Sunday was MAAG night, McMurdo Alternative Arts Gathering. This event, like many others including Icestock here, is one of the ways an assembly of people -- in this case an extremely varied one in a very remote part of the planet -- not only manages to preserve a semblence of normalcy, but more importantly bonds as a unit, a tribe. It goes without saying that there is a great deal of plain ol’ fun involved.

More photos Click to enlarge

Of course posters were up all over "town." The place to be this evening for anybody without a valid excuse was the Science Support building. Be there or be square, and ignorance is NO excuse.

Anything with even a tenuous claim to the artistic is welcome. Paintings, drawings, sculpture: obvious. Fortune telling? Sure. Working model of a 19th-century heat engine? Absolutely. The list goes on. But on nother level, the attendees were as often as not artworks in themselves.

This is nothing new to people -- personal adornment is as ancient as humanity. Sometimes it is as removable as garments, sometimes semi permanent such as hairstyles, other times for life such as tattoos and other more or less acceptable (to our eyes) body modifications. As a general rule, nowadays there seems to be more acceptance of the dramatic personal presentation in urban settings. There is, though, a certain letting go of inhibitions that happens when people are in isolation, especially when they are among fellows they know well. I can illustrate this only with visual images -- a few accompany this post.

Some of these folks must have been working on this for ages. One woman who works in cargo made herself a stunning dress from old webbing tie-down straps. Beautiful to look at, but it must have been a tad stiff -- they have a breaking load of many, many tons. The combination of the static art and ambulatory art made for a constantly evolving spectacle.

Personal picks? I did like the heat engine for its mechanical intrigue, but that may be just me. Another piece caught my eye, an old LP turntable mounted on the wall and turned into a clock. Despite its simplicity, it discussed disposability, time, and other things. The get-ups speak for themselves.

McMurdo may be the farthest south of the world’s annual art festivals, but I’ll wager that it draws a higher percentage of its community to attend and to contribute, and do so with energy and heart, than any other.

Tomorrow: The Dry Valleys