this section of the Mojave desert acts as the stage upon which our geographic tableau—aqueduct, prison, mine, and city—is arranged. as with all the other participants in our assemblage, the desert is difficult to see or notice on its own terms. in the US, there is a long-standing divided perception of desert ecosystems (Dilsaver). on the one hand, in the tradition of the Holy Bible, it has been viewed positively as a spiritual retreat for “various prophets seeking prayer, meditation, and renewal away from the confusion and temptations of civilization” (40). on the other, perhaps more commonly, it is viewed negatively as empty, unfamiliar, and/or dangerous.

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the latter perspective of the desert is likely a significant reason that many of our assemblage’s places were created upon this specific stage. after all, when Americans move into the desert, it has often been “as a source of minerals or as a dumping ground for unwanted people and activities” (see: mine, prison) (Dilsaver 39). 

 

but what happens when we pay attention to the desert’s agency? when we try to look past these two competing constructions of this location and see it as a place with is own power? for one, we might begin to notice some of its many temporal rhythms. after all, no place can be a “passive object or stable entity;” change is implicit in placehood (Bennett 20). like all deserts, the Mojave is a site of constant biogeochemical cycling, as the chemical elements necessary for life pass through living and nonliving reservoirs (Summons). it breathes.