of green and bright red flowers
Such a matter of fact thing
full of grace
The windmills were restored by a local boat builder from Trapini
the mechanisms all wood and rope
large structures like the beams of a boat,
numbered and shackled
Up in the red tin cap
the wind lightly shaking the cupola
as if to tease the sails to be bent
and the world to set into motion
Life is all salt
The workers have a song they sing when they wheel barrow the salt to make large piles
the piles of salt measured in wheelbarrows
they loosen the crust with a small bladed shovel that they dig in and twist
it forms a dance
they appear as a chorus line
they form it in to rectangles with channels to drain the water
then into small squares
then into pyramids
After draining these would all be wheelbarrowed into the large piles that sit on the edge of the lagoon
They are left to dry out and covered in winter with roof tiles
The salt pans have four stages to them
all are different processes of cleaning and evaporation
There is a canal around the lagoons which keeps the sea water being infected by rainwater
The first pan is where the sea water is let in
This is to get the impurities out
then it is pumped into a second pan to concentrate the brine
then into another where the brine becomes pink in colour
this is caused by the brine shrimp
this is what the flamingo's feed on and this gives them there pink hue
The brine evaporates more and becomes concentrated
the brine is the pumped into last pan, small flecks of crystals form in the water and then settle on the bed where it is left to evaporate through the process of wind sun and air.
At each stage the water is tested by the ‘ curator ‘.
There is something simple and pure about the salt
its process - distillation and evaporation
refined to an essence
something out of depletion
out of the blue sea
as a white crest
The white mounds today were quite beautiful
Their shape arrived at by process
sculptural
large benevolent beings
Maybe I am looking for to much meaning in it
I think it is the beauty of the place
The windmills facing out to the air and wind
bare sailed
waiting
sun bleached
long arms
tendrils to the light
Archaic like pinochio hats
the ochre of the tower and the deep red of the cupola
their quiet names
an earthbound ornamentation
the shape of a tree
varied
strange unknown, exotic
shapes on the edge of somewhere familiar
like dark skin
the clods of earth
to touch
to pick the ripe fruits of eden’s tree
Sleep in late
vivid strange dreams
At least that shows my brain is working
The basement flat is very dark
a strong contrast with the outside
There is a sense of Africa in Marsala
The cities edge lining along a cobalt sea and sky
A wind from the north
The Egadi Islands beckon
A close haul with one reef in and the jib just right
The wine warehouses emit a must of grape
and the fragrance of wine from the vat
At the Saline watch a young boy getting his dads boat for him
His father loading it full of green and bright red flowers
Such a matter of fact thing
full of grace
The windmills were restored by a local boat builder from Trapini
the mechanisms all wood and rope
large structures like the beams of a boat,
numbered and shackled
Up in the red tin cap
the wind lightly shaking the cupola
as if to tease the sails to be bent
and the world to set into motion
Life is all salt
The workers have a song they sing when they wheel barrow the salt to make large piles
the piles of salt measured in wheelbarrows
they loosen the crust with a small bladed shovel that they dig in and twist
it forms a dance
they appear as a chorus line
they form it in to rectangles with channels to drain the water
then into small squares
then into pyramids
After draining these would all be wheelbarrowed into the large piles that sit on the edge of the lagoon
They are left to dry out and covered in winter with roof tiles
The salt pans have four stages to them
all are different processes of cleaning and evaporation
There is a canal around the lagoons which keeps the sea water being infected by rainwater
The first pan is where the sea water is let in
This is to get the impurities out
then it is pumped into a second pan to concentrate the brine
then into another where the brine becomes pink in colour
this is caused by the brine shrimp
this is what the flamingo's feed on and this gives them there pink hue
The brine evaporates more and becomes concentrated
the brine is the pumped into last pan, small flecks of crystals form in the water and then settle on the bed where it is left to evaporate through the process of wind sun and air.
At each stage the water is tested by the ‘ curator ‘.
There is something simple and pure about the salt
its process - distillation and evaporation
refined to an essence
something out of depletion
out of the blue sea
as a white crest
The white mounds today were quite beautiful
Their shape arrived at by process
sculptural
large benevolent beings
Maybe I am looking for to much meaning in it
I think it is the beauty of the place
The windmills facing out to the air and wind
bare sailed
waiting
sun bleached
long arms
tendrils to the light
Archaic like pinochio hats
the ochre of the tower and the deep red of the cupola
their quiet names
an earthbound ornamentation
the shape of a tree
varied
strange unknown, exotic
shapes on the edge of somewhere familiar
like dark skin
the clods of earth
to touch
to pick the ripe fruits of eden’s tree
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