Every day, the pleasant burghers of Bensalem, Pennsylvania who drive past the Parx Casino and Racing complex are confronted by this gigantic sculpture of a horse’s head precariously balanced on the tip of its nose, which is placed out in front of the casino right next to the road.
It’s a fine rendering of a horse’s head, as horse head sculptures go — but what do you think of when you see an enormous horse head on your drive to pick up Krispy Kreme donuts? Do you focus on the fact that the head is severed, and think of The Godfather? Or do you, like the animal-loving Marquette Warrior, conclude that the horse is happily taking a drink of water? Do you wonder how, from an engineering standpoint, they got the massive structure to balance like that? Or, do you focus on the totally discordant, out-of-place element of a huge green horse head on an otherwise undistinguished, soulless suburban commercial strip, and idly wonder if it was left by aliens?
Yesterday I met Kish for lunch at Little Palace then took a slightly different path on my walk back to the office. After I crossed Broad Street, heading north on Fourth Street, I noticed the painting above on one of the pillars at the entrance to the building at 23 North Fourth.
I’d never walked this side of the block before, and the painting drew my eye. It’s a small painting of street scene featuring a nearby building in downtown Columbus; a simple, human-scale piece rather than one of those gigantic abstract urban art sculptures that city planners decide to place next to a busy intersection or in the plaza of an office building. I noticed a sign next to the painting that said it was a plein air piece in acrylics by artist Deb Haller that was part of the Finding Time project by Columbus Public Art 2012.
After stopping to admire the painting I moved on, then noticed another of the paintings in Lynn alley on the block between Fourth Street and Lazelle, and another piece on a wall of a building on Lazelle between Lynn and Gay Street. The latter, by artist Susan Otten, is shown below. I enjoyed them all, and wondered: how had I missed them before?
At one of the corners of the main intersection in Vermilion, Ohio, you will find Wally The Walleye. Wally is a good-sized metal sculpture that appears to be anatomically accurate –he’s even got a lure in his mouth — but rather than standard scales he’s got fish representations on his shiny skin.
Wally is part of the “Follow The Fish” Art and Adventure Trail along Lake Erie. He was sponsored by the Greater Cleveland Aquarium. As is the case with so much public art, Wally adds a very nice and distinctive touch to his little corner of the world. The Follow The Fish Trail is a cool idea.
Earlier this month, the newest memorial on the Ohio Statehouse grounds was dedicated. Located on the State Street side, it is a memorial to the millions who died during the Holocaust — and to the soldiers who helped to liberate them.
The memorial is The Ohio Holocaust and Liberators Memorial. It consists of two massive steel and bronze pieces that fit together to leave a symbolic empty space in the shape of the Star of David; the pieces are engraved with statements about the Holocaust. A granite walkway leads up to the memorial, bordered by a low limestone wall that reads: “Inspired by the Ohio Soldiers who were part of the American Liberation and Survivors who made Ohio their home” and adds, “If You Save One Life, It Is As If You Saved The World.”
I like some public art and I dislike other public art — but at least I can usually understand what the art is attempting to convey. No more! A new bit of public art in Columbus has me stumped.
It’s the creation of a Brooklyn artist named Janet Zweig, and it appears on a wall behind the Key Bank building in downtown Columbus. It’s a series of unadorned words on an otherwise blank wall. The first five words were selected by Zweig, they were “Columbus never came here, but . . . ” Every two weeks or so, new words, suggested by Columbus residents and visitors and chosen by Zweig and curators of the piece, have been added to the wall. A statement accompanying the piece explains: “Generative text can tap into an unconscious that often discovers hidden, insightful, poetic, and sometimes humorous truths.” The new words are selected in an attempt to shift the meaning of the words, and the stated “goal is to change the meaning of the sentence (or sentences) each time a new section is added, in an attempt ultimately to capture the soul of Columbus, as described by its residents.”
I’m not sure words on a wall could ever “capture the soul of Columbus,” but if these words have done so Columbus must have the soul of bathroom graffitist or an adolescent who thinks “Mad Libs” are hilarious. Does anyone from Columbus actually think this piece reflects well on our fair city?
Walking the streets of downtown Cleveland today, I saw . . . painted electric guitars at various locations on the sidewalks, each with a theme that supposedly celebrates something about Cleveland. Get it? Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, electric guitars?
Gahhh! Hasn’t this whole concept been beaten to death, long ago? I’ve seen painted cows in Chicago, painted pigs in Cincinnati . . . and I’m sure that countless other boring, copycat cities have made their own unimaginative forays into public art, where some local iconic symbol gets painted in different ways by local artists, and we’re supposed to appreciate what it says about the city in question.
C’mon, Cleveland — you’re better than this! Why copy cities like Chicago and Cincinnati, for God’s sake? Have some self-respect, and buck the derivative trend! Recognize that Cleveland is a leader, not a follower. If you want to do some public art, come up with something original and unique, as befits Cleveland’s rich heritage as a trendsetter, not a camp follower.
In the meantime, can somebody do something with these silly painted electric guitars? They’re cluttering up the sidewalks.
Yesterday — with the Arnold Sports Festival in full swing — the City dedicated this colossal rendering of Arnold Schwarzenegger. It’s located outside the Veterans’ Memorial Auditorium, where many of the Arnold events are held, just across the river from downtown Columbus.
The statue is a depiction of Arnold in his full Mr. Olympia glory — huge fists clenched, muscles bulging, rope-like veins popping everywhere, face set in impassive concentration, in the pose that Arnold made famous. It is somewhat larger than life, although still smaller than the statue of Christopher Columbus in front of City Hall. I suppose that’s only appropriate, although if you took a vote of the people who are in Columbus right now, Arnold would easily outpoll Chris for the top spot in the Most Titanic Figure contest.
The statue has a pretty good likeness of Arnold’s face, which is why it inevitably brings to mind — uncomfortably, in my book — the Terminator movies. I look at the statue and expect the metallic Arnold to turn his head slowly, focus with a red mechanical eye, then step off the pedestal and begin slaughtering the masses in his search for Sarah Connor.