Process Work/Research for Visual Identity: Mark

This process work, from which I’m including several sound clips, images, and initial writing, was prescribed in order to help me formulate several of my design directions for my Mark project. By visiting the Barton Creek Greenbelt and experiencing it in these different ways (through hearing, sight, and writing respectively), I was able to formulate several different design directions. In my research, I really wanted to determine what stood out to me the most while I was visiting, that made the Greenbelt distinctive from other places in Austin. As seen below, my visual focus was on a lot of the trails, which was one of the design directions I ended up discarding later in the process. The sound recordings and the writing really stood out for me later when I decided to go with exploration as my design direction.

I’m standing at the beginning of the trail near the Barton Creek Greenbelt Entrance on 360, one of the seven that I found while I was researching access points. It is exactly as I remember it, although the circumstances are far different. The overpass of the highway still looms to the left of the hidden parking lot, and although the cars driving on it are close, the sounds are somewhat muffled and they already seem farther away. The trees all carry that dusty southern feel to them, despite the coolness of the afternoon, the heavy moss growing on the tops of the tree branches, and the sound of a large amount of water flowing quickly down the hill. It is very likely that it is my memory causing them to feel like this, since the first and only time I’ve ever come to this place was years ago, in the molten middle of summer. The weather at the moment however is quite pleasant; the sky is blue and the leaves are green and birds are singing everywhere, although I can’t see them since they flit by too quickly.

I start down the trail, made up perhaps once of rough gravel but now mostly of the footsteps of past hikers and way goers, whose boots packed the dirt into the clearly defined trail that I continue to follow down the hill. The sound of the river gets louder and I know that it’s the river because of my previous visit from years before (which may take some of the surprise away and might slightly be considered cheating). The bird calls also start to become numerous as I start moving out of the brush and into more open spaces. Coming alone now is so different from when I was here last, sweating in a line of other eleven year olds who came to learn about how the greenbelt worked.  

The water is very clear, and very blue with the bright sky above it, and I can see straight down to the bottom, even in the very deep areas. Just as one would expect from spring water. The last time I came here, we were in the middle of a drought. Parts of the riverbed had been dusty and dry , with a sluggish stream instead of the snake of water that runs beside me now. My favorite part of the greenbelt from my previous trip had been a tiny waterfall that we had been lucky to find in all the dust. That waterfall is what I aim to find now that I’m back.

My first challenge appears when I run out of path. The first ten minutes of walking has been leisurely, since the path is very clear and there isn’t a lot of undergrowth blocking my way. However, I reach a dead end when a tiny creek about ten feet wide appears in front of me, and on the other side of it I see the broken end of a bridge that my eleven-year-old self clearly remembers crossing. So now I’m stuck. I take the opportunity to look around a little bit more at the side trails that I’ve been seeing to my right, and find one that follows the creek that I’ve encountered and now I see that there’a little crossing if one doesn’t mind getting their feet a little wet. Obstacle number one has been overcome.

Obstacle number two is more gradual. As I keep walking along this new path the trees change into thick cedar groves, and the undergrowth on either side of the path becomes thicker. It’s also taking me further away from the sound of the river, and although I know that the rapids are supposed to fairly loud, I can barely hear them through the trees. Altogether I start to feel more lost, but the trail is still fairly clear. Or at least I think it is…

It’s actually starting to get thinner, and the trails keep branching off to different sides. This is when I decide that I’d like to see water again, and I take one off to the left. Thankfully, this trail opens up and I can hear the water rushing again, and finally I can see the river, althought there’s still plenty of underbrush blocking me from being next to it. I keep following my little dirt trail, and cross a little rocky stream, and I start to think that things look familiar again.

Finally, there’s a tiny opening in the undergrowth, and I have to duck a little to get through it. But when I come out on the other side, there is the large pebbled beach that I remember, and the one dead tree that clings to the side of the river, and to  my left there is the waterfall that I’ve been looking for, ten times bigger than the one in my memory. It’s loud, and it’s flowing quickly, and the water swirls by the pebbles on the beach where I stand and gurgles around the dead tree’s trunk. The water is still clear, but the turbulence plays tricks with the light in the water and makes it hard to see just how deep it is. The sun is high, and I’m warm from having walked so far, although thankfully nowhere near as hot as I would be in the summer.

My final obstacle is simply finding my way back to the beginning of the trail, and the whole walk goes much quicker now that I know where I’m going. Throughout the whole hike I’ve barely come across more than ten people. The solitude that I started with at the beginning of the walk hasn’t been broken the whole time, and all of the trails that I have yet to explore only contributed. I decide that I like walking in the greenbelt alone and during the spring much more than when I’m eleven and dying from the heat. I also decide that I’ll be back to find more places to explore.”

 

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