Sailhouse

Without realizing the calendar, I made a stick house during solstice week. It’s an organic process that’s getting me moving again, humming, sweating, looking, seeing. 

Because I live near the ocean, I put a listing on a local swap page for sails with which to cover my space. I was given five large canvas schooner sails. They make me think of Vikings overturning their ships for huts. 
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I’m not a swimmer, a sailor, a Viking, nor a carpenter but when I came to the clearing today, I stopped and thought, “Look at her. She’s emerging.” and realized I was talking to myself.
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This is what remains of the original doorway from the stick house. Now that the space is transformed with sails, many of the poles could be removed expanding headroom tremendously. 

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I built this around a fallen tree not only so I had building materials nearby, but so I would have a bench running through the space. 

I can imagine this space evolving over time, hatching legends from the woods. Maybe the bench becomes a throne. Maybe the doorway let’s you time travel. 

Whatever this project, it has literal sails unfurled now, perched in the moss.

In some other world all of you come check it out. Maybe add a branch, spread some needles around to level the ground. 
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In this world, this space is a sacred vortex portal of some kind. It’s evolving. It’s clandestine. It’s a creation.