Eliphante Part 1

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I took this photo of the Eliphante logo on top of one of my collages. Can you see the word “eliphante”?

As I was getting my tent up at NeoTribal The Gathering, folks started setting up on my left. They left a nice big space between my tent and theirs, and the space stayed empty most of the day. Late in the afternoon, it seemed as if people were hanging out between my tent and the next one, maybe doing something interesting, so I popped out to see what was going on.

I met three people who were spreading the word about a place Eliphante. I had never heard of Eliphante, or Cornville, Arizona, where it is located. (Cornville is reached via Interstate 17. It is about 97 miles north of Phoenix and about 20 miles south of Sedona.)

The folks had a book called Home Work: Handbuilt Shelter by Lloyd Kahn. (Find out more about Home Work here http://www.shelterpub.com/_home_work/HW-book.html and here https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/381862.Home_Work?from_search=true.) In Home Work, there were multiple pages dedicated to Eliphante. I looked at the pages and became entranced. I could tell immediately from the photos I saw that Eliphante is a magical place.

(You can go here http://www.shelterpub.com/_home_work/_kahn/_122-123/kahn_122-123.html to see images of and text about Eliphante as they appear in Home Work.)

It turns out that the three people lounging next to me are caretakers at Eliphante. They are artists who live in the  “kaleidoscopic, hand-built, sculptural village” to help maintain and restore what was built there by “the artist Michael Kahn and his wife Leda Livant over a 28 year period beginning in 1979.” (Thanks to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eliphante for basic information.) The folks were at the festival to spread the word about Eliphante and to invite people to the series of events happening there in a couple of weeks. I immediately wanted to go and see the place for myself.

(You can also learn more about Eliphante, see more wonderful photos of the place, and watch a trailer for a documentary called Eliphante: Where Life is Art and Art is Life at http://www.theshelterblog.com/eliphante-michael-kahns-sculptural-village-arizona-desert/. Watch for the goat in the trailer.)

I talked for quiet a while to the two guys who were representing Eliphante. They told me the county won’t give the place a permit to host events there (because of the zoning, I think), so all events are open to members only. Memberships are for a lifetime, and folks get membership cards. (One of the guys whipped out his membership card to show me.) I knew I wanted to be a member even before I visited.

Here’s what the Eliphante website (http://www.eliphante.org/) has to say:

Eliphante is a private residence looked after and cared for by the 501(c)(3) non-profit Eliphante, Ltd. We are volunteer run and member supported, on an invitational basis to organizational members. Together, we are working to preserve and restore the work of the late artist Michael Kahn and his wife Leda Livant.

After the festival, I looked at my schedule of dental and van repair appointments and decided I could make the trip to Eliphante on the Saturday before I started my temp job. I went to the Eliphante website to find out contact info, then sent an email explaining who I was, how I’d heard of the place, and saying when I wanted to visit. Within a couple of days, I got a message from one of the guys I’d met. The message said, “So glad to hear from you. You were a great neighbor at the gathering. You are on the list for Saturday…”

On the day I visited, there was an accident on I -17 that brought traffic to a complete standstill. (I was listening to the Grateful Dead, so I just danced in my seat and didn’t let myself be bothered by the delay.) I got to Eliphante later than I had planned, but still with plenty of time to look around during the period when they were receiving guests members.

The directions I’d been sent were very good, and I only had to stop to consult the map once, when I thought I’d missed a turn. Actually, I hadn’t gone far enough to get to that turn. Once back on track, I found the place easily, although no one in a vehicle could stumble upon the place. There are no signs directing drivers to the property.

Upon arrival, I found the creek still flowing. I didn’t realize there were rocks arranged above the level of the water on which I could have walked across, so I just lifted my skirt and waded through. ( I was glad I was wearing my sturdy, all-terrain Keen sandals).

I can't imagine anyone stumbling upon Eliphante, this photo shows the clever signs reminding members that visits are by appointment only.

I can’t imagine anyone stumbling upon Eliphante, so the clever sign in this photo I took must be a reminder to members.

As soon as I walked up to the outdoor kitchen, a little kid (probably about four years old) introduced himself and his brother. Then I saw one of the fellows I’d met at NeoTribal. We were happy to see each other, and he took me to sign the disclaimer that said I wouldn’t hold Eliphante liable if I got hurt or died while I was there. I like the way they got it right out there that anything could happen, and I was responsible for my own damn self.

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This is a photo I took of the Winter Palace, the first home of Michael Kahn, and his wife Leda Livant Kahn. They built it when they first moved to the Cornville area. This is a side view. The entrance is under the awning. The space is a gallery of sorts, as it houses items for sale made by artists associated with Eliphante. The one-room building is very tiny, and I told my guide that I can imagine living in such a small space alone, but not with another person, even another person I loved very much.

After I signed the liability waiver, I was on my own to walk around and look around and poke around. I put my camera in my pocket and went exploring.

The first building I explored was the Hippadome.

I took this photo of the front entrance of the Hippadome.

I took this photo of the front entrance of the Hippadome.

When I walked in, there were several people sitting around in the main room of the dwelling. I was greeted by Leda Livant Kahn herself. Wow! What a wonderful person. She told me later that she was born in 1925, and met Michael Kahn in 1979, at which time she left her husband of 24 years and her nearly adult children. (One child was a freshman in college and the other was a senior in high school.) She was 54 when she started the new chapter of her life with Michael Kahn, which definitely gives me hope for my later years.

The folks in the Hippadome were preparing to leave when I arrived, so I soon had the place to myself. I explored the many little nooks and crannies and took several photos.

Can you find the ceiling fan in this photo I took? The walls and ceiling of the main room were covered in some sort of metallic paper (I think) and then painted in bright colors. In the middle of the floor, under the floor covering was some sort of soft, comfy material.

Can you find the ceiling fan in this photo I took? The walls and ceiling of the main room were covered in some sort of metallic paper (I think) and then painted in bright colors. The ceiling fan was painted to match.

This is the sink area in the kitchen. The doors to the cabinets under the sink are made of wood with cut out designs.

This is the sink area in the kitchen. The doors to the cabinets under the sink are made of wood.

 This is a bar between the kitchen and a sort of nook area leading up to the common room/living area. The bar is made from ultra smooth wood that almost gleams in the light. Notice the floor in the kitchen area. Notice the mosaic wall next to the bar. I took this photo.

This is a bar between the kitchen and a sort of nook area leading up to the common room/living area. The bar is made from ultra smooth wood that almost gleams in the light. Notice the floor in the kitchen area. Notice the mosaic wall next to the bar.

The next two photos were taken by me and are details of the mosaic on the wall next to the wooden bar.

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This photo (taken by me) is of an agate slice set in the counter top of the bar.

This photo is of an agate slice set in the counter top of the bar.

This was a nook in the wall with a "stained glass" windowing letting in light.

This was a nook in the wall with a “stained glass” window letting in light.

Ladder. Tiny door. Sleeping (?) loft.

The Hippadome has a second room, with a ladder and what I think is a sleeping loft. On the ground floor of this room were two desks, so maybe it was a work room too. On the second level, just beyond the ladder, there is a small door leading outside. I climbed the ladder up to the loft. That was a precarious endeavor. I thought better of it, but I really wanted to go through that small door, so I heaved myself up at the top. I should have taken my backpack off. I’m glad I didn’t fall.

I took this photo from the loft room, looking back into the common/living room. The blue area in the middle of the floor is a cushy soft napping area. Some sort of bedding material has been set into the floor, at the same level as the stones, so there is a comfortable place to lie down. Notice that the walls under the windows are made of carefully stacked stones.

I took this photo from the loft room, looking back into the common/living room. The blue area in the middle of the floor is a cushy soft napping area. Some sort of bedding material has been set into the floor, at the same level as the stones, so there is a comfortable place to lie down. Notice that the walls under the windows are made of carefully stacked stones.

When I tried to go through the small door, I realized two things.

#1 Eliphante should add to the liability waiver that the institution has no responsibility if a person gets stuck trying to go through a door too small for his/her body. (Yes, I almost got stuck. Again, I should have taken my backpack off. Later Leda told me the door I went through had been the dog’s door.)

This is the tiny door in which I almost got stuck. I took this photo before I tried to cross through the portal.

This is the tiny door in which I almost got stuck. I took this photo before I tried to cross through the portal.

This is what the tiny door looks like on the outside. I took this photo after I extricated myself from the confines of the opening.

This is what the tiny door looks like on the outside. I took this photo after I extricated myself from the confines of the opening. Notice the mosaic to the left of the door.

#2 The Hippadome is built into a hill, because when I stepped through that door, I was standing on the ground.

This was hanging on the wall, in the shadows in the loft room. I had to take this photo with the flash.

This was hanging on the wall, in the shadows in the loft room. I had to take this photo with the flash.

This is one part of the mosaic that covers one wall of the Hippadome. I took this photo.

This is one part of the mosaic that covers one of the exterior walls of the Hippadome.  It is to the left of the tiny door leading from the loft room to the outdoors. Can you see my fingers and camera in the mirrors? The pink on the lower right is not pink tiles, but the reflection of my pink skirt in bits of mirror.

To be continued at http://www.rubbertrampartist.com/2015/08/24/eliphante-part-2/.

All photos in this post were taken by me.

About Blaize Sun

My name is Blaize Sun. Maybe that's the name my family gave me; maybe it's not. In any case, that's the name I'm using here and now. I've been a rubber tramp for nearly a decade.I like to see places I've never seen before, and I like to visit the places I love again and again. For most of my years on the road, my primary residence was my van. For almost half of the time I was a van dweller, I was going it alone. Now I have a little travel trailer parked in a small RV park in a small desert town. I also have a minivan to travel in. When it gets too hot for me in my desert, I get in my minivan and move up in elevation to find cooler temperatures or I house sit in town in a place with air conditioning I was a work camper in a remote National Forest recreation area on a mountain for four seasons. I was a camp host and parking lot attendant for two seasons and wrote a book about my experiences called Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods. During the last two seasons as a work camper on that mountain, I was a clerk in a campground store. I'm also a house and pet sitter, and I pick up odd jobs when I can. I'm primarily a writer, but I also create beautiful little collages; hand make hemp jewelry and warm, colorful winter hats; and use my creative and artistic skills to decorate my life and brighten the lives of others. My goal (for my writing and my life) is to be real. I don't like fake, and I don't want to share fake. I want to share my authentic thoughts and feelings. I want to give others space and permission to share their authentic selves. Sometimes I think the best way to support others is to leave them alone and allow them to be. I am more than just a rubber tramp artist. I'm fat. I'm funny. I'm flawed. I try to be kind. I'm often grouchy. I am awed by the stars in the dark desert night. I hope my writing moves people. If my writing makes someone laugh or cry or feel angry or happy or troubled or comforted, I have done my job. If my writing makes someone think and question and try a little harder, I've done my job. If my writing opens a door for someone, changes a life, I have done my job well. I hope you enjoy my blog posts, my word and pictures, the work I've done to express myself in a way others will understand. I hope you appreciate the time and energy I put into each post. I hope you will click the like button each time you like what you have read. I hope you will share posts with the people in your life. I hope you'll leave a comment and share your authentic self with me and this blog's other readers. Thank you for reading.  A writer without readers is very sad indeed.

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