1 post tagged “serra”

Yesterday, the Seattle Art Museum opened the doors on the new Olympic Sculpture Park. The family and I missed the warmth and sweet, beautiful sun of opening day and, instead, ventured out today in the cold and gray. Until today, my thoughts on the park were  purely speculatory. After today, my park sentiments fall into three main categories:

1. Preserving [and enhancing] open space - especially that rare open space in major urban centers - is heroic; we're damn fortunate for the generosity of SAM (and donors).
2. The current collection, though it contains some truly stellar pieces, needs an injection of new blood almost immediately. Preference should be given to contemporary rule breakers and pace setters. Double bonus if they're local. (Bill Viola  should be granted  honorary local status.)
   
3. Richard Serra's "Wake" is for touching. And not just for touching. It's for groping and licking and lounging.

In the context of that last bullet, check the photo for the the single most absurb piece of signage I have /ever/ seen. Wake, a massive series of rusting, liquid forms (made from Cor-Ten steel, so check yourself) is dizzying and irresistible. I touched it. I touched it twice because the sign advised against it. I put some free Target hot cocoa on one side and watched as it dripped down into the gravel. I watched people bend to match its curves and lean deeply into its surface.

In the years since this park was originally envisioned, I have heard and read the Gates/Shirley/Wright trifecta recite the stated purpose of the park on multiple occaisions. Paraphrased: "The OSP will create a space where art, life, and nature are intertwined, with the effect that Art - art in general, art with a big 'A' - becomes demystified." Fine. Great. But. One. Problem. To wit, sniffy little "do not touch the art" signs totally eviscerate the goal of demytifying art. This rule is true without exception. Though such signs are frequently warranted (You, in the back! Please quit picking at the Pollock!) it is the pinnacle of Fatheaded Curator Syndrome to think that Wake is such a case.