Earth Dirt Soil

EARTH DIRT SOIL Richard MacEwan. Bonita Ely soil, v.t.; pt.; pp.; soiling, ppr. [OFr. Saouler, from L. satullare, to satiate.] to stall-feed with green grass instead of pasturing, as horses and cattle. To purge (animals) by means of green food. soil, v.t.; [O Fr. Soillier, to soil ultimately from L. suculus, dim, of sus, a pig.] to make dirty. to smirch or stain. to bring disgrace upon. to corrupt or defile; to sully. To treat with manure; to manure. [Obs.] soil, v.i. to become soiled. soil, n. 1. Any soiled spot; stain; smirch. Free from touch or soil. -Shak. manure used for fertising.. a soiling or being soiled. filth; excrement. soil, n. [O Fr. soil, soile; Fr. sol, from L. solum, the soil.] the surface layer of earth, supporting plant life. figuratively, a place for growth or development of any kind. land; country; territory; as, native soil. ground or earth; as, barren soil. dirt, n. [M E. dirt, from drit] any unclean or soiling matter, as mud, dust, trash, etc.; filth. earth or garden soil. anything common or filthy; as, he treats me like dirt. dirtiness, uncleanness; meanness. obscene writing or speaking; pornography. malicious talk or gossip. In gold mining , the gravel, soil etc. from which gold is separated by washing or panning. to do one dirt; to do harm to one, as by deception or malicious gossip. [Slang] to eat dirt; to submit humbly to an insult or degradation; to retract ones own words. dirt, v.t. to make foul or filthy; to soil; to bedaub; to pollute; to defile. [Rare.] ĕarth, n, [M E. erthe, eorthe; AS. eorthe; D. erde; O.H.G erdha, erda; Ice. jordh; Dan. jord; Goth. airtha, the earth.] 1. the planet that we live on; terrestrial globe; it is the fifth largest planet of the solar system and the third in distance from the sun : diameter, 7.918 mi. ; symbol, . this world, as distinguished from heaven and hell. the land of the earth, as distinguished from air and water; the ground. the soft material of which part of the surface of the globe consists; soil as distinguished from rock; especially, soil capable of being cultivated. a distinct part of the globe; a country; a region. [Poetic.] This English earth. -Shak. the inhabitants of the earth. The whole earth was of one language -Gen. xi. 1. (a) the substance of the human body; (b) the human body; (c) human concerns; worldly matters. [Poetic.] the hole of a burrowing animal; a lair. in chemistry, any one of the metallic oxides, formally classed as elements, which are reduced with difficulty, as baryta, strontia, magnesia, alumina, zirconia, etc. in electricity, the ground forming part of an electric circuit. Cologne earth; a variety of lignite, or partially fossilized wood, used as a pigment. down to earth; practical; realistic. to come back (or down) to earth; to stop being impractical; return to reality. to move heaven and earth; to make every effort. to run to earth; (a) to hunt down; to find by search. ĕarth, v.t. ; earthed (ĕrtht), pt., pp.; earthing, p pr. to chase (an animal) into a hole or burrow in the ground. The fox is earthed. - Dryden to cover (up) with earth; to bury. We earthed her in the shades. - B. Jonson in electricity, to connect with the earth; to ground. [Brit.] ĕarth, v.i. ; to hide in a burrow : said of a fox etc. ĕarth, n ; a plowing. [Obs.] Webster’s New Universal Unabridged Dictionary, 2nd Edition. Pub. New World Dictionaries/Simon and Schuster, 1973. (Richard) Soil is a big part of my life because I am a soil scientist, specifically a pedologist. I study soil as a natural body, an element of landscape, how it differs according to place and what this means in terms of human use, its productivity and also its susceptibility to degradation. My interest began in the final year of my ecology degree in Edinburgh in 1972 so I am very focused on the ecological context for soil and our place in that ecological nexus. I am also fascinated and excited by the use of soil as a material in art or its occurrence either incidentally or as a focus in artworks. I love the variety of colour and form that occur in the natural soil body and my curiosity is scientific - seeking explanation for those differences and their implications for soil processes. The invitation from Alex Toland to collaborate in a ‘dirt dialogue’ with Bonita Ely, an artist, is a welcome challenge. I did not know Bonita or her work until now. We arranged to meet at Bonita’s studio in Sydney (9-10 September) to talk and also look at a current exhibition of Bonita’s at the Gunnery Artspace. Our dialogue started then. In our conversation we sought out common ground and a narrative that could work for both of us. Our conversation was a ramble, getting to know something of each other’s background, but mostly for me to have some exposure to Bonita’s approach to landscape, culture and art. My initial impression is one of strong personal engagement and stories from Bonita’s side and I wonder how, from a scientific perspective, I can add to that. Bonita sent me many pictures and narratives, even a parcel containing soil from their family farm – a rich brown sandy loam from the cultivated paddock, and a red, dense sample from the adjacent roadside. I repress my initial compulsion to subject these samples to analysis and instead provide my responses to Bonita’s story, interspersed in and interrupting that narrative, I hope in a constructive way. (Bonita) Earth, dirt, soil, and the permutations these words conjure have been a focus of my art making since the early days of my practice in the 1970s, when environmental issues were emerging in my consciousness. I was brought up in the Mallee The Mallee district is in North West Victoria. http://www.murrayriver.com.au/explore-the-mallee/ on a Soldier Settlement fruit block on the Murray River in the State of Victoria. My parents applied to the Soldier Settlement Commission http://researchdata.ands.org.au/soldier-settlement-commission/148021 for a property immediately after the Second World War and along with hundreds of other veterans’ families, were offered thirty-two acres of undeveloped land on which to grow grapes and oranges at a place called Robinvale. http://www.abc.net.au/landline/content/2010/s2882249.htm (Richard) A soil survey of 14,000 acres the Robinvale irrigation district carried out in the late 1940s by the Victorian Department of Agriculture identified approximately 5,500 acres of soils most suitable for growing vines and citrus with irrigation from the Murray River. 12 different soil types were mapped. The landscape consists of east-west ridges of dunes and swales, the geology deposits are Pleistocene sands, frequently calcareous, and of lacustrine, fluviatile, and aeolian origin (Skene, 1951). http://vro.depi.vic.gov.au/dpi/vro/malregn.nsf/pages/soil_robinvale_irrigation Soil sodicity and salinity are common in this part of Victoria and the survey identified areas with high salt hazard, excluding them from irrigation development. Drainage was advocated but in most cases blocks were developed quickly without drainage, which was expected to be installed at a later date. Most of the land had already been cleared of native vegetation and used for cropping and pasture. Figure 1 Soil Map of the Robinvale Irrigation Area (Skene 1951) Figure 2 The Robinvale township and surrounding land showing irrigated and dryland farming and remnant riparian forest alongside the Murray River which marks the border between Victoria to the South and New South Wales to the North (image 2003) (Bonita) Citrus had been grown successfully in the area before, and dependable water from the Murray River, the third largest river after the Amazon and Nile, had been made more drought proof in the 30s with installation of the Euston Robinvale Weir, ensuring the success of the settlement. The real guarantee of the venture’s success however was the extraordinary effort invested by the ‘blockies’, as the veterans became known, and their partners who ‘worked like men’ to establish, not just their livelihood, but a township – the hospital, ambulance service, sporting facilities, garbage disposal, girl guides, boy scouts, Country Women’s Association (CWA), the Returned Soldiers League (RSL) Club, the ubiquitous Scottish Pipe Band. Our block, 2B, was close to the town, a trapezoid shaped plot stretching broadly up a gentle hill where underground pipes linked back to a huge (in a child’s eyes) pumping station to feed the thirsty vines and citrus trees. We were taught at school the average annual rainfall in the Mallee was 31 centimetres (12 inches then), that is, a semi-desert climate. The soil was compact, red sandy loam. (Richard) We have found the original hand-coloured map for the 1947-49 soil survey in our archive and I can see 5 soil types on your block. A band of Nookamka Sandy Loam dominates, East-West across the middle of the block, running into Nookamka Loam on the lower land (North) towards the road. Belar Clay Loam (referring to the vegetation of Belar trees), Barmera Sand and Sandy Loam and Berri Sand are minor components. I wonder if you remember any problems with soils on the block. (Figure xx) Figure 3 Portion of the 1947-49 soil map showing distribution of soil types on Block 2 (Bonita) Yes, there was a flat section of land left fallow adjacent to the road because, as I recall, the soil was of poor quality. Many of the blocks had fallow land like this. Now every square inch of land is cultivated so there must have been a solution found since then to fertilise poor soil. Long white spear grass with clumps of hop bush and boronia grew there, indicating what the countryside was like before it was irrigated. (Richard) I am guessing that would be some of the Nookamka Loam. There are two houses and lots of shedding in that part of the block now. The Belar Clay Loam looks as though it might still have some native vegetation cover. (Figure xxx air photo of block 2B in 2003) Figure 4 Block 2B in 2003 showing vine plantings (Bonita) Each block had a water wheel to individually measure the water used. Water poured first into a central open chamber where we would soak up to our necks, fully clothed on stinking hot Summer days. I wonder if our parents knew? (Richard) The wheel was invented by John Dethridge in Australia in 1910. Dethridge was then commissioner of the Victorian State Rivers and Water Supply Commission. The wheel consists of a drum around an axle with four spokes originating from each end of the axle. Eight v-shaped vanes are fixed to the outside of the drum which then spins. The revolving wheel measures the flow of water from the irrigation supply channels into the farm channels. This provided the basis upon which irrigation farmers were charged for water but is progressively being scrapped under water reforms (Figure xx). Figure 5 Dethridge wheels, now phased out of use (Bonita) The co-operative discipline of army training kicked in. Neighbours helped each other in work gangs to establish the labour intensive infrastructure of each block. The first job was to plough and plant the grape vine cuttings. Then straight, measured rows of posts and wire were put in for the vines to grow onto, along with the irrigation system. Initially watering was done by hand from a water truck driven down the rows. Meanwhile everyone lived in tents - no shade, no stoves, no amenities through summer’s forty degrees heat and dust storms, and the icy frosts of winter. Later a tin hut to roast in was supplied; later still a well-designed weatherboard house. Fun? The adults partied outside into the night beside huge bonfires with a beer barrel on tap and delicious home cooking. They organised community events such as balls, raffles, picnics to raise money to improve the town’s facilities. Children played outside all day long. In the Spring we picked wild flowers for my mother in the scrub – boronia, hop bush, paper daisies, wild orchids and violets, onion weed, wattle. We fed our dolls mud pies and built cubby houses. We popped paddy melons, picked delicious wild mushrooms growing in the Mallee scrub’s mulch. We engraved big drawings and hop scotch grids into the packed earth of the backyard. At the end of hot days the family drove down to the river on the fergie tractor Ferguson tractor. and trailer for dinner and a swim, returning in the dark, kids half asleep watching stars sparkle up in the black sky. My father swam me across the river on his back and taught me to swim at the sandbar we called St Kilda Beach. (Richard) Sounds similar but different to my childhood, spent in Coventry, Leeds and Leicestershire. Playing in the road, on old bombed out land, and later in Beech and Sycamore woods. The latter were formative for me and I spent a lot of time up trees thinking about life and the adventures I would have! My love of nature began there and I variously went through fossil collecting, entomology and botany to end up in Edinburgh studying ecology. I learnt to swim in a public pool in Leeds. (Bonita) The track to the sandbar switched at the top of a steep incline from red dirt to the grey clay of the riparian environment. We passed the pumping station, followed the river, then cut across the flood plain through the soft tones of scrub, past a huge River Red Gum with a canoe scar inscribed the length of its trunk – that’s made by the Latje Latje Aborigines we learnt at school - the people who walked along the railway line into town, worked on the blocks, trapped rabbits (as we all did) fished, hunted, following traditional ways. ‘Under the wire’, they lived amongst the black box and lignum on the river flats in humpies made from corrugated iron and hessian bags salvaged from the rubbish tip, away from the eyes of the Aboriginal Protection Board. Later the Aboriginal Welfare Board forced them to live in a cluster of huts away from the river flats, out of town, out of sight behind the railway line. Later still they were given permission to live in town and this sub-standard, segregated housing was abandoned. (Richard) I think, Bonita, that you had a much closer relationship to the land than I did. Mine was more about discovery and mystery. At the end of my ecology degree I didn’t know very much about anything except that it seemed like there was a big mess out there and was as much a spiritual crisis as an ecological one. Books like Ian McHarg’s ‘Design with Nature’, the writings of Buckminster Fuller and Loren Eiseley, inspired me to look deeper than the science that I was exposed to in my Degree. Around the time that I graduated in 1973 I visited an exhibition in Glasgow of Mark Boyle’s work ‘Journey to the Surface of the Earth’ and that impressed me hugely. http://www.boylefamily.co.uk/boyle/about/index.html After looking at his pieces in a gallery, every detail of every surface outside the gallery become an object to enjoy as ‘art’. I actually considered the possibility of going to an Art School to teach ecology! But that was a dream and I ended up in the Borders of Scotland, helping renovate and manage an estate and study (largely Sufi) ‘mystical’ literature. 13 years later I returned to university (Reading) to study Pedology, where I came across, and made, soil peels – thin layers of soil glued to fabric. These are not easy to make but are beautiful pieces in their own right. At that time the Boyle family held an exhibition at the Hayward Gallery and I asked Mark how he made his pieces, but he wasn’t giving away any secrets. In 1988 I came to Australia which, at that time it seemed, needed soil scientists so I became one, letting my artistic interests, mystical pursuits and ecological aspirations take on a more hidden role. (Bonita) I compulsively drew and painted all through my childhood and adolescence, then studied Art in Melbourne. 1969 in London the class system was firmly in place, pollution hovered, rubbish accumulated, rock’n’roll reigned, rain drizzled, white snow was soiled with brown who knows what? A sculpture called The World is My Ashtray says it all. In New York, 1974, again a soiled Earth - dirty purple-brown horizon, blurred red sun, pollution, and more pollution. An installation called C20th Mythological Beasts: at Home with the Locust People says it all. On my return to Australia a friend and I trekked up Mount Feathertop. What a delight to return home to a pristine wilderness. I documenting the 360 degree vista from the summit of this unfamiliar terrain each season, to be drawn in the studio as a continuous, changing panorama surrounding a three dimensional, paper mâché contour map of the mountain. See, see what I see – how amazing is this land, our country, this Earth! Figure 6 Mount Feathertop installation, 1978, 7th Mildura Sculpture Triennial. My attention returns to environmental matters with reports in the 1970s of increasing levels of salinity in the Murray water and soil caused by irrigation and deforestation. Both factors raise the level of subterranean ground water, drawing up sea salt from the ancient seabed that underlies the Mallee’s land mass. I began a series of artworks to signal the river’s plight, often using soil as the subject and medium. But first - a field trip to photograph the river’s changing terrain from the mountains to its estuary. (Richard) According to the hydrogeologists the salt from the ancient sea has long since left the basin, but because the geology of the basin is ‘blind’ and relatively closed system, groundwater rise is a natural consequence of increased recharge, due both to tree removal and excess leakage from irrigation. The salt that is now in the system has accumulated from rainfall and is known as ‘cyclic salt’, being conveyed in the hydrologic cycle. We have, in Victoria, some monumentally important groundwater systems and saline discharge areas with several times the concentration of sea water. Lake Tyrell is world famous in this respect. Phillip Macumber published a comprehensive report ‘Interaction Between Groundwater and Surface Systems In Northern Victoria’ based on his PhD research (Macumber, 1991) well worth reading. http://vro.depi.vic.gov.au/dpi/vro/vrosite.nsf/pages/water-gw-nv_docs/$FILE/interaction_groundwater_surface.pdf Salinity in the Murray-Darling Basin was the major issue when I arrived in 1988. Water reforms, particularly the ability to transfer water rights and the creation of piped rather than open channel infrastructure are doing much to alleviate the problems. There is also a much better understanding of water requirements for crops and pastures, and pricing and scarcity have encouraged more efficient irrigation practices. (Bonita) The Murray begins in Mount Kosciuszko National Park. Fed by springs and creeks it gathers momentum then slowly winds its way 2,520 kilometres westwards across flat plains, Note: the Euston/Robinvale weir is only 47.6 metres above sea level, less than the length of an Olympic swimming pool tipped on its end, yet the distance across country to its mouth at Goolwa into the Southern Sea is about 400 km, but approximately 1050 km by river. fed by tributaries, forming lakes, anabranches and billabongs. In South Australia it turns south through calcareous rock full of fossils, forming spectacular cliffs over a period of 130 million years, then flows on into Lake Alexandrina, Lake Albert, the Coorong, to the sea. http://www.murrayriver.com.au/about-the-murray/how-the-murray-river-was-formed/ The floor piece, River (1979) tracks the Murray from mountain to sea, connecting it to the passage of our lives. At the places documented on the field trip described below, imprints of hands across the river’s embossed line begins with a tiny baby’s, aging through time and distance to a skeleton at the estuary. The hands also quote hands often stenciled in Aboriginal rock art, referring to the Aboriginal heritage along the river. Beside each is an etching the size of a postcard showing the landscape at each place. Figure 7 The Murray River (1979), handmade paper, soil, etchings. Approx. 4.5m W x 1.5 D. Collection, Queensland Art Gallery Figure 8 Detail: The Murray River (1979), handmade paper, soil, etchings. Approx. 4.5m W x 1.5 D. Collection, Queensland Art Gallery This artwork developed from my cartographic examination of the changing geography of the river, the 1977 field trip. Beginning near Corryong in the foothills where the river is a fast flowing stream over polished, granite rocks, http://dbforms.ga.gov.au/pls/www/geodx.strat_units.sch_full?wher=stratno=4755 I made a grid of four sections along the river’s edge, the rectangles the dimension of a camera’s viewfinder. I photographed the sections as if for map making, mimicking aerial photography. This process was repeated in the Barmah Forest where the river’s edge is fine, silky grey clay. Next, at the junction of the Murray and Murrumbidgee Rivers the river sweeps around in a wide arc, depositing over millennia a beach of fine, white sand. Near Swan Reach the river’s edge is a lacework of pock marked, eroded rocks at the foot of huge cliffs. The sandy edge of Lake Alexandrina was the last place documented. Many artworks evolved from this material. Figure 9 Grid at the sandbar at the junction of the Murray and Murrumbidgee Rivers near Boundary Bend, Victoria, 2007, during the 10 year drought. The river is so shallow, weeds have begun to grow in the water. Note the blue bullet cartridge in the grid second from the left. The cartographic process described above was repeated as a comparison at the same locations thirty years later in 2007, documenting the effects of an extended drought. I also documented the soak at the official headwaters of the Murray, a dried up Lake Boga near Swan Hill, a billabong called Bottle Bend near Mildura where the water had turned to acid sulfate. I contextualised the grids with extensive photographs of these and other key locations, such as blooms of blue green algae in Mildura. (Richard) I love this piece of work. In 1960-61 I spent much time visiting a brook that flowed into the River Soar in Leicestershire, following it to its source, observing birds, trees, water creatures, and the fields that it passed through. Most, if not all of that land, would be under housing now and the brook in a culvert. The character of the landscape is changing rapidly now through anthropic influences, but also because of changes in climate. The Murray River, it is well known, is an over-used water resource with preference of supply for human use. The lack of rain in our ‘decade of drought’ ending (pausing?) in 2010 has brought extra pressures on the river and riparian ecology. The occurrence of acid sulfate conditions is a result of the river bed drying, causing oxidation of iron sulfides and the formation of sulfuric acid. With so much irrigated land and fertilization, the eutrophication of the waters in the Murray is accelerated and hence the algal blooms. (Bonita) In 1980, these concerns were dramatised in a performance called Murray River Punch, a cooking demonstration using the pollutants of the river as the recipe’s ingredients to make a drink. The performance was reprised in 2010, renamed Murray River Punch: the C21st. This time the recipe was a sticky paste as there was so little water in the river after the Ten Year Drought. In 2014 it was performed again as Murray River Punch: the Soup, a parody of cooking shows once again, mocking our disregard for nature. Plastic bags dripping clay from the riverbed mixed with cigarette butts, bong water, a sliced up Coca Cola can, et al - every ingredient was found littering a ‘picnic area’ in Mildura and, “Says it all”. (Richard) Humour is so important in getting serious messages across - lampooning TV cooking shows can be a lot of fun. I do like your punch analogy. My colleague Mark Imhof, and I created a parody of ‘Iron Chef’ for our research group at a social event. This was ‘Iron Pedologist’ in which we commentated as two of our scientists were challenged to make an interesting main course and dessert from soil materials using a mix of laboratory and cook ware. The hydrogeologist challenger to our ‘iron pedologist’ was the winner. The commentary included discussions on soil texture, colour, aggregate stability and dispersion testing, pH, hydro-pedology and soil layering. It had a loose educational component. Figure 10 Murray River Punch: the Soup, 2014. Bonita Ely (right) and Emma Price (left) begin the performance, Emma with pure bottled water, and Bonita subverting it with Murray River ‘soup stock’ from the river bed. (Bonita) In 1979 I was taken on a tour of the Ranger uranium mine in Kakadu National Park, Arnhem Land. My reservations about the Ranger mine were well founded with the spill in December, 2013, of radioactive material at Kakadu’s Ranger uranium mine where “a leach tank burst spilling about 1 million litres of highly acidic radioactive slurry” (SMH, 11/12/13). It prompted plans for a performance not long after, using soil as the medium in response to a government decision to approve another uranium mine nearby to be located UNDER the flood plain at Jabiluka. A conical form made from sand adorned with a black, red and yellow ochre spiral created during Jabiluka UO2 http://www.environment.gov.au/science/ssd/supervision/arr-mines/jabiluka UO2 is the chemical symbol for uranium dioxide, as well as a pun for ‘you owe too’. (1979), quotes the large, conical, fringed mats women make in Arnhem Land to shelter in when they are pregnant, menstruating, and to put their babies in to sleep. Conical Mat, Ngainjmira [is] both a domestic and mythologically important item. It is associated with many myths in central and northeast Arnhem Land, where it is often used by Ancestral Beings as a carrier for their spirit children. Because of these associations the mat symbolises the womb and fertility. Information label for the conical mat displayed in the Museum and Gallery of the Northern Territory. Figure 11 Jabiluka UO2, 1979 (performance). If the white line continues it will destroy the conical form. Performers: Bonita Ely, Charles Green, William Winford at the Preston Institute of Technology’s campus, for ACT 1, a performance event. This conical form was carefully sculpted, and inscribed with the ochre spiral and fringed with dry grass. Meanwhile two men, way off in the distance, are drawing with a line marker a straight, white line across the paddock. To keep the line straight it must pass over and destroy the conical form. I am distraught; I spiral deliberately, trying to communicate. When they ignore me I spin out of control and drop to the ground, overcome with vertigo. After the men finish their line a few metres past the cone and leave, I quickly re-establish the spiral across their white line with grass and burn it into the earth. (Richard) This seems to me to be a very powerful piece with a good resolution and message – the processes of nature will dominate in the end, however much we may try to dominate nature. Understanding these processes is fundamental for the translation of science into practice for the management of soil and land. Recognition of the sacred and spiritual values conferred on the landscape through different cultures adds quite another dimension that we need to consider. There are so many examples where we have done the opposite and created nothing but mess. It is time to change all that – we have the knowledge but economic pressures and politics have largely conspired to keep society on a rather destructive track. Fortunately there are exceptions and raising awareness through a combination of science and art is a vital counterpoint. Jabiluka UO2 addresses the proposal to mine uranium at Jabiluka in the Northern Territory’s Kakadu National Park. Following intense national & international campaigns from 1979 initiated by the Mirarr people, the traditional owners of Jabiluka, the mine did not go ahead. No further development will occur without the approval of the Mirarr people. My practice frequently refers to, quotes or uses soil, the soiled, the earth, the Earth, dirt and the dirty. In his publication, Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, Y. N Harari points out we are animals like any other: Like it or not, we are members of a particularly large and noisy family called the great apes. Harari, Y. N., Sapiens: a brief history of humankind, 2014, pub. Harvel Secker, G.B. P 5. Yes - we are great apes whose intellect, inventiveness, greed and ambitions have out weighed our insights and sensibilities when assessing priorities associated with nurturing, saving, regenerating, preserving the planet Earth’s ecologies, our precious habitat. We all love Nature, surrounding ourselves with flowers and floral décor, lawns, trees, domesticated animals, pet birds, parks, zoos, gardens. My art practice aims to communicate that we do not and cannot rule the Earth. We are, like all other life forms, Earthlings dependent on its bounty. (Richard) Collectively, politically it is true that ‘intellect, inventiveness, greed and ambitions’ have compromised ecology, but individually we make our own choices. Acknowledging our dependence is a key to making good choices. One of my favourite summations of this comes from Joni Mitchell ‘If you are smart or rich or lucky, maybe you’ll beat the laws of man, but the inner laws of spirit, and the outer laws of nature, no man can, no, no man can’ Mitchell, Joni . 1979. The Wolf that Lives in Lindsey (LP ‘Mingus’, Asylum Records)