Rock art in Los Angeles

The latest sculpture by Michael Heizer, variously known as an "environmental" or "earth" artist, is being installed at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. It is a rock. To be more specific, it is a 340-ton, 21-ft high boulder. It will be installed over a trench and given the title "Levitated Mass."

Read all about it at "Lights! Cameras! (And Cheers) For a Rock Weighing 340 Tons" on the NY Times website.

What I find most interesting about the article, which mostly describes the circus-like atmosphere surrounding the transportation of the boulder, is what is missing. There is a passing comment about the cost, which is quickly justified by the attention being paid to it. "A Los Angeles City Council member ... said the installation was worth the considerable effort and expense that have raised some eyebrows at a time of such austerity. 'Look around you, look how this brings out people,' he said. 'This will be a big magnet here at L.A.C.M.A.'" 

What is missing is any question about this rock's status as art. That seems to be accepted without question. Can you imagine that happening in Milwaukee?

Dia. Meditation.

Last week I first encountered the Dia Art Foundation’s museum in Beacon, NY. It is housed in a 30,000 sq. ft. former factory. The place and the art invite introspection.

Space.

Light.

Dual naves of brightly lit white space. Polished wood floors stretch into the distance. Tiny solitary black-clad figure at the far end. Silence.

To the left, variously colored irregular shapes punctuate the white bays the length of the vast wall. Bare wood floor. (Imi Knoebel)

On the right, polished steel plates form a single line down the middle of the polished wood floor. Bare white walls. (Walter de Maria)

Space.

Beyond that, more space. Light streams in from skylights overhead.

A small, brightly lit alcove. Mammoth rough-hewn vertical granite boulder stands, improbably, tightly bound in a niche. somewhere in the vast silence of afghanistan in the mountain at bamiyan stand three empty niches. Colossal granite teardrop of the Buddha. (Michael Heizer)

Space.                         Air.

A series of thin strings of black yarn stretched from floor to ceiling emphasize the air around them. Concrete pillars. Galleries opening out to more galleries.

Sunlight.

Thin red strings establish a rectangular plane in the space, canted against the rectangular wall floor ceiling planes of the architecture. I step across the thin red line on the floor. Through air. (Fred Sandback)

White walls give way to concrete, then brick. Polished wood floors become polished concrete floors. Finally, two exterior windows. Glimpse of an expansive, empty green lawn.

L-shaped steel remnant of original factory embedded in brick wall. minimal; life mimics art. the place wants to be photographed. Photography not permitted. an issue of control? privacy? marketing? at every turn the place demands to be photographed. i can’t imagine the harm a photo would cause the art or the museum. i resist the urge to sneak a shot. Numerous black-clad guards wander throughout the galleries. issues of trust? They smile when spoken to. Reply to questions with beatific patience.

Finally, shadows. A dark corner contains rubble. Vertical stacks of photographs mounted on steel. In shadow. Horizontal stacks of enormous felt pads weighed down by rusted steel plates. Not a loading dock. Not a storage room. Dark dustless rubble. (Joseph Beuys)

Cleanly bored holes of four geometric shapes in the polished concrete floor. Dark, empty interiors. Invisible depths. A glass wall prevents close inspection. a friendly, black-clad guard, when asked, says that tours inside the glass are available upon request. my request elicits a walkie-talkie call. no reply. maybe later she says. she says that the artist himself installed the glass. it is being viewed as he intended. an issue of control? Mystery. can mystery be created? is mystery endowed from within or without? in the mind of the beholder? The four holes, gated empty lightless bottomless pools, remain mute. (Michael Heizer)

Mezzanine. Four Brobdingnagian curls of rusted steel. Four ambulatory chapels off to the side of the Cathedral. Four short labyrinths to choke a claustrophobic. Four giant steel clamshells. Inside each, a pearl of peacefulness. they want to be outside, in the back, on the grass, under the open sky, open to the heavens. not to the gray coffered concrete factory ceiling. And yet, after a breathless entry, a place to inhale deeply. (Richard Serra)

In the spotless attic, rough windowless brick walls, polished almost liquid concrete floor. Crouched in the far corner, enormous black bronze spider, Gothic in dark silent splendor. Menacing. or not. there are no secrets here, only misunderstandings. Far down the dark hall the black-clad guard leans against the wall, reading. Silent. (Louise Bourgeois)

Suddenly a wall of glass. Exterior windows. Bright north light. Room full of colorful vigorously twisted steel forms, like carefully spaced collisions. almost baroque compared to the prevailing minimalism. (John Chamberlain)

Outside, narrow walled garden. Leafless trees, brown grasses, green hedges in rigid rows. Sounds of birds. Cuckoo. Crows. Unrecognizable sounds. Almost voices. Muttering. Almost intelligible words. what are they saying? they don’t want to be understood. Catalogue text: Sound Piece. (Louise Lawler)

The warmth of the sun.

Air.

I did not succumb to the temptation to sneak photos inside the museum, harmless as that prospect seemed. The two images that accompany this meditation are my tribute to the spirit of the collection. They are from the garden, where photography is permitted. I remain frustrated by museum policy.

After Dia Beacon I went to nearby Storm King Art Center, where I could take plenty of pictures. Photo essay on my flickr page.

Preposterous Ecological Art discussed at MIAD

Andy Goldsworthy

 The concept of Ecological Art means something different than the more inclusive term Environmental Art. The latter is most famously embodied by the "Earthworks" of the latter third of the Twentieth Century. Artists such as Smithson and Heizer created sculptures that went beyond "site specific" to incorporate the land itself into the work of art, often with little regard to the destructive nature of the work. As the movement evolved artists like Goldsworthy became more sensitive to the impact their work had on the land and attempted to leave the environment unharmed.

Ecological Art is generally understood to go even further. There generally are two ways this is done. Some Eco-Artists use art to repair or restore damaged environments, as exemplified by Betsy Damon, who recently gave a talk at UWM about her remarkable work with Keepers of the Waters. Others create work that draws attention to ecological principles or deals with issues related to environmental relationships, sustainability, and the like without affecting them directly. A talk entitled "Preposterous Propositions" at MIAD last night by Linda Weintraub emphasized this last type of approach.

I was drawn to the talk by the topic, which is dear to me and is a common theme in my own work both as an artist and writer devoted to what I call the "Urban Wilderness." (See my Urban Wilderness blog or my website.) I found the presentation enlightening in the sense that I learned about the work of artists with whom I wasn’t familiar. But it was ultimately disappointing because most of those artists seemed so disengaged with the real world. If any artist should be engaged it is one who specializes in Ecological Art. I don’t think it’s enough to be provocative; that’s such an easy way out of real substantive creative power.

The title set the stage: “Preposterous Propositions” refers to artists who, according to Weintraub, deliberately try to "create chaos" or disturb the existing order. Of the works cited I found “Cloaca,” by Belgian artistst Wim Delvoye the most preposterous. Delvoye created an elaborate machine that replicates the human digestive system (above). It is “fed” food and it “excretes” feces. Weintraub described with glowing admiration how it defies assumptions: that engineered solutions are more efficient than biological ones; that elaborate machinery must produce a valuable end product. Never mind that the assumptions themselves were unchallenged (has she never encountered a Rube Goldberg invention?) or that feces could actually be used as manure to benefit something that needs nutrients to grow. Delvoye’s manufactured feces never return to earth. They are shrink-wrapped and sold for exorbitant sums to art collectors (below). Thus, not only is this work useless in the sense of having positive utilitarian value, it perpetuates the fetishization of art and the commodification of the creative endeavor. It is the very antithesis of Ecological Art. 

I was heartened during the question and answer period to find that I was not alone in questioning the value of these works. Judging from the questions, the audience of mostly MIAD students was equally skeptical. Someone asked, “How do these artists pay for their work?” The answer: “they have day jobs.” Asked how these artists expect to reach a broader audience, Weintraub shrugged and gestured back to enlist us – admitting that it would be a tough sell. Her answer to the burning question of whether she thought that these mostly resource intensive constructions were worth their expense in money, materials, and energy, was the classic pedagogical ploy “that’s a good question.” (I know it well.) Apparently generating that very question justifies the work.

There was one artist who excited me. Shai Zakai, an Israeli, is described on an eco-art website as an “artist, photographer, green activist, producer, curator, [and a leader] for environmental and social change.” Weintraub showed us “Repainted Painted Tree,” a “work” in which Zakai went to a forest preserve near her home. There she carefully simulated the bark of trees with paint overtop of orange spots spray painted onto them by foresters intent on cutting them down. The artistic endeavor was conceptually clever, beautifully executed, and reportedly effective in saving the precious stand of trees.

Never doubt the power of art. But do question its intent.