The Arc of History will die this week – if CDOT holds to its revised schedule.
Born Aug. 1, 2014, the Arc lived a mere 25 months at the intersection of U.S. Highways 550/160. The cause of death was vandalism, ignorance, a failure of imagination and lack of community support.
Two years ago when the Arc was installed, it was immediately vilified in print, on social media and on Main Avenue. Everybody’s complicit in this failure to thrive – so here’s a little history:
Shortly after the Arc’s selection April 4, 2014, the brouhaha began. The Durango Public Arts Commission invited residents to comment on three finalists out of a field of 26 proposals. But quickly, the commission had to clarify it wasn’t a community vote. A selection panel made the final decision.
By the August installation date, the “nobody asked me” and the “I hate abstract art” crowds had marshaled, spurred on by a Herald staff report Aug. 4: “What do you think of this art?” The piece described the work, the process and criticized the creator, Tom Holmes, for not being a sculptor but a musician.
The report also commented on the intersection placement: “Whether that’s a good thing to entertain drivers caught in construction delays or a distraction at a busy and complicated intersection is a matter for some debate.”
On Aug. 6, another story noted the City Council defending the Arc despite continuing derision and referred to resident responses as “a howl of online protests.” Councilor Christina Rinderle reminded Durangoans that all had a say in the process even if the Public Art Commission made the final selection. And the story concluded by saying: “Public art has a long track-record of initially alienating residents.”
True, especially when something is set up to fail.
On Aug. 7, a Herald editorial strongly supported the city’s diverse and widely eclectic public art collection and linked hostile responses to summer frustration about the Highway 550/160 construction.
Lost in the fury was the driving idea behind the Arc – a creative interpretation of ancient cairns. Constructed out of Southwestern rocks and strung on a horizontal arm of steel, the Arc appeared to be a fresh variation on two early forms of human sculpture – a deliberate act to create meaning out of natural materials. From earliest human history, stone piles have marked graves or served as trail markers.
I wrote as much in my Aug. 12 column for the Arts and Entertainment section of the paper. I urged readers who objected to the abstract nature of the work to think again about ancient cairns, perhaps the earliest form of abstract art.
In time, the initial uproar subsided and residents began to decorate the Arc with various artifacts or costumes. In October, a dinosaur head appeared; February, a Chinese dragon head; March, replicas of ants appeared in the grass; April, colorful dinosaur eggs; May, baby dinos. But the fun stopped in July last year when vandals struck in the middle of the night with a pickax, smashing many of the sandstone elements.
Key questions: What does this miserable two-year death spiral tell us about our community? What can we learn from this?
The Durango Arts Center in collaboration with Fort Lewis College and Mercy Regional Medical Center might set about a joint program to educate (and entertain) the citizenry about public art. Start with what we have – on campus, at the hospital and in town. Print a joint brochure with walking tours. Train docents to bring walking tours to life.
The center could sponsor a series of public art forums where a panel might discuss works – in Durango and elsewhere – and invite public comment. The Herald could feature one work per month over the next two years – in print and online – with background information, a creator profile, subject, title and notes on materials and process. Viewer responses should be part of the package. And a little history and context would help.
The whole purpose would be to raise understanding about what public art is and isn’t.
We sorely need some perspective and proportion. To risk a cliché – we need to resolve never to let what happened to the Arc happen again.
“We are perishing for want of wonder,” wrote G. K. Chesterton, “not for want of wonders.”
Judith Reynolds is an arts journalist, theater critic and political cartoonist.
