A professional card player. A physics professor. A disgraced actress. A retired chef. What does this band of misfits have in common? They each traveled by air, automobile and equine to arrive at this candlelit, canvas pavillion in the middle of the desert. They’re all guests at my party.

And whose party is that, you ask? Some might call me an instigator, but they’ve got the wrong idea. I’m a facilitator. A venture coordinator. I take the sketch of an idea and turn it into a well-laid plan. I source the location, the materials, and the carpenters, and before you know it, those well-laid plans have grown into a fucking skyscraper.

What I do requires a unique skillset, one that can be cultivated but not learned. Take this gathering, for example. Six weeks ago, none of these people had heard of each other or of me. Now, we sit laughing around the table like old friends, passing the wine frequently as we we move between topics of conversation. They each know that their invitations here were neither random nor lacking motive. Some of them doubtlessly considered turning down the invitation, but I knew they would all ultimately accept. Because that’s another thing they have in common, and it’s why I invited them to this party. Each of these individuals possesses an innate curiosity, which - despite its inherent risk - is a necessary tool to complete my newest project.