Notes from working:
I spent a long time trying to get the wood to light, but it was too cold and too windy and every time it would catch, the wind would blow it out. I burned my thumbs. I’ll try again tomorrow but this failure is out of my control. The piece is changing and I have to revisit the intentions of the process.
It’s more difficult to de-perfect something smooth and uniform when you craft the thing yourself. I don’t want to burn it because I don’t want to destroy an object where I directly feel the material of time present in its creation. The life of the lumber and the life of the tree are disconnected from my considerations; I don’t care about those but I care about this. At the same time, I despise its resistance to being destroyed because its sole intention (at least through my interference) was to, in some way, be destroyed. I don’t want to present it because it was never meant to be presented. I hate it, I want it gone.
I’m very comforted by the smell of burning wood. The transformative process of being burned is a unique change.
Fire has a shape and will burn in that shape.
The inside of the firewood structure was a sanctuary against the wind.
I wanted a primal feeling of heat, but perhaps this search was rooted in virtuality and idealization rather than indiscriminate experience. Where does heat originate? Revisit concept of phlogiston; inherent substance causing materials to burn. What, instead, causes warmth?