The Moon Rises over the Desert

We are accustomed to the moon waxing and waning. Now is your chance to see it; now it is hidden. Of a similar nature is the latest exhibit at the Desert Botanical Garden. Museum of the Moon by Luke Jerram is only here for one week, starting today. The garden is open a little later to give visitors more of a chance to see it at night (though I'd imagine it's also a daytime novelty). 

You'll first catch a glimpse of the giant, 23-foot diameter moon while driving to the parking lot. The moon's surface is taken from NASA imagery and it is lit from within, so it truly does look like a giant moon. Your mind does a little excited double-take because it looks real except that you know the size is too big to be real. 

Though you can get up close to the moon in the Desert Terrace area, you can also play a bit of hide and seek from the surrounding areas. Off to the side, halfway towards the Wildflower trail. Or from the Desert Portal, to see the moon peaking out from behind the plants. The view is nice and clear from the Herb Garden. It's almost more fun to see the moon from these areas because it plays with your sense of reality a bit.

But the main viewing area is right next to or even under the moon itself. There are a few seats and beanbag-like-cushions to sit or lounge on while looking at the moon. It truly is huge, so the encouragement to take your time looking at it is welcome. Lying directly under it gave me more awe about having something so big perched above my head and not falling on me than awe about the moon's beauty: this was a little too close, close enough that I could see the fakeness of the printed photos on the surface. But walking around the moon and viewing all of its sides is fun: we usually don't get to check out all the angles of the moon.

The accompanying soundtrack by Dan Jones is quiet--or at least it was when I was there. I much prefer this more subtle approach to sound. I think everyone else did, too. That is, people seemed to be enjoying lounging, taking a few pictures but mainly just sitting and contemplating and quietly talking. There were also telescopes on this night to look at some real views in space. There is a whole schedule of events for the week, with music and yoga and crafts and photography.

The setup is like a modern art installation--but it has "museum" in the title and is more about photorealism than art, so I enjoyed it in a casual way, a way I don't generally enjoy modern art. But because I found myself enjoying looking at this moon for its realism, I wondered why I was going to a real live, natural garden in order to look at a fake moon. (And I realize that this is a traveling exhibit that will be in many different places, probably not all botanical gardens.) Maybe the answer came with sitting around this group of people surrounding said fake moon.

While gazing up at this moon, we got to have the same type of feeling of awe that we get in looking at the real moon. The lighting in it was great. But because it was bigger and closer to us, we still got to look more closely at the details of all the craters on that familiar surface. We got the chance to study a little more. And in staring up at the fake moon, we got to see glimpses of the real, skimpy stars visible from inside the city. We had a shared appreciation for taking a moment to enjoy the idea of nature. 

And then, while driving home, I saw the real moon. It was golden, the color of glowing sunflower petals. And I asked myself again why I had just been staring at a fake moon when there is a real moon in the sky tonight. But you know, that might just be the answer, too. Of course Man's fake moon pales in comparison to the real moon. Man's creation can't match God's creation. But we do love to create just like our Creator did, don't we? We see the moon that gets us excited for reasons scientific and aesthetic, and we make our own version, and then in turn we are inspired to go back to that original source. If having a giant, fake moon travel around to different exhibits gets people to renew their awe for the real moon, then that's rather nice. I wouldn't go out of my way to see this exhibit, but if you fancy a garden visit this week, it makes a pretty complement to the naturescape. 

Stone Grindz: Prickly Pear Spicy Margarita Caramels

I'm a little late in getting this up, but this past November was the long last return of the Chiles and Chocolate Festival at the Desert Botanical Garden. There usually isn't too much to the event, just some vendors and some food and some music. This year, though, the scale was down even more. But I was still able to enjoy a couple of things, including a box of these Prickly Pear Spicy Margarita Caramels from our local Scottsdale bean-to-bar company Stone Grindz.

They had on hand plenty of these brown boxes decorated with floral paper; both the look and the flavor were perfect for the garden and the theme of the day. Inside the box are four pieces, each one in a kind of snowman or gourd shape. The 70% dark chocolate is glossy. Either because of the unusual shape or because of the thickness/thinness of the chocolate, they do tend to be messy to bite into. The caramel is free-flowing and unleashes easily on the first bite. The chocolate from the sides also tends to separate easily from the bottom layer, adding to the messiness.

That aside, though, they're quite nice. Normally one of my struggles with going to the Chiles and Chocolate festival is that I don't usually like spicy chocolate very much. So while I want to go and try what product the different companies are choosing to showcase for the festival, I'm also not too excited about chiles in my chocolate. These truffles are an interesting and unique approach to the chile chocolate angle.

Sometimes I get primarily a smoky flavor from the caramel--it is, after all, "spiked with smoky mezcal and infused with fresh prickly pear puree, ancho pepper, and guajillo pepper." Sometimes I taste a light alcohol hit; sometimes I don't. Sometimes I get a kind of floral flavor from, presumably, the prickly pear. The ancho and guajillo peppers are definitely noticeable particularly once you're past the halfway point. Yet they're not spicy; you can just taste their flavor. Though I'm not an expert on chiles, I do remember that distinctive way guajillo peppers taste in Taza's Guajillo chocolate. It's a tangy, masculine type of pepper flavor that goes well with the smoky mezcal. And the hint of prickly pear mellows those elements and links them in with the caramel and chocolate.

Caramel is generally a sweet thing. Here, though, it's so full of flavor that sweetness is more of an afterthought. You get an idea of sweetness more towards the end, when the caramel is gone and you have just the last vestiges of the chocolate left melting in the corners of your mouth. These caramels are named for margaritas, but it's rare to come across a margarita that has such delicate handling of complex flavor--all played out with pure ingredients. So even though chile chocolates may not be my first choice, it was a pleasure trying out these caramels. Once more, Stone Grindz has shown an excellent use of ingredients and balance of flavor. 

A Strange Garden of Pumpkins

A few years ago, I shared some daytime pictures of the Desert Botanical Garden's Halloween event, Strange Garden. They used to put up these wonderful pumpkin people displays. I would bypass the event and see the pumpkins during the day instead. This year, then, was the first year in which I went to Strange Garden itself.

This year there were no pumpkin people. But there were various stations, child-focused, to show desert animals and funky cactus and magic and other Halloween-y curiosities. This is why a year or two ago they tried out doing an adult night: like with most Halloween events, there isn't much for adults. At least, not much besides the nighttime garden itself. And I do simply enjoy an excuse to get a little dressed up and wander around an event.

The familiar garden with fog? What a perfect time to play with taking spooky pictures. And the pumpkin patch, how pretty. Strange Garden's pumpkin patch is nice and clean and neat, with the pumpkins arranged all over the amphitheater area in rows and piles. I tried not to be envious of the children who could pick out a pumpkin to take home; instead, I consoled myself with taking lots of pictures of and with the pumpkins.

There is a novelty to taking pictures of pumpkins and cactus together. Maybe especially because I can go to the garden whenever I want--so any little embellishment to its usual state is entertaining. For people with kids, it's a less chaotic, more laid-back Halloween activity option--there's no candy, but at least they get a pumpkin. Maybe, too, it works that way for adults: you can dip your toe into a Halloween event, dress up a bit if you like, but not have to immerse yourself fully in crazy crowds. 

Illuminated Chihuly

Familiar places are new with light and dark and with sound.

The Desert Botanical Garden is a familiar place to me. 

But this month started their new Chihuly exhibit.

And I had never been during Las Noches de las Luminarias.

There were lighted paths.

And the Chihuly glass sculptures appeared in brilliance in the night beside the luminarias. 

Several spots were home to live music that echoed throughout the garden.

Two weeks ago I walked the familiar paths in new light.

No wonder the Luminarias are a tradition for so many.

Reactions to DBG's Earth Installation

We have come to the third and final piece in Waterlily Pond Studios's art installation at the Desert Botanical Garden. We began with Wind, continued with Water, and now finish with Earth. While the other two were outdoors, this is the first one to be inside (in Dorrance Hall). 

The structure is larger than Wind and also more filled in. The many layers of flowers represent the layers in geological formations, which is an interesting touch. Each layer of flowers holds slightly different color, with the darkest at the bottom and the lightest at the top. The shape, though, reminds me more of Utah than Arizona; even though there are rock formations here, too, this particular one doesn't feel as Arizona Grand Canyon than for window rocks like Utah's Arches. That's minor, though; we're still talking Southwestern imagery.

It's a pretty piece, being made of so many flowers (over 10,000). You can certainly take your time walking 360 around it and looking at each layer. You'll find something a little different on each side, too. It's certainly made for the day of the selfie--which is what the window especially lends itself toward. I could see this on display for group photos at a big wedding or a conference or corporate event. It's like an updated balloon arch, no? 

That being said, I will mention that the lighting did not seem the best in Dorrance Hall. Spotlights get in the way of particular camera angles. And the lights lend a dim and murky tone to what is in fact a bright and lively piece. Was I the only one to think so, or does anyone else agree? 

So again, it's a pretty piece. But I'm left to wonder what peonies and orchids really have to do with the desert. I don't mind melding disparate things. But if an art piece is made as an expression of a certain region, then doesn't it make more sense to make it using elements of that region? I guess not necessarily. The paint in a southwest painting doesn't come from the southwest. Still, though, for all the work that went into this one, I feel like you have to be told what it represents rather than the piece speaking for itself. I don't necessarily see "earth" when I look at it. I see pink flowers until I deliberately imagine that they represent layers of earth. 

For that, I would still say that Wind was my favorite. Water was my least favorite, though it did do the best job of interacting with the space in the garden. Earth feels most separated from the garden, and not just because of its literal separation in the event hall. Yet it's still a nice place to take pictures and a conversation piece, and that's all well and good. 

Reactions to DBG's Water Installation

Last month, I tried out an "honest opinions" post about the Desert Botanical Garden's art installation by Waterlily Pond Studios. The trio started with Wind, and continues currently with Water; Earth will begin next month. Water is set up in the Berlin Agave Yucca Forest, which is a little offshoot of a path/lookout from the main trail. 

Being that Wind was one isolated piece, and Water was set up in this little mini path area, I was expecting, well, something more expansive this time. And sure it "spans nearly 100 feet" and uses 2,000 plants and 8,000 wooden rods. But the effect is visually simple rather than complicated. The woods are a bright yet still earthy yellow that stands out on a sunny day but doesn't look like caution tape, either. They remind me more of spaghetti than water, though. If the wooden rods represent the seasonal paths of water, why yellow and not blue or green? Yellow stand out more, I suppose, against the surrounding plants.

The 8,000 wooden rods I see. But the 2,000 plants I'm not sure. I see all of the red flowers of various types, but I wouldn't have guessed they were so many and I'm not sure how they connect to the concept of the water. Certainly, flowing water creates the opportunity for plants to grow. And good winter rain leads to an abundance of wildflowers. I am the first to admit that I don't know much about specific plant varieties, but just looking casually at these red flowers reminds me more of cultivated gardens than of Arizona wildflowers. Is that just me? 

They do offset the yellow "water" well, though, color-wise. They provide contrast and definition and also soften the edges. Otherwise the yellow rods would blend in too well with the shaggy yuccas. I do appreciate that this installation doesn't detract from the garden itself. It fits in fine. I don't find the 8,000 yellow wooden rods particularly interesting, though. They provided some opportunity to observe and reflect, but overall I preferred the Wind installation (which, by the way, has been extended for another month so you have the chance to see both at the same time). 

I am looking forward to Earth, though. It sounds more elaborate than either of the first two installations. 

Reactions to DBG's Wind Installation

To say that I like art would be too broad of a statement--just as it would be too broad of a statement to say that I don't like modern art. Maybe we could say, though, that what you might generally think of as "modern art" is the type of art in which I am less interested. So while I enjoy spending time at the Desert Botanical Garden, not all of the art installations that they have had have been my favorite. The last one they did was fun, but some I have found disruptive to the garden's natural beauty.

So far, the current one is not like that; it blends in cohesively. Wind, Water, and Earth will be presented in three parts, each available for about a month. Natasha Lisitsa and Daniel Schultz of Waterlily Pond Studio have put these together with inspiration from the desert. Wind just opened this week. Three large metal rings provide the base for a kind of floral arrangement of desert branches. 

Being that the rings take up very little eye space and are painted a neutral, sandy color and that the top arrangement is made out of desert elements, this installation isn't jarring to the surrounding plants and landscape. It fits in, and I appreciate that. Other than that, it feels at first like a small thing to come and see. I mean, it's tall (16 feet)--but it's just three metal rings with a twig arrangement on top, right? From the descriptions of it, I thought it was going to be something more interactive. I thought maybe it would rotate and shift in the wind (and it was a windy day when I went to see it). But it just sits there.

Granted, I believe the intention was to be able to walk through the rings and look up into the arrangement, but it was gently partitioned off to walking (I suppose to prevent the possibility of multiple people touching the same surface, or walking in the same space--even though the garden is empty of people these days). So that would have been more interactive. In lieu of that, I walked all around in a circle and looked up at it from different angles with the sun and got my face up as close as I could to imagine what it would be like to be standing in the rings and looking up. And that gave me plenty to look at.

While the metal rings suggest "modern art," the top piece is like a floral arrangement you'd find at a farmer's market or a high end eco florist. So it's like a festive wreath--or almost a Victorian hat the way that there is so much volume sitting on top of the round rings. The use of natural elements, then, creates a classy rather than rustic or homespun look. 

Though at first glance, the tangle of twigs looks just to be all natural elements, as you observe, you begin to see that much of it is painted. This creates brightness and contrast. Why the pink, though? Well, if the idea is to recreate a desert dust storm, pink is a fitting way to evoke the warm-hued clouds of dust. And the tumbleweeds are certainly elements you'll see tossing about in the wind. The tree branches are, as well: not only will they sway in the wind, but sometimes they'll break off. It isn't uncommon to see a palo verde completely toppled over in a parking lot after a bad storm. 

On the day when I went to see this installation, there was bright sun along with attractive cloud patterns. This made looking up at the twig tangle especially picturesque--though a day with more cloud coverage probably would have provided better lighting for pictures. 

So maybe this piece was successful then. Visually, it suits the space. Thematically, it fits in with the place. And it provided me with something extra and new to observe while in the garden, and then something more to reflect on after I left. That's a good art installation, right? I only wish that, since the three installations are all in different locations in the garden, that they could have all gone on at the same time. (I'm guessing that the reason for this is the natural materials. These only last so long when left outside, especially what with all the winter rain coming in the next few days. Usually the garden's art installations last for a year, but even with spacing these out they're only going to be for three months.) Still, I'll be curious to see the next two--and maybe to return and see this one in different lighting. 

Chiles & Chocolate Festival + Zak's Chocolate

The plan was just to make a quick appearance at the Desert Botanical Garden's Chiles and Chocolate Festival. I'd stick my head in and see what was there, maybe buy one or two things, and then go. Plans change.

When I first when to Chiles and Chocolate two years ago (I wasn't able to go last year), I remember it being quite packed. This year, I got there early on Friday, so the way was pretty clear. It was easier to get to each booth--too easy sometimes. I wasn't there to shop, even though the booths of honey and loose tea and wooden spoons (I love wood) and pasta sauce were just my types of things. They have plenty of salsa and spices and mole and tamales, too, if you want to keep more in theme. Xocolatl was back with their drinking chocolate and Wei of Chocolate with their flower-shaped chocolates. My favorites, of course, are Scottsdale companies Stone Grindz and Zak's Chocolate. I decided not to kid myself and just bought a plain bar from Stone Grindz instead of one of their chile chocolate bars (it may have been for the festival, but that really isn't my favorite zone). 

From Zak's Chocolate, I chose two truffles. Then I wandered outside, where I had my eye set on something I'd regretted skipping last time. That's right, the chocolate cotton candy. Spunlight Cotton Candy makes organic cotton candy and while I've since seen them at other festivals, I haven't seen the chocolate flavor again. I'll give another post to the cotton candy.

Now, remember, at this point, I was outside. According to my original plan, it was now time to go. But I'd been so quick and the day was so beautiful and there really weren't too many people in the small spaces, so I regretted leaving so soon. And I thought, well, am I just here for shopping, even though I was trying to restrain my shopping? The cooking demonstrations are weekends only, but there was going to be some dancing in the late morning. So I decided I might as well stick around for that.

Only problem was those two truffles. The chocolate bar would be fine in my purse as long as I kept it in the shade, but the truffles would barely make it home as it was. No way they'd stay around longer. (Zak's does, by the way, sell their little insulated bags at the festival, if you need some extra security.) So I thought, well, let me go to my quiet bench (the one on the path where hardly anyone walks) and take some pictures and take some notes and just review these chocolates right now. 

They were the Peanut Butter Cup and a Mango Chile truffle. I know, I said I'd been staying away from the chile chocolates, but I dared for this one. The Peanut Butter Cup was already melting against the top of the little bag. Perhaps Chiles and Chocolate should be held in December or January instead of November?

These were both dark chocolate. The filling of the peanut butter cup had almost more of a ganache texture than the usual peanut butter filling. The taste, too, reminded me more of mazapan (the crumbly cakes of Mexican peanut candy). The specific peanut taste and the creamy factor to the flavor gave it that effect. The dark chocolate base was sturdy. This chocolate just hit right. A gourmet approach to a peanut butter cup, certainly.

The Mango Chile truffle came looking quite beautiful with green swirls and red spots. This one was essentially one solid piece rather than having a separate inside. All extremely smooth. Though mango is one of the less common flavors to see paired with chocolate, a fresh mango flavor went perfectly with the coolness of the chocolate. The chile was just a slight teasing on the edges; I hardly even noticed it, honestly. Given my general lack of interest in chile chocolate, though, the lack of spice was a plus for me. This was simply a delicious, fruity truffle.

By this point, I still had some time to sit on my quiet bench. I often read at the garden, but I hadn't brought my book, so I just sat. Time for contemplation is good, too.

Then I made my way back over to the festival area to see the dancing. Maybe I'm a little spoiled because I see live performances fairly often these days, but I wonder if maybe the Friday group was not quite as good of a performance as the weekend groups. I almost went back on Sunday just to see. They did have a small space to work with, though, and it was still an enjoyable way to spend the time. The garden on a sunny day, a bit of shopping, and some dancing. I couldn't have Chiles and Chocolate be just a quick stop; I had make a whole morning out of it. That was the nicest way to do it. 

Wild at Night in the Garden

How's that for a title? I am, of course, referring to the Wild Rising installation at the Desert Botanical Garden. Last week, I shared some thoughts on the daytime experience--now I'm back with nighttime.

The garden at night is wonderful for locals during the warmer months because it allows you to spend some time outdoors and around plants without taking in the full heat of the day. For non-locals, though, your visibility is limited. There is lighting and some sections are quite well lit, but others are going to be less viewable. So there is naturally less to look at at night. Presumably this is why they tried out Electric Desert, their nighttime exhibit last year--but I quite frankly hated most of those installations. I found them extremely disruptive to the garden experience.

Wild Rising, though, remains just as fun during the night as the day--and it is perhaps even better because of the more limited visibility of the rest of the garden. You have less plants to look at, so now you have some colorful animals to look at. And the bright colors aren't disruptive to the other desert colors because all of the colors are shaded by night. The bright colors become simply bright lights.

The meerkats are solemn even in pink and green and purple and yellow. And these two share a moment even more tender and special in the darkness.

The snails, which I wasn't completely certain on during the day, were lovely at night. They're warm and glowing and happy. 

You can hardly even tell that this one is taller than a person. 

The medium-sized blue one on the edge of the path now appears to light the way. 

As for the penguins, they are in fact quite poetic at night. Green lights standing stalwart against the black. 

And the frogs? Well, they're just as cute and silly at night as during the day. They seem to be singing a jolly song, to remind you that even though this art is meant to bring up serious environmental topics, the world is still a place of wonder, a place to enjoy. And that is precisely why it is worth treasuring with our actions. 

Wild Rising in the Garden

The Desert Botanical Garden has been aiming to keep things fresh, give people reasons to come back, and be part of the art world as well as the plant world. That is, they strive to be a community place. They had an art exhibit throughout the garden a year or two back that I did not care for (the one with the giant standing pigs in bright colors and polka dots). This past year, Electric Desert was their nighttime exhibit--and I also did not care for that one. I felt like it detracted from rather than enhanced the garden.

All of this to say that their newest exhibit, Wild Rising by Cracking Art, does work--it is both fun and thoughtful, both during the day and at night (I'll save the nighttime pictures for later, though, as I find that I have too many).

As you walk toward the entrance from the parking lot, you look up to see frogs of various colors. I don't know if it was because I was with a two-year-old when I first saw them, but even as a person not inclined towards bright colors or primary colors, these frogs made me happy.

Keep walking and solemn meerkats meet you. 

Can you tell yet the material? These animals are all made of recycled plastic, their message being sustainability. So beside each installation, you'll find a sign telling the story of each particular set-up. 

The type of animal and its behavior ties in with a particular message or concept related to environmental awareness. 

The snails I wasn't sure about. Maybe because of the big, blue snail that takes up center stage looking so very bright (remember, I'm not a bright color person). Maybe because of all the words (I tend to like my words in books and just images for visual art). But the more time I spent with them, the more I tended to like seeing the yellow and red snails up above me. 

The big yellow snails were more favorable to me than the big blue snail--they blend in better with their environment. 

The big, blue crocodile, though, I was all over. He's crying "crocodile tears" as a commentary on our awareness of the existence of sustainability issues and our continued lack of focus on taking action. I love the lizard types of animals and he was by a bridge and bridges tend to go over water and water is blue--so I didn't mind blue in this context. 

I caught a special moment between these two; let's say no more. 

My photo doesn't do justice to the plastic fish up in the sky. They're so silly because you have the regular plant exhibits down at the bottom, then you look up to see "toy" fish. And the blues and whites blend in well with the blue sky, so the colors aren't jarring. They, of course, are a commentary on plastic in the ocean. When whimsy meets tragedy, eh?

These green birds are just so big that they're terrific. I'm more of a green person, it's true, and yet it's also true that the cactus behind the birds are green, right? 

The snails over in another corner of the garden were some of the most natural of all. 

They were almost black, some shiny with blue and others with green. 

These snails are the type for quiet reflection. 

In general, though, even with the bright colors, these installations blended with the garden and felt natural to it. Obviously, of course, they're not natural there, but they made sense in each space. Some I liked more than others, but mostly they at least didn't detract from the garden. For the most part, they did enhance it. They're conversation starters and photo opportunities. They're fun things to look at and smile at. And yet they're also offering up some serious commentary, reminding us to be aware of our place in the world and the effects of the choices that we make.