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Trailer modification

Just a quick note on the trailer modifications.  I need to add width to support the caravan at the front of the trailer.  It's either that or make the whole caravan shorter which I'm totally not into.  The section behind the tongue, at the front of the trailer will house the back of the caravan where the bunk bed will be.  I want to make sure that this section is well supported so I'm going to weld in 4"x1.5" C-Channel like the rest of the trailer is constructed of.  I'll also need to add a horizontal rail at the front of the wheel wells.  In addition to all that, the existing horizontal rails are not currently flat like in the picture below, they are v-shaped, dropping to a point about 8" down in the centre.  I will need to cut these off of the trailer, cut them in half, remove the miters, weld them back together and weld them back into the trailer flat.  As soon as I get good weather and don't have to work on a weekend, I'll get this done.  From there, I'll remove all soft parts and wiring, sand-blast the entire frame, prime and paint.  I need to consult the designer on a colour for the trailer.

Vardo Art & Design

I'm going to post some pics of design themes and elements we plan to implement in our design. Below is the link to a pdf of Sarah-Leith's original mood board for the project. She has already begun collecting candle lanterns and antique milk bottles for exterior lighting.

Mood Board

Below is an image of a door that is very similar to the one I am currently designing.


Here is a porch detail and finish aesthetic I like very much. I think with the right colours it could compliment, quite nicely, the blue stain beetle-kill pine I intend to use for the exterior.



I'm considering incorporating a theme similar to the one below into my door. The one below is obviously quite crude but I really like the idea, I just might take it and improve it.



Below is a pic of the interior fabric Sarah-Leith found for the ceiling. It's called "The Lovers Knot" and it is made, I might add, in the US of A.



Here's a pic of a bow-top with a bay window at the front. I intend to install a bay window as well, though I don't envision mine as radial is this one.



Below is a pic of the trailer the vardo will be built on. I just picked it up from Casper, Wyoming yesterday. First on the bill is to adapt the trailer which has, up to this point, lived its life as a boat hauler into one that I can use for the project. Should be simple enough and I'll try to do it by adding as little weight as possible. Once that's done, I'll sandblast the whole thing and give it new paint. From there I can begin constructing the sub-floor of the vardo.



Now that I have the trailer and have taken detailed measurements, I can begin rendering the vardo in SketchUp. From there I can start ordering materials and once the chassis is set-up, can begin constructing the shell.

More to come...

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir, We must rise and follow her; When from every hill of flame she calls and calls each vagabond

This blog, which has never been well maintained, has been given a new purpose. I've begun a project that, at the risk of sounding dramatic, may develop into a theme that defines the next chapter in my life. Anyone that sees me routinely, has heard me go on about "the vardo." The vardo is freedom and imagination and romance and storytelling and escape and love; more than all things it is love.

A vardo is a traditional horse-drawn wagon used by English Romani People or 'Gypsies.'

More examples of vardos:

The latter two photos are good examples of "bow-top" style vardos, the third photo being that of an "open-lot" vardo which, in the place of a sealed entrance, has an opening and heavy drapes that can be drawn closed. The bow-top is constructed of steam-bent ash strips and straight ash cross-members. The "skeleton" of the wagon is covered with decorative fabric which can be seen from the interior, wool insulation then water-proof canvass on the exterior. Our vardo will be a bow-top of this type though not an open-lot. We will have a sealed entrance as this will be our living quarters on the playa this year and perhaps for years to come.

Our only departures from tradition regard the canvass top and the chassis. Ours will, of course, not be horse-drawn, it will be constructed on a steel, tow-behind, modern trailer chassis which should prove to be much more highway friendly. Regarding the canvass, all traditional vardos seem to be appointed with teal canvass coverings. Neither Sarah-Leith nor I are particularly fond of the colour and because we've found no historical significance for it, we're going to choose one that better suits our tastes.

This blog, in its beginning, will serve as a journal of the design and construction of the vardo. Expect lots of progress pics and technical jargon and the occasional venting of inevitable headaches and speed-bumps. Upon completion, the blog will serve as a travel journal. The latest date set for the vardos maiden voyage is August 20th of this year, when we push off for Black Rock City in advance of the event to set up camp, though I'm hoping to have the raw construction of it done before that. After Burning Man, we are heading to San Francisco to visit friends. We are in need of a place to park the thing for a few days. If you know of anyone in the bay area with a warehouse or yard and wouldn't mind gypsy guests, put me in touch with them.

After San Francisco, tentative plans are to take the coastal highway up to Red Woods National Forest to park the vardo among the oldest trees on earth. After that, is unknown. There are daydreams of staying on the road for a while, travelling from town to town finding carpentry work here and there. I will have all of my tools in the back of the truck after burning man anyhow. So long as I have Sarah-Leith and Lola by my side, I suppose I could travel indefinitely. That is, now, just a daydream but like the vardo itself, daydreams can sometimes become reality.

I dedicate the construction of this vessel to it's queen, my gypsy, my love, Sarah-Leith, whom I love with all of the atoms buzzing inside me. She willed its creation and my love for her will go into each stroke of my saw and pare of my chisel. In its pine and canvass walls I will feel next to her no matter where she is in the world.

I suppose now would be the time to mention that this blog may be a bit sappy at times. Anyone that knows me should have expected that. I hope you enjoy the blog as much as I'm sure to enjoy the build.

With Regards,
Josh

Bjorn Melhus on Playa?

Bjorn Melhus was an artist featured in an installation called "the fusebox" on the fourth floor of the Denver Art Museum's north building. Melhus, a Norwegian-German (??), among many things, makes quirky short films with voiceover samples from classic american tv and cinema and he often plays most of the characters himself. On display at the fusebox was "deadly storms," a parody of broadcast news and a series of sci-fi shorts that included samples from the original Star Trek series. The films were a total riot and a bit creepy. Neither are on display now as the space has been given to the upcoming temporary exhibit "Embrace." Why am I telling you this now? Because I'm a terrible blogger, that's why. Nonetheless, while browsing his website I came across a short film that appears to have been filmed, in part, in the Black Rock Desert of Nevada. For those unfamaliar in the region, it's the site of the annual Burning Man festival. Fellow participants, tell me what you think.

www.melhus.de

click on "work," then "film & video," then "auto center drive" and watch clip 3/3

sorry no direct link, the site is all flash and I wasn't able to embed the video here.

I kissed a beautiful woman tonight

Luckily, I have no readers, which means I need not apologize for having not posted in months. Really, like any other blog worth it's slag (which truly ain't worth shit), I write for myself and if someone else likes what I write then I send them a flag lapel pin or at least an HJ (out of solidarity).

Because I've whistled the warmth of a bit too much whiskey, naturally, I feel inclined (also naturally) to wax philosophic for the masses

ONE:

Go fuck yourself. You're doing both you and your handmaid a favor.


TWO:

Never underestimate the potency of Kentucky Bourbon


THREE:

Women are (or can be) primal, excessively-conscious, scared & magnificent creatures that sometimes make it awkward to enjoy a cup of joe over teevee while they're "hanging out" with your roommate at 4 in the morning.


OOH UH, UH HUH, O YEAH - FOUR:

If you meet people of worth at bars, you're probably worthless


OUCH - FIVE:

Cocks and their respective blocks come in many shapes and sizes.


SIX:

Kissing a beautiful woman is it.


SEVEN:

Loving a beautiful woman is it x 22.


EIGHT:

Your typical romantic might feel that 'times 22' pales in comparison to terms like 'a million' or "infinity' but that romantic hasn't thought it through. Imagine earning twice what you earn now. Okay, now do that eleven times. 'Times 22' is a fuck load.


NINE:

Lies can be powerful motivators.


TEN:

You are what you wear. Seriously. Wear different shit and you'll see.

The Chapel

As per the below excerpt from Herman Melville's Moby Dick or The Whale, look for my use of the term 'Methinks' in future posts. I was pleasantly surprised to see the Windows dictionary recognized it outright.

Shaking off the sleet from my ice-glazed hat and jacket, I seated myself near the door, and turning sideways was surprised to see Queequeg near me. Affected by the solemnity of the scene, there was a wondering gaze of incredulous curiosity in his countenance. This savage was the only person present who seemed to notice my entrance; because he was the only one who could not read, and, therefore, was not reading those frigid inscriptions on the wall.Whether any of the relatives of the seamen whose names appeared there were now among the congregation, I knew not; but so many are the unrecorded accidents in the fishery, and so plainly did several women present wear the countenance if not the trappings of some unceasing grief, that I feel sure that here before me were assembled those, in whose unhealing hearts the sight of those bleak tablets sympathetically caused the old wounds to bleed afresh.

Oh! ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass; who standing among flowers can say--here, here lies my beloved; ye know not the desolation that broods in bosoms like these. What bitter blanks in those black-bordered marbles which cover no ashes! What despair in those immovable inscriptions! What deadly voids and unbidden infidelities in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse resurrections to the beings who have placelessly perished without a grave. As well might those tablets stand in the cave of Elephanta as here.

In what census of living creatures the dead of mankind are included; why it is that a universal proverb says of them, that they tell no tales, though containing more secrets than the Goodwin Sands! how it is that to his name who yesterday departed for the other world, we prefix so significant and infidel a word, and yet do not thus entitle him, if he but embarks for the remotest Indies of this living earth; why the Life Insurance Companies pay death-forfeitures upon immortals; in what eternal, unstirring paralysis, and deadly, hopeless trance, yet lies antique Adam who died sixty round centuries ago; how it is that we still refuse to be comforted for those who we nevertheless maintain are dwelling in unspeakable bliss; why all the living so strive to hush all the dead; wherefore but the rumor of a knocking in a tomb will terrify a whole city. All these things are not without their meanings.

But Faith, like a jackal feeds among the tombs, and even from these dead doubts she gathers her most vital hope.

It needs scarcely to be told, with what feelings, on the eve of a Nantucket voyage, I regarded those marble tablets, and by the murky light of that darkened, doleful day read the fate of the whalemen who had gone before me. Yes, Ishmael, the same fate may be thine. But somehow I grew merry again. Delightful inducements to embark, fine chance for promotion, it seems--aye, a stove boat will make me an immortal by brevet. Yes, there is death in this business of whaling--a speechlessly quick chaotic bundling of a man into Eternity. But what then? Methinks we have hugely mistaken this matter of Life and Death. Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true substance. Methinks that in looking at things spiritual, we are too much like oysters observing the sun through the water, and thinking that thick water the thinnest of air. Methinks my body is but the lees of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me. And therefore three cheers for Nantucket; and come a stove boat and stove body when they will, for stave my soul, Jove himself cannot.