Utopia (Work in Progress)

An overnight stay at Arcosanti

The cafe at Arcosanti

In late January, I left my sweet Los Angeles bungalow for the last time and set out on a solo cross-country roadtrip back to the east coast. I had always regretted not doing the drive when I moved from NY to LA in 2019. It felt too hectic to plan on top of everything else, so I’d opted to fly with a few suitcases and send the rest via Amtrak shipping (sadly this service was discontinued during covid, but it was the deal of the century at around 75 cents/lb). I’ve always enjoyed driving, roadside attractions, just seeing what there is to see (even when it’s not much). So, despite feeling equally, if not more, overwhelmed this time around, I didn’t think twice about making the drive.

Driving alone for ten days and 3,000 miles will sound intimidating to many, but as a frequent solo traveler, I was excited by the idea of solitude on the open road, free to blast whatever playlist I chose, to sing, cry, and sit with my thoughts around leaving LA. (I ended up listening to zero playlists, three audiobooks, and just one podcast- How Long Gone ft. Robby Hoffman). A few friends had generously offered to join for a leg or two, but it felt complicated to plan, and after I packed my car with what was left over from the movers, it became clear there wasn’t room for anyone else anyway. I love alone time, especially when traveling— the freedom to chart my own path on my own schedule, to follow every whim.

The Sun Suite guest room at Arcosanti

I began mapping the route, and the good people of the internet offered blog upon blog detailing the three major options: north, central, southern. The winter weather dictated a largely southern path, and I started filling it in with the tried and true pit stops. At some point it occurred to me that I could get across the country however I’d like, and I wasn’t beholden to any one “route.” I began plotting my stops based on what piqued my interest— places long on my wishlist (Santa Fe), and others I was curious about and probably wouldn’t soon have another opportunity to visit (Bentonville, Memphis).

Around this time, a photo of a guest suite at Arcosanti popped up on my radar, and I instantly decided to make it a stop. I had been once before while on a trip to Sedona, but daily visitors aren’t able to venture beyond the cafe without a tour, so I purchased a paperweight from the gift shop and the rest of the compound had remained a mystery.

Arcosanti from the road in

A peek into the cafe

The two-story cafe offers sweeping views of the property through an abundance of windows in all shapes and sizes

Situated about two hours north of Phoenix in the high desert of Arizona, Arcosanti is an experimental town designed by Italian-American architect Paolo Soleri as a prototype of what he coined “arcology”— the fusion of architecture and ecology. Construction began in 1970, built largely by volunteers who came from around the world to help realize Soleri’s radical vision: a dense, walkable, environmentally integrated community, a vision of what could be in an America plagued by suburban sprawl and car dependency. The foundation describes its mission as inspiring “a reimagined urbanism that builds resilient and equitable communities sustainably integrated with the natural world.”

Morning at the ceramics apse

The bronze foundry sits on the edge of the canyon

Arcosanti’s signature bronze windbells

Though Soleri originally envisioned Arcosanti housing thousands of people, it has never been occupied by more than a hundred. Today, a small community of artists and staff live onsite, working in the ceramics apse and bronze foundry, producing the iconic windbells Arcosanti has become known for. There’s a steady flow of visitors to the cafe and surrounding hiking trails, and the onsite amphitheater regularly hosts intimate music festivals. But outside of these blips of activity, Arcosanti feels a bit like a ghost town— the once radical vision suspended and stalled, now more of a monument to an idea.

An open air studio below the cafe

Large pool overlooking the canyon

The chess table in the cafe

The drive in from the highway is unceremonious: exit just past a Love’s gas station and make your way down a winding dirt road until the compound materializes out of the landscape, the concrete structures landing somewhere between Mad Max and utopia. I arrived just after sunset, the sky still slightly aglow but dark enough to feel grateful to loosely know the way from my previous visit. After some bumbling around, I found my quarters: the Sun Suite, originally built as a studio for Soleri himself. The apartment features his original 16-foot drafting table, positioned in an atrium overlooking the desert, a kitchenette with spectacular curved wood counters, and a patio with views of the Agua Fria River valley.

Soleri’s drafting table

Morning views from the Sun Suite

The accommodations are, as the foundation puts it, an exercise in “elegant frugality.” My room was warmed by a space heater, and the bathroom was reminiscent of a college dormitory. While exploring the suite, I discovered a door that was probably meant to have been locked. I opened it expecting a closet, but instead found it led into a wing of abandoned offices. Rows of ergonomic chairs sat empty, a manual for the on-site pool splayed open on a desk, a fax machine behind a receptionist’s counter. A wonderfully creepy excess of liminal space, like exploring an abandoned mall. I locked the door and laid in bed trying to forget about the slightly unsettling other realm just beyond the wall.

Still thinking about this kitchenette- the curved wood counters, the chrome exposed plumbing!

Reading corner in the Sun Suite

In the 24 hours I was there, I encountered two residents and one cat.

I went for a walk at sunrise, taking in the expansive canyon views as the colors shifted through shades of purple, pink, orange, and finally blue. I took out the handwritten cards my friends had sent me off with. I’d been putting off reading them for days, feeling a bit emotionally avoidant about leaving LA, but I felt at peace in the quiet buzz of the morning desert.

I don’t know that I’d recommend planning a trip with the sole purpose of staying at Arcosanti, but it’s not too far from Sedona and Phoenix, so an easy add to an Arizona itinerary. It’s spartan and a bit desolate, best enjoyed by those who appreciate stillness: a quiet evening spent stargazing, waking up to a desert sunrise, an adventure inside someone’s earnest, unfinished dream.

xx Linds

---

---