Setting the stage for Vigil & the Green Man was a labor of love, a process laden with consequence and unpredictability - in every step of making, we were concerned not only with crafting an assembly, but allowing the assembly to craft itself. The “rig” as we call it, is a drawing apparatus in more ways than one. It's a drawing - and it creates one. The following is a poem written to accompany this project:

Combustion and fire are stark reminders of our vulnerability. Flame cannot truly be controlled.

Fire, and the adjacent, ever-present fear of being burned, are reminders that we are alive. That we can only control so much - that even a flame contained to a candle, will still cause wax to drip.

Never disappearing, simply changing form. Transferring - becoming a document of its own change - just as we do. The vigil honors this change. A reverent acknowledgement of what has passed, and how it never truly disappears - it simply changes form.

Total darkness - a sudden match strike. The warmth of candlelight - shaping the space as eyes start to adjust. The sharing of flame - one candle, two finally, a third. A chanting begins as the flame is dispersed. Three more candles. six, nine, twelve - intensity rising as the space fills with smoke. Flame keeps spreading, this time inverted - hot wax cries out. Declaring new form.

Candles drip and wax collects - the fence catching fire that drips from the wicks. The scent of campire fills your nostrils, smoke creates a haze that simplifies the equation.