MA IS A SINGULAR CREATURE.

HE HAS A SET OF GIFTS

WHICH MAKE HIM UNIQUE AMONG THE ANIMALS: SO

THAT. UNLlKE THEM. HE IS NOT A FIGURE IN THE LANO-

SCAPE - HE IS A SHAPER OF THE LANOSCAPE. IN BOOY

ANO IN MINO HE IS THE EXPLORER OF NATURE. THE

UBIQUITOUS ANIMAL WHO DIO NOT FINO BUT HAS MAOE

HIS HOME IN EVERY NTINENT.

Among the many relationships that deline the human condition , the individual's connection to the environment is primary.

The elemental background against which all our activity is played out , nature is the biggest olthe big pictures, We worship

and loathe jt , sanctify and destroy it. Birth , death and all that is gracelul and vicious between, sit comlortably within the

I natural web , We 'singular creatures' also bloom and rot on its vast matrix , but the combination 01 our amb ition and our

gifts makes us want more than simply to survive, We asp ire to leave our mark, inscribing our observations and gestures

within the landscape, attempting to translate and transgress the space within which we l in d ourselves,

1I our culture is the manilestation 01 this drive, then its continuing lascination with the land is testament to both the

potential and the strictures 01 our terrestrial condition , Subject both 01 science and art, the landscape lunctions as a mirror

and a lens, in it we see the space we occupy and ourselves as we occupy it. And we have consistenHy sought to connect

on so me level with the landscape. Humans have created lorms in honour 01 the land and as an act 01 deliance against it.

They have made objects to place within the sweeping vista and recreated its patterns in isolation Irom it invented images

variously designed to document. idealize and vilify the sometimes genHe, sometimes vi olent and always oblivious charms

01 the natural environment.

Among the most complex and lascinating 01 these art istic responses to the earth are the works that have come to be

called Land Art. What began in the m id 19605 with a small number 01 comm itted conceptualists - disenchanted with the

modern ist endgame and animated by a desire to measure the power 01 the artwork isolated Ira m the cosmopolita n com-

SURV EY
" modilications 01 the white cube - has grown over the last thirty years to inelude a widely diverging collection 01 lorms.

approaches and theoretical positions.

Like the work that it embraces. the term Land Art is variable. complex and Iraughl. In many ways a quintessentially

American art lo rm . the first manilestations 01 what came to be known as Land Art and grew to encompass earth . eco and
•

Environmental Art. began in the American cultural crucible 01 New York and the open spaces 01 its western deserts. Yet its

lormulation involved artists Irom around the world. who brought very different approaches to bear. Never a movement in

the traditional sense. encompassing a range 01 artists who might be at odds with each other's conceptions and executions,

Land Art is an imperfect hyponym lar a slippery and widely interconnected brand 01 conceptual kinship . Yet whether seen

to be engaged in the interrogations 01 Modernism . Minimalism or Conceptualism . as a purposelully romantic quest lar
•
reconnection with a kind 01 atavistic inspiration or as a serious·minded program me lar the practical conditions 01 the late-

industrial biosphere . all the work inelu ded here has as its pivot the land and the individual's responses to and activity

within il.

These projects are lundamentally sculptural (i n the sense 01 creating in three dimensions) and/or performance-based

(in terms 01 their orientations towards process. site and temporality) . They are concerned with the way both time and

natural lorces impact on objects and gestures, at once critical 01 and nostalgic lar the notion 01 'the garden ', alternately

aggressive and nurturing towards the landscape .

The range 01 w ork relerred to as Land Art and Environ mental Art encompasses a wide variety 01 post-war artmaking .

It ineludes site-specilic sculptural projects th at utilize the materials 01 the environment to create new lorms or to adjust
our impressions 01 the panorama , programmes that import new, unnatural objects into the natural setting with similar

goals, time-sensitive individual activities in the landscape, collaborative . socially aware interventions. By exploring these

approaches through examples 01 artworks and parallel texts. this anthology is intended to expandorather than circum-

scribe. traditional delinitions 01 the genre .

The interventions 01 the Land Artists - working the resources 01 antiquity with the tools 01 mechanized modernity.

exporting the cool cultural discourse 01 the city to in dustrial wastelands or the unacculturated desert - embodied the dis-

sonance 01 the contemporary age. The decade 01 the 1960s that spawned Land Art was a period 01 longing - lar a luture

that broke with a complacent present and lar a past that transcended both . An awakening 01 ecological and leminist con-

sciousness, the rapid integration 01 technology with everyday lile and the resultant nostalgia lar a simpler. more natural

existence, a recognition 01 the personal and politica l power 01 the individual to intervene. lar good or ill. within natural

systems - all 01 these demonstrate an ambivalence about the direction 01 socio-cultural progress . The political strile 01 the

times . and the increasingly decentralized. grass-roots political atlacks on the 'institution ' that contributed to il. were

echoed in the art wo rld 's increasing ambivalence towards its own institutional traditions .

Land Art emerged Irom a mid 1960s art worl d that was seekin g to break with the cult 01 personalized . transcendental

expression embodied in American post-war abstraction . In its celebration 01 mass produced cultural debris. like home

PREFACE
lurnighings. soap boxes and comic strips. Pop Art represented the antithesis 01 the pristine. uninflected environment 01 "
the modernist canvas . Similarly. process arto systems art and ultimately Land Art propose their own kind 01 sculptural

analogue lor this re-examination 01 the presumptions lor isolation and purity made on behall 01 the artistic gesture. The

conceptual approaches then emerging questioned established notions 01 the artistic objecl. as well as the authority 01 its

contexl. Artists lound alternatives to the gallery or museum by co-opting other urban building types or by working in the
•
open alr.

.A dissatislaction with the cu rrent social an d political system results in an unwilli ngness to produce commodities which

gratify and perpetuate that system ·. wrote critic Barbara Rose in a 1969 Artforum article. 'Here the sphere 01 ethics and

aesthetics merge.· ' Rose 's location 01 an increasingly anti-canonical aesthetic programm e within the context 01 the pre-

vailing social. political and economic system provides a touchstone lor examination 01 the Land Art phenomenon . The rise

01 contemporary environmentalist . leminist and de-centralized political strategies encouraged intensely political art
lorms . The broad range 01 works executed in the landscape participated in a programmatic challenge to social orthodoxy

through the agency 01 the artistic object virtually unparalleled in the twentieth century.

The late 19605 was the time 01 the Vietnam war. 01 the assassinations 01 Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy. 01

civil rights marches and student uprisings in Europe and the US oAs Irving Sandler notes in his Art of the Postmodern Era.

the chaos 01 the moment derived Irom and reiterated an essential crisis 01 laith in the Western body politic. In the denoue-

ment 01 the Second World War. the State. which was still viewed as the primary instrument 01 social action. began to lose

stature . The grand industrialist matrix 01 early twentieth-century social lile started to Iray and give way to the more intri-

cate dynamics 01 consumerism and new technologies . This shilt was liberating but also Iraught. and one price paid lor this

autonomy Irom established institutions was an inevitable sense 01 alienation . For all the sound and lury 01 the counter-

culture atlacks on the notion 01 the institution . practical change was limited . The ellect on sensibilities generated by the

ellorts to remake. and sometimes even make Irom scratch . an idea 01 society did. however. have a dramatic impact on our

view 01 ourselves and the world around us o

Quoting the historian Jonathan Miles . Sandler relates the impact 01 this sociological revolution . both despite and as a

result 01 its lailure . with the 'birth 01 a generalized concept 01 revolution - a concept that was seemingly endless in terms

01 what could be incorporated into il. Political emancipation . spiritual regeneration. sexual liberation ... alternative
lilestyles. grass-roots and community democracy ... ecologically-based production. holistic therapies. anti-institutional

"institutions" [ ... ]' AII 01 these. Miles writes. 'could reler back to one generalized concept' .' And this concepl. adds Sandler.

'would spawn artistic movement alter movement' in its wake. Few were so lully-Iormed and dramatic as Land Art.

Although resistant to being seen as part 01 any distinct movement. the artists who lirst began to work in the landscape

- Michael Heizer. Robert Smithson . Robert Morris . Dennis Oppenheim . Walter De Maria - all seem to have been dramati-

cally influenced by the socio-cultural currents 01 the time. They shared a conviction that sculptural gestures could have a

lile away Irom the institution . out in the world. inflected by a variable and 'organic ' location .

PREFACE
" Precedents do exist lor their lormal investigations - as early as 1955 Herbert Bayer had constructed his Earth Mound

at Aspen. Co lo rado. And the artists themselves ha d intermiltently presaged what would come to be their delining pro-

grammes . De Ma r ia had already suggested the idea 01 using artworks to activate an empty urban space in 1961 . Carl Andre

was beginni ng to question the notion 01 sculptural vertica lity by the middle 01 the decade . responding to the horizontality
•

01 the land. But what began as a lew scaltered expressions or plans lor working within the landscape began to coalesce
as the decade moved lorward. Morris and Smithson w ere both proposing projects in 1966 that involved 'earthwork '. In

1967 Heizer bega n to execute works in the Nevada desert - he and De Maria worked together in 1968 on De Maria 's Mile

Long Dra wing in Calilornia 's Mojave Desert. When Heizer created his seminal Nine Nevada Depressions in 1968-

commissioned by New York collector Robert Scull - he was joined by Smithson and his wile Nancy Hol! . Dennis
• -
Oppenheim moved Irom San Francisco to New York in 1966, having hung out with these artists at the lamous downtown

Manhaltan bar. Max 's Kansas City, he returned to the Bay Area to produce his Oakland Cut in 1967. The next year he exe-

cuted a series 01 snow projects in Maine , including Annual Rings, Time Pocket and One Hour Run.

l! was also in 1968 that the lirst 01 several important exhibitions dealing explicitly with earthworks was mounted at the

Dwan Gallery in New York . Alongside the Americans were artists such as Richard Long Irom England , Jan Dibbets Irom

the Netherlands and Germans Günther Uecker and Hans Haacke (who had been producing works incorporating and sited

within the land lor several years). They all participated in the 1969 show. 'Earth Art ', at the Andrew Dickson White Museum

at Cornell University in lthaca , New York, curated by Willoughby Sharp.

II the appearance 01 this work in the galleries and museums began to give shape to a 'movement' 01 sorts and to a

growing critical Iramework , it was still the work executed outside the exhibition spaces that drove the genre's progress .

The counter-culture project to dismantle existing socio-political authority necessarily implicated the authority 01 the art

world . 'lhe museums and collections are stuffed, the noors are sagging', wrote Michael Heizer, 'but the real space exists '.'

Leaving the gallery did imply a kind 01 anti-authoritarian gesture, a break with tradition. but not an unproblematic one .

Many 01 these artists were established ligures, represented by galleries. supported by patrons, with access to the

resources 01 the contemporary art world . Relocating an intricate conceptual programme into physical spaces traditionally

characterized by a kind 01 anti-intellectual work ethic. one that spurned high-toned debate in lavou r 01 vigorous labour. the

early earthworkers both continued the progression 01 long-established art historicallegacies and broke dramatically

Irom them .

Another important aspect 01 this thematic in post-war art was the increasing involvement 01 women artists and the

impact 01 Feminism. 'Beca use women's traditional arts have always been considered utilitarian '. Lucy R. Lippard argued in

a 1980 Art Journalessay on 'lhe Contribution 01 Feminism to the Art 01 the 1970s'. 'Ieminists are more willing than others

to accept the notion that art can be aesthetically and socially effective at the same time '.' And this entrance 01 utilitarian

ambitions into the sphere 01 contempora ry artistic practice linds many 01 its earliest and most prolound examples in work

involving th e natural world. A constellation 01 relate d vocabularies - among them perlormance , the critique 01 domestic-

PR EFACE
ity and work. and a synthetic yet interventionist stance toward social concerns in lorms as various as ecology. agriculture "
and waste treatment - were taken and consciously placed within the landscape. This environment -with all its historic and

mythic maternal identity - produced a brand 01 artma king tied to the social and cultural resonances 01 the land in a paral-

lel yet markedly different way than its male analogue .

lt is olten said that Land Art is - perhaps along with the bra wling days 01 Abstract Expressionism - the most macho 01

post-war art programmes. ln its l irst manilestations. the genre was one 01 diese l and dust. populated by hard-hat-m inded

men olinding their identities away Irom the comlorts 01 the cultural centre . digging holes and blasting cuts through cliff

sides. recasting the land with 'masculine ' disregard lor the longer term oYet il this is seen to be a visceral reaction to exist-

ing art world power structures . it must be remembered that its mythic qualities have to do at least in part with an appreci-

ation 01 the 'denial' implicit in the choice to leave a largely Iriendly and accommodating art world circuit behind . Yet. lor a

number 01 groups - especially women - such a distancing Irom power was hardly something that requ ired effort. Indeed.

the marg inalization 01 women that was intrinsic to the artworld may have . in lact. belter equipped them to lace the chal-

lenges and take advantage 01 the potential opportunities presented by the delinitive shilt away Irom the influence 01 insti-

tutional lorces. A loray outside the boundaries 01 the art world proper was no great liberating adventure lor most women

artists 01 the day - the margin was already their home.

Land Art represented an apotheosis 01 lormalism and the evolution 01 Minimalism . just as the leminist critique which

began to emerge in the late 19605 must be recognized as a primary lorce behind the decline 01 modern ist canons. As

Sandler notes . 'Postm inimalism was ushered in by a show called "Eccentric Abstraction ". curated by Lucy R. Lippard in

the la 11 01 1966. She decided to organ ize the show beca use the rigors 01 Minimalism . olwhich she had been an early cham-

pion . had made her aware olwhat was precluded . namely "any aberrations towards the exotic". She also recognized that

a sign ilicant number 01 artists "evolved a ... style that has a good deal in common with the primary [or mini mal] structure

as well as . surprisingly. with aspects 01 Surrealism o[These artists] reluse to eschew ... sensuous experience while they

also reluse to sacrilice the solid lormal basis demanded 01 the best in current non-objective art" [ ... l"
A number 01 lemale art ists were reconliguring the limits 01 Perlormance Art by establishing new modes 01 address lor

it. From Dada through Happenings and Aktion ism . up to contemporary pract itioners like Bruce Nauman . Vito Acconci and

Chris Burden . Performance Art is lundamentally anarchic. pointedly non-productive and ultimately pessimist ic in its

origins . Women artists such as Ana Mendieta or Mierle Laderman Ukeles. as well as notable male exceptions such as

Joseph Beuys . began to turn away Irom dead-ended behavourial critique and narcissistic tests 01 physio logy. toward prac-

tically effecting changes in the realms 01 cultural identity. community. co-operation and personal realization .

Because women 's work had always been regarded as existing apart Irom the kinds 01 momentous activities - wars.

conquest. exploration - that conventional readings 01 history placed at the lorelront 01 socia l evolution . it provided a pow-

erful basis lor a subversive new practice that would be at home outside structures 01 power. When women artists began

to query. contextualize and purposelully incorporate the potential and limitations 01 traditional lemale roles into their prac-

PREFACE
tice - rather than repudiate them as a kind 01 nostalgic. prosaicotheatrical clutler as Modernism would have had it - they

began to ch ange the very essence 01 art practice. Modernism deleated Classicism beca use it opened the door 01 the

academy to the vi brance 01 the everyday. Vet. even in its embrace 01 the quotidian . it too eschewed certain kinds 01 activity

as too banal. With its mythos 01 heroic creators and brave individualists. Modernism remained atlached to the notion that
•

artw ork might transcend the prosaicoBut in the work olthe women artists who turned their attentions to the land - Ukeles.

Betly Beaumont. Helen Mayer Harrison . Agnes Denes and others - it was precisely the everyday (washing . cleaning. gar-

dening. nurturing) that held the raw material lor artistic investigation . Dovetailing with a generalized reawakening 01 envi-

ronmental interest. linked to notions 01 caretaking conventionally associated with the leminine. the works 01 leading

lemale ligures in the avant-garde 01 the time proloundly altered the course 01 post-war cultural discourse and practice .
•
changing our expectations 01 what a work 01 art could be .

The variable . non-conventional kinds 01 projects that came to be produced in the landscape also challenged lormal

canons. As manipulations 01 three-dimensional materials in physical space . many 01 the lirst projects are sculptures. Vet.

executed and sited in a specilic location on which they depend lor their power. they have the ability to melt and spread

beyond the limits 01 their individual materiality. conlusing the traditional sculptural scheme in which the experience

begins and ends with the object.

With its growing emphasis on personal meditative gestures and integration with daily aspects 01 social interest. Land

Art evolved into one 01 the most egalitarian 01 post-war art movements . FormaUy. the works demonstrated what the mod-

ernist critic Michael Fried relerred to. lamously and pejoratively. as a kind 01 'theatricality' - that which 'lies between the

arts ·.' They also expanded into the contextual spaces between previously delimited boundaries 01 sociology. science .

history and art by conflating aU 01 them into a messy and Irequently exuberant express ion 01 'postmodernist' twentieth-

century lile .

Resituating the site 01 the aesthetic epiphany Irom the object to the beholder and the surroundings in which the object

was perceived - or generating an aesthetic experience without the object at aU - dramaticaUy alters the terrain 01 art-

making tradition . The opposition implicit in the early Land works - between the modernist ideal 01 traditional aesthetic

resources marshaUed within the privileged blank space 01 the gaUery and the conceptualist insistence on the contri bu-

tions to perception made by siting . temporality and material unconventionality- was one that sought to relocate the artist

and viewer Irom observer 01 nature to participant in il.

This participation went lar beyond simple issues 01 sensory appreciation . The rise 01 environmentalism . born in the US

with Thoreau and raised by Muir. came to a kind 01 proactive maturity in the 19605. Between Rachel Carson's ecological

caU to arms. Silent Spring. published in 1962 and the lirst Earth Daycelebration in 1970. environmental consciousness was

lorever changed . The development 01 Land Art in many ways mirrored the post-war evolution 01 eco-thoughl. The early

wilderness-colonizing efforts 01 the lirst generation American Land Artists actuaUy paralleled the ideas 01 conquest and

exploitation that characterized the industrial era . At the same time many artists experienced a nostalgia lor a pre-

PREfACE
industrial Eden , which precipitated, lirst. a critique 01 these con ditions and, ult im ately, a proactive sta nce in whlch the indi-
.,
vidual began to leel empowered to intervene in the problems that had been identilied, The great earthmovers who worked

to lorcibly rearrange the stuff 01 the natural world in an effort to mediate our sensory relationship with the landscape were

succeeded by art ists who sought to change our emotional and spiritual relationship with it. They, in turn , spawned a third

approach , that 01 the literally 'envi ronmenta l' artist. a practice which turned back to the terrain , but this time with an activ-

ity meant to remedy damage rather than poetici ze it.

The book is divided into three sect ions, a survey text which charts the most signilicant aesthetic and critical character-

istics 01 Land and Envi ronmenta l Art: a compilation 01 key works accompanied by extended captions : and documents

which encompass artists ' statements, key critical commentaries and essays Irom philosophicaL literary, scientilic or cul-

tural sources which provi de a broader context. The plates and the documents are themselves structured around a series

01 themes, Inception , Integration , Interruption , Involvement. Implementation, Imagining and Illumination , These themes

are not intended to provide comprehensive documentation 01 a particular style or movement withi n the overall gen re ,

Rather, they are des igned to sketch a tendency, an area 01 interest and pract ice, which in its art historicaL social or poetic

meaning lorms part 01 the larger picture 01 Land and Envi ronmental Art. This book is not in itsell designed to generate

new specilic criticism 01 Land and Envi ronmental Art. but rather to brin g together an array 01 observations , meditations,

explications and ca lis to action in a contextual orbit a round a strongly gravit at ional cultural body, It is in this interplay with in

a loose ed itorial Iramework, rather than in any explicit authorial inscription , wh ere readers will be able to build bridges

between wh at m ight seem distant locations in the socio-cultural landscape .

Our re lationsh ip with the land is complex oWe see stability in its mute permanence and flux in its unending variances.

We exploit and atlack nature , wrestling lrom it the things we need to survive. Yet we are also aware 01 its transcendent

imperturbability, its aw esome uncontrollable power, Making the home lor ourselves in nature that Bronow ski describes

is, wrote Wendell Berry, 'the lorever unlinished lilework 01 our species ." The only thing we have to preserve nature with

is culture: the only thing w e have to preserve wildness with is domest icity' .' Th is lundamental human predicament -like

our entire relationship to the environment and our legacy within it - is animated by prolound connections and insur-

mountable divisi ons . The best Land and Environmental Art highlights th is contradiction , probing the limits 01 artistic activ-

ity with the limitless tools 01 the artistic imagination .

1 Pmhlems ofCnIlOSm VI Th<! PoLla 01 An Pan ArTforum NewYal1<. 1969 Repnllted In Imn!} Sandler Arloftlle1't>slmodem Era From Iheule 6th lo rile úrl.y 1'1),;. leon NewYori<. 1996

3 He .... , 1M An 1)1 IotK:haeI He'ltr Anforvm New Yor1< Oecember 1969

¿ LIK)' R- upp.ard The CollltlbullOn 01 Fem'nlsm lo tI>t! Art olth 1970s Art .Joumal NewYork. fall W,nler 1980 Repnnled ,n Pmlr G/assSwan SelectedFemml5/ EssaysonArt Ne .... Press NewVorl<. 1995

5 Sandler op al
6 "'>eNel Fned Art and ObJecthood ArTIorvm New YerIL June 1967
7 WendE-U Berry Ho",e ECOI'IOmlCS NOflh Polnl s..n Fr.lnc\5C<> 1987 Repnnled ,n W,lhamCronon Th .. Truublewllh .. ss or. Gen,ng Bad 10 lile Wrung Nalure Uncommon Gro<.rnd Tow"rdRem.fonl"'9 Na/ure "el W ,am CronOIl WW

Norton&Co NewYorkandlondon 1995

PREFACE
•
 •
•

•
" In 1992, delegates from 179 nations came
together at the Earth Summit in Rio de
aneiro forthe United Nations' first-ever"
attem pt to develop a coherent i nterna-
tional policy on the environment. Ifinter-
•

national observers ofthis widely publicized

event watched with a m ixtu re of cautious
optimism and frank scepticism, such a
responsewas due in parttothe insanely
overambitious and fundamentally divisive
goals ofthe conference: to stem environ-
mental destruction while improvingthe
economic condition of all peoples. The
viewpoints ofthe various nations involved
were so diverse that consensus seemed
i m possi ble; fu rther, any poi icy generated
would likelywind up being disappointingly
centri st. 1

SURV(Y
 2'
•
To many, the Summit seemed like no more than a vast
p u bl i c -rel ation s effo rt with Iittle ho pe of cu rbi n g the true vi 1-
lains in a worsening global eco-cris is: the major industrial
and corporate polluters. This position w as only bolstered
bythe lavish promotional materials prod uced and dissemi-
nated at the Summit, which subsumed the ap pa rently
unattainable aims underthe upbeat catchphrase ' su stain-
able development', and offered endless , blithely opt im istic
images of one world united by a common goal .
While delegates to the con-
ference were debati ng vari-
ous geopolitical and spatial
remappings,outsidethe
"
•••
•
o

- •
••
meeting halls two very dif-
••
•o"•
ferent 'images ofecology' were being presented. Thefirst 2

gained considerable attention from a photo-op-starved

media that had descended on the otherwise sombre summit,
particularly since it inverted in spectacular fashion the rosy
emblem ofthe summit itself. From high atop Sugar Loaf
Mountain, the promontorythat dominates Rio ' s harbour,
G reen peace activi sts u nfu rled a ba n ner that featu red the
globe depicting solely the Southern Hemisphe re over-
stampedwiththewords 'Sold' and 'Vendido'. In a canny,
SURVEV
succ in ct way, the banner summarized one ofthe key debates ofthe conference: that
Northe rn nations with far greater econom ic power were exploiting the non-reneweable
resou rces ofimpoveris hed Sou thern nations. As environmental groups critical ofthe
co nference noted, the economic and political norm being promoted was based upon a
•

late-capitalist American-sty le model of development, with all its attendant notions of

wealth and progress. The crucial question was not so much how to manage the environ-
ment, but who would manage it.
One presu ma bly un i ntentional resu It ofthe Earth Su m m it was precisely th i s reorienta-
tion of antagonisms from the old East-West alignment ofthe Cold War to a new North-
•
South opposition . The Greenpeace banner also echoed a widespread post-colonial
rethinking of global mapping itself and its relation to the project ofdomination. The
year 1992 was, after all, the 500th anniversary ofColumbus' 'discovery' ofNorth America,
and many non-white intel le ctual s were seizing upon the occasion to challenge the

_ o
• -
.

·-, -.
- '" e
" -"
•

-: 3 ..,

·,>"
z

:l
• •o
o•
ti "'- --
• •
-o

•• "o o
• o
:o:: o::'
-"••
•o
Euro cen tr ism ofWes tern art and th ough t. As Latino artist Gu illermo Gómez-Peña said
at the ti me, 'Artists and writers throughout the continent are cu rrently i nvolved in a ...
redefi n it ion of our continenta l topography. We imagine either a map ofthe Americas
wi th out borders , a map turned upside down, or one in w hich ... borders are organically
drawn by geography, culture and i mmigration, not by the capricious fingers of economic
dom i nation'.3
Less visible but equally incisi ve was a work by US artist Mark Dion , created as a part of
'Arté Amazonas ', a contempo rary exhibition staged by the M useu de Arte Moderna in Rio
t o co in cide with the Earth Su mm it. For his installation A Meter ofJungle, Dion adopted
the guise ofthe expeditionary naturalist and literally remo ved a section ofthe jungle 1100r,
transporting itto the galleryfordissection and classi fication . This physical displacement
replicated the principal operation ofRo bert Smi th so n 's Non-sites, although in Dion ' s
case , the change in context from the original loca le to the museum was meant self-

SURVEY

• consciously to mimi( the i mperialistic basis of natural history
80th of these alternative approaches to the envi ronment-
that ofthe eco-3ctivist and the eco-artist - trace their erigi ns
to the agitatlons ofthe 19605, mast particularly to the long-
deprecated phenomenon known as Earth or Land Art, and
more generally to the fu ndamental reordering af critical and
representational practices conceived at that ti me. Both also
unite certain themes, crudely construed as 'politics' and 'art',
in a form of commu njcatíon that embraces both performance
and theory, aesthetics and activism. By locating the sources of
these strategies in political developments ofthe , 960s, one
can not only provide a historical point of origin, but also reveal
how both currents responded to a need to develop what
French urbanist Henri Lefebvre called a 'critique of everyday
jife' - a form of quotidien-based analysis that many would
-
o
- • Identify with the emergence of Postmodernism in the, 980s.
This historical recuperation is especially relevant in light
> ..
• •
·
•" >,
o
•
ofthe fact that many contemporary artlsts, like Dion, have
-
•
<
•"
recently found in the work of earlier Environmental Artists
unresolved dilemmas, abandoned practices and distorted
histories - in short, npe possibilities for creating an art prac-
tice that engages both materially and cfltically with the past.
To cite just a few recent examples: Renée Green's Partia/ly
Buried (1996) takes a multi-faceted look back at Smithson's
Portio/ly Buried Woodshed (1970); Christian Philipp M üller's
contribution to the 1997 Documenta examines the current
state of earlier site-speciflc works by Joseph Beuys and Walter
De Maria; and Peter Fend's Ocean Earth company now builds
earthworks origlnally designed by Dennis Oppenheim and
•
M ichael Heizer in the, 960s. Why this pronou nced contem-
•o
-
--
-
o
porary return to the prior examples ofland-based work?
The exercises of a few 'earth artists' in the deserts ofthe
western United States in the late '960s mayseem almost triv-
ial when compared to the grand, if unrealizable, ambitions of
the '992 Earth Summit. But sometimes scale, ratherthan
• 2J
size, changes the magnitude and i mportan ce ofthing s.
Robert Smithson once remarked , 'Lo ok cl osely at a crack in
the wall and it might as well be the Grand Can yon '. In the
same way, polítical or historical events sometimes gai n
prominence only through a change In optlC. Such is t he case
with Land Art, which, although flamboyantl y boo stered in the
heady, back-to-the earth , 960s, has s i nce large ly fa llen offt he
map of canonical art histories. Such delays and repres si on s in
the reception or history ofideas have thelr own mechan ism s;
sometimes it is necessary to uncover those earl ier moments,
not to establish so me false pedigree, but to reconnect w ith
and even celebrate what was previously overlooked .
The whole Land Art movement was, according to early
accounts, a scrappy and faddish set of pranks camed out by
a small group of self-described nature nuts. But in retrospect ,
it seems to have presaged - or at least participated in - the
abrupt shift from Modernism to Postmodernism, particularly
in the way that Postmodernism bracketed both 'nature'
and 'culture' as socially constructed or fktional ideas.
Postmodern ists see a thorough interpenetration of cul-
ture and nature, regarding both as discursive flelds not
fully apprehendable as 'fact'. The critical application of
this view suggests, in the words of primatologist Donna
Haraway, that 'Iove of nature could be part ofthe solution
rather than the imposition of colonial dominatíon and cul-
tural destruction'.
Earth wo rks
In October 1968, at the height ofthe Vietnam war, six months
after the student riots ofParis, and justweeks before the elec-
tion of Richard Nixon as President ofthe U nited States, artist
Robert Smithson organized an exhibition at Dwan Gallery in
New York titled simply 'Earthworks'. Included in the show
were large-scale outdoor works by fou rteen artists, mostly
young a nd little-known, but also including Herbert Bayer and
Claes Oldenburg. Al! ofthe works posed an explicit challenge
to conventional notions of exhibition and sales, in that they
were either too large or too unwieldy to be collected; most
were represented only by photographs, further emphasizi ng
their resistance to acquisition. Named after a dystopian sci-
ence-fiction novel by Brian W. Aldiss about a future 10 which
even soil has beco me a precious commod ity, the 'Earthworks '
show delivered a pointedly pessimistic comment on the cur-
rent state of America's environment and its future .
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 This perspective was congruent with the general political
atmosphere ofthe time, in which the ecological movement
was growlng rapidly. and political activism, particularly In
opposition to thewar in Vietnam, was regarded as vlrtually
mandatory among artists. Although not politlcalm any con·
ventional sense, the 'Earthworks' exh ibition was clearly oppo-
sltional in that it demonstrated an intentlon to move the con-
ception of art beyond the spatial confl nements of the studio
and the gallery.' In addition, the various works included in the
show all overturned stereotyplcal versions oflandscape and
its meaning; the contnbuting artlsts joi ned up, however awk-
wardly. with pioneering ecologis ts in turning attention to the
land and people's relationship to it.
like many polltlcal currents of the 1960s. the ecology
movement was a millennialist reaction to both the successes
and failures ofModernism. It was not simply a moral cam-
paign against the corporate depredation ofthe environment,
but also an anxious response to the globalization of electronic
- tional market expectations in the
and cultural technologies. Mass war, nuclear th reats, popula-
tíon explosions. repressive economies and polluted rivers all
suggested that the utopian promises of progress had failed.
From this followed what the geographer David Pepper calls
the 'ecocentric catechism': 'anti-materialism; love and
respect for the land; the land as one organlsm; the extension
of" natural righ ts " from humans to the rest of nature; the need
for an ecologlcal conscience rat her than mere agronomic
management; the plea to return to an outdoor hollstic science
of natural h IStOry '. Such views often tended to be translated
mto nationalistic versions ofthe pastoral based on such
cliched examples as John Constable's often reproduced
painting The Haywain (1821) or Eliot Porter's colour pho-
tographs of pristlne nature.
Agai nst thls iconography of ecology, the dlsplflted sense of
place echoed In the 'Earthworks ' was clearly dysfunctional. In
the centre ofthe exhlbition, and also beanng the title
Earthwork, was a small mound ofdirt, twenty-flve feet In dlam-
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eter, collected by Robert Morris and laced wi th steel rod s and
pipes, bands offelt, scraps ofwood and coils ofbarbed wire.
This work. typical ofMorris' anti-form installations, was a
kind of emblem, suggesting the provisional, anti-romantic
view of nature typical ofthe works in the show. Such appar·
ently casual spills and scatter pieces al so challenged the static
and fetishized character of modernist sculptu re, including the
rigid Gestalts ofMorris' own earlier minimal sculptures, as
well as idealized concepts oflandscape. Shortly after the
'Earthworks' exhibition, Morris wrote, ' What art now has in its
hands is mutable stuff which need not arrive at a point of
being flnalized with respect to time or space. The notion that
•
work is an irreversible process ending in a static icon-object
no longer has much relevance.'
An eq u a lIy stri ki n g as pect ofthe 'Ea rthworks' exh i bition
was that much ofit consisted solely of photographic docu-
mentation of works that were either permanently sited in dis-
tant locations or destroyed. This not only frustrated conven·
gallery, but established a strange .
o
sense of absence, even loss, and
posed a peculiarly disorienting
problem aboutwhat constituted
the ' real' work of art. As critic Craig
Owens later noted, the key shift
marked by these works was 'a rad-
ical dislocation ofthe notion of point-of-view, which is no
longer a function of physical position, but of mode (photo-
graphic, ci nematic, textual) of confrontation with the work of
art'. This dislocation was only amplifled by the bizarre nature
of many ofthe projects shown: a room fllled with earth and
mil e-long drawings in the desert by Walter De Maria; rings cut
into a wheat fleld by Denn is Oppenheim; a l ine ofwood blocks
placed in a forest by Carl Andre; and various trenches gouged
through forests and mud flats by Michael Heizer. Oldenb urg
showed whatwas perhaps the most unusual work: a hole in
Central Park that he had hired professional gravediggers to
dig and then flll in. (The work was represented i n the exhibi-
tion by photographs and a plastic bag full of dirt.)
J ust one month previous, Smithson, the acknowledged
polemicist for the budding Earth Art movement. had pub·
lished an essay titled 'A Sedimentatíon of th e M ind: Ea rt h
Projects '. which served as a kind of manifesto for the exhibi·
tion. In that meandering text, Smithson offered at least three
• propositions regarding the meaning and relevance of recent
Earth Art. First, he proposed the work as a challenge to for-
malist views of sculpture's 'proper' role recently pronounced
by critic M ichael Fried; Smlthson asserted that both studlo-
based art and the (oncept ofthe autonomous or ttmeless art
object that Fried so adamantly defended were essentially fin-
ished. Secondly, Smithson argued that des pite their apparent
5ubJect, earthworks had litde to do with conventional notions
oflandscape or nature. 'The desert' , he wrote, 'is less "nature"
than (oncept, a place that swallow5 up boundaries' ," Finally,
Smlthson claimed that 'the more compelling artists today are
concerned with "place" or "slte" '. By thls Smithson meant
not only specific overlooked locations, but also a conceptual
relation between viewers and boundaries, inside and outside,
centre and perlphery.
In hlS essay 'Art and Oblecthood' (1967)' Fried accurately
perceived that for the flagging modernist art movement of the
mid 1960s, the major artistlC problem was what to do with
sculpture.' How could its history
be rewntten, how could ItS domi·
nant terms be evaluated? This
crisis, whlch would contlnue to
haunt formalist critlcs for
decades, stemmed from the rigid
critlcal dlctums that had been laid
down In the previous decade by
the influential American critic Clement Greenberg. Best-
known for his strong defence of Abstract Expressionlsm in the
19405, Greenberg had, by the end ofthe 19505, developed a
very compelllng, though hlghly personal, theory of the logic of
Modern Art.
Greenberg's pn ncipal rule was this: 'The essence of
Modernism lees, as I see It, In the use ofthe characteristlc
methods of a discipline to criticize the discipline itself- not in
order to subvert It, but to entrench It more firmly in its area of
competence'. Thls view presupposed an allegiance to the
conventional aesthetic categories ofhigh Modernism - paint-
Ing, sculpture, drawing and architecture - and a commltment
to reinforcing the boundaries that separated them . Indeed,
the measure of quality In any particularwork of art was gauged
by the degree to which it criticized , defined and upheld that
mediu m and eliminated elements from other disciplines. In
painting, for example, the inherent qualities of the medium
(which Greenberg identified as colour, flatness , edge and
scale) formed both the ground for refined experimentatlon
and the basls for determinatlons of success. Thus, works like
Kenneth Noland's Targets (1958-62) and Chevro", (1962-65),
bold emblems of colour stalned onto unprimed canvas, were
considered exemplary modernist works. Characteristics con-
sidered extrinsic to the medium, particularly literary or theatri-
cal qualities such as narrattve, realism, description, subJect
matter or drama, were regarded by Greenberg as detrtmental
im p u rities. Thu s, he stated, 'Three-d imensional ity tS the
province of sculpture, and forthe sake ofits own autonomy
painting has had aboye all to dlvest itself of everythlng it
m Ight share with sculpture'.
For Greenberg and his followers (who included Fried,
Sidney Til lim and Rosalind Krauss), Modernism was con-
stantly bound to an almost tautologlcal and formally reduc-
tive system, based on rational principies but prohibiting traf-
fic wlth the 'real world'. Transgress ion or critique could take
place only with in the established terms of artistic creatíon.
Change was defined by stylistic or technical innovation, and it
followed that formal advancements would íncrease the
degree of visual pleasu re. Greenberg's Modernism excluded
a ny considera tio n of extra-a rt istic factors, expl ;citly denyi ng
that artworks were themselves bound by a web of connections
to specifk historical and social contexts. Jndeed, in the aes-
thetic economy of Modernism, the amount of pure pleasure
provided by a work of art was often measured by how effec-
tively that work separated itself from everyday time and space
to provide an imaginary oasis ofideal reflectíon.
In hls own text, Fried used Greenberg's critical model to
attack the dramatic installatlons of early Minimalism, which
he called 'Literalism '. In dis paragl ng the works ofOonald
J udd and Robert Morrís, Fried wrote, 'The concepts of quality
and value - and to the extent that these are central to art, to
the concept of art itself- are meaningful or wholly meaning-
fui, onlywithin the Individual arts. What líes between the arts
is thea tre'. Fried' s notion of theatrica Iity wa s typi fied by the
Invasion ofthe static art of sculpture by duratlon, temporality.
This created a dramattc situation In which mlnlmalist works-
unlike conventlonal modernist sculptures - were no longer to
be vlewed as autonomous, self-contained objects in an atem·
poral state of grace. Rather they referred directly to the archl-
tectural space of the gallery and to the viewer passing through
a nd pa rtic ipati ng in that space.
Greenberg himself summarized the stakes lO the debate
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when he stressed, 'The bo rd erline between art and non-a rt
had to be sought in the three-dimensional , where sc ulpture
was and where eve ryt hing material that was not art, also
was'. The questlo n involved In deba ting Fried's concept of
theatncality, then, was not si mply what constituted scu lptu re,
but wha t co nstitu ted art itself. As it turned out, m uch of the
groun dbrea kl ng work ofthe late 19505 and early 19605 was
chara cter ized prec isely by its 'theatricality' and its tendency to
operate between tradit ional catego ries. This is obvious in the
dance , performance, film and gallery-filling installat io n work
ofRobert Rauschenberg, Yvonne Rainer, Yayo i Kusama , Andy
Warhol, Fluxus and others. But a similar argument can be
made fo r the interdisciplinary aspects of other intellectual cur-
rents ofthe period that are generally considered in strictly
political terms . Thus, one m ight consider the 'theatrical'
aspects ofthe feminist critique of representation , the counter-
culture's revolt against autho rity, the situationist remapping
of urban spaces, the conceptual ists' attention to the institu-
tional frames of art, the
civil rights movement's
strategies to re-assert
culturalself-definition
and the critical reappro·
priation of popular cul-
ture in a wide range of
subculturalstyles.
The second part of5mithson 's argument addressed the
ways in which earthworks differed from conventional
app ro aches to landscape then being held up as a standard by
fo rma Iist crit ics Iike Creen berg. S m ith son a (¡ gned
e reenberg's view oflandscape with that of popular garden
magazi nes that favour' memory traces oft ranquil gardens as
"ideal nature" -jejune Edens that sugges t an idea ofbanal
"quality" '.'9 In a lengthy rev iewofthe 'Ea rthwork s' exhibition
in ArtJorum titled 'Earthworks and the New Pictu resque',
C reenbergian critic 5idney Tillim assailed what he perceived
as the prevai ling Romanticism ofthe Land Art movement. 'o
He complained that the new earthworks were simply an
•
updated form ofthe 'picturesque' - that is, landscape seen in
a pictorial way. Li ke Minimalism, he suggested , earthwork s
were useless artefacts that created a se tt ing more than a
space and, like the eighteenth-century picturesque, served
largely to define th e obse rver as a 'man oftaste '. Here, Tillim
accepted Fried's ce ntral idea : the fact that when the observe r
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is situa ted within the artwork's spatial para meter, the experi·
ence beco mes 'theat rical' . And, as ifto suggest that the Earth
Artists were somehow taking advantage of modernist art's
deb ilitated state, Tillim wrote that earthworks were, like Pop
Art , a 'precious primitivism seeking revitalization through
willful banality ... [that] arrive at a moment when Modernism
is at th e lowest ebb in its history'."
Tillim was not alone in considering Land Art a return to the
landscape traditio n, and other critics also began to assert his-
torical precedents for it in eighteenth-century aesthetic theo-
ries ofthe sublime and the picturesque as well as other
Mayan, Egyptian and Native American sources. But Land Art
had virtually nothing to do with such conventinnal notions of
landscape as gardening, open prairies , natural rock forma-
tions, or John Ford's Monument Valley. Nor were these works
rituallandforms in the sense ofthe Creat Serpent Mound in
Ohio or the Egypt ian pyramids. For the most part they were
im permanent anti-monu ments, formed with the aid of gravi ty
by the removal or addition of natural materials. Although
•
often vast in scale, they were in tended to be inclusive, partici- •
"
patory, even intimate. Quite unlike manifestations ofthe sub-
lime, as defined by Edmund Burke in the eighteenth century,
earthworks made no attempt to overwhelm or intimidate the
viewer. Burke suggested that the sublime, a mood prompted
by some overwhelmi ng or awe-inspiri ng natural feature,
would create in the viewer an unsettling fear or astonishment,
similar to what Sigmund Freud later called 'the uncanny'. In
Burke's catalogue of compa risons , sublime objects are vast
and painful , beautiful objects are small and produce pleasure
in the observer. (ontrasting the open prairiewith the expanse
of ocean, fo r instance, Burke proclaimed that the ocean was
infinite ly greater because, as he said , 'the ocean is an object of
no small terror ... [and] terror is in all case s whatsoever, either
more openly or lately, the ruling principie ofthe sublime'."
Beauty, on the other hand, evokes feel ings oflove and compla-
cency, according to Burke.
A generation after Burke, English philosopher Uvedale
Prtce proposed the picturesque as more than simply a middle
ground between beauty and sublim ity, albeit one with a 'more
general infl uence'. Rather, he fel t that both beauty and the
s ublime were weighted down by an extrem is m that produced
un iformity and stasis ('that general equal gloom which is
sp read over all nature before a storm'); the picturesque, he
said, requires greater variety. 'J As an example, Price offered
• this argument (quoted appro'Jlngly by Smithson in his 1973
essay 'Frederick Law Olmsted and the Dialectical
Landscape'):
'The side ofa smooth green hill, tom byJ1oods, may at first very
properly be called dejormed: and on the sarne principie, though
no! with the same impression, as a gash on an animal. When a
rawness ofsuch a gash in the ground;5 softened, and in part con·
cealed and ornamented by the effects oftime, and the progress of
vegetation, deformity, by this usual process, is converted into pie-
turesqueness; and this is the case with quarries, gravel pits, etc.,
which at first are deformities, and which in the;r mast picturesque
5tote, are afien comidered as such by a leveling improver. '..
The picturesque, Price claimed, 'by its variety, its intricacy, its
partial concealments ... excites that active curiosity which
gives playto the mind, loosening those iron bonds with which
astonishment chains up its faculties'." In otherwords, Price
accepted the ongoing changes and disasters of nature and
attempted to develop a more practical and pragmatic view of
the landscape, based on actual experience and realland rather
than the brooding visions ofidealists like Burke. Price's idea
ofthe picturesque, as Smithson recognized, was based on
'chance and change in the material order of nature': Thus,
Smlthson concluded, 'Price seems to have accepted a side of
nature that the "formalists" ofhis times would rather have
excluded'."
Smithson saw Prlce's theories in light ofhis own notion of
the dialectlcallandscape as 'a process of ongoing relation·
ships existing in a physical region'. Then, speaking of
Olmsted (but obviously referring to contemporary debates
about Earth Art), he added, 'Dialectics of this type are a way of
seelng thlngs in a manifold of relatlons, not as isolated
objects. Nature for the dialectiClan is indifferent to any formal
idea l'. Sm Ith son' s notion of the di a lectical la nd sca pe pre-
L ping - that might be called 'spatial practices'.
supposes the idea that the landscape is a culturally con·
structed entity. Not only is the landscape bounded by a politi-
cal culture - either developed or al/owed to remain wilderness
- but it is invented in advance in the form of representations,
including maps, photographs, engineering plans, etc. For
Smithson, those representations were not the end product
but the beginning of a long line of corruption and devolution,
developments that he saw as exciting and generative. In fact,
in his series of'site selections' of 1967, he once designated
the unfinished pilings of a dam as 'an abstract work of art that
vanishes as it develops'.
Thus, when Smlthson made his third daim, that the more
compelling artists ofhis day were concerned with 'place' or
'site', he was invoking an altogether new concept ofthese
terms. The spots that Smithson preferred were artificial, mar-
glnalized or downright banal. The type oflandscape he sought
was embodied in fellow sculptor Tony Smith's famous
description of a night drive on an abandoned hlghway:
'This drive was a revealing experience. The road and much ofthe
landscape was artificial, and yet it couldn 't be called a work ofarto
On the other hand, it did somethingfor me that art had never
done. {Its] effect was to liberate me from many ofthe views I had
about arto It seemed that there had been a reality there which had
not had any expression ;n arto The experience ofthe road was
something mapped out but not socially recognized. I thought to
myself, it ought to be clear that's the end ofarto Most paintings
looks pretty pictorial afier that. There;s no way you can frame it,
you just halle to experience it'.
Although many critics were struck by Smlth's visionary
words (including Michael Fried, who used Smith's quotation
as the starting point for his argument about the theatricality of
minimalist sculpture), Smithson saw in this description an
echo ofhis own fascination for useless spaces and for the
meanings to be found in a landscape that was understood to
be geographically, historically and socially situated. As
Smlthson wrote In the 'Sedimentation' essay, 'A bleached and
fractured world surrounds the artist. To organize this mess of
corrosion into patterns, grids and subdivisions is an aesthetic
process that has scarcely been touched'. · What Smithson
meant by'earthworks', then, was both pre-existing sites on
the land and artistic interventions that marked, traversed,
constructed or demarcated territory. In other words, both
operations involved actions or processes - pointing or map-
A Rad ica l Dislocation
Although conventional art histories chart the sudden emer-
gence ofLand Art in 1968 as a sort offootnote to the triumph
of Minimalism, a more quantifiable and gallery·bound move-
ment, it is more useful to see it as part of a wider practice of
spatia! concerns, what Owens calls 'a rad¡cal dislocation of
art'. This involved not only the physical dematerialization of
the art object (as described by much Conceptual Art, In which
a rtworks were often reduced to propositions or ideas involv-
¡ng no material form) but also various conceptual proJects
SU RV EY
• based on geogra phical o r econom ic decentri ng (often i ncl ud -
Ing a shlft in t he co nventional relatlon between centre and
per; ph ery). These included certaln manifestations of
Happeni ng s, Fluxus , Conceptual Art and Situationism that
were m os tly urban oriented and were concerned with patterns
ofeveryday life as well as the social organizatían of space.
Early conceptual examples of such spatial practices
i nclude Yoko Ono's Map Pieces (1962- 64), one ofwhich
Instructed participants to 'Draw a map to get lost'; Stanley
Brouwn 's This Way Brouwn (1961-62), in which passers-by in
Amsterdam were asked to draw maps to various locat ions;
Douglas Huebler's Variable Piece #1 (1968), a 'si te scul pt ure'
in which four corners of a square were mapped randomly in
various vertical and horizontal directions by placing pieces of
tape on elevators, cars and tr ucks, and permanent
H uebler later described the sorts of soci al processes he
meant to set in motion, '1 always felt tha t th eworkwas meant
to launch the person viewing ¡nto a "real-life" experience ... 1
took a road map [andJ 1 just drew random trips with a magic
marker as on an AAA map, and 1 wrote on those things and
gave a numberofthem out '.
Such projects enacted what geographer Edward Soja
refers to as a 'spatialization ofcultural politics', a radical
rethinking ofthe inte rsections between social relations , space
and the body. This rethinking , he claims, can lead to a kind of
in-between or third space, a 'Iived space of radical openness
and unlimited scope, where all histories and geographies, all
times and places, are immanently presented and represented ,
a strateglc space of power and domination, empowerment
and resistance'. Soja cites, in particular, French sociologist
•
Michel de Certeau's notion of'spatial practices' to describe
thewaya physl cal place is embodied through social actions,
such as people's movements through it. Against the totaliz-
Ing s pace ofth e grid orthe government survey, de Certeau
sees a whole rhetoric of pathways, such as those proposed by
Conceptual Art is ts, s preading out like a 'story jerry-built out of
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elements taken from common sayings, an allusive fragmen-
tary storywhose gaps mesh with the social practices it sym-
bolizes'.37
While de Certeau 's examples are based on urban street
cultu re , the pract ice and its analysis allow one to recognize in
the work of 1960s Conceptual Artists 'the forms
taken by the dispersed, tactical and makeshift creativity of
groups or individuals already caught in the nets of"disci-
pi ine'" .¡8 Fu rther cla ri fyi ng the ways such socia I spaces a re
activated , art historian Rosalyn Deutsche distinguishes
between two key factors: difference and use. She notes,
'Different iation from other sites, rather than intrinsic charac-
teristic, endows social spaces with dístinct identities and
values. 1n addition, members of particular social groups
perceive and use these spaces: they visit them regularly,
ca rry on in terrelat ions there , and interpret reality in their
cul tural settings.' J9 .
"
These social activations of spatial conditions were crucial
to the first generatíon ofLand
Artists whose works often
addressed the specific histories
and social uses oftheirenviron-
mental context even as they trans-
formed that space. Frequently the
works addressed the history and
J representation of nature, the pat-
terns and process of growth ordecay, as well as thecomplex
historical and social iss ues perta ini ng to the site's ecology. A -,•
o
cent ral idea was that of nature as defined and shaped byculture Q
or, more specifically, the hi story and phenomenology of man's
inha bitat ion ofth e landscape - what geographe r John
Brincke rhoff Jackson calls the 'vernacular landscape' and iden-
tifies with 'local custo m, pragmat ic adaptatíon tocircum-
5 ta n ces a nd un pred icta ble mobil ity'.·c
1fthese terms seem a far cry from the monumental earth-
works for which the Land Arti sts are best known, that is in part
because the docu mentatíon of these works has focused atten-
tion on their sc ulptural forms and denected it away from their
spatial settings and socia l interconnections. Viewers of pho-
tographs ofthe d is tant desert earthworks by Smithson,
He izer or De Maria were often struck by the isolation and
barren charac ter ofthe landscape and tended to see the works
aslarge-scale ve rsio ns of minimal sculptures. Bu t such aes-
thetic descriptions failed to acknowledge the complex rela-

• tionships between the earthworks and the soc ial and biologi.
cal context ofthe deserto As (dtie El izabeth Baker noted after
visiting several ofthe earthworks, ' jThere is an] unexpected
sense one gets oftheir connectlon with ordinary, everyday life
... Irequ iring] encounters at every level of society, with federa l
and state land offic ials through local industrial ists , ranch
owners and bankers to suppliers of all kinds , technicians
workmen and even watchmen ' .
Helzer, as the son of a noted archaeologist and authority
on Native American tr ibes , was fam iliar with the d iff
dwellings , rock drawings and other archaeolog ical features ,
as well as the various ethn ic cultures that thrived in the
American Southwest. Sm ithson was also acutely aware of the
historyof specifk s ites and sought to incorporate both
anClent myths and present-day banallt ies into the work . In
part beca use He lzer and 5m ithson were interested in the
anthropologlCal and archaeolog lca l testimon Ies of the land ,
theywere 'not involved wlth landscape In any plctorial sense
•
--
---- -.
" energy (decomposing , ster iliz-
" •
·- -
-
•
<
v
<
v
•
... their spaces tend to be rather neutral , although veryvast '.4
•
Yet, as film theonst Jane Tomk ins notes , even th ls apparently
neutral desert has a mean ing , 'The blankness ofthe plain
serves a pol it lcal funct ion that remains below the level of con-
SClousness. It Impl ies -without ever statlng - that th is is a
field where a certain kind of master¡ is poss ible , where a
person can rema ln completely autonomous , alone and in
control ofhimself, wh ile controlling the external world
through brute force and sheer force ofwill ' .·J
When Michael Heizer made his first earthworks in 1967 he
was a twenty-three-year old pa inter living in New York and
apparently searching for just this sort of master¡. His early
Land Art projects were temporary 'drawings ' or trenches
made on rented land in the desert.ln one case he hlfed pro-
fessional motorcycle racers to create vast designs on the
desert surface by riding in circles. For anotherwork, Heizer
dug short trenches in a pattern determined by dropping
matches onto a piece of paper." By the time ofthe
•
' Earthworks ' sh ow in 1968, Hei ze r had alread y created at least "
ten temporary land wo rks in th e weste rn US dese rt . including
Isofoted Ma ss, Circurnfle x (1968), m ade wi t h the assistance of
Robert Sm ithson and on e o f Nine Nevada Depressions (1968) I
a senes o f craters funded by ca llecto r Robert 5cull that
stretched 520 m il es across t he Neva d a de serto
Desp ite the apparent li tera li zat ion of the d ra wing practlCe
onto a mass ive sca le , Heizer's wo rkwa s both subtle and com-
plex. For one thing , he accepted the tempo ra ry na ture ofthe
work , and even took pleasure In pub ll sh ing p hotogra p hs of
the deterloratlon of pieces years after they were m ad e . He also
focused on negat ive space both withlO and beyon d the act ua l
work. Along wlth 5m ithson , Oppenhe im and De Maria ,
Heizerwas involved in a who le host o f pract lces des igned to
break down the obJect , indud ing negat ion (cuts , hol es ,
removals); durat ion (s pace as a factor of tl me); deca y
(decompos it lon of organic and inorgan lc mater ia ls); rep lace-
ment (transfer of materials from one context to another); d is-
persion (patterns produced by
gravity in the form of sp il ls ,
pours , sl ides , etc ); growth (seed-
ing , harvesting) ; mark lng (tem-
porary random patterns on
public surfaces ); and transfer of
J
ing) .
Heizer' s most noted work, Double Negative (1969-70) ,
created for his 1969 show at Dwan Galler¡, Is a monument to
displacement. Heizer said , 'The t itle Double Negative is
impossible. There is noth ing there , yet it is st ill a sculpture' .4\
He izer had a team ofbulldozers cut two mass ive s lop lng
trenches fifty feet (15 m) deep on elther side of a narrow
canyon on the edge ofVirg in River Mesa , near O verton ,
Nevada. This created an imag inar¡ line th i rteen metres wide
and 457 metres long , bridg ing the chasm and d lsplac ing o ver
244 ,800 tonnes of sandstone and rhyol ite . He izer 's dea ler,
Virginia Dwan , funded the work , wh ich cost approx imate ly
510,000 (and she later donated it to the Lo s Ange le s Museum
of Contemporary Art).
Heizer's exhibltion at Dwan , a series of pan o ram ic ph o -
tographs from ins ide the trench , was co ntrovers ia l in tha t it
symbolized for many critics the dangers o f such mo numen ta l
projects. One crit ic argued that it on ly succee ded In 'marrin g
the very land , wh ich is what we have just learned t o stop
SURVEY
'" doing' 4
ó
Heizer himsel flater claimed that he 'sta rted making
this stuffin the middle ofthe VIetnam war. It looked like the
world was coming to an end, at least for me. That's why I went
out in the desert and started making things in dirt.' ·) But
Heizer, like many artists working outside gallery spaces in the
19605, was al50 intent on making a polítical statement about
art-world economics. In an interv iew with the editors of
Allalanche magazine he said, 'One aspect of earth orien tat ían
is that the works ei rcumvent the galleries and the arti5t has no
sense ofthe commercial or the utilitarian o" One ofthe impli-
cations ofEarth Art might be to remove completely the co m-
modity status of a work of art' , 48
IfHeizer's 'drawings' in the desert seemed immaterial yet
meaningful, those made by Walter De Maria we re even more
charged. De Maria had traveled west wi th Heizer in Apr il1968
to make severallarge works in the desert. One ofthese was
Mile Long Orawing (1968), which consisted simply oftwo
mile-Iong chalk lines in the Mojave Desert in California.
"")"'"1'''''
'P1 ' " . _. ,
l __ - - - - -. ....--
•
Photographs show the artist standing or Iying down between
the lines. And a visitor to one ofDe Maria's late r works, Las
Vegas Piece (1969), reported that itwas importan t to walk the
four miles ofthe work to gain 'an experience of a specific
place, random apprehension of surrou ndings, and an intensi-
fied sense of selfthat seem to transcend visual apprehension
But like many early earthworks, Las Vegas Piece is
seen most clearly from the airo
The political difference in meaning between the view from
aboye and the view from below has been greatly debated.
The view from aboye, it is argued, constitutes a totalizing,
panoptic gaze, a sen se oflooking at someth ing, while the view
from ground level suggests participation and community, the
phenomenological effect of walking through space. When
Robert Morris visited Peru to see the famous Nazca Lines,
massive effigles scribed into the desert surface by the Pre-
Columblan Nazca tri be, he said, 'Everyone I spoke to in Peru
advlsed me to ... see the lines from the air ... Aerial photogra-
SURVEY
phy return s us to our expected viewpoint. Looking down, the
earth becomes a wall at 90 0 to ou r vis ion' . 1' In the la te 1960s,
however, Americans had one association with aerial pho-
tographs: views ofthe earth taken from the Mercury and
Gemini sp acecraft (and often published in colour in Lije mag-
azine). That these same images ofthe earth from abóve had
the salu tary effect of re inforcing an ecologically friendly image
ofthe planet was not overlooked. Satellite photography also
di splaced Cold War aerial images of missil e emplacements
with more benign viewof weather formations. For his pa rt, De
Maria proposed a Three Continent Piece to be generated by
sate llite: three s uperi mposed images of massive earthworks
•
in India,Australia and North America.
Th is sense of geopolítical boundaries and border cross-
ings was central to the th in king of many ofthe early Land
Art ists, though th ei rworks had little to do with overt consider-
ations of nationalism, identity or displacement. Dennis
Oppenheim's Annuaf Rings (1968), for instance, used the US-
Canadian border as a med ian line for the
schematic inscriptio n of annual tree rings in the
snowY In that case the border, an indistinguish-
.-
-
0
o
_
able feature on the land , served as a conceptual
,
o o
<o <"
element in an arbitrary and abstract design and
lent the work a d is tinctly polit ical resonance. At a
-
o
<
•
ti me when you ng American draftees were rou- "- -.
o
•
tinely slipping across the border into Canada to .-
o <•
o
C o
¡
avoid serving in Vietnam, the annual growth rings suddenly -
>
connoted youthful age and potent ial destruction .
The sen se of socially defined place that Oppenheim was
exploring in his va ri ous Canadian border pieces of 1968 had
been suggested earlier in a project he called Site Markers.
These we re simply stakes which the art ist drove ¡n to the
ground at various locatio ns to des ig nate or 'claim si tes' .
Oppenheim later said, '[ In my si te markers of 1967] the notion
oft ra vel was coupled with a se nse of place. Place kind oftook
the place ofthe object ... My si mple act ofissuing a stake and
taking up a photograph oft he piece and claimi ng, poi nting
outwhere it was the map and describi ng it on the documen t
was sufficien t ... The need to repl ica te, du pl ica te or manipu-
late form was no longer an issu e. ' Sl
Smi th son himself, in describing the genesis ofhis own
Non-sites, says so mething quite similar, ' 1began to question
very se riously the whole notion ofGestalt, the thing in itself,
specific objects. I began to see the world in a more relational
 • way. In otherwords, I had to question where the works were,
what theywere about o •• So it beca me a preoccupation with
place'. '" Smithson's Non-sltes were presented as crib-like
minimalist contatners af painted or galvanised steel that con-
tained r3W material- rocks, gravel, salt - salvaged from dis-
tant mines, excavations or quarries. Crucial to these Non-
sites were the maps that were exhibited with the more sculp-
tural containers, si nce the maps both directed the viewer to
the originalsite and established the 'dialectic' between site
and non-site. Th is relational aspect, this in-betweeness, not
only destablized the 51te itselfbut al50 foregrou nded the
whole (oncept of process or performance. The passage
between the two locations, even if simply implied, threw new
emphasis on time , duration, physical participation and a
whole range of spatial practices.
AS lde from the formal paradigms elicited by the sitej Non·
- slte, the conceptual and spatial issues are as crucial to the the-
oretical consideratlon of contemporary
art as Marcel Duchamp's notion ofthe
z·
readymade. like the readymade, the key
to the Non-site is the concept of dls-
-,•
u
placement,how the meanlng of an
"•<
obJed 15 changed by removal to another
site. But unlike the readymade, the Non-
•• site reta tns a connectlon to ItS original
site (through the negative impression it
leaves as well as the documentatlon that accompanies It),
thereby settlng up a dialogue about context, removal and
recomblnatlon that echoes the very terms ofthe collectlng or
archiving proJect that underlies the museum Itself. As
Smlthson noted in his own comparison of slte and Non-site, a
site is about scattered Informatlon ('The slte is a place you can
vistt and it tnvolves travel as an aspect too '), a Non-site tS
about contained information, 'Instead of putting somethl ng
on the landscape, I decided it would be interesting to transfer
the land indoors, to the Non-site, which is an abstract con-
tainer' .
For Smithson the great issue was studying conditions of
cultural confi nement, for which the Non·s ite was a metaphor.
But at the same time, his view of'sites' or specific locations
was expans ive, even kaleidoscopic. Smithson's Spira/jetty
(1970) is probably the best·known ofthe earthworks in part
beca use ofits stark min im al ist form but also because ofits
complex appeal to the imaginary projections ofthe land itself.
In Smlthson's own descriptlon ofthe work, and his process of
creatmg it, the matenalist base ofthe land blends with the fan·
tasmatic read ings ofthe site:
'This site was a rotary that enclosed itselfin an immense round·
ness. From that gyrating spaee emerged the possibility ofthe
Spiral Jetty. No ideas, no eoneepts, no systems, no structures, no
abstractions eould hold themselves together in the actuality of
that evidenee. My dia/ecties ofs/te and Non·site whlrled mto an
indeterminate state, where salid and liquid lost themselves in
eaeh other. It was as ifthe mainland oscillated with waves and
pulsations, and the lake remained roek still. The shore ofthe lake
beeame the edge ofthe sun, a boi/ing curve, an explosion rising
into a fiery prominenee. Mattereollapsing into the lake mirrored
the shape ofthe spiral. No seme wondering about classifieatlon
and eategories, there were none. '
The sen se of not o nly desol a tio n a nd decay but ofcolla ps ing ca t-
egories perfectlyencapsulated Smithson's senseof space and
time.
To crea te the work itwas necessary to plot and move over
6,500 tonnes of material, which was sha ped to form a spiral or
coil·shaped jetty 1.500 reet (450 m) long. duplicatl ng the
length ofHeize r's Imaginary line but curling it into a multidi-
menslonal work. Smithson drew on mythology, biology, geol-
ogy and history of the region, an area ofthe Creat Salt lake
not far from Promontory Point where the continental rail-
roads met and the Golde n Spike was driven. Jn his essayon
the work, Sm ithson notes how the landsca pe was ravaged by
prospectors, mtners and oil drillers, all trying to extract some-
thlng ofvalue from the site.ln describing some of the ir dilapi-
dated shacks near the site of SpiralJetty, Smithson wrote, 'A
great pleasure arose from seeing al! those incoherent struc-
tures. This site gave evidence of a succession of man·made
systems mired in abandoned hopes."
Smllhson's desire to revive or make useful what was once
abandoned revealed both his allegorical penchant for ruins
and his attraction to entropy, the tendency of all things to tend
towards disintegration. The spectacular culmination ofthese
interests was his Part'-ally Buried Woodshed (1 970), a
metaphortcal antl-monument constructed on the campus of
Kent State University. Earth was piled on the roof of an aban-
doned woodshed until its ma in roofbeam cracked, and
Smithson stipulated that the work should be allowed to dete-
riorate naturally, the decay being part ofthe work (after several
acts of vandalism, school authorities ordered the work razed
SURYEY
12 in 1984) The wo rk acqul red addltlonal meanlng four months
after it5 creation when four student protesters were ki!led by
National Guardsmen on the Kent State campus in May 1970.
When someon e spraypainted 'May 4 Kent 70' on the side of
Smithson's earthwork, ¡t beca me an Inadvertent memorial to
that event. Smithson later accepted that added meaning and
even made an anti-war poster Incorporating an Image of this
work for the Collage oflndignation.
Earthworks rarely engaged so directly wlth polítlcal mat-
ters , though. As Smithson said, 'The artist does not have to
WII! a response to the deepening polítical crisis in America.
$ooner or later the artist 15 impllcated and/or devoured by
politlcs without even trying. ,- Smithson may have been refer-
ring to the patterns of activism then preoccupying much of
the United States and the world: student stnkes and campus
takeovers to protest the war in Vietnam, urban riots to protest
racial inequ ality, non-vlolent marches to highlight poverty and
unemployment, factory shutdowns to fight for fair worklng
conditions, site occupations to
inhibit destruction of the land.
M any artist collectives were, as
Smithson suggests, devoured by
pol itics, particula rly imperialism
and the bourgeois institutions
including museums that sup-
ported it. While Fluxus artists
tried to circu mvent the commercial art context by creating an
alternate visual culture based on Eastern notions of chance
and Dadaistic opposition, the Artworkers Coal itlon and the
Guerrilla Art Act ion G roup flagrantly challenged the unspoken
political attitudes of museums by stagl ng activist demonstra-
tions insid e the museums themselves, in one case spilling
vials ofblood on the floor ofThe M useum ofModern Art in
New York to protest against the war in Vietnam .
However, artists themselves were sometlmes the object of
protests and the poHtlcs ofthe growing envi ron mental aware-
ness often posed a more dlrect conflict with projects on the
land. Smithson's proposal for Is/and ofBroken G/as'l (1970),
near Vancouver, caused a major ecologlcal controversy when
opponents clalmed that the two tons of glass shards to be
dropped on a rock outcropping would harm nesting blrds and
seals; ultimately, the project was halted by the Canadian
Society for Pollution and Environmental Control. And inci-
dents like this, as well as the masslve earth moving Involved in
SUR .... e:V
operations like Heizer's Doub/e Negatille, made many viewe rs
in the early 19705 regard earthworks as environmentally
destructive. As one critic argued, 'Earth Art, with very few
exceptions, not only doesn't improve upon the natural envi-
ronment, it destroys it'.
Smithson , forone, was sensitive to such criticism since he
had earliertried to revitalize the landscape itself and to direct
the attention of observers to its spatíal, historical, geological
and cultural dimensions. He often spoke of Spira/Jetty as an
ecological work of reclamatíon, and he envisioned a wide-
spread movement to i nvolve artists in the reclamation and
improvement of devastated industrial sites. 'Across the coun-
try there are many mining areas, disüsed quarries and pol-
luted lakes and rivers', he wrote. 'One practical solution for
the utilization of such devastated places would be land and
water re-cycling in terms of"Earth Art" ... Art can beco me a
resource that mediates between the ecologist and the indus-
trialist. Ecology and industry are not one-way streets, rather
they should be crossroads. Art can help to provide the needed
•
<
dialectic between them. A lesson can be learned from the
Indian cliff dwelling and earthworks mounds. Here we see
nature and necessity in consort.'
Towards the end ofhis life, Smithson sent packets to
dozens of mining companies proposing various unsolicited
solutions for the reclamation of strip-mining pits and for the
disposal oftaílings (the waste minerals left after the ore has
been extracted) . 'The artist must come out ofthe isolation of
"•
•
galleries and museums and provide a concrete conscious- •"
o
ness for the present as it really exists , and not simply present
abstractions or utopias. The artist must accept and enter into
all ofthe real problems that confront the ecologist and indus-
trialist', Smlthson wrote in a 1972 proposal for the reuse of a
strip-minlng pit near Ohio State U niversity campus. 'Art
should not be considered as merely a luxury, but should work
within the processes of actual production and reclamation.
We should begin to develop an art education based on rela-
tionships to specific sites. Howwe 'lee things and places is not
a secondary concern, but primary.' "' Smithson 's ambitious
plans for the reclamation of a three-mile-wide mining pit
worked by the Kennecott Copper Corporation near Bingham,
Utah, and a massivetailing pond forwaste generated by the
M ine rals Engineering Company in Creede, Colorado. were cut
short by his untimely death in aplane crash in June 1973. After
Smithson's death, his widow, Nancy Holt, continued to
 pursue the project for the Creed e site, saying, "see it as (une-
•
tional or necessary aesthetics, not art cut offfrom soclety, but
rather an integral part ofit',
Necessary Aesthet ics
These twin ideas - necessary aesthetics and an art that was
integral to society - became the hallmarks of much subse-
quent work on the land and in the tradition ofthe early Earth
Artists.
So me ofthe contravers ies generated by the massive earth-
works ofSmithson and Heizer were addressed in quite differ-
ent forms of ecological art by artists who focused on such nato
ural (orces as light, energy, growth and gravity. In these works,
the natural sites or (orces were left uninterrupted or unim-
peded; there was no earth moving, there were no scars on the
land. For the 'Earth Art' show at Cornell University in '969, for
instance, Hans Haacke exhib ited a small mound of soillaced
with grass seed; the work was titled simply Grass Grows. Other
early works by
Haacke involved
• even less interven-
tion, and were often
focused on spatial
determinates as
mapped by random
<
-•
<
or natural motions .
Some ofthese works , such as the self-describi ng Ten Turtles
Set Free (1970) and Spray oflthaca Falls, Freezing and Melting
on o Rape (1969), involved only observations of natural
processes and echoed an early manifesto in which Haacke
had written, 'make something which experiences, reacts to its
environment, changes, is nonstable ... make something sen-
si tive to light and temperature changes, that is subject to air
currents and depends , in its functioning, on the forces of grav-
ity ... articulate something natural'. 6.
In a similar vein, New York artist Alan Sonfist sought to
articulate something natural and to crea te a more harmo-
nious and ecologically responsible form of Land Art based on
a particular type of spatial and historical intervention. H is
Time LandscapeTM (196s-present) was a massive project
intended to convert anonymous urban si tes throughout the
five boroughs of New York City into reconst ruction ofthe sev·
enteen th-century, pre-coloniallandscape. Implicit in this pro-
pos al was the juxta position of natural and urban, contempo·
3J
rary and an d ent, and develo ped and -a uthent ie, d ls tinetions
that were them selves hlghly debatable. The mo st visi bl e sec-
tlon ofSonfist's projeet, at the corne r ofLa Gua rdia Place and
Houston Street, just north ofS o Ho, too k ten years of researeh
and negotiations with the ei ty. But ultimately hewas able to
restore the damaged sod, replant na ti ve vegetation and recon-
struet the onginal elevation s. Altho ug h visi ble o n four sides
through a tall fence , th is permanent, eig ht -th ousand square-
foot installation has a metaph oriea l impa et an d a moralizing
intent that makes its fu nctlon far d iffere nt from other Clty
parks.
For so me erities, however, Sonfist' s attempt to rec rea te a
' primitive wilderness' was misgu ided prec ise ly beeause it
eehoed the preservationist strain of 1960 s eeol ogleal th ou ght.
In this view, certain areas ofwilderness should be protected as
parks or preserves and should be returned, as mueh as pos si·
ble, to their natural state. In the famous Leopold Commlttee
report on the national parks in the United States in 1963 the
government-appointed committee wrote, 'As a pnmary goal
we would reeommend that the biotie assoeiations within each
park be maintained, orwhere necessary recreated , as nearly
as possible in the eondition that prevailed when the area was
fi rst visited by the white man. A national park should repre-
sent a vignette of primitive Ameriea. '6\ But sueh measures
si mply disguise the actual problems of modern-day environ-
mentalism by fixing an image ofthe landseape frozen in the
past, privileging one moment in ecological history over all
others, and precluding more complex interaetions with vari-
ous inhabitants, native or other. Crities have raised other
questions about the symbolic and utditarian values of such a
living monument. At a panel diseussion in '978, for instance,
a participant challenged the effícacy ofSonfist's blocklong
forest in stemming pollution. Sonfist replied , 'Everyone here
has thei r own responsibility to their environment. Everyone
here has a certain role. l' m not trying to say thateveryone
should go out and deal with pollution. I think the issue is to
create a more heightened awareness of ou r eircumstanees,
whether they be politieal, or social. The forest is one of many
answers.'''
Sinee '970, at least, the symbolie eonsolidation ofthe
envi ron mental movement around the annual celebratíon of
Earth Day had suggested that Sonfist's political metaph o r -
one forest among many - was an apt one. Robert
Rausehenberg's famous Eorth Doy Pos ter (1 970) summarized
SURVEY
this theme by representi ng the en dangered bald eagle in the
centre surrounded by a blac k-and -white constellation of other
environmental disas ters, and s uggest ing that the movement
had to opera te on many fronts. Even official environmental
lobbyis ts had moved from a uni vocal preservationist position
characterized by the Sierra Club to the variety of programmes
co mpris ed by the Group ofTen , a coalition of major environ-
mental lobbying groups representing multiple compromise
positions between government and industry interests in
resource development and those Deep Ecologists who
favoured a policy of mi n imal im pact on the envi ron ment. 1n
addition , followi ng environmental disasters at Love Canal,
Chernobyl, the Alaska Oil Spill and Three Mile Island , the citi-
zens of many countries were looking to their national govern-
ments for leadership, regulatíon and answers to thei r ami-
eties about the global ecology.
Among the answers posed by a wide variety of artists
throughout the 19705 were a range of solutions that , in keep-
ing with the increasi ngly popular
environmental movement,
specifically avoided damagi ng or
altering the earth. Some ofthese
approaches involved spatial
practices in the city rather than in
distant landscapes, but the con-
,
ceptual approaches were si milar.
"" '
Three strategies in particular governed many works ofthe
ea rly 19705: fem in ist -i n spi red ri tu a I activity that rega rded the
earth as an intimate extension ofthe human body; simpler
gestu ral works that involved walking, pointing or the gentle
and temporary displacements of some natural elements; and,
finally, what might be called organizational projects that uti-
lized or studied large social groups or political formations
while creating works that emphasized the land or environ-
mentally conscious actions.
After the first gene rat ion of predominantly male earth-
works artists (when women such as Nancy Holt and Jeanne-
Claude, though worki ng alongside their artist husbands,
received little recognition), female artists began to build pro-
jects on the land. Inspired by second-wave feminist theory and
politics, wh ich soughtto define a distinctly female world apart
from th e co nventions of patriarchy, these artworks were ofte n
rel ated to s peci fic stru gg les to define gender and identity. One
way in which fem inists sought to delineate the uniqueness of
SURVEY
women was to reconstruct a sepa rate history that could be
traced to prehistoric matriarchies and goddess cults. These
mythological genealogies were based in part on the ancient
beliefin the earth as the mother of allliving th ings, and a
social attitude stemmi ng from that tradition that identified
women with passivity and nature and associated men with the
active making of culture. This viewwas summarized in the
title of fem in ist a uthor Sherry Ortner' s co ntrovers ia Iessay '1 s
Female to Male as Nature 15 to Culture?' (1972), which argued
for an elimination of such stereotypical views. Art critic Lucy
R. Lippard, on the other hand, echoed the view of many 19705
radical feministswhen she said, '[1 seeJ no reason why all dis-
tinctly female qualities should be disc arded in favour of an
unattainable, overrated (and undesirable) androgyny '.67
Embracing the ste reotype, many feminist artists drew an
explicit link between the land and the female body, tying
women's liberation directly to ecology and enacting commu-
nal or ritualistic performances at sites wi th historical connec-
tions to matriarchal relígions. In this way, they created a far
more self-conscious relationship between space and gender -
"•
I•
than had ea rlier male Land Artists. Artist Mary Beth Edelson
typifies the impulse among some feminist artists ofthe 19705
to combine myths, dreams and spiritual images in rituals that
referred to nature and earth goddesses. Implicit in her work
was a beliefthat such pagan forms of nature worship offered
an alternative union between the human and natural spheres
that superceded both conventional religion and rationalism.
Travelling to distant sites in Eastern Europe and Scandinavia,
Edelson sought locations with strong supernatural as socia-
tions. Her performances, such as Seefor Yourself Pi/grirnage to
a Neo/ithic Cave (1977), enacted in a cave in Yugoslavia, used a
traditional vocabulary of ritual, including chants, rings offire,
mandalas and a woman's body, to highlight the universal
ch aracter ofthe female world that was being conjured.
Despite their nostalgic claims to authenticity and their mysti-
cal appeals to Jungian notions ofthe collective unconscious,
such early feminist projects were important steps in an effort
to clarify a separatist space and a geography of difference. 68
'If ecology is the syntax ofNature', writes critic Jack
Burnham, 'then ritual is its daily, procedural counterpart in
Culture. While ecology is simply theway ofNature, ritual has
to be learned and adhered tO: 69 Burnham's definition, while
overturning the rigid distínction of nature and culture, also
removes ritual from the atemporal realm ofthe vaguely mythi-

• cal to the more everyday context of any social practice that 15
'Iearned and adhered to'. Thus when the nineteenth·century
American writer Henry DavId Thoreau spoke of'the art of
Walking', he was describing a ritual to which he attached great
polítical significance. 'We are but faint-hearted crusaders,
even the walkers, nowadays , who undertake no persevering,
never·ending enterprises', Thoreau complal ned. He wanted
activist walkers who would sally forth 'i n the spirit of undying
adventure, never to return, prepared to send back our
embalmed hearts only as felies'. But when he contrasted this
absolute freedom in natufe with the constrained civil freedom
of society, which required negotiation and compromise, he
was advocating the romantic strain oftranscendentalism that
many American Land Art ists ofthe 1970S -like Smithson and
Morris - desplsed. Thoreau thought of man as 'part and
parcel of Nature ', but he still saw Nature with a capital N, and
regarded most human Improvements (such as the locomo-
tive) as unwelcome intrusions .
.\
• action. Beuys, In an effort to spread his 'green'
• ecological philosophy (which saw every citizen as
• an artist and linked all animate and inanimate
- Cerman Parliament (but lost). From his early
•
If American artlsts ofthe 1970S were suspicious ofthe
ideallyricism ofThoreau's image ofthe walker in the forest,
many Bntlsh artlsts ofthe same period saw this activity as an
engagement with authentlClty itself. Richard Long, whose
works document his solitarywalks across the English land-
scape, has said, 'Mywork is real not illusory or conceptual. It
IS about real stones, real time, real In early pieces
such as A Line Made by Walking (1967), made while he was sti ll
a student at London's Sai nt Martin's School of Art, Long
mapped straight lines across the landscape by displacing
small stones or twigs along arbitarily selected stretches of
ground. These so litarywalks, which were re-p resented either
as books of photographs or as individual photographs with
captions reco rding the time and place ofthe hike, were meant
in pa rt as a minima list ch allenge to the Creenbergian model
offormalist, weld ed-steel scul pture then being produced in
Engl and by Anthony Ca ro. AII of Long's 'ephemeral gestures
on the lan d' were equally simplified ; as art historian Carol Hall
•
recounts , 'One work was the making of a path in a fleld of "
grass bywalk in g back and forth for several hours, another
consisted of snlpping offthe heads offlowers in a meadow,
thus inscribing a giant X'. Some even engaged with the his-
torical or political meaning ofthe sites, such as his six-day
walk around the Cerne Abbas C iant (1975) or his Power Line
Walk: From a Water Wheel to a Nuclear Power Station (1980),
though the pn ncipal s lg nlficance ofLong's workwas neither
thei r pri m itivizl ng ntua I nor thei r attention to the speciflc
meaning of a place. Rather than the deflned place, the key to
Long 's work was the notion oftravel. Passlng through a con·
temporary space with all its own accumulated history and
everyday rituals , Long enacted a specific temporal actlvity that
scarcely left a mark but which communicated through the fun -
damental integers of a language of transitivity itself.
Other conceptualists , notably the messianic Cerman
artist Joseph Beuys, used natural processes as metaphors for
the spatial structure of social systems and often blurred the
line between artmaking and organized polltical
things in one ecosystem), even ran twice for th e
involvement with Fluxus , Beuys had perfected a
ritual form of perfor-mance or 'action' that uti-
lized dramatic spaces and symbols, such as a dead hare or
stag, as metaphors of Cerman political trauma. In his famous
New York action Coyo te: I Like America and America Likes Me
(1974), a felt-wrapped Beuys stayed in a cage installed at the
René Block Gallery with a live coyote forthree days, as both a
direct allusion to endangered species (the coyote and, by
extensl0n, the Native American forwhom the animal was
sacred) and the imperialism of American involvement in
Vietnam (likened to the near extermination of Native
American tri bes) . When Beuys referred to his actions as 'my
so-called spatial doings in so-called envi ronments ', he was
alluding to the fact that des pite their universaliz in g overtones
his performances were always rooted in the specific spatial
practices of a particular political context. "
The complex rituals of contem porary social institutions
and networks articulate a constant exchange of materials and
representations between a speclfic site and its env ironment
or context. A major task for the first generatlon of Conceptual
SURVEV
Artists (including Marcel Broodthaers , whose work si mulated
museum exhlbltions; Bernd and H illa Becher, who pho-
tographed typol ogies o( ve rnacular architecture , such as
wate r towers; Ed Ru scha, whose deadpan photo books, like
Ellery Building Along Sunset Strip [1966J, created arb itary col-
lection s o( publ ic networks and spaces; and Dan Graham,
whos e Homesfor Amerlea [19661 organized the permu tat ions
o f suburban tract housi ng) was to catalogue the com ponents
ofthis exchange. But beyond that structuralist project, they
engaged in a form ofinstitutional critique that examined the
microcosmic economic and polítical preconditions that were
channelled through the art·world con ta iner a nd i nflected the
meaning of all artworks.
Many ofthei r site·speciflc installations consisted of small
interventions or alterations in the exhibition space. Dan iel
Buren , for instance, underscored the meaning of certain envio
ronments or sites by plastering them with posters reduced to
a standard programme of stripes, alternati ng white and
, between a fictional witness and the lagoon keeper. In part this
- form replica tes the nature ofthe H arrisons' research which
• tion ofthe original water systems and a greater integration of
another colour. At various key locales these see m i ngly formal·
ist stripes drew attention to ways in which the ideological and
psychological preferences of cap ital is t economy were bei ng
reinforced or produced through elements of architecture or
decora t ion. In pa rti cu lar, th i s type of i ns ti tutiona I critiq u e
stressed the effects on the audience of ce rt ain naturalizing
codes withí n the museum or gallery. But, at the same ti me, the
emphasis on public space and vernacular forms of arch itec-
ture as subj ect matter in th e co nceptual works o f G raham,
Oldenburg, the Bechers and Ru scha, as art historian Ben jami n
H.D. Buchloh has pointed out , '(o regroun ded the absence of
a developed, artis tic reflectio n on the problematic ofthe con-
temporary public'.
Thl s was specifically the problem taken up In the early
1970 S by Hans Haacke, who had earlierdocumented various
natural system s. In an extended series ofworks of'sys tem s
analysis ', Haacke polled museum vis itors about the pol itic al
vi ews o f the trustees , charted the Interl ock ing fiscal connec·
SUR .... Ey
tions of a museum's board, traced the tenement holdings of a
single New York landlord, and ch ronicled the provenance of
certain paintings. '& These investigations revealed the system·
atic networks that always connect art to other forms of politi.
cal influence.
For various ecological artists ofthe 1970S it was important
to make clear links between natural and political systems,
both within the context ofthe museum o r gallery and outside.
One collaborative team , Helen Mayer H arrison and Newton
Harriso n, focused almost exclusively on environmental policy
and the powers that shape i1. In the ten·year long Lagoon Cycle
(1972 - 82), forexample, the Harrisons present their research
•
into the history and function ofwatersheds of va rious cul·
tures , focusing in particular on the Paciflc Coast ecosystem. ,.
The Lagoon Cycle has no tangible form as an earthwork
(though some ofthei r ecological alternatives have been
adopted by local planners i n Lo s Angeles) ; rather, it consis ts
of a narrative of drawings, maps and conversational dialogue
entails speaking with dozens of scie ntists, ecologists, poli ti·
cians and sociologists. So, the text ofThe Lagoon Cycle in part
represents the Harrisons' own increasing involvement in eco-
logical issues and contains their argu ment for both restora-
natural and human needs . Towards this end, their 'eco poetry'
has a didactic function, proposing practical solutions to exist-
ing food production and i rrigation systems while also looking
at the language of ecological discourse. ' Likening thei r
process to the flow of a river', notes art critic Eleanor
H ea rtney, '[The H a rri so ns 1tal k about "co nversa ti ona I d rift"
and suggest that their ultimate goal is to "ch ange the conver-
sation'''. "
The Bulgarian artist known simply as Christo has, along
with his wife and collaborator jeanne·Claude, extended the
notion of site·specificity to buildings and landscapes alike by
wrapping them in cloth or curtains. One oftheir earliest pro-
jects, Va/leyCurtain (1970-72) in Rifle, Colorado, consisted of
a vast orange curtain (1,250 feet wide and 182 feet high) hung
between two cliffs in the western U5 desert. The political sigo
nificance oftheir work lies not only in the subjects that they
select - key build i ngs like the Reichstag in Berlin or monu-
mental natural forms like the Cayman Islands - but also in the
rigorous political negotiations necessary to accomplish these
 • works. In the documentary film that the Maysles Brothers ere-
ated about the making of Running Fence (1972-76), Chrlsto
and his wife are seen ja mmed ¡nta a telephone booth sorne-
where on the California coastline pleading with a private
landowner to allow the fence to cross their land. In other
meetings with banks , landowners, community groups and
planners, eh risto and Jean-Claude hammered out the details
of that complicated project. As critic Jeffrey Deitch has
observed, 'Running Fence was approached in much the same
way 35 a highway authoritywould approach building a road or
a deveJoper would plan an industrial park. Thousands of
hours had to be spent structuring fi nancing, preparing envi-
ronmental impact reports , and testifying befo re zoning
boards. ':. Although qu ite different from the sorts ofideologi-
cal machinations highlighted by Hans Haacke, the Artworkers
Coalition and other artists, the practical, on-the-ground poli-
tics of Christo and Jean-Claude demonstrates the everyday
negotiations necessary to any social transaction.
••
Post modernis m
- One thing that
"
united these very
diverse efforts by
feminists,systems
theorists and eco-
artists in the 19705
was a willingness to move beyond the conventions of artmak-
ing and to engage with the ways that political meanings are
shaped in a complex field of social interactions. In an impor-
"•" tant essay titled 'Sculpture in the Expanded Field' in 1979,
American art historian Rosalind Krauss returned to the trou-
bled nature of the modernist category of sculpture. 19 Twelve
years after Miehael Fried 's 'Art and Objecthood ', Krauss found
that the word 'sculpture' no longer meant simply a homeless
and largely self-referential object as it had in the modernist
canon. The basic definitíon of sculpture as 'not land scape'
and 'not architecture' had been vastly complicated by thewide
range of site-specific structu res and processes produced by
artists in the 19705. These new liberties taken byartists
seemed to return Krauss to the conundrum outlined by
Greenberg in 1968, 'The borderline between art and non-art
had to be sought in the th ree-di mensional, where sculpture
was and where everything material that was not art, al so was'.30
But how was one to map such a broadly conceived category?
Utilizing a structu ralist diagram borrowed from li ngu!s- "
ties, Krauss charted an 'expanded field' that induded the new,
in-between categories, which she called 'marked sites' (any
physical man ipu lation or impermanent stamp on the spot),
's !te con s truction s' (s tructu res bu ilt in to the land sea pe) a nd
'axiomatic stru ctu res' (i ntervention s with in a rch itectu re) .
This logical expansion ofModernism's categof!es, Krauss
claimed, provided 'both for an expanded but finite set of
related positions for a given artist to occupy and explore and
for an organization of work that is not dictated by the condi-
tions of a particular medium '.8' And , most significantly, this
s tructu ra I tra n s fo rmation of the cu It u ra I field signa 11 ed,
accordi ng to Krauss, the advent of Postmodernism.
But In a direct response to Krauss' essay, critic Craig
Owens offered a strikingly different version of postmodern
spatial practices in his essay 'Earthwords' (1979), a review of
Robert Sm ithson's collected writings. 8 ' Owens shared with
Krauss the viewthat language is central to postmodern phi-
losophy, which regards culture as a system of socially con-
structed signs that can be read as text. But Owens argued that
Postmodernism in the arts was signalled not by a multiplica-
tion ofits forms but by the eruption oflanguage into the aes-
thetic, and was therefore far more profound in its implications
than Krauss acknowledged; it entailed 'a transgression of
entire aesthetic categories (the visual versus the verbal, the
spatial versus the temporal)' .al This radical decentri ng, which
Owens found in Smithson's writings, refiected the poststruc-
turalist view that discourse destabilizes all spatial categories
based on logic a nd disrupts the dosure implicit in common-
sense definitions (such as those plotted by Krauss). Smithson
himself reflected on the new conditions of postmodern space
when he said:
'There is no hope for logic. 1f)JOU try to come up with a logical
reason then you might as wellforget it, beca use it doesn 't deal with
any kind ofnamable, measurable situation. AII dirnension seems
lost in the process. In otherwords, you are real/y goingfrorn sorne
place to sorne place, which is to say, nowhere in particular. To be
located between those two points puts you in a position ofelse-
where, so there's no focus. This outeredge andthis centre con-
stantly subvert each other, cancel each otherout. There is a sus-
pension ofdestination. '8.
Th is 'suspension of desti nation' is an apt characterization
ofthe philosophical basis ofPostmodernism as well as its
spatialization. Critical and theoretical work in the early 19805,
SURVEY
" responding to the breakdown of modernist discourse in liter-
ary theory, psych oanalysis and the soci al scien ces, shifted
attention in art away from the autonomous modern master-
works towards the operations ofModernism itsel f, and from
the established d ivisions oftraditional culture towards an
Interdiscl plinary examinatían ofthe dynamics of discourse.
Speciflcally, Postmodernism studied the construction and
perpetuatían ofthe subject, or individual sociali zed person,
through d isco urse, social fields made up of representat io ns
whlch do not refer back to an 'original' nature or reality but
only to the language of one another. The very existence ofthe
real or something 'outside' discourse was questioned. The
means by whieh sueh representations eould be eritieally
apprehended by visual artists were speeifled by Owens,
'appropriation, site-speeifieity, impermanenee, accumula-
tion, discursivity, hybridization'. 3'
One specific d irect ion for postmodern artists who were
attempting to move beyond the strictu res ofModernism was
the exploration ofissues surrounding
public spaee and public art. Postmodern
space, as defined by cultural critic
Fred ric Ja meson and others, was under-
stood to be fragmented , insufficient and
confounding.ln a much-debated essay
'Postmodernism, or the Cultural Logic
of Late Capitalism' (1984), jameson
described a new kind of disorienting, postmodern space sym-
bolized by the mirrored-glass su rfaces of john Portman's
Bonaventu re Hotel in Los Angeles . The reflective panel s ofthe
hotel's exterior produce in the viewer, according to jameson,
'a sense ofimmersion and dislocation; the hotel transcends
the capac!ties ofthe individual human body to locate itself, to
organize its immediate su rroundings perceptually, and cogni.
tively to map its position in a mappable external world' .86 In
other words, the moderníst conception ofthe logical, fully
integrated self was superseded by a postmodern individual
seen as psychically fragmented, sch izophrenic and superfi-
cial, trapped in a maze of competing signs. For jameson and
others, the postmodern subject was, in a sen se, placeless.8 /
But, as Susa n Bordo and other femí nist crities ofjameson
have PO! nted out, this geographical metaphor suggests a too-
easy move from a moderníst 'view from nowhere' (objec-
tivism) to an equally problemat!c postmoderni st 'view from
everywhere' (relativis m) . And , in the process, there isconsl d-
SURVEY
erable room for glossi ng over specific issues of gender, colour
and 10cation.&3 ln general, feminist and postcolonial critics
have preferred to use the metaphor ofthe body and to con-
side r the issues around what has been called 'the po litics of
location', which ealls for a speeific attention to the way spe-
ei fic s itua tion s or contexts s ha pe pa rti cu lar poi itica I ptactices.
This view clas he s with jameson's idea that postmodern per-
eeption of space produces a sort of schizophrenic sensation
that 'tends to demobilize us and to surrender us to passivity
and helplessness, by systematically obliterating possib ili ties
of action under the impenetrable fog ofh istorical inevitabil-
ity' Although it is wo rth retaining the sense of dislocation
and decentredness in jameson's mOdel, his universalizing
descri ption of spatial conditions overrides the very different
experiences of space one might have based on one's gender
or ethnicity. Moreover, the polítical helplessness that
jameson's disorienting Postmodernism pred icts is contra-
dicted by the practical ecological endeavou rs of many con-
temporaryartists.
Certainly, the deeentring of postmodern space has under-
cut the authority of site-specific public monuments, a particu-
larly ironic legacy of early Land Art. In fact, it was the sheer
incompatibility of postminimal site-specificity and postmod-
ern placelessness that formed the subtext ofthe celebrated o
•"
debate in the United States over Richard Serra's seulpture, <
-"
u
Tilted Arc (lg81). That curving rusted steel wall bisectíng a for-
lorn public plaza in New York City was opposed byoverl,300
workers in the adjacent office buildings who signed a petition
agai nst the work claiming that it violated their public space,
that is, their easy aecess to work. In March 1985, a public hear·
ing was held in the District Court ofLower Manhattan , and it
was decided that the work shoul d be removed. The dest ruc-
tion ofSerra 's monument signaled a rejection ofhis intentíon
to 'i nvolve the viewer both rationally and emotionally' 90 by a
large portio n ofhis audience, but it also sounded the death
knell for a version of site-specific art that insisted by its sheer
bulk in remaining rooted to its location.
Agaínst the permanence and monumentality ofTilted Arc
and the heroic indivídua lism of arti sts such as Serra are post-
modern practices that are mobile, adaptable to a wide va riety
of spaces, and attendant to the intersection of va rious social
d iscou rses rather than to the importance of one restrictive
spot. Art critic James Meyer has referred to the spatial arena of
such projects as 'the funetional site', which he defines as 'a
 • process, an operation occurring between sites, a mapping of
institu t ional and textual flliations and the bodies that move
between t hem (t he artist's aboye all) ... an informational 5ite
a locus of averlap'. In so (ar as such works are ambulator¡,
involving movement and impermanence, two prototypically
'functional' works are Flow City (1983-present) by the
American artist M¡erle Laderman Ukeles, an enormOU5 walk·
through viewing station that allows visitors to observe the
massive and ongoing process of urban garbage disposal, and
5t;/1 Water> (1992) by the British collective PLATFORM, an
exploratíon ofthe damaged ecosystem ofLondon's lost
rivers, anclent tributaries ofthe Thames that have now been
channelled through sewer pipes and underground diversions.
80th works tem porarily claim certai n sites but, more impor-
tantly, they also generate a kind of grass-roots activism that is
directed towa rds involving communlty members in repre-
senting and constructing meaning for envi ron mental issues
•-
·
•• that are generally invisible.
,
·
"
-• • la ' "v .-
,
•
• - "
o
•"• -
•
"•
-
<
-" - -
• o _
·
-• < -
Provislonality is central to this idea ofthe functlonal site
and this often entails the artlst's ability to adopt alternate pro-
fessional roles or to engage the servlces of non-art specialists.
Ukeles, for example, serves as artist-in-residence for the New
York Sanitation Oepartment, a unpaid pseudo-bureaucratlc
post that nevertheless accords her status as an expert or
insider. Bemg part ofthe system makes possible many ofher
works that focus on the labour involved in waste manage-
ment, such as Touch Sanitation: Handshake Ritual (1978-79),
in which she shook the hand of every garbage collector in New
York City. Being part ofthe system also allowed her to partici-
pate in the planning and design ofthe New York City
Sanitation Oepartment's Marine Transfer Faeility, a vast pier
in the Hudson Rive r where huge garbage trucks eontinually
rumble through to dump tons of urban trash onto barges
heade d for landfill dumping sites. Withi n this switching place,
a geographical passage between use and disuse, Ukeles has
bui lt a kin d of visito rs' centre that allows tourists to observe
and understand thls process. inc1udes three parts: "
a long arcade-like entry ramp made of reeyclables, the c1ear
t glass bridge that passes overthe dumping stages, and a video
wall that shows various operations and provides information
on environmental topies. 'By creating a point of aeeess', art
eritie Patricia C. Phillips argues, 'Ukeles enables members of
the public to make more ineisive connections with the physi-
cal dimensions oftheir urban and natural worlds. 80th the city
and the river are seen as relational ; Flow Cityserves as the
suture that draws the extremes ofthe nature culture dialeetie
into visible coexistenee.' Ukeles suggests that 'if people can
directly observe how the city works, they can then direct their
actions and ideas towards the construction of a meaningful
public life'.
In a similarway, PLATFORM's project uses a spatial and
environmental project to alter perceptions of sociallife.
Working collaboratively since 1983, PLATFORM has incopo-
rated a flexible membership of specialists and non-specialists
I a!ike.ln general, theywork
with local communities to
restore environments that
have been destroyed or dam-
aged by human intervention
and to use alternative energy
production, waste manage-
men t, information distribu-
tion and other schemes to re-educate the public about their
ecosystem.ln one statement, the members ofPLATFORM
stated their goals in rather utopian terms: to '[provoke] desire
for a democratic and ecological society ... [and toJ crea te an
imagined realitywhich is different from the present reality'. 'l4
Like Ukeles' Flow C;ty, PLATFO RM's 5t;JJ Waters project
involved specialists from a variety of disciplines as well as
members ofthe community as observers and participants.ln
attempting to draw attention to the lost history ofthe
London's watershed , Still Waters incorporated four major pro-
jects a t s pecifi c s ites with i n the city. For o ne section,
'Unearthing the Effra ', a performance artist and a publieist
developed a massive pu blicity campaign urging the pub lic
simplyto dig up the River Effra, buried sincethe late nine-
teenth century under urban South London, and to restere its
natural forms. Using the language of modern advertising,
PLATFORM wrote, 'The unearthing ofthe Effra will be
Europe's most important and exciting urban renewal project,
SURVEY
" and it is happening on your doorstep' , 9\ Part of another project
on Merton lsland invo lved restoring the abandoned Merton
Abbey Milis wheelhouse and using it to generate electricity to
¡lIumi nate the nearby Hatland Primary $chool.
Increasingly, artists have taken it upon th emselves to in iti·
ate such covertly oppositional read ings in the public realm.
Combining a new awareness orthe vitalism of public sites, an
interest in reclalming lost or su ppressed histori es , and an
investment ¡n con tr ibu ting to social change, these artists
have aften formed all ian ces wi th other public interest groups.
I ntervening in the pre-existing spaces of communication,
transportatian, waste treatmen t and environmental reclama-
tion, these artists have taken over public spaces. Their works
are deli berately not like Tilted Arc , abst ra ct monuments
erected on permanent sites. Rather these are temporary
responses, more akin to political action , responding to imme-
diate situations and current causes. Sometimes these inter-
ventions have taken the fo rm of education and direct action
united not by stylis-
tic featu res but by
common strategies
or modes of
address.lsraeli
artist Av ital Geva, for
example, active
sincethe 1970S, has
been working on a project called the Greenhouse since 1977.
This project, which is part ofthe Kibbutz Metzer, near the
town ofMesser in Israel. is a collective social experiment
des ig ned not only to produce new plants and food but also to
teach horticultural skills and to foster a communalliving and
working situatíon, what Geva calls a 'sociallearning environ-
ment'. ForGeva, whoquit the art world in 1980, there is no
di s ti nction between the poi itica I o r ecological work of the ki b-
butz and his art.
For those artists who continue to work within the more
conventional spaces ofthe contemporary art world, a similar
interest in instigating particular social or polítical practices for
particular regions is facilitated (or exacerbated) by the new
co ndition of exhibitions staged at widely dispersed locations
that requ ire the presence ofthe artist to create topical and site-
specific installati o ns. Unlike Geva 's work on the kibbutz, how-
ever, these new site-s pecific projects are often temporary and
tnvolve only brtef encounters with the local community. As a
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consequence, art historian Hal Foster has complai ned that
this 'quasi-anthropological work' constitutes a ki nd of ama-
teur fieldwork that attempts to reconcile theory and pract ice
but often ends up in a cul-de-sac of'self-othering'.96 Aga inst
this tendency, post-co lonial theory has focused on diasporic
and hybrid cultures, encouraging the study of migrati'ons of
people and cultural practices. Cultural theorist Homi K
8habha notes:
'Anxiety is created by enjoining the local and the global; the
dilemma ofprojecting an international space on the trace ofa
decentred,jragmented subject. Cultural globality is figured in the
in-between spaces ofdouble frames its historica/ originality
marked by a cognitive obscurity; its decen tred "stlbject" signified in
the nervous temporality ofthe transnationa/, orthe emergent pro-
visionality ofthe presento ' 91
The dislocations ofthe postmodern subject in space
referred to in 8habha's notion ofin-betweenness suggests a
new attention to travel and mobility. Agai nst the rootedness
to a particular site, these artists emphasize a multiplicity of
sites and the mobil ity ofthe artist. The very notion of travel
also signals the possibility ofthe liminal sites as a position,
what Smithson called 'dialectical' space. The work ofSwiss
artist Christian Philipp Müller provides a good example of an
oeuvre based almost exclusively on travel, both in terms ofits
subject and its formo Many ofhis works involve hikes, tours
and excursions, often with the specific intention ofchalleng-
ing po litically invested boundaries. As part ofGreen Border
(1993), his contribution to the4sth Venice 8iennale (with the
theme 'Nomadism and Multiculturalism'), Müller posed as
an Alpi ne hiker and surreptitiously crossed the border of
Austria into eight neighbou ring countries. While
humourously tweaking the attentiveness ofthe Austrian
border patrol , Müller says, he 'experienced the difference
between the border as an artistic concept and a political real-
ity'.98 He and his assistant were seized in Czechia and forb id-
den to re-enter the country for three years, an event that
immediately recast the humou r of the piece into a harrowing
recreation of the ci rcumstances ofthousands ofillegal immi-
grants and other border-crossers. For philosopher Michel
Foucault, the hope of such symbolic artistic actions is to:
'Develop action, thought and desires by proliferation,juxtaposi-
tion and disjunction {and] to prefer what is positive and mu/tip/e,
difference over uniformity,f1ows over unities, mobi/e arrange-
ments over systems. Believe what is productive is not sedentary
 • but nomadic."
As part ofth is mob ile pos it ion ing many recent art is ts have
developed the ir own campan ies, programmes, orga ni zat ions
and solut ions. American art ist Peter Fe nd , fo r examp le, head s
Ocean Earth , a company that was the first to se ll h igh-qua lity
satel li te images to neW5 organ izations and is now ¡nvo lv ed in
massive eco logical projects based on early earthworks. In so
far as Fend seeks to use sate ll ite imagery to h igh li ght globa l
eco log ica l d isaster areas such as Chernoby l and the Pers ian
Gu ir, there is an act ivist element to th is otherw ise (anven-
tiona l profess iona l work of consu lt ing , teach ing , network ing
and bu ilding new structures. Another examp le is the work of
Viet Ngo , a Vietnamese-Amer ican art i5t and civ il eng ineer,
who started h is own bus iness in 1983 us ing h is patented
' Lemna System ', wh ich emp loys duckweed (lemnaceae) , a
sma !! f10ating aquat ic plant , to transform waste into prote in-
rich feed for an ima ls. Ngo 's Dellil's Lake Wa stewater Treatment
Plant (199 1), in Devil' s Lake, North Dakota , Isa s ixty-acre
sewage treatment p lant in the form of a snake-shaped earth-
work . The p lant doub les as a waterpark for the commun ity,
te ll s vis itors about the env iro n ment and so il , and 'adds
beauty and mean ing to the commun it ies they serve wh ile
pur ifylng the water' .
Us ing these mode ls of spat ia l and envi ronmenta l engage-
ment , many act ivist coa li t lons - not necessar ily invo lving
art lsts - have appl ied postm o dern vi sua l tech niques to cr it i-
ca l publ ic issues. Thus in add it ion to 196o s -style means of
protest such as demonstrat ions , s it- íns , roadb locks or mon-
keywrench ing (sp iking trees s lated for logg ing), many env i-
ron mental coa li tlons have developed soph ist icated means of
ínterven ing In or 'zapp ing ' the med ia . Notab le among these
efforts are the vivid images of Greenpeace protesters rap-
pell ing from br idges to stop sh ips carrying hazardous materi-
a ls or PETA's an ima l-r ights advert isements showi ng celebri-
tíes preferring to go naked ratherthan wear fur. ln a s im il arway,
internat ional gay and lesb ian rights groups , i nclud ing ACT U P,
Gran Fury and WHAM! , have used vivid graph ic des ign styles
for posters that question social att itudes towards biological
and med ical issues around Al DS r US spends more in five
hours on defense than in fiveyears on healthcare ' or ' Men ,
use condoms or beat it '). Aga in , exploiting formal techn iques
developed by earlier postmodern artists - appropriat ion,
montage , use of advertising style graphics - these art ists use
their art as polítical propaganda. Needless to say, the purpose
,
o f t his wo rk ha s litt le to do wtth the'commodtty-based require- "
me nt s ofthe co m mercial art world. As video artist and AIDS
act ivi st Gregg Bo rdowit z says, 'What seems usefu! to me now
is to go out an d do work that is directly engaged, that is pro-
d uct ive - t o p ro d uce wo rk th at enables people to see what
they are d oin g, t hat en ab le s them to criticize what they are
do in g, and m oves on'.
Redefi ning cu ltura l pro d uction as a polítical activity that is
co ll aborat ive , m ul t ic u lt u ral and e ngaged wi th a community in
an active way, t hese issue- o rie nted collect ives (including the
artist groups Border Arts Works hop, PAAD and Group
Material) extend the lessons o fthe ear ly Land Artists. Their
'non-art' man ifestat ions suggest a way beyo nd t he fr a me of
Modern ism to a true ' Postmodern ism of res ista nce '. But t hey
a lso make c learthat there is not o ne Po stmodern is m , but
many ; not one vo ice , but many. Postmodern spa ti a l p ractice s
cannot be confined to a fixed set oftheories but fo rm an o ngo-
ing experi ment , costantly sh ift ing and evo lvi ng . In part icu lar
they address the crucia l issue ofbordercross ings and li m its
as they perta in to nat ional isms , loca l cu ltures , c lass , race ,
gender and sexual ity. So the quest ions that are pert inent
inc lude : From what pos it ion do we speak? And forwhom?
What will th is change? And forwhom?
Such interrogat ives suggest that the project of under-
sta nd ing ou r relat ion to nature and the env ironment has
changed drastically in the past th irty years. The banner
unfur led by Greenpeace at the 1992 Earth Summ it showed
a d ifferent view of the world , allud ing to a poststructural ism
where mean ing and power are not determ ined by a s ing le
dom inant viewpo int. Yet, even as we are confronted with a
world that is increas ingly mult ifaceted, intertextua l and re la-
t ivist ic, certa i n material tasks rema i n. Among these are the
need to rema in sus p iciou s ofthe ideo logica! fre ight and the
constructedness ofthe concept of nature and ca ll s for its
preservat ion ; and to cont inue to call attent ion to the frag ility
of our env ironment and organ ized threats to it . Th is means
not only protest i ng violations of specifi c phys ical spa ces a nd
negot iat ing the complex issues ra ised by d iffere nce b ut a ls o
paying attent ion to the everyda y, that loca l s ocia l s ite 'where
ideology and its res istance are lived ou t in all th e ir me ssy co n-
t ingency' . 02
SURVEY
 9 Robert Mo,,"s 'Noles on SeulplU.e, Stlt<,mn ojh,s Sp.t< Gna W'llongs, Imogo",a pIOUf. Bllekwell 50 See ln pilrtleulil •. M,eh ..1de Ce.leou.
"
•
" .. .
"
"
Pilrt 4 Beyond ObjeeIS', Anjorum 7.
n08 NewYo.k Ap.'! '969, P S4 See
illso Robe'l MOffls, 'AMI' -Fo.m' ,
ed Louls 1 Ored_old ilnd Ralph G
Ro.s, Un ..e's'ty ofM ,eh, giln P,ess.
AnM A.bo., '967, pp 2,6')7. 262
37
Pubhsners.O. fo,d, 1996.P 311
MlChel deCertuu_ TIle P.Od,,,O!
EvtryJoy lift, Un .... rs'ly of (ill,forn,a S'
'n IheC,ty',
ojflltryJay lljt. op CIt
In

RobeflMoms, 'AI'gnedwl lhN3ZCil'

r"t P,a<l"t
,pp. 91-110

." e.p r>d 11

o,
Anjorurn 6. no 8, N_ Yo,k Ap,,1
".. 68. pp And fo." d,¡eUSSlOn
fMoms' wnan tdo.mw<>."
,n Ih,s p '93)
l3 U_edille P"ee, An E"ilyon the
P'<tu'e'que. J Robson, London,
p, .. ss_ Berkeley, 1984_ p XX
38 Ibld _pp XIV -XV
39 ROSilyn OeulSche_ 'Allernatove
Artforum '4. no 2, NewYo •.,
Oetobe, '97S, pp 26'19
00ptnhelm m¡¡de olhe'
, 'lnd ro" lenilu.' Miu"ee B... ge' /lob.rt '796 'ep"nled ,n The Gen,,,. ofl"t Spaces'. '" l/Yo" L,wd He.t A ,mportlnlwo,ks nu, FOfll(ent.
o ¡he e ha al'\d Mom¡ M,,,,rn ,m ondlh. '9 Plact Thr f"gl"h 1'(0)1<1 by Motllro /lasJt. ed S"an ,Ma,ne, dUf1ng !he silme w,nle',
Hilrpe. ilnd Ro"", N.."" Yo,', 989 An ,610-.810 ed ¡ohn O.. on Hun l 3nd Wall,s, Seattle. 1988 p 4S lndud,ng (1968),

• eoh b, on, ,Ied Ant,·Form', ilnd

,nd .. d ngwo.h by He.. e.
Peter W, 's,
Yo,k, pp 3'>4
ind Row. New
,n th,§
40 10hnBflnckelhofl"j¡ekson,
\/,,"a.ulol
Poá" (\968). Bo"na0'l' 5pl,¡ (1968) .
Cotoge Ú¡.".oa" (1968) ilnd
n ,hf'd F've
rel al mar y ni n t ... Panilmil.enko, Ro!>..rt Alan volume PP \93-94] Yale Un .. ers.ly P,ess. N'gG¡,1It Soora {1968}. S.. e 0.,,,,,,,
Iccomp !$ofthe R,o Saret. Roch¡.d S""iI. K",th Sonn,er 14 Pflee, Essays On Ihe New Ha_e n, '984_ p . " ,n Ih,s Opptn"t,m Wmlu,
.... m I ¡nd R,eha.d r.. nle, wis p.e.enled it P,cturesque', ,810, q .. o,ed '" Robert volume pp '949S] '967-]], d An Comempo'ilon,
.. d n 1997 (;trth Summ,l the John G,bson GillI ....,. du"ng Ihe Sm'thson. L3wOlmsted 4' EhubelhC ArtwO'.s onlhe Montrtil. 1978, pp 4°'42
mide bIS ¡htrl few In 10B' hlp_ month ¡S the 'Eilnhworh' and Ihe D,ale<:1\eal , Land-_ Atl ",AmeIlW, New 53 Ibld, Oenn's Oppenhelrn, quoted ln
pened bu!llh ,kit", luket,meto exh ,b",on DWiln G¡iI .. 1)' The e.h ,. A,tjo",m, 1, n06. New York, Yo,k, jilnuil)'- Feb.ual)' '976, lnle""ewwolhAli.n Paren\. p ,6
,dent'fy ¡he oulcome b,tlon '9 a' .organlzed Febr 1)' 1973. .tpflnted In Tlrt ,eprmled m Art ,n ¡h, LQna A [,',,'01 S4 RQ!>..rt Smlthson, quo,ed 1M Paul
2 On !he 'elallonsh,p between SUS;!" by Robert MO'fI' du"ng Ihe month Wrrrmgs ojRo/un Smrlh.on. 01'. tl l .. Art, ed Cummlngs, Robert
Sontag', .1'(0108Y af ,miges· and of Oecember 1968 at Casttlll' s wi.e- pp 118- 1 9 AI.n E P O..uon & Co., New Smo lhson for Ihe ArehlVes of
,mages af 1'(01011(. see Andrew house, ,nduded a la.g .. n,1of P"ee, An on Ihe Poclu.esq .. e·_ Yo.k. 1983. p 84 Ame"eil n
Ro" T"r O ,ogo Gong'U, Thwryof 3'1' slS and mil"e<! the du.est ,n .f.ede"ek lilw Olmsted .nd the 42 Ib,d.p 7S Insmu't', 1972: .epron led In The
L./r NOI"" '¡ Otbt lo $","Iy, Verse exp'ess,on of the ant,-fo,m O,aIKI,eilll¡ndsCilp'" ,01' el! 43 13neTomk,ns. Wf\lrng¡ ofRGben Sm"h"'M. op. CIt.
NewYor' 1994 PP '7 n tles 26 Sm'lhson. 'frede"ck La"" Olmsled landscipt An Ontol081 (or Ihe PP IS5-5 6
1 e, t.moGomn-Peíl;t,qL >!ed,,, 10 Cra'gOwens 'Earth""o.ds ,n ¡nd Ihe O,.leel,eill undseilpt' . op Western', Artjorum 28_ no 6, New SS Rob..fI Sm,lhson. quoled m
Suunr\t Liq Cuth.!,,,1 P,lgromlgts Seyona /lt"'gn",on /ltp .. "nIO¡"",- e,1 p "9 Yo.k, Feb.ual)' '990 pp 96'99 (See fon"M, ed N,nil
Ind Metipho", Jou.neys In POorlr_ ond Cul'';''. ed BiI.b",¡ 27 Ibld. P ,,8 TM,S .emilrk undoub, - In th .s volume pp 24748[ '.ger, And ... w O"hon Wh,te
M..pp "¡p'" ru,o n NewGtnr, Kr .. ge,et il Unt.e's'tyofC¡I,forn'¡ ref"Hed to ¡he formal,S! 'fltoe. 44 On He,"er's .. -The Art Mus .. um of Art, Ilhilea_ NewYo.k.
Pub Ar! f'd L.ley Biy P'ess P.ess Berkeley '992 p 47[Se"'" ofSm'll\son sown t,me. sueh as He 'u', 8, n04 1970. n·o .• epr,med In Tht: Wnlonli!'
Surte 995 P 9 th,s volume pp 28'·821 T ,m ilnd F""d ""ho s,m,larlyd,s- NewYork, '969, pp 32'3'1 oj/lobtn Sm,¡""'''. op en . O. 160:
" O" D o ... S afl""'" su 11 RobertSm,thson 'ASed,mentill'on rn,ss"d Eaflh A'I n p'(lu'esque' 4) M ,eh_el He,z .... 'Inl"",'''''' w,lh ,6,
M,wo"l(won. orthr M,nd E¡rth Proleel, ,n Ih,s pp 223-24] B.own·. m Rtwrst. ed jul¡a Rob..n Sm ,thson,n,.. Sp"ill Jeny'
Ttf\dMt'P$ S<,en! Mforum 7, no '. New'l'or' 18 Ib,d ,p '9 S.own. The Muse .. m or tn Cyorg1I(ep"s, M. '"¡lre
O ¡n', Fa,,,,,,, IrIl"not,,,nol Antwe'p. Sep'.. rnb.., '968, .eprlnled ,n Tlle 29 Ib,d (onlemporaryArt, los Geo.ge B.az,lle •. New
... g .. ,1199) In in even! ,,"'e- Wn¡,ng¡ of/lobert Sm,lhsorr. ed jC Roben Sm'thson. 'To""a.ds Ihe 1984 [See In th" Ifolume pp 228·29[ Yo.k. '972. repf\nled In WnlmB'
liltd lo 'Artt A... exh.b. N ilncy Hol\. New York Un'vers 'Iy lR_tlopmen l of 3n A.. Te.m,nil 46 joseph Mashed,The Piln3m3 o!Robtn 5"",h",,,.op e>l., p. 111
I.on, F. nM "h ... enl ehose Pren, NewYo.k, '979. pp 82-91 S'le', MjGn;m 5. no \0, NewYork, Canal Some Othe. Wo.ks of A't [See ,n Ih,s "olume pp 21S-18]
Ihe C Su"''''.1 lO [See,nthlSvolumepp 211"S) 1967, .epflnred In T/'e Wnl,ngs 9, no 9, NewYor k, May S7 Ib,d
nce Ihe spoMso.sh.p of Agnes '2 Ib,d.,p.89ISe ... nthlSvolumepp ofRobtn (11. P 43 '97 ,P4\ SS Roben Smllhson. ,n 'lhe Artlst ilnd
'
Oenes' TtU Mu,,,,IO'" (1992 '9S), 211-1)J J\ Samuel Wag sllff, 1', -ralklMg 10 Tonr 47 Mlchael Helzer. quoled ,n Oougln Pol'I'" A SympoSlum·. Anfonrm 9,
p.ese",e of 10,000 Iree s '3 Ibld,p 8s[See,nth"volumepp Sm'lh', Anjorum 4, n04, New'l'ork, C MeG,II, 'Mlehael He,zer'S no '. New Yo,k. Seplembe. 1970. p
by 10.000 H 21"'sl Oeeembe' 1966. p 19 Aconr .. rnpo- .. , m Htrur'¡ fffirt J9
Pl'l of .IS n"t,on;ll fo. eno, '4 F"ed. 'An ilnd Ob,etlhood' 'ill)' ¡,t,S! ,n w"h Sm'lh's RttmttgtnctojAn"tm 59 On Ihe p'oposed Vonco"""
ron ... Anjo.um 5. no 10, NewYo.k, ¡une v,ew 's )ilmes Tu "ell. who has ,a,d, Mound HiI'ry N Abr am s. 'slond ofBroktn Gloss (1970). see
S Robefl S"'.lh "n, unpubl.shed 1967. rep"nled ,n M,,,,mol Art A 'Tn., plaees mosteommand my 1990. p 11 He'ler'shuge Robert Hobbs, Ro/utl Sm"hso"
ew (r""ol ed Gregol)' iltlenl,on ilI" I"ge, ,.,e ,hil' qUils,-ilreh ,Ieetur wo,k Compl.:t ScuJplurt, (ornell Unlve'SlIy P'e ...
6 Oonnil A Cyborg Battcock E P Outlon & Co N_ •• en mge, ..sed,suchnMonle (1972'76) ""iIS bU,!1 neot 10 IIhie¡¡ '981. pp 18S·86
Miln r ,lO ,n S m CybotgJ. ""a York, 968,pp 116·,p[m"'lhl'J Alban (lh"templec'lyoflhe a nud"iI' lest .,te ,n ilnd 6c M,eh3eIAup,ng. ·MlchaeIHe,zer.
Wom." /l. ""nI pp 223-24] s,lualed on. mount.,n H.. sil,d. 'Part of my art 's b"sed The Eeonom,es of
1 , .PO 164' 5 Clernenl Modern neil' ,n Me.,eo) The exptn on an ilW¡r .. n"sS ""e I've ,n iI NewYo.k.june
6, Pa nl,ng. MI IV, N_ enee of enle"ng s .. eh a spice 's IUSl nueleilr ... iI We'." p.obably ilt 18.1977-P 1
7 By' "".01,1.01' " ..e' e." 1 ,n,n Yor. 196' ' '1>' nled ,n M "mal An Ihe e'pe"enee ofthe spilce ,tselr Ihe end of (,,,,1 ,ziloon' S .. ch fve or 61 RobertSm,lhson. 'Unl,tledI97'- ,n
N_ Yo.k n 0(1 be! 968 h"d mo'e A Cnl,wl I P 70 t m ,nt ... est"d ,n mak ng spaces Ihal DeslruCl,onlhem"swere eehoed ,n Tht Wm",gs oj/lobttl Srn"lrson. op
O"".lIy po t".1 end, ¡I>ough Ine 16 Ib,d we.e fam. 'ir .... ,Ih ,n and ,n Ihe (ilSI of many ,",o.ks. not e,1 . p 220 Fo. mo.ton afl35
wo.k sh wM ""u mo'e" '7 F, ed,Art ilnd ObjKlhooo' ,maglna"on' 'lames Turrell only l'ler al holes dug ,nto Ihe ""rth mal,on, See Robert Mom •. Notes
Th"".t> 1 A,lfo,Puce' OlBiI' Mm,mol An. A (nl"ol Antn >¡¡y, lp Pi,nl'"g"",\h Loghl and bul 31so e¡¡neell_llons, on Al! al_nd l3nd Reclam¡toon'
",zedbywI,c 'yR 'pp"d. e,¡ . pp. '9-20[S .. 'n Ih,s pp Inte""ew by (lire , AtI ti: "i1lers. self-desl.oymg wo,ks. d'Sln (klobe" no 12, (ambfldge.
p" nter Huol ilnd peice 223- 2 41 Ors gn. no JO london, '993, p 46 leg, ¡1,nB wo,h. 'ums dllp!ice, Massaehusetts, Sp"ng '980, pp 87-
Ron Wolon ill Ihe Piulil 18 ClementG.eenbe'g. 'The Jl Sm,thson, 'A Sed,men l¡!>onoftne menlS ,02IS .. e In Ih,. volume pp 254S6)
Ce 'pe. wils lO use Reeentness ofSeulplU.e' , In Mmd P,olects'. op. col . P 82 48 M<ehael He,ze •. quoled In Pe.haps Ihe mOSI d,silSl.ous exam-
Ihe com ... e" ill gilllerysyslem for Mm,mol Atl A C",,,al A"lhology. H Owens.·Einhwo.ds',op.e'l ,p 4' Helzer, Oenn,s Oppenhe.m. pie ofrh IS Iyp" of ... at,on 15

polol' ,,1 ends Wo.ks by milo. m,,,, op CIt. pp. 180·81 H See Ch "Slel Hollevoel, 'Wande"ng Robe'l Sm'thson: Inle""ewwllh MlChael H,.. l e.'s rurnull (1985'
ml " ••1"1, sueh H CiI.1 And.", Sol '9 Sm'thson, ·ASed,menl.tlonofthe ,n Ine C'ly F/dntntlO DtMt and Avalon,h,- '970, New 86) In Otrawil, Illmols. an atlempt 'o
leW,tt, Robert Mo.", Oonilld M,nd fil'th P,oJeet,' op. (11. P 85 Afte. The Cogn'I,ve MilpP,"g of Yo •• _Aulumn \970, pp 48-71 [Se" ,n makea p_.kon Ihe S< le o( (o.est

j jd ",,"'e $ dI be""f,llh 20 S,dneyTIII,m. 'Eanhwo.ksandtt>e Urb.an Spiee-. ,n Tht Po""t'ojlht tnls pp 202-sl A fe"" ytilr5 deslfoyed by Ihe Ouawa S,I,e¡¡
1,0nComm'tteelo New P,elu.e'que', Mjorum? n, 4. (,ty/ TIt. (oly ojPo""t._ ISP pt'rs, lale., howeve', He,zer lold ... eporte. Company. Im .. nded 10 'epl,eilelhe
WiI' nV Ove. N_Yo,k, Oeumbe. '968, pp 42 45 no Wh'lney Muse .. m of Ameflean f.om '1 w.. s n.. ve. out lO elf'gy mounds or p,eh,sto"e Na',ve
S¡ '" iI <;"el yR .. mepp 221-2l) A.I. New York 1'1'1) pp desl'oy Ihe Billlery syslem o. Ih" ileS' Amencan moundbudders, the ""o."

An R..iI
"e",.tnl Wor: V
el P. . ,
22
d [See,n,h'lIOlumepp
fdmund Su'.e A PI"losooh cal
fnq .. ,ry • eO'cnofOurlde¡,
II '22) n Oougl¡s Hueble. quoled ,n
'Sympos'um' '9]<: ,n
Loppa'd, 5 •• I'tOI'1, P,¡ege.
R
Ihet,e ob,ecl
OouBlas
I'm nol iI .¡d,cal
'lhe E."h
N....,Yo.k. Noo"m!>...
con.,,"

• snikt,
m.ss,"e mounds In
Ih .. abstr iel forms o( iI .p,de', a frog,
and a tu't'e

• o"ppt. YalÚ f ,n Sub and .. I,f R and Publ,shers N....,York '973,P '28 ,8, '974 P "3 O"g,nally. Ihere slrong l<Kill
t,
t'rlBt N
A"
. Ilod"
,
Ooosey don '7í7 'el' Ned
n The PI! 3OP/tyoffJmund S",. t A
36 Ed""ird SOli Tfr ••drPQu
An" t< ona o¡n" /leol-o ..d-
JOUml'f' lo 49 Baker Artworks on the Lind'. op
CII.pBo
oppos,t,on 10 Ihe proleel "nee the
ilbandoned bu,jd.ng srte had

SURVEY
 b«ome 10 pop"I¡, d,nbd,e u¡á ind
•
p"nlee! on Ihe occas,on of lI'e was] co,nc,de"'l.., Ih, ,f nOI thedrf"in F Pal"c'aC Ph,' ps 'Ma nlenance •
s, ... ee '1 seemed 10 •• loze ¡he Rtchard Long e.h,b,I'O .... Anthony ,t,ve ",de. of the eme'genee of Act,v 'Y' C,e.! nla
fu ... a,o ... oftne o"s,n,,1 mounds. d'Offay. Seplembe"98o; ,ep"mee! Postmodet!'l,sm Tlleglosso ... Cnange', r S<l1 11 11 An' o» e,!
O ... ce bu,ll, the mounds fided to 'n Long Pro"" Pnnud Owens' essay 's from Hil Fosle •. P ,88
sro"" s,ass as plannee! SUlcetne so,l Mott.,. New Yo," Publ,( l,b,,,I)'. Rt',,'" of,h. Rtal, MIT P,ess, )3 Ib,d. for more on Ukele, se ..
""as eo!'ltam,nated Afte' several NewYofx_ 1 994 Camb"dse. Massachusetts M,erle lade,ma ... Ukele,
yurs of neglect ¡nI' s,¡e ""iS dosee!. 72 Both Ihe from (arol H.II ind ,86 'Ma'ntenance Aft An v ty (19J3)
One loc.l oppo ... e ...¡ offe,ee! a usefu I Ine apl ph,ase -epheme,al geSlu'e, 84 Robert Sm,thson. 'Fr .. gmems of ..... K""oni"d
,ummil)' of¡nI' C)'eles of publte use on Ihe are borrowee! l... te'v,ew"",lh P A Norvell, Aprd Helen Moles""orth. and i conyt","-
ofthe lind whe" nI' 'i,d, -Tn.,. f,om S¡ephan,e Ross. ·Ca.dens, '969' '" loppi,d. Ytar<;. op e,t toon between ind Doug
m'ghl .eopen '1, bu! nobody ,sso,ng EaMh",o'.,. and Eny"onmenul Art- , !, Ashford Is
loeome see ,t anyway There 's st,ll No!ural Sto .. tyDnd ,ht 8, Cri'gOwens. 'TheAl1egoltcil Empty·. Oowm.nl<. no' '), New
nolh,ng 10 '1 bUI a few d rt n,lIs We AMS, ee! Sal'm Kemil ind Ivan Impulse Toward a Theoryof York, FaII1991.oP. c,t. pp )"0

i""istelind and ""e used '1
They ,wnee! ,¡ so nobodyuses ,1 See
E"ka Doss. Splf'! Pole. ,,,,d Fly ng
P'g5- ""bl" An rlnd C ..
lÑmoua,y '" Ame""an
Sm,lhson'in
Ins[,tu t.on P,ess, Wash,nSton, OC
'995. fo. a promOl,onil glo55on ¡he
P'OJeCI see MeC,ll 'M'en"el
He,ur s Effigy T.. e'lee! ,n 47
62 Robl!rt Sm,lhson ·Propos.. 11972', ,n
The Wm"'g"; ofRolxn S".,
e'l,pu'
6] Nincy Holt lene. to T,molny
Coll,ns.Oct 1 1973
PofXr1, Areh,.es of Ameroun Ar¡
Wasn "gton. O(
64 Hi"' Hiade, ¡¡uoled ,n ¡ad
Bu,nnam. 'Hi"" Hiiüe W,nd ind
\Niler Seul ptu,e', Tn· Q..arterlv. no , .
Nonhwesle,n Un,.e,s'ry, E"aMto ... ,
lI,nOl5 Sp"ng'967,PP"'24
fep"nlee! ,nArl.n ,he Llmd op. e,!
PP '06-24
6S A S lNIpold, 1'1 .. 1 W.ldloje
Ma""gtmtm ""h. Na¡.onal Paru.
US Depirtment of the Ime"o',
Adv,SOI)' Board On IN lidl,fe
Manisement Report to the
Se<:.etil)' Mirch4 '96}
66 Al¡n Sonf"ist, qUOlee! ,n H¡lfold
Rosenbe.s. T,me and Spue
Concepls '... Env,ronme ... ul Art . ,n
An '" Lond. op C,I . pp. 2' l,' 2
61 lucy R l'ppi.d o,.,.rloy
Conumporr¡ryAnond AM 0f
Pinlheon Books New
York.l9'83,» 44
68 Olhe,femln 5¡,lft,s¡,de.elopee!
""h ,eh 'e,te' ¿lee! .paces
1ft¡ th person .. 1mea ... ,ng', sueh as
AI,ce Aycod,- W,II'oms Co!ltgt
(19741. i 5mall eanh mound
'" th aehambe, ,n ""n,ch oneeould
"a""l. and ""h,en .efe'l 10 Hop,
'he caves of Ko,. ¡he subterranea ...
viults Fede,al Bi nk,
and ,he c"cula, P'!' of ¡he Ma'm •• 1S
69 JackBu .... llim, 'Contemporary
R,tuil A Sea,cll for Mean,ng ,n Post-
H,sto"c .. 1Te,ms·. '" Crtol W.,ttm
5011 Worb. Mton,ngof
Pou-Forrn¡¡l,j! AA. Ceo'se B'aI,lle',
NewYork.1974_ p 161
70 Henry Dav,d Thoreau. 'Wilk' ... g',
AIIDnl" Boston, 1861:
rep"ntee! ,n Th. Pol1llblt TIloreou.
ee! (¡¡rl8ode. y,k,ng, NewYo,k.
'980. pp. [See ,n Ih,s volume
p.2n]
l' Rtehird long_ from leaflet
Casktll. Cimb"dge Un've'''tr
P'ess. (¡¡mb"dge, 1993. P 11'
73 On 1I"hi,d long's work, ,n pa.t,cu-
larlhe Ce"', Abbol W¡¡lt see
Stephe ... Bi"", 'The Map as the
I... du ofthe Real l .. nd Art and Ihe
AuthentoCit,on ofTr .. vel· Imago
no 46, B"t'sh l,b.ary,
london. 1994 pp 9·,8 [See ,n In,s
YO ume pp. 243'45[
74 loseph 8euys a ... d R,chard Demarco,
op 'Imef\j'ew' , 982. E"trgy Plon for Ih,
Wentm Mon.jo.. ph Btu}" '"
Amlnco Wnr,ngs !7yond Inlt""(.."
Tllt An,,!. complied by Can.n
I<uon" Fou/ Walls E'gh,W",dows,
NewYo,k, 1990, pp.log-16ISee 1n
Ih,s volume pp. 266-68]
7S Ben¡am,nH.D Suehlon 'F.omthe
Aesthet,c of Adm,n 'Sil at,on to
1"'51,lul,onal Cr,t'que (Some Aspects
of(oncepIU¡IArt, '962-'969) '"
L 11ft Con.tp,,,,I, pe"p.a,.,.
nat,o ... al d· .. ft modet!'le de la
vdlede P.. "s, PifoS. : 989. p 49
16
,dea of'env,ronmen¡al art' can be
f,om Ihe fae! Ihal ,¡n-
cellee! ,etrospe<:tove al the So lomon
R Museum,
,n '97' was loh¡ve been d,,,,dee! ,nlo
Ih'ee se,!,ons: Systems.
B,olos,e.. 1Syslems and Soc,¡l
Systems. O ... Huc.e's udy systems
""o.ks Hans Haicke. From,ng
¡¡/'Id B.''''g 7 '97'>- J5,
ed I(i,pir I(oen'g New York
Un'\je,s,ly Press. New '975
17 Eleano,Heirtney'Eeopol,!ots¡Eeo·
poe!ry' Helen Ma,e. Ha",son and
tIIewton H¡m,on' S Envlfonmental
"'g ,n Sut 1$ HAM? rht
Sp"'¡ ee! N, ... a
felsh,n. B¡y Press. Semle, 1995.
P·148
78 JeA"rey Dt" ¡ch, ,n AM ,n Ll1nd, op.
e,t,p 8 7
19 Rosalond K,auss, 'Sculptu,e ,n the
hpanded F'eld', Oaober. no 8.
Camb"dge, Massaehusetts. Sp"ns
1979ISee"'th,svolumepp 233'341
80 Clement C,ee ... be'g. 'Rece ... tness of
Sculptu,e' , rep' nted ,n Mor' '''0' ArI
A (n1,,,,1 op. c,t . pp_ ,80-
!,
n.. 81 Ib,d
82 C,a'g O",ens. 'E .. rthwo,ds'. op coto
8) Ib,d. Accord,ng ' o o..ens, In,s I,n-
SU'SI'C e'llp¡,on ""as 's'gnalled by,
bUI by no mea ... s Iom'ted 10, the Ift¡"t-
,ngs ofSm,lhson. Mo,," •. And'e.
Judd, Flav,n. Ra,ne,. leWltt lind
POSlmode,n,sm' ,nAftAfttr 94 PI..ATfORM. S¡,I'Wolt", e.h,b,\,o ...
Modt"",m. Rtlh",k,ng brochure, '992, n P
R.prrsenlOl''''', ed SfI"n W311os. 95 Ib,d
Dav,d Cod,ne, Boston .. nd Ne"" 96 Fo, Foste,. tn,s ""hole I,ne of ;'gu·
Museum of CO!'llempo,a')' Art. tII.w men! 's p.. rt of .. ¡a'ge, skepto"sm
York. '984, p. 209 ibout tne anlhropolog"al p,e!en-
86 fred"cJameson, 'Postmodernism. Sfons of cu Itu'al slUd,es, new h,s-
or Ihe Cultural log'c oflate lo",,,m, I 51ud'es, and Ir
Cap,ulosm' . New teft Rt .. ,tw. "'0 , 46. d,sc'pl,na,.,. sWd'es ,... general See
london. 1984_ p 8l.jameso ... H al Fostef, Re! ..", 0f R.ol. op
descrobn h,s pu,pose as. 'A model e,\.
of poi t,eal culture approp"a,e to 97 Hom, KShibha. Loco"on of
ou' own s,tuat,on "",11 necessa"ly Cld"rc. Routlee!ge. N"",York. 1994,
havelo ra.se spat'i11 ,ssues as the p.216
fundamental ofga ... 'z .... g eo"'ee.n 98 Ch"st,an Ph, 'pp Mulle., ·C.een
"" : the,efo,e p'ov,s,onally ne Sorder' _,n Sltl'wftr.t.f,
an ¡esthet.e of eogn.!tve mipp,ng' R.plf'>f-nllll'w,.
The conce»t of ,ogn ,llVe mapp' ng 's Ausman Pivll,on. '993, n.p.
more exphc.tly d ,scussed ,n 99 M,chel Foucaul¡,
Jimeso .... 'Cogn't've Mapp,ng'. ,... Reoder, ed Rl,nbow Pantheon.
Mormm ond tht interpr.MI,on of 1984, p.",
C.. ee!s Ca')' Nelson ¡nd 100 M,lle" 'V,et Ngo-
uw'ence C rossbe.g. Un'vers'ty of I as Ar¡', P"bl" Art
III,no". Urba ... ¡, '988, pp. )47·60 Rc",tw, M,nneapolos.
87 Fo, ¡ suec,"et summiry of tne,e Sp" ... s·Summe, '990
debates. see Dav,d Ha",ey. Th. 101 AConve,sa\,o ... Between Do"slas
Po,¡modt," Cond",on, Bas, Cromp and C,egg 80,dow,tz_ Ji ... ua,.,.
london. 1991 Fo' fem.- 9, 1989', In Ja" Z,ta C,ove,. AIOS
n,s! (Oftee!,ve, 10 Ihe 'maseul,n 'SI' The An,m e.h,b'l,on eil .. -
spitoa Ilheo' ,es of F,ee!, ,e Jameson, logue, Oh'O State Un.vers '!y,
Dav,d Harvey, Edwa,d SOla, and 1989,P 8
o!hers, seelhese ,mportan! wodcs '02 John 'Mad Fo, 11".
Rosalyn Deutsche, E"'CI,on\, MIT T,.-, "O 15, londo .... Summe, 1996.
P,ess, Cimbrodge. M assachusetts, p 3°
1997: C 111'3 n Rose. Fem,n'!m
Th. L''''''',of
Unovers.,y
ofM,nnesou P'ess, M,nneapol,s,
"993: S P,le i ... d C,II,,, ... Rose, 'AII or
No!h'''g) Poht.es .. nd C"toque ,n Ihe
Modern,sm- Postmodernlsm
E/'Iv,/onmCnI ond
O: SO".lyond no 'o. P,on,
London, '992, pp. '23'36; and
Doreen Milssey, 'flex,ble Sex,sm'
EnMonmtn,ond Plonn"'8 O: $o"cry
oMd Spo'., ... 0 9, P'o .... london, '99',
pp ]1'51
88 Susan So,do. 'Femi .... sm,
Pos\mode.n,sm, and Cender
SkepI,e,sm·. ,n F.m",i\mjPO<l-
modtfMm, ed l, ... d.. J N,cholson.
Ne""Yo,k, 1990, PP '13-
,6
89 Frede"e I¡meson, op. c,t . p_ 8&
90 Rocha,d Serta. quoted,n Robl!rt
Sto", "TillfdAn Enemyofthe
People)' Art ,nAmtnco, vol]3. no 9.
Ne"" York, Septembe, 1985. p. 93
9' lames Meyer, 'The Fune!,onal S,le',
Oowmenl¡, no 1, NewYo,k. fall
'996. p 21

SURVEV
 •
•

The works grouped here manipulate the landscape as a

material in its own right. The artists add , remove or displace local natural

materials to create a form of sculpture that reflec!s the ethos of Minimalism in its

emphasis on materiality, elemental geometries and siting. Their work draws out

the relationship between the existing characteristics of a site and evidence of

human intervention. Often monumental in scale, they simulate the spatial

expanses in which they are located. These works introduce the foundational

expressions of the Land Art phenomenon . The performa tive. process-based

nature of Land Art 's formalstrateg ies developed throughout the 19605 are based

on mark-making, cutting, agglomeration or relocation . Later practitioners inflect

these methods with lyrical. and/ or political intent.

. -;

.-
• •

Noguchl slaned des1!!nlng works lor .-". -

pubtJC spaces betwee-n 1m and 1937
xulplure lO Ek Sel'fl from Mars was
lnlwUy entJlled MemonoJl lo M.Jn and
concelVed as a maSSM! I!arthwork Thl!
maquette was <In Impress,on DI an
abslrilct lace In sand pholographed 10
creal!! me IUuslon 01 maSSM! seale The
nOSI! was lo nave been a ml!e!1 6 km l
long and when seen from spac!! was
rntended 10 snow thal a CM1.l.ll!d
form had Orlee eXlsted on Earth
Nogoctll s pesslml5m about Ine fulure
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01 me plane l resulted In part from hls •

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walter (

L<f5 Vegas P,ece (onslsls 01 four trenches. Iwo one mlle (1 "km, lon g and Iwo half a
mlle 1804 mI long al! sel al nght angles lo form iI square The stralghlllnes are
Ir('nches In Ihe earth 244 cm wlde onented N·S and E·W Overlapptng Ihl5 artifiCial
gnd are Ihe curved paltems 01 natural streams The plec!! 15 meanllo be expenenced
al ground level II explores Ideas 01 measurl!menl and orlen lallon o, Ihe bocly In Ihl!
landscapl! By dlgglng 1010 Ihe earth. De Maria also eommenls on how map·makcng
dev,ees are Imposed on Ihe nalurallandscape

INTEORATlON
 ,
•
"

WORKS
 Deon i s OPP EHII[l H
" , ,<<Ir "
"
"
, ,,
.,
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,
gra¡',
grape,

p
O • O

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Oppenhelffi cut through deep layers

01 snow <lod Ice. llnmg [he path wllh
sawdusllo create a dark seam (91 "
122 " 1.500cmlthroughthesnow The
work was exl'lIblted as a photograph
accompann,!d by a milp showlng lhe
(ocallon 01 1he temporary rnark In lhe
landscape The mappmg 01 the arllst's
gesture on ¡he (and <lnd on a map
crealed two very dlfferent Visual
expenences ollhe work Thls work
makes eVlden! lhe symbollc functlon
01 milps

r'
-
• •
•

NEGATIVE BOARD . 1968. St o Francis, Maine. )' x 4 ' x 50 ' . Snow and sawdust •

-
-

WORKS
Denn i s DffEIIH[! M
, • "
•
• • c.
..
•
•
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,
• •
Perpendicular 10 ¡¡ trozen waterfalL -- ••
Dppenhelm cut a \ 22 >< 300 centlmetre
channel In Ice wlln a chamsaw Wllhln
,
-- •
1
¡
twenty-four lIour!> Ihe ch¡¡nnelln Ihe Ice
i
had refroze n. Ihe forces 01 nat ure had
-
erased man s Intervenllon In Ihe nal ur;al

envlronmenl -- -
•

Oppenhelrn exh lblled documenlatton

-
01 In ls work In lile form 01 a map and
photographs al Ihe seminal Ear1h Art
exh lblhon al Andrl'w DlCkson Whlte
.
..
.r
•
•

-
Museum Comell UnlVI!rslty.lthaca 1969

-
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I

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, - .......
•

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•

...
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•
I
ACCUMULATION CUT . 1969.
Location : Itha c a , Ne .... York. 4' X 100 ' cut madc perpendicular to fr ozen water fal l . I
Equipment: Gaso line powered cha i o saw. 2 4 hours r equired to r efreeze.

-- •

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•

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WORKS
50

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t'

" f",t,"Jf'

• '"." r w •
, "
,
,
FoUowlI'Ig Ihe IIn!s 01 [he boundary

between Fort Kent. Maine (US) and

Clalr New Brunswlck (Can ada) on lhe
Irozen SI Jalln Rlver. Oppenhelm cul
two paro!lIel !in!!!> In Ihe Ice wl th a snow-
moMeo kavelhng al 35 m p h The
work ¡ook ten mlnuleslo extCllle Tlle
boundary ¡Iso marks lhe inlersectlon
between two dllferenl llme zones
Oppenhelffi 15 explonng lhe relallonshlp
between time and space. ¡he time 15

slmuUaneously lhe same and dlfferen!

011 each su:!e 01 ¡he lime hnl! Thls makes
citar lhe contrasl between lime as .In
abstrae! conc epl and lime as 1I 15
é xpe n e nced by m OYlng Ihrough space
Oppenhelffis gtslure ¡lIustrales how
human mapplng systems are Imposed
on lhe natural envlronmenl. rellerallng
lhe arllfielality 01 man 's ma pplng 01 spaee

A lield was seeded ano lhen lhe graln was harvesleO In Ihe lorm 01 an X, lhe graln

was kepllrom processlng and never sold Oppenhelm explalned Planllng ano
culhvallng my own malenalls like mlnlng one 's own plgmenl (for palnll Isolatmg
thls graln Irom ful'1her proces5lng becomes IIke sl opplng raw plgment Irom
becomlng an IUUSIOnlSllC lorce on canvas'
- Oennls Oppenhelm In DennlS Oppenhe,m Selected Works 1967-90, 1992

The X IS a symbo l 01 cancellallon and eeonomlC negallon The erop was nol released
InlO Ihe 1000 ehaln and remalned excluslvely pal'1 01 an al'1lsllc ael

INlEGRATlON
 •

· .'>
• .
-- -. < •
•

- -

• ..
•
•

_-r

•
•

- _ _
•o
-
,
,
.
J,," DI8SEIS

,"
•
, - •
•

A 9

1"
,

Olbbets found a large cltanng In a

lores! where a p.¡Ith crossed a creek •
• •
l o-
A dothnllne attached 10 lafge rocks
was used lo mark out a largl! Von
Ihe ground each arm 01whlch was
,. \.

appro.lmately 152 cm wlde and 3 m i-

.. \
long The turf Wlthln I!olth arm 01 Ihe
V was tumed over wrlh plckaus and "•

-,.
shovels ucepl where Ihe V was
Interucted by Ihe path The long walk
,
••
·., •
•

\":r ..,.
through Ihe woods lo Ihe Sil! 01 Ihe •
work was pan 01 ¡he plece ,)
The work was molde lor Ihe ' Ear1h
Art uhlbltlon al Andrew Oltkson Whlle • •
Museum Comen UnlverSlty. nhilt.] \969

,
• ) ,
••
• 4
, , •

•
- ,
•

WORKS
 HEllE R
Rllt ter ,rilte I

'"
..
tonne

re lry
ment ' or,!!,

The lransformatlvl' powers 01 n<Jlure are examlned through Ih e natural delerloratlo]l

01 Helzer's The artlst creales a dynamlc relallonshlp between lime and
space The forms whlch have been dug mIo Ihe desert floor graduany dlsappear over
time as Ihey are erodeó and Ihe 5111' 15 by nali.lre Time 15 selln retallon lo
human seale. whlch seems mlnlscule In proportlon lo lhe ImmenSlly 01 "alure
11"1 hl5 photographs 01 Ihe Nme Nevada Oepressions H,mer plays wllh conventlons
governu19 VISlon. seeo frorn dlfferent aogles lhe depresslons appear lo
lilke on a dlHerenl form

• •

lNTEGRATION
•
•

/I'chael HEllfR

•
,

WORKS
MI hae'!:!.f "R

A ma551ve 240 000 tons 124L. 800 tonnes! 01 earth was moved wlth Ihe help 01 •

bulldozers whlch excavaled Irom Iwo sldes 01 a valley wall The displaced earth was
banked up m Ironl 01 Ihe bulldozers lo lorm two homontal ramps Commenllng on
Ihe IIlle. Ihe artlsl slaled. In order lo creale Ihls sculplure malerlal was removed
ralher Ihan accumulaled There 15 nolhmg Ihere yet II 15 sllll a sculplure·
- Mlchael Helzer 'lnlervlew wllh Julia Brown 1981.
The sculplure 15 created Irom Ihe vOld ralher Ihan Irom Ihe solld Helze(s concems
wllh Ihe dlrecl phYSlcal expeflence DI our bodles m relallon ID Ihe landscape are
partlcularly eVldenl m Double Negallve The vastness 01 Ihe work Ilself compeles wllh
the Immense scale ollhe na tural world The vlewer can watk Ihrough Ihe sculplure as
• •
¡lit was a bUilding. thus a connecllon IS also made between sculplure and
archltecture

- .
•

•
•
- • •

• -• .. .. ....
........ . ::.:. . ...
• ... . ... •

INTEGRATlON
 •

•
•
•

• •
•
•
•
, •

•
•

•
• •
• •

•
•
 •
•
 .

01 earth Two dump Irucks. a tractor and

a large 'rontloader were laken lo Ihe

I
Sil! Basal! and earth were scooped Irom
Ihe beach al Ihe beymnmg 01 Ihe jelty.

!
Ihe lrucks backed up 10 Ihe Gulllne 01 the
splral and dumped Ihe matenal The
lorm 01 !he work was Influ!nc!d by Ihe
SIII!. whlch had once be!n uSl!d lo mine
011 Ihe splral shape 01 Ihe Jetty was
derlved Irom Ihe local topography as well
as relalmg 10 a my1hlC whlrlpool al Ihe
cenlre 01 Ihe lake The splral also renecls
lhe Clr(Ulilr formahon 01 Ihe sall cryslals
!hal coal Ihe rocks Smllhson was
IflIllally attrac!ed lo Ihe Sil! because 01
Ihe red colourallons oflhe sal! lake The
work was changed by lIs envlronment.
reflechng Sm'lhson 's fasclnallon wllh
enlropy. lhe inevitable transformallve
lorces 01 nature Subsequently
submerged underwater thls
monumental structure IS a hollow
testimonial lo man s domlnance 01 the
landscape and a comment on hls
relallonshlp to monuments The work
perlodtcally re-emerges Irom the lake

INTEGRATlON
WORKS
 . Robert SMIIHSO N
,; ,
,"
p

, r' , •
o ,
p
, '"'
Cre;¡led In an abandoned sand quarry as
Dne DI [YIo works on 11'1,5 Slle nhe olher
beln!! Broken erre/el. th,s WilS Ihe lin.l
work by Smllhson 10 'recla,m ' an
industrial Slle As Ihe art lst eKp lalned . 'In
a very densely populated ¡¡rea like
Holland, I leetl!"s besl nol 10 dlslurb [he
cuUlvahon o( the land Wllh my work In

the quarry. I somehow re-organlzed a

dlsrupled sltuahon ami brough t 1\ back lO
some klnd 01 sha pe '
- Robert Smlthson. 'Inlervlew Wllh
Gregolre Müller', 1971
Splral H!II was construcle d 01,11 01
earlh aYer whlch severallnches o, black

I lopsoll were lald Whlle sand was spread

alonglhe edges o, Ihe splral path The
anllelockwlse dlrecllon 01 Ihe palh lorms
an anclen! symbol 01 deslrudlon The hltl
can be seen as an analogy lor Ihe Tower
01 Babel. a referenee lo man·s destrue-
Ilon. here specllieally e nvlronmen la l
deslruellon The work was IOtended lO
deterlorale graduaUy and Ihen disappear.

I bullhe local eommuOlly has voled lo

¡ malOtaln Ihe work 10 lIs orlglOal form

Robert
,
¡"
"' 1
'"'
,. P 1ea ", agoon
" ¡;
" "
"' , ,la nd Key . ,linda

• Sunken Islandwas madI! by

eonsolldallng rocks lrom the bottom 01
lhe lagoon In whleh lhe work was bUllt
The rocks were enerusled wl!h small
shmy plant and animal lile and sponges
ealled deadman"slingers' Smllhson
used the water. vegelable and mlO eral
matter as II lhey were a whole.
IOtereonneded material

INTEGRATlON
• •

.. .- •
 flE ISCHNEB
" d

4b IT\

• •
In' •
5 0d "'<lzecomp nses four concenlnc.
gently sloplnQ maunds 01 earth Wllh a
single piillh lo Ihe cen tre The pa!h 15
vIsible due lO Ihe low rellel 01 Ihe
construc1lon. and may be lollowed or
aba ndone d al WIIl The lorm relates lo
prel'ust oflc for1llicat lons and bUrla l
grou nd s

-
I

!
,
I
I

I
Robert il:ll' HSON
I •
I•
I •
" "
• •• I I

Seen Inll.aU., !rom above as 1\ 15

,¡pproached Am.Jnllo Rolmpchanges
slgnlflcantly upon belng enlered By
walklng upon l' Ihe Vll!wer 1$ aware 01
nls/hef constanUy changln!! relahonshlp
10 Ine surroundlngs and helglltened
sens! DI Ihe temperature IIght IInd
soun ds 01 natufe The sculpture 15 a
partlal (Irde bu.11 on a dry lakebed In /In
afea riel'! In IlInl Tn! (o(OU( 01 Ihe earlh
changes throughoul Ih! dóly
Smllh50n dlled In 1973 wtlllsl
uplonng Ine slle In /Ir> alrplane 11'115
plll!Cf was (ompleltd by Nancy Holl
Richard Serra and Tony Sllalrazl

INTEGAATlO N
 •

Herbert BAYEB

¡q/9 82
[arth

1" td"

i ,nty . ioIash ngtJn

I
Se! In 11 park and deslgned lo take mio
account bolh envlronmenlal and human

I needs. Ihls work 15 cempased 01 'ive

geometricelements two mounds.
one raund and one oblong oa cone
surmounled by a bridge over ¡¡ pondoa
flng mound and pondoand a rlng mound
blsecled by Ihe creek The design
controls storm -water runaff mio MIli
Creek Canyon. Kmg County. Washington
as lhe mounds runchon as drau1age
basms They ¡¡Iso provloe seatlng lar
Vlsltors dunng Ihe dry season

INTEGRATlO N
 TuRRElL •
• "

Thl! s,11! IS a dlSh-ltkl! 5paCl! bl!twel!n 122 and 3D5 m abovl!

a p\.i ln TUITI!ll uuvall!d!hl! lO lorm a per1ect clrell! lhl! slle 5 rl!Lallon5hlp Wllh
space and ltghl 15 01 u!mosl Imponanu 1115 approached from Ihe WI!$I by dl'Mng
act'Oss!h1! MHn Thl! road makl!$ a Clme on!hl! north Sldl! 01 Ihl! cralu and
eoml!s up a rilVlnl! on 11.5 nonheasl sldl! Allhl! lop ol!hl! faVlne Ihe VlSllor r!!OJches a
walkw.-,!hal foUows!he ClrcuLir maLapal nm 01 Ihl! fumarote olllhe llonhl!asl slde 01
Ihe erall!r lhe watkw.-, 1$ approltlmall!ty 76 m abo ... e Ihl! pLa,n Allhl! lop 01 Ihe
fumarotl! arl! new $paces from whlc;h a lunnl!L 2.6 m In dlaml!lu and 28m
tugh ulend$ 315 m The atl$ as an obsl!rvatory whIL$1 from lhl! edge 01 Ihe
votuno Ihl! geotog,e dlsnlpllon 01 Ihe reglon da!lng back 10 prehlslonc limes can be
sl!en The work uptoresllghl as 111$ $pread acro$$ Ihl! sky Thl! SIII! was choSl!n lO
take advanlage 01 Ihe An zona sky one 01 Ihe e(!!areslln Ihe wortd The anlsl has
5taled My W1sh 1510 use II ghl as Ihe malenal nol Ihe subject 10 alfect Ihe medlum 01
perc:epllon [ I Our abillty lo perc:erve Ihe sky 15 d,rectly rl!LaI!!d 10 Ihl! upans lon 01
I!!mlones 01 Ihe self [ 1The $paces Il!ncounl!!rl!d In ftlghl encouraged me lO work
wllh Larger amounts 01 5paee and Wltn a more t\Jrviltnear se nse ollhe space 01 Ihe
sky and Il.5ltm'15
- Jaml!S Turrelt Rod!!n valer 1993
INTEGRATION
 i
I I

, ..r
 •
• .

rhICJf d'PtNd o" s/lowlhen IN;Jler

h,,¡d u(I/II froun tog,tn,r
CJt;a$I(H'IdUy usmg forl.,d s/Jd<s iJS
$Upport unll/ studc
iJ IMU mom,nI w1I,n I"k.ng ¡h,m

on In, sbdc lirsllo /,

GoIdswonhycreiJlu INOoo In Ih,
landseape ,,,,n!jl lound malena15 and
Nllural proc'$$'S .as w,U as h'5 own
physlUll man,pulat.on 01 !he mal,nals
Ihrough brealh,ng handIJng or holdIng
10 erule n_ fonTl5 Th, wom are
ofien very shon-llV.d and iJft rKorded
as photographs Goldsworthy s
,n I\iIture h"ghlen out
awarenen 01 !he beaulyoln.ature as
_ll oiII5 0111$ endvnng '¡lnd ¡¡Iso

horst ChU/flllllr,e
10m hol,
swchtd around Ihe edgl! w,rn grass
stalks
movmg In rhe wmd

WO RKS
 1"111 ,RAY IN

I
Dods BLOOM and 1Ii1 al!! HNTRIOGE •

Thls IS an analomlcal ¡mage of a heart

drawn in chalk on fire-scarred veld(open
counlryl The cond1110ns 01 productlon
are hOrllonlal. Ihose 01 expenence
venlcal Thls compleluty IS mlrrored
by Ihe contexl 01 the Joha nnesburg
Blennale lor whlch 1I was created m
1995 The work IS experienced very
d,Herently depen dlng on whelher 1I IS
seen from aboye or from ground level
Seen Irom Ihe grollnd Ihe draw¡ng IS a
labynnth 01 runnlng chalk llnes wh!Ch
make a hean. Ihe shape of whlch
can only be dlscemed mdlslmctly
The fI,Innmg Imes can also be a way
01 tlrcumscnblng a p,ece of Land The
drawmg can only be seen m lis enllfety
Irom Ihe alf

WORKS
 ,
These projects intersect the environment and

human activity by employing non-indigenous. man-made materials ranging from

asphalt or glue to a row of Cadillacs; the works expand to match the large scale of

the environment itself. They use manufactured substances and structures. or

m ach ines and technology to frame. set in motion or harness natural elements

ranging from coastlines to forked lightning. The artists place an increasing

emphasis on the transgressive qualities of the activity. questioning the definition

• •

of what is ·natural·. Paradoxically. these artists participate in whilst critiquing the

kind of terrestrial exploitation frequently carried out in the name of industrial and

urban development. They also interrupt the landscape by bringing its dirt and
I
organic randomness into the acculturated white cube of the gallery.
I

•
I

eM BI STO a J[ ANNE- Cl AUDE

1972-76
;te . J

In l'

Runnmg Fence ¡ook ¡he ¡nISIS four years \0 complele and the technlCal and legal
problems encounll!red durlng lIs plannmg and conslruchon are Integral lo the work
Al and a half-mel res h Igh and Üllrty-mne -kllometres long. I!Ktendlng easl-wl!! sl
near freeway 101 . north 01 San Fran"sco and droppmg down lo lhe Pac¡fic Oeean al
Bodega Bay. 1I was made 01 200.000 square melres 01 heavy WDven wl'u te nylon fabrlc.
hung from a steel cable strung between 2.050 sleel poles (eaeh 6 5 m long. 9 cm In
dlameler) embedded one melre mIo Ihe ground and braced lalera lly wl'l1 guy wlres
(145 km DI sleel cablel and 14.000 earth anchors The top and boltom edges 01 lhe
2.050 I.. bnc panels were secured lo lhe upper and lower cables by 350.000 hooks
Helped by hundreds 01 workers. englneers. advlsors. sludenls and farmers. Ihe work
had a slrong SOCIal elemenl Runnmg Fence was vIsible for rourteen days Acllng as
an artificial barner. lhe work connecled lhe land lo lhe sea and s ky surroundlng 11.
maklng expllClllhe arbllrary na lure of polll"al and geographlCal boundanes

INTE RR UPTION

I
 •

. ....:
.
 t-Iade dlreclly In ¡he landscape Sf1'Cdntwaslocated top 01 a grassy mound Irom
Ihere'l descended 1010 a rollln9 meadow surrounded by Irees Th!! hne 01 ¡he work
artlculaled 'he (lse and fati ollhe land and In lroduced a dlff!!ren! seale lOto Ihe natural
5ell,09 A secan! 15 a 51r<ll9hl ¡lne con necllng a curve al two pOlnls Andre "s work was
bol!'! the undulatlnQ [lne 01 Ilmbers and lhe strillgl'll hne (onnl'(:l1n9 Ihe two ends TrIe
arttsl sald The [lne 15 !he !Irsl and atso Ihe very lasllhlng nol only In palnllng bul
,
also. more generally In every construchon TrIe hne 15 passagl!. movemen1. Colllslon.
boundary. support link. dlvlSlon By eleva1lng Ihe hne lO Ihe status 01 prime
I element. wll h whose help alone we are able lo c;ons lru el and ereale. we rejeel any
aeslhelles 01 colour. Ihe treatmenl 01 surf/lcu and style .
- Carl Andre. ar1lsrs statemeñt

I Hans HAA CIí..E

,
6
..
,
Hehum-Ittled ballDons wtrt reteased In
Central Park New York mapplng a
bnght hne In !he sky

,
•
,

INTERRUPTlQN
 •

•
•

•
----
-

.--' .....
. . -"....._u
- ....
,._'""'" lo.
.......... .
,,-" . . . . __ • -0-'" •

lhe neor plOln 01 g"llery number" 01 Ihe

Andrtw O,tkson WMe Museum Ithaca
New York was lransplanted lo Slrd
Sancluary !thaca New Von... by drawlng
on lhe gfound uSlng d,rt and snow
Oppenhelrn s concem In hl5 senes 01
Gilllery Transpldnls was 10 creale a
dynamlc relallonshlp wllh Ihl! 511e
becomlng a surface for InscnptJon The
manlpulallon 01 Ihe locallOn lakes lile
place 01 Ihe obJect Transplanllng
• Ihe Slle 10 a dlffefenl conlu\ productd
ObJKls ¡¡nd slg"S Wllh d,lferen!
fundlDns Through Ihl5 acllVlty Ihe
The woñt cOf'ISlsled 01 ¡¡ !lne 01 wood tlmbers placed one behlnd lhe otller Wood as a
world wh ,eh Oppenhelrn has created
sculptural male-nal has a IOflgOlnd d,st,ngulshed hlstory and for Andre 1\ al50 hu
poetlC reSOIWI1lCes The semi! nature 01 elemenlS was IKhoed In the repelillVe becomes iln ensemble 10

SIr\KtUfe 01 tne WOOl Viewmg Ihe work pacmg oullhe lenglh 01 Ihe wof1( 'he be dIKlphered

dtstance belwHn rwo potnlS tonnlKled by a Ilne Th,s mOlde c\ear Ihe spatJal Th ls WOOl was firsl made lor Ihe

s,llJatlons 01len91h al'ld dlstance The elements fepellllVe rhy1hm wh lch could only br1h Ar1 exhlbltlon al the Andrew

be expenenced by wal1t.1ng allowed the v,ewer lo sense Ihe WOOl s temporal OlCkson Whlle Museum, Comell

Time f!Veals Itsell 10 be made up 01 small Unlts 01 space and 'he UnlVerslty Ithaca NewYof1( 1969

IndMslb,tJty 01 space and t.me becomes apparenl

WORKS
 Ilennl s OPPE NIIEIH
" , , ,
"19 " ,t Je

," •• , ,
"
• ,4'f
, "
, ... !

An ;Jlrpl)lle pilo! dlrecled by radiO Irom

Ihe ground tr.JCed Ihe schemala 01 a

tomado In Ihe sky uSlng Ihe Jet 01 smoke

dlscharged by Ihe alrcraft

Oennis OPPEHHEIM
, "
- a.d b a" nd
tcp

•
,
," Av ,<" Y"

Oppenh!lm spread 1000 lbs (454 kg) 01

saUln a reclangle on;Jn aspha lt surface
Idenlltal dlm ens lons were lranslerred In
JO • JO· 60 cm sa ll-bck blocks lo Ihe
ocean floor off Ihe Bahama toasl.
Idenlltal dlmens lons were ucavaled lo a
deplh olJO cm In Ihe Sall Lak.e Oesert.
Ulah Oocumentallon 01 these evenls In
Ihe lorm 01 photographs and maps were

,4'-' ,. H un o¡ ...-u O" .. uhlblted In Ihe gaHery

'"' h. " " ", !.t" ••. , .• YO,'. ' u 'o".
'0'" lo b• • r.l",r.' •• a In ,. ,2' Dloc ' S
to Geu" floo' ,H F Oh''''4 tO 00
•• ... " t · • of l ' 'n 4lt l.'. n . . . . .. tan.

•• ,
"

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o.

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---- ,
•
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•
,,
'
• •, •
•
•
•
•
l'

, NTHIRUPTlON

I
•
 "

Oennis OPP [ NH EIM

,
I '"
,
• •, " •e ", be k "" ",
'" ,
"
" •
e ", 6
• ,
, ,
• -, , ,

Oppenhelm proposed plaelng glant slars

made 01 eoncrele and glass In Ihe
landseape Visible from the alr wlth a
treneh ¡eadlng up lo eaeh one Ihe stars
I, would have looked as II Ihey had lallen
Irom Ihe sky and skldded lo a ha!t In Ihe

,
, urlh

Oennis OPP!NHEI H

. ,
•

"
USlng an Induslrlal primer Oppenhelm
marked the lan dseape wllh a square
eross eeholng Ihe marklng 01 a
topographle map lo Indleale a slle lile
lorm 01 a eross also carnes symbohe.
rehglous overtones. as weU as belng a
symbol 01 negallon The asphall primer
would nOI have made an Indellble mark
on Ihe landseape. Inslead II dlsappeared
In Ihe same way Ihal traces 01 anelent
bUrlal slln may have been erased or
bUrled as Ihe forces 01 nalure erase
man -made marklngs 01 Ihe land

INTERRUPTlON
 • •

Ir.::- -

-- . . ::l¡ .

• • ,

long s work hn a[ways demonslra1ed a slrong conceptual emphilsI5 as well as

a concem wllh Ine matenallly 01 Ihe natural world and modem urban spac! The
process 01 maklng each plece 15 Ihe central focus 01 hl5 praclice The works wh lch
Long bnngs mio Ihe galtery envlronment ¡¡el as slgnlfiers 01 nls resolute mvolvemenl
w,th [he earth and lIs malenals In [hem he seIs vp i tenslDn be!wel!n Ihe n¡tural
world and [he i!rdl'leclura[ sett,ng In wnlCh [!ley are placed

W ORKS
 '"

The chlt-IIned shorl! area whleh was

wrapped 15 apprOJ.lmalely 25m long 46
10244 m ""'Ide 26 m 1'1'91'1 al Ihe norlhem
chHs and was al Sl'iillevel al Ihe
sDulhern sandy beath Án upanse DI 93
km 01 eroslon-conlrol labnc was used
lor ¡he wrappmg ¡nd S6 km 01
polypropylene rope lied Ihe fabnc lo Ihe
rocks 25,000 fasteners Ihreaded sluds
I
¡nd cllps wefe useo lo secure the rope
lo Ihe rocks The coasl rernalOed
wrapped for a penad 01 len weeks

, Alterwiuds aU matenals were removed

and ¡he slte was rel\,lmed lo lIs onglnal
I (ondlllOn
Wrappmg ¡he toasl vl'lled Ihe feal
con lours 01 ¡he lemtory The rope used
lo secure Ihe fabnc lo ¡he slle lormed
hnes whleh recalled Ihe gnd 01 a map
The landscape was SlmultaneDusly
-
I
I
cDvered - blocked 001- and dlscovered
In a dlfterent form

,,
,

-
..... -
•

INTERRUPTlON
• •

_.
•

--
_ _ _ _ _ 7

.;=. ------ - --
-
•
,- - -
- -- -
-
- •

-
--
 Chnslo and Jeanne-Claude were helped •
by a wlde group 01 people ranglOg lrom
eons lruehon workers lO lemporary
he lpers art-sehool and eollege sludenls
12.780 m' 01 orange nylon labne were
seeured along Ihe valley 01 Rifle
Colorado The Villley CurtillO was
suspended al a wldlh 01 3Bl m and
eurved from 111 m In helghl al each
end lo 55 m a l Ihe cenlre The CurtillO
remaifled clear 01 Ihe valleys slopes
• -
and bottom A 3 m sk lrt was attached
lO Ihe lower part 01Ihe CurtalO belween
Ihe lhlmbles and Ihe ground
Thls was a very short-llved pleee.
hours a fter 11 had been
e recled. hlgh wlOds swepl Ihrough Ihe
valley makmg 1I necessary lo lake Ihe
curt a lO down

•., r ,
, CtlUlli1 J.LAN NE- ClAJ.iltE
,
I "ce
,
d

en p ,
" '", dbr '"
fI dt fi g a r "d CHRI SIO dnd JEANNE·C1AUDE

'0
9
'" " "
J,1 tógona l umbrel1dS

q m 3(h

Vdl1ey' Jbaral dpdr . J<j

1. 14 b Je pdra ó · ¡fornld .

I )Ab km . 16( yel,¡ par", 1

On 1. Oclober 1991 . Ctmslo ilfid Jeanne-
Claude·s 1.680 workers began
slmultaneously lo open Ihe 3.100 umbrellas
10 Iwo dlslanl parts 01 Ihe wodd . lbaraki.
Japan and California In Japan lhe valley IS
localed 120 km north 01 Tokyo Il'Ilhe US Ihe
yalley IS localed 96 km 1'I0rth 01 Los
Angeles Manufac1urers In Japan. lhe USo
Germany al'ld Cal'lada had prepared Ihe
umbrellas Ihe fabrlc. alUmll'llUm super-
slruclure. sleellrame bases. anchors .
woodel'l base supports. bags and moulded
base coyers Alllhe umbrellas were
assembled 10 Bakersfield. Call1omla.lrom
where 1.31.0 umbrellas were shlpped 10
Japan AII Ihe umbrellas In Japan were
blue. Ihose In Call1ornla were yellow The
Inslallallon lasled I'IlOeleel'l days
 . --" Nancy HOLT

.. --
-- ,
These bUrled poems were prtvale artworks Hall dedlCated Ihe poems lo five dlfferenl
people (Mlchael Hellef Phlllp LE'lder. ear¡ Andre. John Perraull and Robert Smllhson)
and ehose [he fl!mole slIes accordlng lo cerlalll physlCal. spahal ilnd alrnosphenc
•
" qualltll!s whlch would evoke a particular person for her lhe poems were bUrled In •

vacuum contalners. and Ihe reclplenl recli'ved a map whlch conlalned al! Ihe

_.- •
necessary Informallon for Ihe poem 10 be faund and dug up The map proYlded Hall
w,th bolh a physlcallocilllon and charactenstlcs whlch slle could relate lo a speclhc

-- persan. as well as a symbohc spaci' In whlch lo construc! Ihe mealllng prl!senled In

Ihe poems Along wllh lhe inslruchons on how lo find Ihe slle she tnc\uded del,lIls of
• '" ," . Ihe hlslory. geology, flora and launa 01 Ihe slle as welt as maps. plctures and
- speClmens 01 rocks and leaves

• •

I
I
,,

Nanc)/ !iQjJ Nancy HOLl Nancy HOLl

, ,
• "' ,"
,
"
"" , '"' 'o,.., 1 eh Heller

"' " ".

,
, "' , ' !t gr,
'H , Ar:he Pa r •. ,,"
" ""

INTERRUPTION
 •

Thl5 was .lO Inslallahon mOlde 1IIon951de

Ihe NI.Jgara Rlver Concrete dlsks holding
pools 01 water In varylng slzes were
sunk mIo Ihe earth The conflgurallo1"1 01
lhe pools matches lhe stellar
consleUahon Hydra rJ'lls work explores
lhe Idea 01 mlm s relatlon!;hlp Wllh Ihe
Ul'llverSI! ralher ¡han JusI Ihe Immedlate
envlronment

WORKS
 88 Nancy !!Qll
o
1, '6
'1 ,
,
"
d. , "'",

,. ,1
'" "
•
Four concrete lunnels are 1¡¡ld out on Ihe
desen floor 10 an open X configuratlon.
26 m long on Ine diagonal Al Ihe centre
1 15 a cemenl elrete flush wllh Ihe ground
lhe holes In Ihe upper haU 01 Ihe lunnel
I
waUs vary from 1 cm In dlameter
Thl!se are conflgured 10 correspond 10
dlfferen! sl ellar consteUatlons The
tUImels are ahgned wllh Ihe angles 01
•
Ihe rlslng and setllng 01 ¡he sun on lhe
days 01 Ihe solsllces When 1191'11 'rom
eitller lhe sun or moon shln!'s Ihrough
Ihe holes . a changmg pattem 01 pOlnted
ellipses ilnd clrdes 15 casI on lhe bottom
hall 01 eaeh tunnel The Inslallatlon 15 se l
lrI an Immense landscape wh,ch
ch¡¡nges accordlng lo Ihe cydes ellhe
sun and moen and 15 IOtended lo
II'Ilroduce lhe Vll'wer lo Ih!! C05mlC
dlmen510n of time

•
I
•

lNTERRUPTlON
WORKS
 H!I..: T

•
•

The oval pool "iS exaetly miO Ihe "eld 01

vlslon Iramed 1hrough 1he smaU tunnel
and appears tlreular Lookmg up lhe
small tunnel the other way a etrcle 01
• •
sky ean be seen The tlrele olsky 15 also
relleeted In the pool

HOU
, ¡,
, 8

•
•

•
'"
•
. •

•
•
The work IS made Irom 200 to
mlllton year ol d sehlst. hand-quamed
Irom a mounlatll 65 mIles northeast 01
the slle The onenlatlon 01 the ple<:e
was ealeulaled Irom the North 5tar The
arches run N-S and the holes run NE-
SW. and SE-W

IN TE RR UPT IO N
- •

•
-
• • •

• - •
• • •

- •

I
•
•
- •

• , •
• ..
--.-
•
i
, • f
•

. . .-
• --
• I /
--., •

- •

"'l ena e1 IlULER

He W ".
" • ,,, Nevd p

968
, ,
, • •
• .
' •
Helzer sel plet:I'S DI wood Inlo Ihe flal bottorn 01 a dned lake The artlst was aware
how qultkly Ihl5 work wou ld be reclalmed mIO Ihe landsc.ape He uphllned. As Ihe
phYSlcal del enoratu. Ihe abstrae! proll fera,les exchanglnljl pOln!s OfvltW
- MlCha el Hel zer A rtforum. 1969
Hls milln mteres! In maklng IhlS plece was Ihe gradual trilnsformallon and
del enorallon ollhe pu!ce wllh 1111' passage 01 ti me as \he natural envlronmenl erases
hls inl ervenllon In Ihe l¡,ndscape

WORKS
,
 •
"
, ,

CTl!aled In !he emply NevaOa desen. Chis work plays 00 (he Vll!w!r s upenencl'
01 sea!! wllhln !he Landscape The sculpture whlch 15 madI! In !hree pans. was
conslrucled WIII'! concrete and volc.alllc rack surfaces The structure can bl! I!nlered
once Inslde!he Clty ¡he VI!W!!f 15 confronled by Ihe enorlnous Kulptures and can su
nolh'ng 01 Che surroundlng landscape cnly the sky remams VIsible The presente 01
Ihe obJK\s overwhelms wlII'! Ine Imml!llSl1y 01115 sea!!! He ller remarks 1115
Interestlng 10 bUlld a sculplure tha! aUempts 10 create <In almosphefe 01 ¡¡we 1
Immense arch,tecturally-slzed sculpture ereales bOlh Ihe obJe<:I<lnd ¡he atmosphere
( 1 Awe 15 a slale 01 mlnd eqUlValenl lo fetJ!I'ous upen encl! [ 1To create el
transcendent woril 01 art means 10 90 pilS! everythlng
_ MlChael Heller -I ntemew wlII'! Julia Browfl 1984

WORKS
 " Rob e rt SM!I HSO N

In den ! ,[ "1 rr r· Ira"" l In t ne

Vu

...
-- In ¡h.s serlu 01 photographs In mnl'
difieren! Sltes.
, Smllhson maps a phYSlcal
Joumey !hrough !he landKape The
natural envlronment 15 Iransformed
and Iractured In Ihe surfaces 01 twelve
ffilrrors wl'lIch Smlthson look wllh hlm
,'--'
on Ihe !np olnd placed In dlfferenl coo-
ligurallons In ¡he natural envlronment
The work ¡¡Iso concems time and
memory. Ihe works eXlsted only lor a
very shorlllme. bu! [he rmages trapped
by ¡he camera are IImeless trollces 01
memory
The photographlc work WoJS orlglnally
molde as ¡ magazine sprl!ad In Ar1forum.
5eptember 1969

I
•

INTERRUPTIO N
 •
RObert SHI T" SO N • "

• •
Thls was one 01 a senes 01 comer plKes
Installed In Ihe gallery usmg gravet
sand rack. salt. slale red sandstone and
chalk Three mlrrors are pOSllloned In a
comer and gravells Plled m Ihe resullmg
angle The mlrrored world ulends In
Ihree dlfferenl dlrecllons mulllplYlng by
a factor 01 'our Ihe square on Ihe 'loor as
well as Ihe rack . lummg II Into a
symmelncal cone

•
•

Thls plKe was duphcaled so Ihal II (ould appear slmultaneously al a chalk quarry m
"md Ihe lnslltule 01 D:lnlemporary Arts london mlrrors were lomed
back lo back lO lorm a "rete wllh elghl dlameler 'mes around whlch chalk was Plled
In lumps and powdered lorm Composed 01 a elrete a renectlve surlace and clumps
01 whlle miltl!flill. Ihls pleee uses Ihe same baslC vocabutary 01 shapes thal Smllhson
employed m some 01 hls olher eilrthworks mosl nolably SpJral Jeftyand Broken
CJrde Here Ihe mlrrors replace Ihe wall!r
Roben '1IITIís..Q/j

• •

WORKS
 . lIober t
, ,
, . 9 '

- -
Smllhson madI' Ihlló work outdoors from
plKes 01 broken glass Thl' glass 15 a
•
map 01 a non-ells!!!n! Istand whlCh
calen!s Ihe sun s rays and radiales
bnghtness Wllhout I!leclfl(: technology
The cracked Iransparency 01 Ihe pites 01
glass dlHuse Ihe IIght 01 lhe.r solar
.- -- 5Durce Llke [he suns rays whlCh catllde

I wllh Ihe gases Ihal enclose Ihe earth. so

Ihe glass shaUers Ihe lignl. reftectmg 11
oH Ihe bntHe mass The map 15 a senes

-
•
- - --•
01upheavals and coUapses as Ihe

,
,

• ---.
.
• - --
,
•"
,
" , .- •
,
•
• •
-, unstable !ra¡¡meols are caplured by
h9M ilnd shadow The work was

- - - • •
- •
commlssloned lor a group exhlblllon

- .- • sponsored by Ihe Long Beach Istand

Foundalion 01 Arts and SClences
•

, -
- -- - -
De/al/s ilnd Spec Alter map o{ LeWls
,
Spence
'- ,
See Hlslory o, AI/dnlls
5everdl/ons ofbroken c/edr (gldssJ need
• rrdce 11m l/S (dpprox I on floor Ilghlly Ihen

,, fil/I/m
Gel few blg pleces 5.1y /22 cm by 92 cm
Sllt;k Ihem IJpnghl sllgh/ly lednmg
dnd SlJpponed by 30cm pleces
Bdldnce b'g preces dgamsl each olher
IJse smaller p,eces lo shore Ihem IJp '
- Roben Smllhson. 1981

Robert
,

A buckel 01 glue was poured down a

slope 01 5011 and gravel As Ihe glue
Iravelled down Ihe slope seeplng Inlo lIs
conlours. loose 5011 was dragged wllh 1I
Smllhson s mleresl In lhe lranslormalJVe
lorces 01 Ihe nalural envlronmenl was
contlnued Wlth 11'115 work

INTERRUPTION
• •

I
, I

I
I
 •
, ,. , .
•

A d,lap,daled woodshed used lar

stonng d,rt gravel and "fewood. was
found on Ihe Kenl Slale Unlvefslly
Campu5 Under Sm,lhsons d,redlons.
R,eh Helmhng a bUIldIng C0f11ractor
p,led twenty loads 01 earth anta Ihe
woodshed unhl Ihe central beam
cracked CruCial lo Ihe p,ee!!. Ihe
cracking 01 lhe centre beam d,rectly
communlUled Ihe role 01 achon ¡¡nd
gravlty In 11'115 sCulptUfl! and mvolved iI
dlillogue between exlemill ilnd Inlemill
spilce To Sm,lhson Ih,s WilS iI symbol of
enlropy. lurther chilnge ilnd weillhenng
would occur over tome Enlropy WilS iI
key Issue lor Ihe ilrtlsl denotong
Ihe process of lranslormallon whICh
works undergo when abarldorled lO Ihe
lorces of rIiIlure

A dumplruck relea sed a load 01 asphall

down .ln eroded h,ILslde In ao aban-
doned sKtlon 01 a gr.lvel quarry As 11
nowl!d down Ihe hllls,de l' merged wllh
Ihe l'arth. fitting In washed-oul guIlles
The asphalt became a casllo!} 01 erosloo.
Ihe plKe a Inbule lo enlropy The work
.1150 relerences Jackson PoUock s dnp
palllhngs Smllhson pamts wl1h asphalt
onto Ihe landscape monumenlahzlng
Ihe dnp as a slow OOle

WORKS
 00

•
The ObservaroryconSlsled 01 two con-
(entne nngs 01 earth The Innef nng
was formed 01 earlh plled up agamsl a
circular wood'n slockade The outer
clrcumlerence conslsted 01 three
embankments ¡¡nd two ( anals Entrance
lo ¡he plece was gamed Vh} a tnangular
pilssage (1,11 through Ihe embankment
towards Ihe west Once Iflslde ¡he

stockade Ihere were lhree ou./er

operungs lile firsl looked tasi along
two parallel channels whlch ended In
Iwo sleel plates propped on a diagonal
The mterval between ,hese plales
marked the poslllon 01 Ihe sun al Ihe
I!qulfloxes The Iwo olher opemngs
marked Ihe pOlfltS 01 Ihe sunnse on
¡he summer and wlflter solsl lces
respechvely Tl1e work was deslI;lned
lo be expenenced both aeslhellcally and
In relallon lO 115 physlCal and temporal
•
exlslence both as a monumenl and as
a way 01 poslllonlng man In Ihe cosmos
- • • - The observalory makes reference lo
, •
•
-- • neohthlc monumenls such as

•
-.
- Slonehenge whlch accordinglo a

•
• -. 1heory popular especlally in the early

•
•
'.
- 1970s are Ihoughl10 have served as
calendars IIltads 10 dlMerenl
awarenesses 01 lime in terms bolh 01
the time Illakes lo Ylew the slte and 1he
time 01 human h lstory

IN1ERRUPTION
•
R bt'rt ,,_ R&
• "

Thls was Ihe firsl Land Art work In Ihe landscape to be funded by US !lovemmenl
funds AA abandoned MI al1he oulsk,rts 01 Grand Rap,ds was enc,rcled w,lh a palh al
Ihe base and anolher al Ihe summ,l lhese two palhs were connected by two X-
shaped roads on Ihe s,de 01 Ihe h,lI_ w,lh a plalform atlhe Inlersect,on Followln!lth,s
preceden! 1he NallOnal Endowment lor Ihe Arts Ihe General Serv,ces Admln'Slra!,on
and other stale counly and mun,c'pal or¡¡an,zallons showed an Increas,n!l
recepllveness towards Ih'5 klnd 01 ar! lh,s developed alon!ls,de a !lrowlng
comm,tmenl by art,sls lo crealln!l works ,n s,les wl'lIch ha ...!! a pubhc luncl,on

WORKS
,

TI" S InYOlnd Ihe naluriIIl

•
enOlTlena <)nde'uahon .lnd
evap :al lln and was dependen! on the
natur¡¡1 Cl;Ind,llons DI templ!'ralure

hum,d'¡y pressure and w,ndveloclty

The WCrK was conceml.'d wllh nature
and atmosphere Stum drqwn Irom ¡he
CltyS underground $upply was drlven
through p'pn .. nd fIller!d above ground
Ihrough apenl"gs In a largl! rack bed
Thework whllst sculptural was molde
• •
from anll-sculptural media. and had
very 1,tt1eob¡1C1 quahty al1hough 1I dld
have a sel\se 01 physlcal'ty ulsllng 015 a
1'10\ amorphou$ cloud seepmg from the
greund b lowlng $kyward and
d,n'pat,ng
 03

APr OIlP iJ2Fjl, MAIIQUEl. Ooug MI.tH(1..S

BUll! In June 1974 Cad/I/ac Ri!lnchwas made up 01 ten CadlUacs ranglnQ !rom a 1949
Club Caupe 10 a 1963 Sedan buned fln-up In iI wheal lield In Trxas The plen' was
constructed In lour days U51flg a molonzed back-noe and low-tech surveylflg 1001s
On Ihe h"h <!ay Ihe work was unvelled In the !radlhon 01 feadymades Ihe work uses
mass-produced pans wnlch nave symbohc Qvertones The Cadillac was a status
symbol 01 1960s Amenta mdlcallng Iha! Ine Dwner was finanClally successful and
had ¡herejofe mOlde 1\ By usmg Ihe Cadlllacs as mere componen! parts 01 a work
Anl Farm subverted Ihelr symbohc lunctlon The plen' funcllons as a klnd 01 cernelery
él commenl on social value5 as well as Ihelf dealhly poUutlng effee! on Ihe
envlronment

WORKS
 '"'

,
,I
I
,I
I

Allce

An area 01 approxlmately 6 m 12 m was Clnd él senes 01 s,. c:oncretl! block

weUs connected by tunnels were bUllt Three 01 ¡he wells were apen I!nlry wells 2 m
deep These were Indlcated aboye gfound capped Wllh permanenl covers aoel a layer
01 earlh The vltwer (ould cram 'rom entry well 10 entry welllhrough narrow tuno ... ls
81 cm wlde and 71 tm h1911 Interrvpted by vertICal rehevlng wells whlCtl were clouel
and completely surrountled by e¡¡rlh The underground structure was demarcated by
a wa1l30 900 1 500 cm The dark undergfound tunn!!ls were deslgned lo produce
¡¡In uncomfortable response In ¡he audlencl! In concelVlng 1hl5 work Ayeoek drew on
upenences !rom her past comblnlng personal memorles aod dreams wlth
archllectural h,story

INTEARUPTlON
•

l4ary tl l

Three tower-I,ke slruclures two eClrlh

mounds and an undergfound courtyard
were bU11I on a lour-acre slle lo se!! Ihe
work Ihe Vll!wer has 10 walk ¡nrough Ihe
whole ¡her! are chaoges 01 seale In
¡he towers and lnaccli'$$,ble spaces In
the underground slNcture Boundanes
and perceptlons 01 distante are breugh!
mIo quesllOn as are Ihe IIm,l!; 01 ,lluslon
and reallly lhe work musl be walked
through In arder lo be uperlenced In Its
enhrety The vlewer 1$ Ihere/ore aware
01 bolh Ihe passage 01 time and 01 Ihe
changlng rl!lallOnsl'lIps 01 Ihe body In
space

WORJ(S
'" Mar y MI SS

• •

INTERRUPTlON
 ... lE MARIA ,
•

A km-long rod 01 meta! was bUrled vertlcaUy In Ihe ground The bOrln9 01 Ihe shaft
whlCh 90es Ihrough SIX geologlca! Layers look sevenly-n.ne days The conllnuous
melal rod IS mOlde 01 167 m-long rods screwed Ilghl1y logelher The sandslone square
whlch surrounds Ihe lop ollhe shaft 15 al Ihe mlersecllon 01 two palhs whlCh lraverse
Ihe Fnednchsp!alz In Kasse! Germany slle 01 Ihe mlema\lona! conlemporary art
surveys Oocumenla The work IS on!y vIsible In sectlon. the kJlomelre 01 melal
plunged mIo Ihe earth can be seen as a representallon 01 lime m a vertical dlmenslon
 •

• •

,I
 ".
•

The work lsloc;aled In Wl!st New MeJlco. 2.195 m aboye sea leve!. lB 5 km taSI
DI lhe Continental DIVIde Four-hundred custom-made ['l Ighly pollshed sl¡unless sleel
poles Wllh solld pOlnted tlpS are arranged In a rectangular gnd array They ¡re spaced
61 m ¡part Ihere are sl.leen poles lO ¡he wldlh (1 km ) runnlng norlh-SDuth twenty-
me poles lo thl!' lenglh n 6 km l. runrllng easl-wl!st Only after 11 [Ighlnlng slnke has
advanced lo an area 01 about61 m aboye The tlghlmng Fle/d can 11 Sl'n5e lhe potes

Tlle upenencl' 01 lhe work dlrectly In nalure Ihe effects 01 Ihe cl'lan9ln9 119M Ihe
shlft,ng spacl! heal and Ihe sense 01 w<IIIIlnQ lar 11 spKlfic evenl l lhe IIgh1mn91

hell;¡hlenS lhe Vll'wer 5 sens!! DI sea!!! and tlme

'oIalter DE

By fIlhng a 10ft space In Manhallan wllh

earth DI! Mana makes a Ihealncal use
01 space !t IS Ihe space Ilsell whlch IS
belflg shown translormed both by Ihe
quantlty and nature 01 the matenal
lilbng 11 as well as Ihe smell The ear1h
bnngs Ihe vlewer Inlo contact wllh raw
nature Ifl an urban envlronmenl The
work can only be contemplaled Ihroug"
a doorway A sense 01 excluslon IS
expenenced by Ihe Ylewer as the space
occupled by Ihe work cannol be
entered

WORKS
'" Betty

Thls work conSlsls 01 <In Iron flng madI!

01,110112 km 01 1 cm dlilmeler cable The
•
rmg measures 30 m In dlameler Thls
plKe 15 ¡he hlth In a senes 01 Ilrne-based
landscape prO¡Kls The Iron flng 15
slowly burylng ItseU slnklng mIo ¡he
ground ¡nd Ihe slrands 01 ¡he cable have
begun lo deterloral!! Thl! Iron contenl 01
Ihe pltee alfecls ¡he growth 01 !he grass.
and lIs development over ¡he years 15
be,"!! moMortd by mira - red
photography' Because 01 ¡he huge seal!!.
IIIS Imposslble lo see Ihe work Hllts
enllrl!ty !rom !he ground

INTEARUPTION
•
• "

Meg OIEIJ5..HR

Thls WilS iI temporar)' large-scale slIe-spetlllC sculpture Collstrutled In response lo

lhe surroundmg landscape a depreSSIOIl was carved mIo ¡he slope !hat lorms Ihe
I!ilstem border 01 Ihe Mmneapolls Sculpture Garden Two triangular 51eel slabs served
as relalnlng walls and formed ¡he entrance lO Ihe interior 01 ¡he plece The lerraced
Intenor was planted wllh carefully arr¡¡nged flowenng plan!s crealmg a surface nch
wllh colour and seen! organlc materlals comblned wllh mmlmal lorms For
Webster Ihe womb-hke work had sexual and speclllcaUy lemale overtones as 1\ had 10
be entered In arder 10 be fully upenenced The ftowl!rlng plan!s and Inse<! acllvlty In
spnng emphaslzed Ihe Idea 01 procreatlon blrth .lnd regener.lltlon

In her moss bed works Webster emphaslzesthe process 01 maklng - lor uample
poundlng 50ft earth Into a mould - and also the cyde 01 natural hlslory through Ihe
growth 01 moss or olher plants dunng the IIlespan 01 a plece She works wlth natural
element5 01 the landscape U51ng loam mOS5 natural planls water and salt as her
raw matenals Her work olten leatures simple geometnc shapes that derive Irom
Mlnlmal!sm The demandslha! the p,eces make on the envlronments and systems
tha! conlaln them are an Importanl part olthelr meanlng Websler bnngs elements 01
¡he landscape Inlo a man-made envlronment crea!lng a lens,on between art and
nalure

WORKS
.1

lhe work conSISIS 01 three plates whlch are l¡lId out In .ln e[hpllcal valley al12 4 and 8
o dock The spac!! m-between Ihe three pl.:ltes 1$ .ln Isoseeles Iflang1! 46 24 24 m
Eael'! plate 1$ iilpproxlmalely 3 m 1'1191'1 12 m long and 4 cm U'Uck They are sunk lOto ¡he
Inchne;ll equal elevahons Sena s work explores topology and [ocomotlon When
YII!WInQ Ihe work al gfound level Ihe plates al hrst appear paraUel when ¡he Yltwer
walks heft lhe plates move rl9hl As Ihe Vlewer walks Inlo Ihem Ihey open up and
appear 10 push oulwards 1010 Ihe slde 01 Ihe hltl A ndge 46 m 1'1191'1 enmeles ¡he
spac! When Ihe VIl'wer walks on lhe ndgl' Ihereby vlewmg Ihe work !rom aboye. Ihe
sp¡ce appears elllpllcally comparlmenlallzed ¡he Ylewer cannol se!! thls when
walklnQ through ¡he pie" Vlewl"g ¡he plece from overhead or vlewlng II Irom wlthln
creille5 iI very dlHerent I!xpenence 01 place

INT(RRUPTtQN
 u ao
•

• • • •
•

Endo s wOl1t IS ollen based on simple lorms remlnlscenl 01 Mlnlmal ArI. bUI hls worlc
dot's nol 10Uow In Ihal t",dlllOn Ralher 1115 concemed wllh an Inner Ideology and
nlslory Wltn mythology and human exlslence Fire and water are both Imponant
elemenls tire 15 a devastallng lorce 01 nalure whllsl allhe same tim e a source 01
ener,», Fire posstsses alchemlcal qualllles and 15 also punlymg Waler IS a reserved
and neul",1 malenal bul smce lis lorm can never be ordered 1I also represenls
c:haos Tht hldden caches 01 waler I"Slde sorne 01 Endo S SC1Jlptures are a remmder 01
the ftuldlty 01 aU \h,ngs The burnlng 01 \he worlc IS often camed out outdoors Inls
ceremOnial IS nOI dlrected al an audtence Endo documenls Ihe process wllh
photog"'phs and Ihe resultant form 15 uhlblled The worlcs are nol Slmply concemed
Wllh procus or form bUI allude 10 Inner layeno 01 human consclousness Ihe universal

psyche and mytnology

,
. . •

--
• •
• •

WORKS
 '"
Works here focus on Ihe artisl as an individual acling

in a one-Io-one relalionship wilh Ihe land. Some artisls use Iheir bodies lo make

a performalive relalionship wilh an organic environmenl: Ihe scale of Ihe works

•

is in relalion lo Ihe human formo They emphasize a primal and symbolic link wilh

Ihe earlh. crealing conlemporary forms of rilual. Olhers reacl againsl Ihe

monumenlalily of much early American Land Art by making Iransilory and

ephemeral geslures . A sculplure may comprise Ihe artisl laking a walk across a
-
fie ld. subtly realigning elemenls wilhin il lo mark Iheir passage. Artisls also use

Iheir bodies lo map Ihe landscape. presenling pholographic documenlalion of

I Iheir journies. Drawing on Conceplual Art's slralegies. some use words lo

subslilule a piclure of Ihe land wilh ils evocalion as a physical experience. In

conlrasl lo Ihe boundlessness suggesled by early earthworks. Ihe landscape

may be revealed as a zone of invasion or exclusion. divided by invisible yel

complex nelworks of polilical and elhnic boundaries.

Waller ll.i MARIA KazU Q SIHBAGA

" "9 Ora ....

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. , In th,s performance al lhe firsl Gulai

'" exhlbltlon. Stllraga wnlhed arcund In a
• •
•• "
• '" el, pite 01 mud He belleved lhallhe mue!
De Mana drew two parallel cnalk lmes possessed a Splrlt 01 lIs own wllh whlch
on a dry desertlake bed he baUled Only when exhausled. cut ¡¡nd
brulsed. dld Sh lraga stop Thls type 01
performance whlch tested lhe artlsrs
enduranc! was typlcal 01 Ihe Gulal group.
an experimental art group founded In

Osaka In 195ii by J lro Yosh lhara . 01 whlch

Shlraga was a key member

INVOlVEMENT
 •

• •

..-
 '" Kazuo SHIRAG"
Pita )'"

P'

Ash ya. apan

The work WilS ongmally crealed lar

Ihe 'Experimental Outdoor Modem Art
Ex nlblllon·. Ashlya Thls was Ihe first
majar actlvlly 01 Ihe GUlal Art Assoclallon
Sine!! lIs foundlngln Oecember 1954
Shlragil erl!cled a cone 01 ten posts
palOtea red Standing inslde Ihe
strucll,lre and wleldlng an ne. 911raga
scarred Ihe Inslde 10 create iI violen!
drawlng' The gestural display 01 ga shes
was sald 10 'expre ss Instlncllve

destructlon' Tnls verSIOfl was

made lar photographers from Llfe
•
Magazine In Apn11956

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INVOLVEMENT
 Dennls QEP!NltíJJ'\
"
•

. ,

Thls was a ten - minute performance

plece between a masonry -block wall
and a collapsed concrele p,er between
Brooklyn and Manhattan bnd!les The
pholO!lraph was laken al Ihe poml al
whlCh Oppenhelm s bocly was In Ihe
poslllon 01 !lrealesl slress
The arllstlested Ihe capab lllty 01 hls
body lo suspend IlseU between two
masonry w ans The sl ress was recorded
by Ihe poslllon 01 h,s body as II arched
Oppenhelm s body lormed a human
bnd!le echoln!l Ihe Brooklyn and
Manhattan brld!les on ellher slde 01 hlm
Oppenh elm held Ihe poslllon unlll hls
body coUa psed JUSI as Ihat sectlon 01
Ihe dock IlseU had already coUapsed
Oppenhe, m performed Ihls over and
over. w ldenln!l Ihe !lap belween Ihe w aUs
Th e stress poslllon was repealed lor
one hour In a cavlty In Ihe !lroun d m an
abandon ed sump on Lon!llslan d

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?dIallel Stress - A 10 minute per for ma nc e piece - May 1910

Pho t o at gre a t es t s t res s position pr ior t o collapse
l oc a t ion : kasonry - block wa 11 a nd c o11aps ed concrete pier be t we en
Brooklyn a nd Manhatt an br1 dges
Bottom Photo : Stre s s positi on re as s umed .
Lo ca tion : <\.ba ndoned Su.::lp . La r...:; I s land iba tos : P.ob er t K. '.cElroy

WORKS
 n.
, , ,

" , " ,

Thls was part 01 a proJKl camed out by Hutchlnson In Ihe late summer 011969 Sacks
DI sand were dropped !rom a boa! 10 form a Óo)m In an undelWater 90rge three metres
deep Hutctllnson then photographed ¡he work •

• •

I Peter HUICHI NSO N

• , ,

• •

Hutchmson planted yellow flowers In ¡he sand In shaHow water In ¡he lorm 01 an
Isoseeles trlangle a shape ¡ha! r«UfS In Ihe arllsl s work ThIS 15 assocliltl'd wlth Ihe
form DI lhe Iree 01 lile and .. Iso has splnlual resonante for ¡he artls!. Slgnlfymg a
harmony 01 splnl soul and body

Pete r HUTC HIN SO N

Thes!! works beloog 10 Dne 01 Hutchmson s eiilrllE'st senes The arllst slrung frulls.
oranges gourds. DnlOnS tom<l\oes and bread In plas!lc bags on a lishlngllne These
were Ihrown 1010 ¡he sea welghted down Wllh a slone or tled lo corals and left lo Ihe
currenl The IIquld envlronmenl allowed Ihe suspended obJecls lo appear welghtless.
whlle the constant movemenl changed Ihe regulanly oJ Ihe rows Through Ihese
worl(s HutchlnSOIl crealed new underwater landscapes wllh malenals ahen 10 Ihal
envlronmellt - !rulI and vegelables whlch normally grow on !irm 5011 The worl(s

lasted only a few days. dunng whlch lime a relahonshlp was eSlablished belween Ihe
envlronmenls aboye and below 1he waler The underwa1er sculplure was recorded In

colour photographs
Peter Peter HLILtllN '1

arr.anged a band 01 wh'le bread wrapped In plaslJt 76 m long along Ihe

nm 01 the Pancvton volcano The bread look 51 .. days lo grow moutd the warmlh
mO'SIUfe and vapour from Ihe volcano atcelerated Ih,s process The fast-growmg type
01 mould aUowed the art'st lo record Ihe tontmuous thanges In the mould s
decolouratlon and dec::ay

Petl'r ti

WORKS
 In Ih,s work S,monds tonslrutted dwell,ngs lor Imaglnary mlnl<lture mhab,lanls-
Ihe UlIle People - us,ng h,s own body as Ihe Landscape The artlst used h,s whole
body as Ihe s,le on whlCh lo enact the blrth ofthese mlnlalure clVlhzahons In Ih.s ver-
s,on 01 Ihe worX. S,monds hlp served as a hlllSlde on whlCh lo tonstrucl dwelhngs •

be cbwn nude on \he earth. ce'EI 111,"SeU WIIh cIay and 1Jansform my bo<tt 11'110 a
landscape WIIh day and Ihen budd a fantasy 6.veIbng-pllCt' on mybo6¡ on !he w;1I.
- Charles Slmonds Mlcrocosm lO Macrocosm. 1974
The work explolts the sexual and saered assoclallons 01 Ihe earth The earth
arth,leelure and Ihe body are all analogous lo dlfferenl dwelhngs Slmonds wenl on lo
bUlld ellles or dwellings lor Ihe Llttle People on slles In New York especlally derelicl
SIIe5 and abandoned bUlldlngs He also eonslrutled Ihese works In museums

• -

,
,

Charles SIMONOS

,
• • •
• •

l.

- - •
 • - ,
MENOI ET A

•
•
-,
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• - -
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• These works began as a senes 01 sell-
portralts In whlch M!!ndleta [¡terally

• Inscrlbed her presente onto Ihe

• landscape !hIlO serlu encompassed an
exl!n!lve speclrum 01 media matenals
and melhod The InscrlptlOflS 01 femiille

forms In Ihe landscape were bU11t In

mud. rocks or earth assembled wlth
leaves. moss or Ilowers. sliilllned In
blood. etehed In 'ire or ¡sil. ilnd wilshed
away by water or smoke Often ¡hese
works were made In conJunchDn Wllh
personal ntuats lar heallnQ punflcallon
and transcendente The Silueta works
5ynlheslze aspec's !rom Ihe culture 01
Mendlela's blrlhplace Cuba wlth
aspects from her adopled culture. Ihe
Unlled Stales. and ¡¡Iso a powerful sense
01 sexualldentlty These works are
documenled In phologr;¡phs ;¡nd on
Super-S film

WORKS
 •-lo,'
,
• •

..•

INVOLVEMENT
 Ana !1lNOIEIA •
•

AM !1(l/OIETA

• , , f 1t e

, •
, • •

Ana !'!..ENO!W
•

WORKS
RtCllard LONG
,. ",
'"
•
• •

Long made Ihls work by wa lklng

repuled ly backwards and forwards
along Ihe same fi ne In a fi eld wea r lng
away a palh by llattemng Ihe grass
Long luves a trace 01 hls presence In
Ihe enVlro nment. bul lhe mark IS
ephemeraL IastJn g only as long as I1
lakes \he grass lo spn ng ba clL Th ls
marktng ol lhe earth IS analogou 5 10
drawlng wllh hls l eet

Richard LONG

Walklng has always bun an acllv!1y cenlrallo long s art most ohen In InaccesSlble
unpopulated barren reglons where expanses are vasl and natural matenats
abundanl It 15 dunng such walks Ihal Long atters Ihe lerraln. shaplng slones In
simple geomelrtc conligurallons These tempo ral evenls are expenenced by Ihe artlsl
and presenled lo Ihe vlewer as a map word plece or pholograph

WORKS
 '" • ,•
LONG
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The ael 01 drawlng on Ihe Iand 15 •

uemplllied lO Ihls map upon whleh Ihe

anlsl has marked hl!> IIIOerary along
rcads and lanes lO Ihe Engllsh
counlryslde whleh Irace Ihe oulllne 01 an
Here Long 'draws'
hls Slgnalure simple geomelne forms on
a vastly enlarged seale. ln part under·
IrnlOg Ihe Immense dlflerence between
Ihe dlrect uperrence 01 Ihe landscape-
•
wllh Ihe slghls and sounds 01 Ihe
ouldoors - and liS polenllally abSl.lrd
Iranslallon 1010 a Iwo·dlmenSlonal lorm
In a sense Ihe drawlng 15 made by Ihe

-- anlsls walk . as II Long were hlmsell a

glanl penClI or marker lraClng a Irne on

-"--- Ihe huge eanvas 01 Ihe earth s surface

.,
RHhard LO NG
,

I
I
WATERLINES
Some 01 RIChard long s works conslsl 01
plalO lexl desenblOg lO sImple words.
EAeH DAY A WATERLlNE
Ihe process 01 maklng Ihe work or Ihe
POUREO fROM MY WATER BOTTlE
I ALONG THE WALI<ING LlNE roule 01 a walk Al lImes parred wllh Ihe
pholographlc represenlallon 01 Ihe

fRQM THE ATLANTIC SHORE TO THE MEDITERRANEAN SHORE
A S60 MILE WALI< IN 20'12 DAYS ACROSS PORTUGA L ANO SPAIN
correspondlOg work . Ihe pleces
share more characlensllcs wllh Long 's
pholographs Ihan mlghl IOllIally appear
bolh are black and whlle . obJedlve
presenlallons 01 Ihe work lO liS enllrely
JUSI as Ihese lex! p,eces glve a Ihorough

plelure olthe work In a conclse .

slralghllorward mann!r. Long s
pholographs slrnllarly do nOI dwell on
delall bul provld! a comprehenslve.
sIngular overvlew 01 hl5 sculplure whllsl
suggesllng Ihe process by whleh Ihey
were made lIke concrele poelry and
sorne langl.lage·based Conceptual Art
prachces. ¡hese works prompl vIrtual
plelures whlCh al lImes, only lO Ihe
vrewer s mlOd

INVOlVEMENT
 •

111 -hard IdJN(;

WQRkS
 ".

Ha .. l fULTQ N

•• •

p' •

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.
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INVOlVE MENT
 ,

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SIOCl' 1969 Fullon s work has resulted !rom walks In ¡he landstape ThE! walks are
represented Ihrough Ihe comblned medlums 01 words a(ld photographs The durahon
01 Ine walks ranges from one day \0 uveral menlhs FuUon s reactlon lo ¡he land-
supe depends on Ihe 1englh 01 the watk .. nd ¡he number 01 pholographs taken The
actual waUc ISan essenllill aspecl ellhe work. wh.ch 15 based on ¡he m.1liam "no walk.
no work The physlcalrty 01 walklng helps lo l'VQke a stale 01 mlnd and a relallonshlp
lo !he landscape Fulton belJeves ¡hal Ihere 15 a very strong correlallon belwl!l!n hls
slale 01 mlnd .nd 1'115 walklng performarn::e When he walks he always attempts lo empty
hls mlnd as mueh as posslble so enhanclng lhe medllatNl' qualJty 01 hls waUung

WORKS
'"

NIGHT CHANGING SHAPES

e
R O
P A T 1I
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Ifami sh rJJ.lfON Hami sh FULTON

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INYOLYEMENT
• •

WORKS
 ll2 '-al Gua Qí an g

e,! ry w th Mu n.
14 br r .¡

1 le m P w (

• • .
'
The work was madI! when Cal Guo Qliilng carned out field research al a former
nuctear test 51h! In Nevada /acl!vl! 1951-9)1. Ihe focus DI wtm:h was lo InSpect a
nutlear-ravaged 511e In ¡he Nevada desertlwhlth cdnlamed ¡he dl'vasted
reconslruchon 01 a Japanese vlllagel as a posslble futufe tounst' spo! Cal Guo Olang
envlsaged reclalmlng Ihe polluted rUlns 01 a cl",!lIzallan ¡hrollg" Ihe Imaglnahon 01 an
HIlO mmlilture verSIDOS DI nuclear mushroom clouds werl! delonated In Ihe desert and
In Ihe envlrans DI ManllaUan The Irally 01 nuclear lorel! lor Ihe artlsllS Ihal 1\ has
effected sorne 01 Ihe worsllragedlts 01 human hlslory whllsl al Ihe same lime
praducmg monumental ilnd beaullfullmagery Cal Guo OJang deSCribes hls works as
a means of "fighllng fire wlth rire"

CAl Guo 01 ang

Th n' yw'h'"

r N6

.. rk

INVOLVEIo4ENT
 hr t.
•

The an,st oul1ml!'S!he proJ@ctasfoUows

How 10 gel Ihere Tra," V,enniill-
Fl!'ldk.on;:h 7 tlr" '5 m,l'Is
Bus FeldJ¡,rch - Bangs 15 m,ns
Po,"! 01 dep¡¡rture GnlhaU!¡ zum Stem
Bangs
Time requlred Dn 1001 45 m,n!>
Danger lones Unwooded areas 01
meadow Arus IrH /rom undergrowth
Camouftage lighl. r.I,nprool h,i{ln9
an,re. nd.ng 10;,1 .w.1h hor!>e'
Level 01 d,tf,culty No real danger

We eros!> Ihe road head,ng In Ine

dlred,on 01 lhe chapel and Ihe ¡Iplne
elm - planted tn 1813110 mark Ihe
hberatlon tram Ihe Frenenl Keep'ng lo
!he nght we traver5e Ihe wn,te
farmstead ¡¡nd !>t,bles - Ihe red and
v,-tute llamer w,lh border-control hul
already In s,te
CautJously. WI! eross Ihe meadow .lnd
seek cover In lhe embankment 01 Ihe
Hasl!nbach Taklng a I'\Jn-up we ctear
IhlS natural boundary The meandenng
dra,nage doleh m'ghl be conruslng Only
Ihe ground mar1<l!d by rtd and blue
woodl!n slalles IS no longer Auslnan
lemlory
We are careh.tl nOI ID be so rash as ID
break cOlfer loo soon large culll\faled
fields offer Imll! prOIKtIOn from \f\ew
maklflg 11 nol so easy ID enter Ihe \f\llage
DI Ruggell unseen

O,sgu,sed as a h,lchh,ker MLiller left

Auslna and crossed Ihe boroers ID e'ghl
ne'ghbounng counlnes The work look
on more s,n,ster pohl,callmpllf;alJons
when he Wil5 ilITtSled by border control
guards In Czechlil forblddl!n ID rt-
I!nll!r [hl! country lor thrtt yl!a rs

WORIliS
 ", eildo
, ,

,."
The pro]ec! toncems Ihe Iransformallon
01 lhe landstape The work recorded
here WilS made on the border bl!tween •

Rlo de Janelro and Sao Pauto (8rallll and

conslsted 01 makmg a hole on eaeh Sldl!
01 ¡he border and exchangmg sOll plan!s
and debnslrom !hese Iwo hales Insldl!
¡he case Ihe lopographlcal patlem 01 ¡he
border 15 reproduced and contalOs pan
01 Ihe matenal !rom Ihese e_'avallons
-- carned oullO November 1969

• •

I
I

INVOLVEMENT
 • •

Thls work 15 one 01 many mlnlatunled

yerSlons l mostly nngsl Melrelu crealed
01/'115 worJo; lhe Geograplllc,, / f.lutallons
Insldl! ,he nng 15 a sample 01 5011 and a
dlagram reLahng lo Ihe procns and
consll'\K'lJon 01 Ihe work

WORKS
 '"
Alongside the formal and aesthetic

innovation represented by Land Art. it also precipitated an investigation into the

environ ment as ecosystem and depository of socio-political realities. Artists

•

co ntested the perception of nature as a blank canvas or as an infinitely exploitable

resou rce . Exploring natu re as a dynam ic and interactive system . they point out

parallels with soci al and political structures and their impact on each other. The

scope of radical transfor mation embarked upon by feminist artists also came to
-
encompass environmental issues. The works brought togetlier here demonstrate

how human re lations with the natural environment are based not only on

perception and pleasure. but also exploitation . waste and destruction . Industrial

developmen t. urban expansion omass market agriculture and scientific

intervention w ithin natural processes are perceived as causes of global pollution

and socia l alienation . The practices surveyed here range from sculpture to

performance. They present responses that combine incisive critique with

I
practical and redemptive strategies wh ich can be effected by the individual.
Peter fE NO

FRUCHTIG I M M E R WEITEA (uth, Europa (detai 1

1991
board. monitors
Dimell' ,fl var;able

The many semi-enclosed or fully enclosed sal! seas in Europe are suffering Irom
severe degradation Defining Europe as Ihe land 'from the Atl a ntic 10
Ihe Urals ', Fend Identified Ihirteen regional sea basíns and divided Ihem inlo two
groups The walers 01 one group drain ¡nlo lhe open Atlantic. Ihe others ¡nlo in terior
seas such as Ihe Medilerranean or Clspian Eileh basln is represenled on a salelli!e
mOnitor In ¡hese two Images. len 01 Ihe total thirteen oc ean basms lar Ellrope are
dlsplayed. wilh Ihe slogan. 'Europe"s ecotogicat re gions being ma de ever more lertile·.
The milps on the willIs ilre tilken from US Aeronilu tical charts and show Ihe individual
sea baslns The two tab!e-moun ted maps in these instil\\illion shols all show sea-

/ /
•
- baslns The firsl presents an baslns as sloped In lo the Nort h AUa nlic Ilrom Ihe !berian
Curren! lo 6arenls Sea). and the second is 01a\\ basins as sloped in to Europe·s interior
seas such as Ihe Medilerranean
The alm 01 Fend·s methodolgy IS lo conlribule lo a linanceable an d syslematic
construcllon 01 ou tdoor earthworks as funclion a l archltec!ure. There are Ihree s tages
01 the work 1) mapping !he saltwater ca lchmen!s, 2) moniloring the ch a nging
condltlons 01 each basin; and 3) harvesting !he nut rienls that accumul ale in sal!
•
waters. uSlng seml-submerslble rlgs lo support crops 01 giant brown a lg ae. This
algae supports large marine populations: lIs chiel industrial product is mel ha ne or
hydrogen gas. a renewable. non-poUu ting lue\.
 ,, , ..... --- .. - , ... ''1 n
-

I
- -

WORKS
n' I
I

The simple hUe DI thl$ work desCribes

bolh Ihe $ubJect ¡lnc! Ihe mlenl Thls work •

was a modlhcatlon 01 Ihe original plece

shown al Ihe Howard WI51! Gallery 10
1966 where Haacke grew grass on lop 01
a 3-1001 191 5 cm) square cube
The phenomenon 01 organlC growth as
an essenllal componen! 01 an ec.osyslem
1$ an early example 01 Issues whlch

would laler be uplored further In more

fully developed ecologlcal artworks
• •
Thls 01 Gras5 Grow5 was madI!
for the E,Hlh Art uhil:II\lon al Ihe
Andrew Olckson WMe Museurn. ComeH
Unlver5lty. Uhaca 1969

• •r
•
•
•
•
• •
• •

•
•
• •
•
•
 • .. ,
"

A se! 01 spnnkler$ were leh cn ftood,ng

[he surroundHl!l gr.l!ós WLlh water The
exc!ss water became a destructIVE'
ralher Ihan nurturmg force The
ftood,ng water!> ercded (he so l IlImm!l
¡he lawn "to a pool 01 mud

WORKS
 In a melaphoncal geslurl! Haackl! purchas!!d ten lurtles lan endangerl!d SpI!CIU)
from a pl!\ shop and laler rl!tl!aSt!d thl!m mIO a foresl near SI Paut-dl!-VenCl! soulh of
Francl! Thls was a symbohc ilCI whiCl'l cilUed mIo queshon human Inll!rferl!ncl! wllh
•
Ihe freedom of ilntmills and thelr Imprtsoned poslllon as pels Thls was onl! of Ihl! flrst
works lo dramallle human dlsrl!gard lo ammals and thetr lhreillened stalus
Haackes hberilllon of the lurtll!s was an acknowledgement of iI pnnclple of
envtronmenlall!lhlcs -Ihal every lIfe has a nghllo exlsl for lIs own sake

I •

IMPLEMENT A TION
 - -
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.. ,

Haacke obtalned poUuted Rhlne-watef !rom a Krefeld sewage plan! The water was
pumped mIo an elevaled iJtrytlC basln !rom large glass botUes In Ihe gal1ery In whlch
¡he water was stored Chemlcals were In¡ected mIO Ihe water lo cause Ihe pollutants
lo setUe The sed,menlalJon process contmued In a Sel:ond ólcryhc conta,ner From
Ihere Ihe par1lally punfied water Il.owed ¡hmugh a enarcoal ilnd a sand filler and
eventually dropped In\o a larg!! basm wllh goldfish A hose tamed Ihe overflow oullo
Ihe garden. where 1I seeped mIO Ihe ground and Jomed ¡he ground water level Thls
work whu:h resembled a expenment. talled mIo queshon a spK,fic
envlronmenlal problem _ water paUullan In Krefeld where Ihe Rh,ne was used as Ihe
reposltory 01 raw industrial and household sewage The goldfish lank was sel In Ironl
01 a vlew 01 wooded landscape behlnd ¡he museum, eslablishlng a dialogue between
Iwo eco-systems one IJle-supportlng one on Ihe verge 01 collapse

WORIIS
 '" He l en Maye r Nf'w lo n

Helen Mayer HARR!SO N Newt on HARR [SO N

I
,

Portilble Orchard WilS (In orchard 01 l'!ghleen tren planted In hexagonal boxes In 1
yd (O 765 m 101 earlh wllh hexagonal hghl boles over thl!m Al Ihe apenln!! Ihe
exhlblllon was accompanled by él tableau 01 frult and él C;¡lrus leas! Newlon Harnson
conslrocted lile enVlfonment and Helen Mayer Harrlson deslgned Ihe tableau and
I constructed ¡he feasl s whlch were deslgned as soclallnteractlons Many 01 lile
I orchards In Orang" County. California ¡¡llhe lime 01 Ihe exhlbltlon were dymg !rom
smog or belng removed by spreadlng urban,zal,on Plac,"g an orchard In <In art

I gallery hlghhghled Ihe problems 01 Ihe survlval bolh 01 lile archards ami Ihe
c;ommumtles whlch depended on them

,
I

IMPLEM[NT A TIO,.,
 Ne.. n \i!B.! ISON ,
•

The mural '5 11 prOjl'd,on map 01 Ine worid w,lh San D,ego al the centre Th,s was
thelr first work on Ihe GreenhouSI! etfect and proposed Ihe need lor plannong
on cllmate ch¡¡mge

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WORKS
 '"

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Helen Mayer an Hewton H_RRllQH

I ,
I . t. !rd .. · 9

ThI10 106 m mur<llln1OI<lU<ltlon 110 m<lde up 01 over lifty p<lrt1O le<llUrlng dlflerent 1Olage1O
ollhe c:ycle Ea, h l<!goon Image 15 ,omposed 01 sever<ll panels The panels are made
up 01 aerlal and slle pholomurals. ,oll<!ge and drawlOgs. lhere are occaslonal
portralls and sorne narrallve overlay The lulls an ulended. seml-auloblographlcal
dialogue betwe en lwo ,hara'lers. a 'Lagoon Maker" and a ·wllness·. IOterspersed
wlth stones and ane,doles The n<lrrallve trates the Hamsons' worklOg prOl:ess.
whlch Iyplcally beglOs Wllh an aCCidental encounter wllh a problem and for whlch a
501utlcn 15 1Ooughllhrough dialogue The dialogue serves lo establish ¡he
phll050phlcal bilSlS lor ¡he ecologlCal argument oNen used by Ihe Harnsons In later
works. lhey recount elements 01 thelr rese¡rch. the development 01 altitudes.
potenllal solullons and contradlcllon1O The Lagoon Cyde beglO1O wllh observilllons on
Ihe lile 01 a small crusta ceiln and ends 10 the Paclfic Oceiln wllh Ihe Greenhouse
, elle, '

, 1
I
UD l.. 'fJ JOII ' .... r AH MlN üOWE 11 ' ''lILt N
.m ""' 1M AH l IlE TUI S N.",
" UlIJ orUff ro IllUUtIW
6l. . m mwU, lE
,m•.,o. CllflifAlf' .• llur. ,. ' 'Hu"-
fA r; AU eITTL f af lONU"' 10 " OIL E W1MCU W(U *'X-c¡ ss
lJf fUf UQttWlf.. H Al"" IHOUU JI

i •
1

IMPLEMENTATION
 " •
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, ,
, . •

The water buffalo was an Integral pan 01 an Kosystem whid'llncluded Ihe Indlgenous
human popu!,.¡¡llon In lhls sketch lor ¡he Sevenlh Lagoon Sulfato Wallow Ihe
Hamsons narralfVe ShOW5 ¡he water buffalo as a more effectlve element Ihan Ihe
Indor tI reprcduced Itself for nOlhln9 provlded free Labour dld nol requlrt' fuel. dld
nOI pollute!he enVlronment In addlllQf1 l' was a source DI ml[k and mea! A.s water
buffillo dlsappurl!d lhe tale 01 mataN Increased

• , .,
Hel en "ayer HARR ISL N •
,
HARR ISO N

", , ,,, , .
",,, •
•

The Harnsons beheve 11'101110 arder lO effecl envlronmenlal change ecologlcal art
rnusllook al and respond 10 Ihe lotahty 01 inlerretallonshlps ¡hat define ecosyslems
Slnce 1977they nave been eumlnlng ways 01 malntillnlflg Ihe tcologlcill balance 01
whlch are crlhcallor suslillnlng blodlverslty and ensunng Ihe quallty 01
waler whlch IS atlecled by human aCllvlty
Thelr work IS communlcaled Ihrougn maps and colLaged pholographs accompamed
by poehc narrallon or dialogue and occaslonaUy perlormances by Ihe arllsls llls
concemed Wllh encouraglng commumcahon between Ihe communlty CIVIC
organlzallons and govemmenl Visual documenlallon IS comblned wllh Ihe arllsls
Impresslons 01Ihe place as well as descflpllons 01 posslble solUllons 10 poUullOn
problems

WORKS
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Kelen Mayer HARR ISO N 4

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Newt on HARRISO N
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,
Tn! Hamsons have been toncemed Wllh Ihe pollUllon 01 walersheds Ihal are crltlcal
In lerms 01 malnl'llnlng blodlverSlty and ensunng Ihe quallty 01 water Sine! 1977 In
\1'1,5 pltee Ihe Harnsons used photographs and lo Illustral! Ihe colllslan betweI!n
man ilnd nature along Ihe Sava Rlver If'l former Yugoslavia Tl'1e anl5ts pholographed
Ihe course 01 Ihe Sava Rlver from lIS tWIn sourc!s In mountaln and 5wamp unlllll

flows Inlo Ihe Danube Rlver near Belgrade The rlver. clean al lIs source. becomes
pOlsoned by Ihe Dulllow 01 wasll!s 'rom a nudear power plan! and !aclones along 115
roull! Th! Hams,ons documenled Ihe toxlns dumped mIo Ihe nver by a paper mili
ami ferllllzer planl JusI before 11 enlers a nalure reserve In order lo preserve lile
ecologlcal balance as much as posslble Ihe Harnsons proposed makmg swamps
along Ihe dramage dllclles whlch empty Into Ihe reserve Through a carelul selectlon
01 planls a natural system 01 punfic.allon could effecllvely ellmlnate many pollulanls
To reduce lertlhzer rvnoff and stem algae bloom. organlc larmmg along Ihe edges
ollhe preserve was suggesled FinaUy water used lor coollng al Ihe nuclear planl
could be recycled Inlo holding ponds lor ralsmg warm-water lish

IMP LE MENTA TION

•
• "

Melero MaJe" Ne wt on

,.
•

The Harnson Sludlo (He!!n Mayer

Hamson NeWlon Harn$on Gabnel

Harnson and Veril Westergaard) was
comm lsSloned by Ihe Cultural Counell 01
Soulh HoUand lO find a solutJon lo lhe
prestn! gradual efOS lon aflhe Green
Heart 01 Hol land The Harnsons
proposed a Rlng 01 BlodlVers rty lGO km

long and 1 - 2 km Wldl! wh"h wou l d ad

iI5,¡¡n Interface between rura l and urban

enVlfonments The nn; alms 10 suslarn

Ine tull r¡lnge DI blod lverS lty 01 Ihe
n¡lura' landscape and also 10 produce
d eaner alr and water lor presenl and
luture generat lons The n ng would
luncl lon as an example lor Ihe rulure
and .1$0 as iiln !ndl;;"lor 01Ihe wellbeHlQ
01 Ihe Grten Hurt hab,tal 01 Hollan d

WORt<S
 '" Roberl MORfUS
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" dmat o
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• 'ree \ ,mp

• • , o, •
Butl lm an abandoned quarry. tne plKe
(On51$15 01 concentnc terr-aces ilnd
stopes formlng .ln amphl1heatre In Ine
centre 01 ¡he slte wllh a MI flslng In Ihl!
lower se<tlon From wllhlO ¡he
amphlthealre only Ihe sky 15 VISiblE!. 'rom
¡he hlll ¡he Y¡l'wer surveys Ihe largely
rural Kent Valley, In Kmg County.

WashIngton A fe ..... scanered tree sl umps

remalO as emblems 01 resource
ullhzahon MOrrls' work demonstrates
Ihe aesthellC posslbhlles 01art-as-land
redamallon and Ihe e<:onomlC vlablhty 01
Land Art

I
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U.4PtE M EN TA Tl ON
•
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On a 6-hectare $lle by stnp-m,n,ng ilCllv'hes 'he iilr1lsl planted three (,retes

01 W!UOW 'rees loUowmg the slle s bowl-shape topogfilphy The tren planted
around a pond formed Irom coal-dust ruo-o" WI/lOW Rmgs 15 maontaoned as a
wetland wlldhle preserve Attemphng lO m¡unlilm a balan<1! belween people and
nature by restonng a damaged area 01 Ihe landsc.¡pe lo a natural habita! Ihls work
reftec1s Felgenbaum s commllmenl lo land feclamatlOn
 Time LandsCdpe'''' IS Sonllst s earllest
envlronml!ntal narrallvl! landscapl!

I staMed In 1965 01'1 a ptol ta<:aled 01'1 Ihe

comer 01 Houston and La Guardia Place
In New York CIIy Once an urban
wasleland Sonfisl planled 1!'Ils
abandoned 101 covered wllh rubble wllh
10resI planlS Indlgenous lo M¡nhattan
and re-cre¡led lhe so11 and ra<:k
lormallons lhal had once ulsled Iherl!
before Ihe Weslem seUlers amved The
Sculplurl! IS deslgnl!d lo evolve
conllnuaUy as Ihl! planls grow Sonlisl
uplalns Ihal II IS Importanl lo pl¡nl
Indlgenous foresls olherwlse Ihe Clly
wllllose lIs henlage Thlslandscape
olfers Ihe vlewer Ihree natural terralns

I an open field 01 grasses ¡nd Ilowl!rs a

I plonel!r forl!sl 01 blreh. eedars and

Ilowerlng bush, and a malure oak loresl
blrds and olher small anlmals
m¡ke Time Landscape' " Ihelr home
wllhln lhe clly bnngll'lg the urban
dweUer back 11'110 contaCl wlth nature

IMPLE MENTATlON
 Alan SO Nfl S! 51
• •
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Thls wori( Incorporales lh@melaphoro'

human IntervenIJon Wltl'lIn Ihe reclama-
han 01 Ihe angina! Iand The sculplure
traces Ihe use 01 Ihe land from pnmaeval
Iones! 10 Ihe presen! The centre nog
bUll! on r.Jlsed ground 15 a pomaeval
lores! The nut nng represents Ihe tirs!
setllers who cuUJVilted herbs lor cookln9
and mediCinal use The thlrd nng
represen!s ¡he Influente ollhe Greeks
wllh bronze casls made from endan-
gered trees The fourth nng'!> the Greek
symbol 01 vu:lory 01 9-1001 (275 cm) tan
laurel hedg' plerced wllh low passage-
ways for enlry Next 15 iI Roman road
bUlll 01 slones In Ihe Roman style The
outermost nng Integrales Ihe sculplure
Wllh ¡he curren! agncultural USI!S 01 the
I.¡,nd rhe olJVl' trees whlch werr selln iI
gnd formallOn have been replanted In a
Circular form¡¡¡IJon and are sllll harvesteo
ong,nal gr.sses have been replant-
eo so that!he ShHP can stllt grille

WORKS
 '"

Ahn SO NflST
P , f V1rq" [

• 191 <,
tHth. ocd
, .\ •
Art, off. ". , ". Ne ... York

On a ctlernlcal wasle dumping ground.

f Sonlis! Cfuted a pool 01 vlrgln sOll lO
t calch blowlng seeds Irom Ihe ;Jlr and
I, begln Ihe reblrlh 01 Ihe lores! Sonllsfs
I alm was lO rll'create Ihe rores! that may
have grown Ihul! before humanklnd's
desecrahon 01 hls enVlfonment.
restonng Ihe land 10 lIS natural state

IMPlEMENTATlON
 , ,
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• •

, "
,

In her mano le sto MiJlnteniJoce Ar1

Ukeles acknow1edged Ihe drudgery 01
malnlenance actlVltles such iJ5 ctean lng
iJnd wiJ5h lng whlts¡ iJlso acknowledg lng
¡helf neceSSl ly In a senes 01 Ih,rteen
performiJnces dOJtmg from 19n lo 1916
she cteaned iJ SoHo street and museum
nOOfS as well as performmg iJlI !he
dulll!$ 01 !he gUiJrds In a museum
Slmllarly Ukeles selected and perfor-
med cel1aln acllvltles 01 malnte"ance
whlCh she Ihen labelled as al1
 '"

"' l fOr le Llderman UKE U S

F ,
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98
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1- ...... ,. .... . !
".,. • 'j'
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IM PlE M EN T .. TIO N
• .,
M,@rle Lade rma n

Oeslgned Wlth engmeers from Greeley

Hansan and molde In collaboratlon w tlh
Ihe New York Departme nt 01 Sanltatlon,
Aow Ci tylS InslaHed In a garbag!!
reeycbng uM on Wl!st 59th Street and
Ihe Hudson Rrvt'r In mldtown
Minhaltan The work 15 a demonstratlon
01 Ukeles conCfm lo educale \he publlc
about lIS role In controllmg Ihe Me 01
waste whlch 15 poured mIO ¡he

envlfonmenl It Involves an on-slte (ook

al Ihe prOCl!55 01 dlsposlng 01 wasle In

Ihe lirsl sectlon. Passage Ramp a 76 m
long walkway 15 made 01 twelvl!
recyclable matl!nals Includlng 6 m 01
crushed glass and 6 m 01 shredded
rubber Al Ihe top 01 ¡he ramp 15 Ihe
GldU Bndgewhu;h 15 12 m long and 5 5
•
m wlde From Ihe bndge ¡he Vlewer can
watch Ihe garbag!! trucks benea!h them
whlch are loaded In !ourteen dumping
bays under ¡he Gla55 Bndge Allhe end
ollhe bndge 15 Media Flow Wall. a 3 m
5 5 m long wall 01 crushed glass wllh
twenly-Iour monllors sellOlo 11 The
Video waUI5 progrclmmed Wllh ¡/Ve
camercls whlch are located bolh on and
011 Slle The momlors lransmlllhree
klOds 01 flow-Imagery nver. landlill and
recychng

WORK S
 "6

• •

Sherks farm was Dne 01 Ihe Ilrsl ecoloQtCaf works \0 Integrale bolh land and anlmals
Thls envlronmental ¡¡nd social ar1work broughl many people trom dlfferenl diSCiplines
•
and togelher along wllh planls and anlmals rhe Filrffl Involved exlenslve
[and Iranslormallon Includlng lhe mlegrahon 01 disparate plKI'S alland. aH adJacenl
lo and IncorporahoQ a maJor molorway Inlerchange. mIo a new park The Farm
restored a sustalnable eco-system \0 a prevlDusly destroyed slle and provlded an
edl,lcallonalliwlily lo ,ncrease ilwareness DI Ihe value and beauly 01 nature

(
I•
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i

Sonnle StIE.B.¡:;,
• •• •
,
,.
rile Raw Egg Ammal Tllealre fTREAn
was an area wltl'lIn rile Farm
speclfically dedlcated 10 educahon abou!
,mlm"l!) Chlldren !rom over seventy-
hve pubht sthools, prlmanly urban.

- vlslted as part 01 Ihelr school day and

expenenced bolh nalure and art

IMPLEMENT A TION
 Betty BE A. UtlONl
'"
•
APp f\<>,n'" , . ; ,
•

_.--
-_. •

Th,s 15 in underwater envlfonmental

work 011 lhe Roor 01 lhe Atlanhc. made 01
510 lonnes 01 processed coal-waste a
potenhal potlut¡¡lnt whlch has undergone
a planned !ranslormallan. turnlng'! mIo
a flourlshlng ecosystem Thl! coal waste
now provldes Ihe slte lor a lu5h
underwaler garden 17.000 coal fly-ash
blocks were fabrlcaled sl'lIpped ID Ihe

ocean Sil! (64 km Irom Ihe New York

Harbor and 5 km oH Flre Istan d NatlOnal

I SeashoreJ arld [ald on Ine continental

shelr The Ocean Ldndmark PrOject

5tarted 10 ch,lnge a l Ine poml 01
Installa\fon In 1980. and has (reated a
sustalnable envlronmenl for manne lile
The work has also been documented as

saund video .• milge and wntlen

Inlarmallan

,,.......... -<1- ...

.. •" ,... oo. l.",
•

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• • •
A •
7-. __

WORKS
 ". ,
JOH AN SO N

Com m l5510ned by lhe Oallas Museum 01 Art. ¡hls proJecl was deslgned lo rll!vltallze
Ihe Falr Park Lilgoon J oh anson dlscovered Ihalllle area had once been a Ihnvlng
weUand habltal AMer punfylng Ihe lagoon whlch was suffocated by algilil! slle
rellllroduced nah"! plan!s 11511 ilnd repllle!> lO revllahzl' and balance lhe load chilln Al •

ellher end 01 Ihe Park complu grouplngs 01 palnted concrete paths brldges ,)nd
bencnes were Inslalled based on Ihe forms 01 Ihe aquallC plants In Ihe water lOe
real ruson I only deslgn parks and lountalnS Ihese days 15 I m slck 01 Ihe whole
museuml collector/auc;llon house co mplex wllh lhelr self-collgralulalory pranle aboul
how mueh ¡hey re dOlng lor culture' Johanson's work 15 al'! effart 10 reconcllIale
envl(onmen la l ar1 ano social purpose

• •

,
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Ir
I

IMPLH.tEN TAnO N
 Patr t a . .,
•
•

A ne ..... Sl!wer Qulle! v.as netdtd for Ihe

S-y Aru DI San FranCI5(o. and Jananson
was approacheo by Ihe San FrancIsco
Arts Trust Jan.nson s role was nol Gnly

10 m.k!! Ihe aullel allractlVl! bul also 10

Iriilnsform,\ mIo .. bOlh ill!slhellc and
IIUlvlfonmentally saund prOJect
Johanson dlscovered ¡hal Ihe area

hosted a large number 01 endangered

speClIl.!S Many specles slruggl,"g lor
SUN,v.l cDuld be helped by prov,dln9 Ihe
appropnal e habita! Jan.nsons deslgn
made Ihe slle ¡¡In eJde nslon 01 Ihe
adJac!n! Califomla Slale Recreatlon
Area The endangered garter sn.ke was
lO provlde Ihe visual form lor
Ihe proJKt lIs colours and pa!tems were
r
10 be Iransl.led Into a senes 01 gardens
whleh wauld provld!! sus!!!nance lor

locally Ihrealened speClts

,

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•

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"0>- _ _ • -,

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WORt<S
 ..,
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"
Afler monlhs 01 preparahons In Miily
1982 a 2-acre 10 8 heclare) whe¡¡tlleld
was planted on a landllll In lower •

Manhattan . two blocks !rom W,,1l 51rtel

.. nd Ihe World Trade Cenler faclnQ Ihe
51atue 01 llberty Two-hundred
truckloads 01 dlrt were broughlln and
285 furrows were dug by hand and
deared al racks ¡¡md garbage lhe suds
were sown by hand and Ihe furrow5
covered wlth 5011 lhe ¡ield was

malnl,lIned lor four monlhs, an Imgatlon

•
system was sel up and Ihe fleld was

weeded . cleared 01 wheat smul ferllllzed

and sprayed "galOS! mlldew fUflg\jS The
trOP WilS harvesled on 16 August and
Ylelded almos! 1.000 lbs DI heal1hy.
I
I' golden wheat

,l' In planllnQ and harvestlng a wheat

I trap In Ihe mldsl 01 an urbao

envlronmenl Oenes called ¡lIentlon lO
human valu!!s. mlsplaced prlonlles and
ecologlCilI concems The parado. 01
growmg wheal on an area ol land wol1h
S4 5 billlon. called aUen l lon lo lhe hunger
and mlsmanagemenl 01 resources whlch
I
affhcls some parts 01 lhe world whllsl

olhers lhnve Sorne 01 Ihe harvesled

gram lravelled around lhe world m an
e.hlblllon enlllled The Internallonal Art
Show lor lhe End 01 Worl d Hunger",
organlzed by the Mlnnesola Museum 01
Art 11987- 901

IMPLEMENTA T tON
 S)4!10M

iiUnleu 10 ,!,¡sOIll'W 011.11 "111M ul'wn4 0I4j OIjlUn 01 pOlulilup SI II Iilul']d il41 1,10 01111

¡e.munl pUl' 0141 01 st naM st OIJnln¡ 0141 OIIUilW\IWWOl s Állul'wnl.l

SWJyjl' l861 UI POIAl.lUOll/'f'/lJnOH .aJ1 h:ll'liil¡¡n¡liuIUl'aW e I.IIIM SUOI\e.JOIUOIIi

ilJnun¡ oljnqoliOl uewn4 .\jj 01 101,1 pUl' uOIIe.Jnp 1,11pOlIOlne.Jedufl

adols 1,11 jl'UOlleWalul SI \e\jII.lUl'a uo IUOIWflUOW jSOIIiJl'] il41 sll/lf'/lJnoH ilaJ1

sWOIlled JOIMOlluns OIlddl'.uld pUl' UOlpOlS UilPloli il4jl0 UOlIl'UlqwO) e WOJI pOl"'lJOIp

wOIued illt)IJ¡UI ut UI palut¡d OIJl' SOIOIJ\ 0141 ¡SOIJOI tUIIiJlA)¡eilJ e

liuljeaJ) Álll'n\UOI ... iI SillJnlUilJ JnOl JOI POlUIl'IUIl'W OIq 01 pUl'] Pilpil\oJd slwl'¡unoH aaJ1

'jUOIWUOJI",u3 0141 JO AJ¡SIUII'II.ISIUU\j ill.Il p ue weJlioJd ¡tluOIWUOJI",u3 SUOlll'N piljlUn

il41 Áq paJosuodS ssaJIs Il')llioIO)a s PIJOM 0I\j1 OIll'lAillle d)ill.I 01 uOI ¡nqlJjuoJ spu e¡ulj

se l661 ilunr!i Ál'O ¡UilWUOJIi\U3 "lIJe, uo OJIOIUer OIp Olt¡ UI ¡IWWnS \jIJl', ill.IL le IUilW

-wai\oli 4SIUU\;:j 0141 Áq pillunouue ÁlItlJlllo seM pilfoJd 0141 pilloJd uOILl'WepilJ pUl')

pue )!JoM4uea a ... lssew e 10 IJli!d se PUIi!¡U!::lloVli!rOIA JUU "lid ¡iI... e.J1i ºIZUld le PIJOM

il41 lilAO n li! WOJ¡ OI¡do¡d 0000 I Áq U¡JI 000 01 \jIIM palUIi!)d seM ildl'4S UI)l'Jlldll¡¡

pUIi! 41i14 W 8l ap lM W oa liuo) W Ol'1liuIJnsli!.w UlIi!junOW ilpew-uli!w alinll "1

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pilÁOrua pUI1 pOlJuillJildx¡
ilq Ul'J OIJnlli!U ilJil4M a)l')d e 6ul¡e.JJ pUl' ¡)IIPIIM 6uIAJOIsilJdlUOIW UOJIAUa 4ljJ

Ii! OIUI 10I1il'q,ll'6 10 pUe¡SI ue) ¡liS OII¡losqo ue SitJO¡UJ IIJOM S.UilO N61u le pilJllwa
SllplllMl1l6r¡uns 01 J.410 11.11 Illlpuli!l.4¡,I;Q p.JnpoJd OIUl'41i1W uO wnq
01 .uo pilulilSilp OIJOI ..... usnol.l146!] OM1 S\u.W4JIE'J J.¡l'M pUl' SWJollIi!Jn¡d)nJS 41IM

S]ood lli!pll . 4SJew I.Is')Pe.Jq pUl' 0I11e¡ J.jIi!M4UJj e JO 6UI¡SISUOJ Á.Jli!nput'S OI¡I¡PIIM
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herman
...
v i es
• '"
98 re ot

,.
herman de vnes proJecl wlese
jmeadowJ 15 51tuated In the counlryslde
ne ar Esche na u al Ihe edge DI Ihe
Slelgerwald The meadow has been
crealed as an altemallve 10 Ihe he"vlly
Industnallzed ag ncullurallandscape
surroundlng 1I 'Oeculllvallon for
renaturallzatlon IS the concepl by
WhlCh herman de vnes has approached
nalure bOlh as an artlst and a sClentlst
Hls acllvltles Involve colleel In9 and
classlfylng Ihe material he has 'ound
and Ihe dlrec! appllcatlon of conservatlon
technlques Through Ihe re-Introducllon
of wlld planlS 1010 the meadow. de vrles
has created Idealltvlng condltton5 lor
a large number 01 Insects butterfhn
and beetles tha! have now retumed ID
the area

WORKS
.
,

• •

Joseph BEUYS

Beuys plantlflg 017.000 oak trenlhroughout Ihe CIIy 01 Kassellor Documenta 7

embodled a wlde concept 01 ecology whlch grows wllh time 7.000 Irees were planted
nex! lo a basal! Slone milrker Beuys stated Ihal Ihe prOJe<! 15 a ' movemenl 01 Ihe
human cilpaclly towards a new concept 01 art. In symbolic communlCahon wllh
nature ' The flrsl Iree was planted In 1982. lhe lasl Iree w,u planted elghteen monlhs
aMer Beuys' dealh al Ihe openlng 01 Documenta a In 1987 by nls son Wenzel Beuys
'[ beheve tha! planhng lhese oaks 15 necessary nOl only In blDsphenc terms. tha! 15 lo
sayoIn lne contexl 01 ma!!er and ecology, bu! In Ihal 1I wlll r¡lIse ecologlcal
consclousne55 - ralse 11 Increa$lngly. In Ihe tourse 01 yearslo come. because we shaU
never stop planhng .

- Joseph Beuys quoted by Johannes StuUgen 1982

I101PlEMENlA flON
Joseph BElIYS
'"

Betwun the openlnljl 01Documenta 7 on

1'182 and Documenta 8 on 1'187. the po!e
01 basall m¡rkers gradualty cl'wmdled
unlil the Lasl tre! was pLanled on 8 June
1'187

BEill
,

,
Ooa Cenler lor Ihe Arts Ilnaneed Ihe
Inlllal 7.000 Oaks In Kassel They have
contlnued Ihe pro)eel In New York wllh
Ihe planllng 01 several dlflerenl klnd 01
Iren eaeh palred wllh a basalt slone
The work embodles 8euys uloplan Idea
01 social sculplure deslgned lO efleel a
revolUhon In human eonselousness The
Inlentlon 01 such a Iree-planllnljl evenl IS
10 p01n1 up Ihe lranslormallon 01 a11llle
01 soclety and 01 lhe whole eeolOljlleal
syslem

WORKS
 .
, 1e t !I.G..Q

W4tr,Q.' , "
,,
'·',rq, .
Ngo descnbes hls work asa Iuslon 01
•
engloeenng ardllledural plannmg and
ar1' He has crealed a 101' treatlng
waste walers UStng natural blol091cal
means Inslead 01 mKhamcal 01'
chemlcal processes Thls syslem . whlen
he has called Ihe Lemna Syslem relles
on noatlng pl;mts whlen can be used
throughout Ihe world - Ihey thnve
anywhere. from col d cllmates lo Ihe
desert The planls gro.... vel'Y, fast In
• •
speclally de slgn ed ponds lo l real wasle
lo a vero¡ fine degree
The 20-hectar!! wastl!-water
Ireatm e n! planl al Oevll'sla ke 15

I sl lualed In a former welland

envlronmen l The Lemoa laclhty conSIS!S
01 nme serpenhne ehaonels w""eh

I' remove harmluf phosphorus nIIrogen

I
• and algae before releasmg lh e treated
waler 1010 one bay 01 Devll s Lake The
harvested plants are used as an organlc
lerllllzer Schoot ehlldren are taken on
tours lO leam aboul blology. Ihe
envlronmenl and lIs preservallon

8us t er S.l!i50N
• An t

991
e tI'

h. 8 1,

Headwater f the Hud Jn Q .,·r, d'" P H .d. Nt'w York

The Installallon Hudson Headwafers Purge IS parl 01a con llnumg senes. dallng back
lo 1983. whlch Illuslra les Slmpson s concem wlth Ihe damage lo waler and wlldllfe
resulllng Irom aCld ram Nu merous dlsks 01so ft chalk IImestone measunng 61 em m
dlameler by 8 cm thlck have been dropped Inlo the Hudson Rlver The ll meslone
neulrallzes or 'sweetens aCldle walers lor a llmlle d time The process 01 addin g
IImeslone lo aCldle nvers IS now a s tandard practlce wlth envtron mental agenCies
Slmpson htmself wades mIo the waler to place Ihe dlsks. a gesture remmlscenl 01
Nallve Amencan ceremOnial pntctlces 51mpson s work attempts lo revive a llm g
waters Ihrough chemlslry and art

. "' PlEMENTA TlO N

 ". "", C.HIN
,
", d.
" ". f" n dfi 1

"
"", ,
'"• ,' , , ".
", ,,"

•
,
"
Thls work was creiilled as an exploratlon
01 Ihe use DI pLan!s as remedla " on 1001s •
An 18 m' $e<:Ilon DI landfiU contamlnaled
by heavy melals $uch as cadmlum was
planted In a Circular pattem wllh specles
speclflcally ehostn lor lhelr ablh!y \0
remedlale $011 The (Irele was
by ml ersechng palhs whlch
separated difieren! plan! vilrlehes S,.
Iypes 01 planls, two pH ilnd two h!rt lhzer

tests wl're u$ed In eiilch quadrant Th e

•
circular area. planled wll h delo. ,fyInQ
weeds served as ¡he controllest s,'e
The square. planted wllh localgrasses.
served as Ihe control slle
,

,,

IMP LEMEN TATIO N

 I •
",

Th,s was ene 01 a serl!!'S 01 prOlects In

wh,eh landan was tooked al as a ¡,dat
bas," A propowl was made to redevelop

,• ¡he E!tri '" Bruelon wl'lIch had been

buned s.nce Ihe lB80s The proJect was
•
•
• t.ilrned out as a markehng campa.gn
•
• pub!!c meel,ng5 were held \0 sollC,llocat
•
-- op,n,on an arch'lect by,U a modl!'! 01 tne

--, proposed redevelopmenl prl!55 releasl's

were senl out and prn.s covl!rage was
,, oblalned Once publJc ¡¡UenllOn had be"n
,
,, atlracted lo Ihe queshon 01 reslonng Ihe
slle Ihe Redevelopment Agency
,,
,, sloppe d atl wo r k and was dlsmanUed

.,
.,., -
., ---
'-

-
'VI fpRII

Al Bell La n! Creek. where Ihl! Rev!! r

Wa ndle meels Ihe lhames a bronzl! bell
has bee n bUIU on \o Ihe sl ule!! gal e Th ,s
flngS wllh Ihe mOyemenl 01 Ihe h des
The names 01anlmals wh lch once
IIlhablled Ihe Wand le havl! bee " carved
+nlo Ihe stUltl! slrucl ure A mlcro-hyd ro
l urbme !leneral es ener!lY lrom Ihe
Wand le. wh lch hghl s the assembly hall
01a nearby school The area nowa n
Industn al was leland was desl!lnated a
della by PLA,TFORM l or Ihls prOJect
PLATFORM . re eonc emed w lth
democracy an d social power as mueh as
w lth envlronmentallssues As a result 01
PLATFORM S actlVlhes a gro up called
!he Won derlul Oella Network has been
lor med who are active In trym!l l o restore
1he aru

WORKS
 'lO Pe l e r f[ ND

n"

,
......... ,
.,
Thls work was onglnaUy shown al Ihe

-''"-- Venlce Blennale 199J"The AdnatlC and

Red Seas are suggesled as posslblt'
slles for Ihe development 01 Oeean
Ear1h s Glilnl Algae Syslem These
syslems. whlch can be grown In Ihe
seas provlde a renewable and non-
panullng energy sourcl' as an altemallve
10 pelroleum The firsl contracted slles In

• 11'115 oll·free COrrldor ran along ¡m

slrelchlng !rom Iceland, ¡hrough Ihe
•
Norlh Sea. lo former Vugoslavl,ú
mounl¡lIns. ¡ncludln9 slgnlficanl slles
suth as Moun! Alh05 , MDunl Slna. o1nd
Mecca The charts on Ihe floor show a
marketing ternlory lor Ihe Glanl Algae
Syslem Thls syslem challenges Ihe
mlneralluels Induslry. aslhe alm 15 10

1, Introduce a global algae produetlon

Induslry whleh w.U make 011 and gas
unprolilable and - In vlew 01 the polluhon
Iheyeause - unappeahng

I Pete r E..E.ti O
,
,
--- I
Peter [Ekl1

11 .. 11 ,

e'

• • Oeslgned wllh naval arehlleet Mare

Lombard. Ihls IS a 1 15 seale model 01 an
oHshore glant algae syslem elear Air Rig
or OHshore 5011 Rlg deslgned lo produce
energy wllhoul any pollullng greenhouse
elleel by-produels
Slnee Ihls model was exhlblled In 1993.
a mueh more Ie<:hnleally developed
model has been eoneelved Parts 01 Ihe
slruelure have been bUlll and are ready
lor sea Inats A eontrael has been Slgned
lo allow produelton

IMPLEMENTA TION
 • •

\
\
\
II
/ /
/
/
/
/
/

/
 Peter rENO
,
•

-
.... s .... lJNrry •
Tival Bay 15 a sem,-enclosed saltwaler
I
11. basln In Montenegro Oeean Ear1h was
responSlble lor surveylllg Ihe baslIl and
determlnlllg where and how lo ¡ncrease
lIs mOnltored bloproduCllvlty and lindlllg
opllmal slteslor blologlcal harvestlllg
The obJeellve 's 10 allow an urban
setllemenl wllh v.r1ually no pallullon

, . . ., - -
•
• •

These salellJle Images lal(en over

Iwenty-Iour hours. show an expl0510n DI
alga e bloom Irom Ihe small pOlnl where
1I beganlll Anhol!. lO nearly all Ih e
walers surroundlng Den marl( The
eXlstence DI Ihe Wlld blooms 01 algae are
attnbuted ID excesslve ler1ll1zer and
pollulanl n.moff The green eolour Inthe
water Indlea led Ihe lIlereased
lemperalure 01 lhe sea-5urface whlCh 15
¡boul 6-lJ>warmer Ihan normal
In s prlng 1988 lhe a lgae bloom wlped
out DI "sh and IS thoughtto h¡ve
eontn buled lo Ihe Immune-syslem
breal(downs 01 sea mammotls The
quesllon 01 tOXIC "algae had conlu5ed
SClenllsls lor some lime lince algote
alone eould nol be responSlble lor Ihe
devastallng effeds on aqualle hle

IM PLEMENTA TION
 '"

Avital G..EV A

re' u
6

Geva sees Ihls work pnmanly as an educallonal 1001 and a syslem 01 renewal The
Greenhouse IS an upenmen!al proJKI In a soclo-agrlcultural domaln Geva
cons!ruc!ed Ihe Greenhou5eand sel up a leachlng and upenmenlal programme
hlmsell. modeHmg Ihe syslem on cooperallon Inves!lgallon examlnallon and
observallon The IS mean! lo be based on an KonomlC balance and IS
slalfed by workers on Ihe Ein-Shemer klbbulz Geva clalms thal art 15 wllllng because
1I has no! connecled IlseU lO realllfe He 15 nol mleresled In art In museumsl see art
as a seri es 01 expenmenls On Ihe basls 01 Ihese upenments people leam ar!
dont care wh a! Ihey calll! art or anll-ar! The problem 15 Ihe soclety we !lve m
- AVI!al Gevat On Ihe Greenhouse 1993

WORKS
 '"
The artisls in Ihis seclion make works Ihallake Ihe land nol
as physical maller. bul as melaphor or signifier. They undersland il as a concepl.

as an oplical conslruclion or linguislic elaboralion Ihal may lake Ihe form of a

•

diagram . a senlence or a pholograph . Forms of measuremenl such as maps

and place names are deconslrucled and played wilh as Iheorelical conslrucls.
arbi lrary and conlingenl acls of inlerprelalion. Some works here evoke Ihe

la ndscape archilecls of Ihe formal gardens of Ihe pasl in which planling. slaluary
•
and archileclural follies were all part of a rich iconography symbolizing culture.
civilizalion and mortalily. Conlemporary artisls similarly regard Ihe environmenl

as a hislorical narralive which provides a repertoire of polenl symbols Ihal can

I also be deployed lo describe conlemporary sociely.
I

lan Hamilto n flNLAY

qna t ufe t th e Art .' Hndl er
.98
r j t n

lan HamlUon Flnlay c:a rve d a n en larged

represe nla llon 01 Hodler·s s lgnalure on a
slone on lhe Furka Pass In SWltzerland
ferdlna nd Hodler was él SWI SS pa lnter
famous lor hls landsca pe paintlogs. lo
wh lch lhls phol og raph bears a stnklnQ
resem btance

la n flN l AY

",
an h " • t :l

IMAGINING
•
•
 '" eft "na <JpP
00U91 aS HUEBLER
I(e

dI m
Dlmen Vdr dble

On a map 01 Ihe US, Conceplual Artlsl

Douglas Huebler marked lourteen cltles
and lowns sllua led approlnmalely along
Ihe 42nd paraUel From Truro.
Massachu setts, he malled !ourteen
leners lo each one 01 Ih ese dlies on Ihe
same day The leUe rs . havlng no specllic
destlnallon , were subsequently malled
back lo Huebler The work conSlsled both
01 Huebler"s Ihoughl and Ihe achon 01
sendlng Ihe let1ers. and oflhe poslal
recelpls whlch constlluled Ihe
•
work logelher wllh a map 01 Ihe lellers'
palh The Ime 01 Ihe 42nd parallel and Ihe
US posla l syslem became lemporary
vehlcles 01 lime and dlslance. whllsl Ihe

I1, recelpls. removed 'rom Ihelr slallC

a dmmlslrallve nlslence. acqUlred a
I' dynamIC and hlslorle welghl The work

I aels as a descrlphon 01 movemenl

I Ihrough space It also serves lo re-In)ee!
art Ideas Inlo lhe labrle 01ordmary
by USlllg lile poslal seNlee
I as Ihe 1001 lO earry oullhe work wllhln
eonlroll ed paramelers eslabhshed by
Ihe artlsl

ARl & .lMfG.\J.AGE

(hr ry Michael SAL DI!!N )
",p

lhls work 15 concemed Wllh Ihe

dls]unchon belweefl maps as visual

o m!ormallon syslems and Ihe physlcal

reallly DI what lh ey are supposed lO

- represen! The Map works 01 Alklnson

and Baldwln also explore Ihe correlahon
- or rather Ihe Imposslblhty 01 precise
correlahon - between Ihe representallon
01 a lhrt e-dlmenslonal obJecl. Ihe earth.
and a two-d,menSlonal surtac!!. Ihe map
As Ihe arllsls explaln . 'SlncUy speaklng
,he map cannol achleve whal'l says 1I
does because Ihe surtac! 01 Ihe Pacllic
Ocean 1$ no! complelely Ita! - Ihe waves
"have helghf and are conslantly In
mohon '
-Art & Language Sorne Notes '. 1967

IMAGINI NG
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 178 J hn
,

Baldessan destrlbes Ihe worlt as

lollows Pholographs ollellers Ihat spell
CALIFORNIA and ollhe map used lor
locallng Ihe slle lor eath le\ter The
lellers vary In In:lm one 1001 lO
appro.lmalely one hundred leel. and In
o ¿
malenals used The leUers are localed
as near as posslble wllhln Ihe area
by the letters on Ihe map The
Idea was ID see Ihe landstape as a map
and ID uKute leller and
symbol DI Ihe map employed on Ihe
parl 01 Ihe earlh 11 was an -
allempt 10 make Ihe real world malch a
map lo Impose a language on nalure
and

< '.-

/ .-
•

tlo4AG1NING
 •
•

..
-

- - - .=
-
- - •

;=

• -

-
•

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•

- - •
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•
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 Gordon MAIIA - CLABK
"" , [<,tate
"
Fó "
"
"
, ," '" "
"
-_... _-
•
1"1 Ir",', In 1973 Matta-Clark purchased ttm1een

- ---- _._--
C " .. .... .... ... I __ _ _ _ _ unused areas olland that were left over
. , . ji-- .

__ -
... _ . _ .. .... _ - " " _ ......... _ 1 ..
when tenaln dlstrK;ts m the borough 01

.. ,.,-"". "'-_
::-,
:_._-- ' '- . .
- _ .
._- --_.-
--=- . . . . • Queens were re-mapped and property
• -- -- lmes re -drawn The plots boughl by

- _.. _---_ ... _- Ma tta-Clark lor between 525 and S75

-_
.. _.--_. --........._--
_----------
._---
. - --,._-- ---
.. -.T._.......
eh.
eath are often Isolaled and Irregular
511es. somellmes only 2 • 31eel 161 •

- 1
-
Q, . . _ _ . . . _ _ . . . .

• ". ..... 91 5 cm}. localed where olher propertles

meel In a block AlIhough the slles could

_._...._-::::::::
..... '- --------_ ..•-
_--. ......._--_......... - .. _._-
nol be occupleo. the work confirms Ihe

--
--
, • Amenca n Dream Ihal everyone tan

-
I
betome a landowner

--- I
• ,, "". - "" H

1
_ .. 7 _ • •

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I =!C=--=mn:
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n ....", .....,"' ........ _ _ _ _ ... _ _

WOOOWAAO
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IMAGINI NG
•
"

"

Jan D,bbets Corree/lons

upenment w.lh thl' opt,c.al construcllon
01 spac!!! 'nhented 'rom Ihe Renalss.ulCl!.
usuilUy uSlno;¡ slnog stretched aver Ihe
ground lo lorm squares or rectangles
The prinCIpIe 01 !hese works 15 lo
invalida!! Ihe ,Uuslon 01 perspecbve

created by photographlc construct.on.

wh,le cftahog another ,lIu510n. wh.ch
sU!I!luts thal ¡he square VIsible ,n Ihe
pholograph 15 nol In ¡he photograph bul
supenmposed on.1 The corrE!i:llon 01
one ,lIu$lon produces anolhef Illuslon so
¡hal ¡he YltWl!f 15 led lo deconslrucl Ine
undustandlng 01 plclonal perspectlve

Th,s work WolS made lar Gerry Schum-s

-Land Art uh,b'llon for leleVlslon.
broadQlst In Germany on 15 Apnl1969

Olbbets descflbed.1. 1ñe pro¡e<:1 WIU be

madI! al ¡he beach when Ihe water 15 low
It wlll be wlped out when the water IS
comlng up ilgilln It takes about elghl

hours mood-lide! The whole thlng IS

spKlflCillly conslru!;!ed lor TV So dunng
Ihe time at whlch people are look,ng at

Ih,s proJ!!;! on TV Ihey wIIl have iln

ol1glnill artwork by Q,bbets In thelr

room When 1I 's fin,shed the work 01 ar1

no longer !X'Sls
- Jiln Q,bbels Land Ar1. exhlb,llon

catalogue 1969

WORKS
 1)
I
I se I le;
l·
I
\/V( () [ )
() ()I. "
VV I N I )
•
lan Ha.ilton EINLAy
• ,
",
•

Thls IS a slale slele bea nn g Ih rH Fmlay-s garden al lIttle Sparta makes

d,fferenl seq uences 01Ihe three words elear hls vener,¡hon 01 Ihe p,cturesque
wood wln d song 1I s,.nds 10 c. grove In Ihls garden F,nlay c.sp,res lo a natufe
01 pmes wh lCh slng whe n Ihe wmd Improved by Ihe mlellect r,¡lher tnan leh
blo'NS througn them unloucned In Ihls he reveals a c10se Imk
wlln Ihe Frenen SeVenlHnlh+eenlury
landseape pilmler Nlcolas Poussln. who
org¡nlzed nalure In hls palotmgs w.lh
gre¡1 preelllon In order lo presenl,l as
perleel Where Poussms work reveals a
clanty 01 visual and Inlellectual purpose
Freneh seventeenlh+eenlury Landscape
pam ter Claude Lorrams approaeh lo

,.' landscape was more resonanl and

' ..
•
almosphene Flnlays Inscnpllon. 00 a
•
slone beslde a pood, hlghllgh!s Ihe
eounlerpolfll belween Poussm s ngour
and Claudes more rOmaO!IC approaeh lO
nature Thls work wc.s made In
eollabor,¡llon wllh John Andrew

lan Hamilton FINlAY

, • ,

lan Hamilton flNkAY

P Or r

The words carved on Ihese slones are

laken from a slalemenl milde by SI Jusi
dunng Ihe Freneh RevolutlOn and read
Ihe Presenl Order 15 Ihe Dlsorder 01 Ihe
Future

WORKS
 '"

• •

Allghlero 80E1T1

•
,
,
,
OraWlng on a d!versl! rang! DI resources Boelh looked al Ihe protes!> 01 ctassllylng
I
rlvers and Ihe status DI Ihls Informaban The etuslv(' nature 01 water Ine dll1lCulty DI
Idenlllylng Ihelr louree and Ihe hngulsllC problems connected wlth lhelf Idenhly al!
ralse doubts as lo Ihe classllyln!l and namlOg methods apphed Man s mapplng DI
nature Ihe allempt lo PI" 1\ down as somelhlOg fiKed becomes provIsional and
Illu50ry

IMAGI NING
•
¡,¡ 1
." >l.

The \York 15 structun'd ¡ccordmg lo

twelve 01 Ihe wortd s time Iones IIts
madI! up 01 twelve triltS planted wlln
!jiras!> seeds from one 01 tWl!lve global
lime Iones The composlllon ol!he
9rowlO9 med'um 10 e.leh 01 Ihe lrays ¡¡¡Iso
corresponds lO lha! found In one 01 !he
Iones Al Ihe end 01 !!aeh ¡raya clock 15
se! lo a one-hour lime dlHerence thus
creahng a chronologlcal atlas The lrays
were 1n$laUed as low lolbles on Ihe wlnd-
swepl approach lo Klllerton House
Oevon. dUflng Ihe monlhslrom June lo
Odober The grasses !lrtw unevenly
The work explores Ihe Idea DI mappln9
Ihe wortd Ihrough vertltal dlvlslons
along Ilnes ollahlude ralher Ihan
accordmg lo land mass The uneven
growth 01 Ihe grilssl's from dlfferenl
reglons olthewortd placed wllnlo Ihe
lertlle and producllvl! enVlronml!nts 01
Ihe park area are a remlnder 01
locatlons around the world where human
survlva! and ulslence depl'nd on lraglte
and ohen hostl!e soclo-eco!oglCa!
balances

WORKS
 .
, I
I

I
The plan 01 Ihe gardlm 15 biilsed on
geometnc forms a reclang\e a cln;le

I
an oval and a tr.angle. eaeh figure
embedded In Ihe alher A vas! Isoseel!!s •
trlangle appears lo contaln atl Ihe I
olh!!rs and partlcularly lhe fe<:langle
lraced by the Freneh ar(Meel Jean
Nouvl!ts gtas!> bUilding Baumgarten
hils created dlff!ren! Iypes 01 landscape
In dllfer!n! areas 01 lhe garden. ranglflg
(rom a formal seatlflg area lo plols 01
wlld plan!s Mailing lhrough the garden
Ihe VIl'wer upenences dlff!r!!n!
• •
envlronments wllh ln an urban settlng

I
I
,
l' ,
,
I

• ..,
•
•
\
.' ,
--
, •

\ •

IIo4AGINING
 "

Chrl tun Ph 1l1 Pp '1 Jg ER

A 8. I nc n o;¡ Act
_9 9 ,

,, 'deo d' ., .
,. n
•
r u r l I¡¡nu m.

Muller 5 In5taltallon 15 bUllt around iln opeo wmdow 01 the MU5eum Fndenclanum.
whlch reveills a b,rd 5 eye vlew 01 Ihe Fnednchspliltz Wllh Ihe con51ructlon 01 iln
underground car park Ihe permanenl works by De Mana IVertIcal Earth KlIoml'lrl'.
Documenta 6. 19771 and Beuys (7000 Oa/{:; Documenl¡ 7. 1982) have now been
dIsplaced Irom Ihe,r cenlral poslllon In Ihe square Muller exhlblls documenlallon
relallng lo Ihe lundmg 01 Ihese Iwo eartier sculplures Alongslde Ihls documenlallon
IS a 6 m-long bata!'lw'Ig rod on a sculpturill base whlch 15 conslrucled hall In brass
hall m oak fa relerence lo De Mana s venlcal bran rod a!'ld Beuys oilk treesl. MLiller
has also embedded a VIdeo screen In Ihe wall 01 Ihe Fr,denc,anum wh,ch rKord5 a
performance belore Ihe openmg 01 Documenla X !n wh,ch MLiller w,lh Ihe batanóng
rod!n hand watked repealedly belween Beuys ¡rees and De Manas sculplure H,s
actlon lraces a very speclfoc hne between Ihe \v.o sculplures although Ihey were nol
made!n retallon lO one anolher Muller s emphallc connect,on 01 Ihe two works
underbnes !hal Ihe r.ew symmelncal des'gn 01 Ihe square completely Ignoreslhe
presence 01 Ihe twtI sculplures

WORkS
Ir'
II
1,
I

1,
 PIO N

• • • •

Th!S wori( was aealed dunnglhe R,o

Eanh Summ,11n 1m O,on
1 m- 01 soll 'lnd debn s from a ra ,nloresl
pari( In Belem localed al Ihe moulh 01
Ihe Amazon. 10 Ihe exh lb,llon haU In Rlo
lor dIsplay By bnnglng Iht jung le InlO
Ihe uh ,blOon spaCt - d!splaclng Ihe
matena l lrom lis surroundlngs - a nd
dlssKllng and CLas5,tylng ll Olon
hlgh ll ghts the ro le 01 dlspLacement In
Ihe lormal!on 01 $Clenllfic knowledge
Olon pays homage lO Ihe Nalura h51
WIUJam Beebe by adoptlng Ihe methods
he employed In carrylnljJ oul hls fie ld
wori( upenmenl5 Iotalenals taken
Irom a partIcular s ,te are ana lyzed In
lsol.allon In Ihe Non -s 'le 01 the ga llery
space where dl5pl.aced 5peamens are
used lO IUustrale man s know1edge By
tioklng hlS sample Irom Ihe Jung le lloor
Dlon 'acuses a"enOon on Ihe InVisIble
mlU ocosms !n lhe so," Al! element.s In
Ihe enYl ronmenl are JUSI aS lmporta nl In
Ihe role 01conservallon as Ihe removal
ol just one elemenl alle rs Ihe whole
ecosyslem

DlQN

The wolil ls concem ed w!lh the conser.'allon 01 blologocal d,ve rSITy In a come r 01 the
garden 01 Ihe Ha rewood Esta le a proposed nelWork 01 paths ereales a Iree-hke
ligure The ma ln palh conslllules the Iree tron k and Ihe slde palhs 115 branehes
These also dev lale Into smaller paths whlch lermlnale In semi-Circular areas In Ihls
area the vl ewe r encoun le rs a reclangle 01 slone 5ellnlO Ihe ground and mscflbed
wlt h Ihe name 01 a frolt Iree va neTy followed wlth an odd and anachronlsloc
descflptlon 01the q uahlles 01Ihe troll p¡¡rllcul¡¡rly Ihe laste Beyond Ihls Inlayed
tab let sta nds a s ho rt concrete cotumn beanng a bronze pLale on whlch Slts an
overslzed bronze lrol! Immed lately behlnd Ihe column anel a short d,slance off Ihe
pathway IS the Iree Ilse ll The Ire es come '!'I Ihree forms a newty pla!'lled saphng. an
adult Iree or a Wllhe red a!'ld bare bronze lronk represenllng extme! !ree specles The
maln branches 01 the Iree pa thway represen! Ihe maJor norlhem froll crop Irees The
te rmina l no des rep rese n! dlstlne! vane\les

WORKS
•
•
,
David
f
f
" . '"

NicolH P!l..!J.S.: I N
.,...

Dennl s !fQPP.E1!

, • ,
•

'''RO

- •

,
, •
•

DOCU M ENT S
 '" [

, '. r'l be :l. fllj fiel

,I
John [CIIID

•
, ,e ,
Vose mite Nat ion a l PHI(
•
• •

,
I
Albert BIlRS-TAQJ

• e

Cup ane! Ring markings

e
•

and
Rollert ,.,.MI ni:ai.l N

lI.obert SHl lhSO H

...
• ."
•

L T
•

1
•

'Why is il. I wonder', writes the critic and theorist John
Brinckerhoff Jackson at the beginning of his essay, 'The Word Itself, 'that we
have trouble agreeing on the meaning of "landscape"?' The idea of Land Art is,
as Jackson says of the landscape, 'something which we think we understand'.
Yet concepts of both 'land' and 'art' remain incredibly varied and are historically
and ideologically inscribed. Jackson's text and the others collected in this section
address broad background ideas related to the production of Land Art: constructs
ofthe 'picturesque' and the 'sublime'; evolving ideas of landscape in relation to
spiritual. physical. social and political issues; and examples of contemporary
aesthetic theories that both draw from and refine their antecedents. Identifying
strategies and tendencies emerging in the late 1960s, these texts layout the
critical foundations of Land and Environmental Art.
be endued with greatness of dimensions or not; for it is
Edmund BURKE impossible to look on anything as trifling, or contemptible,
that may be dangerous. There are many animals, who,
A Philosophical Enquiry into thougn far from being large, are yet capable of raising
ideas ofthe sublime, because they are considered as
the Origin of our Ideas on the objects ofterror. As serpents and poisonous animals of
almost atl kinds. And lo things of great dimensions, if we
Sublime and Beautiful annel( an adventitious idea ofterror, they become without
comparison greater. A level plain of vast extent on land, is
[1757] certainly no mean idea; the prospect of such a plain may be
as extensive as a prospect ofthe ocean; but can it ever fill
THESUBLlME the mind with anything so great as the ocean itself? This is
( ••• JThe passion caused by the greilt and sublime in owing to several causes; but it is owing to none more than
natufe, when those causes operate most powerfully, is this, that the ocean is an object of no small terror. Indeed
astonishment: and astonishment 15 that state ofthe 501.11 terror is in all cases wha tsoever, either moreopenly or
in which aU ¡ts motions are suspended, with sorne degree latently, the ruli ng pri nci pie ofthe su bli me ( ... 1
ofhorror. In this case the mind is so entirely filled with its EOIIIUM Buc<e, '.10.
object, that it eannot enterlain any other, nor by Oue [ded, ,1 the jme I fui'. The Ph ¡ Icsopny cf
} consequence Tea son on that object which employs it. fdmund Bur'e: A Se lect ,on cf h, $ Speeche dfTd I/r; t lng5.
- Hence arises the great power oftne sublime, that, far from
being produced by them it anticipa tes OUT reasonings, and Pre5 ' . .'tnn Arbor. 196/. pp. 256·51: 262. Onglnally
hurries us on by an i,resistible force. Astonishment, as t publnhed by R. and J. London. 1757
have said, is the effect ofthe sublime in its highest degree;
the inferior effects are admiration, reverence and respecto
No pass ion so effectuatly robs the mind of all its Uvedale PRICE
powers of acting and reasoning as fear. For fear being an
apprehension of pain or death, it operates in a manner that An Essay on the Picturesque
resembles actual pain. Whatevertherefore is terrible, with
regard to sight, is sublime too, whether this cause ofterror [1796]
4RTlST S STATEMENTS CRITlCISM CULTURAL CONTOO
19J
( ... 1 Picturesqueness, therefore, appears lo hold a station
between beauty and sublimity; and on that aecount,
perhaps, is more frequently and more happily blended
with them both than they are with each other. It is, however,
perfectly distinct from either; and first , with respect to
beauty, it is evident, from atl that has been said, that they
are founded on very opposite qualities; the one on smoolh·
ness, the other on roughness; - the one on gradual, the
otheron sudden variation; - the one on ideas of youth and
freshness, the other on that of age, and even of decay ...
These are the principal circumstances by which the
picturesque is separaled from the beautiful.lt is equally
distinct from the sublime; for though there are some
qualities common to them both , yet they differ in many
essential points, and proceed from very different causes.
In the first place, greatness ofdimension is a powerful
cause ofthe sublime; the picturesque has no connection
with dimension of any kind (in which it differs from the
ee, beautiful also) and is as often found in the smallest as in
the largest objects. The sublime being founded on princi.
pies of awe and terror, never descends to any thing light
or playful; the picturesque, whose characteristics are
intriucy and variety, is equally adapted to the grandest
and to the gayest seenery. Infinity is one ofthe most
efficient causes ofthe sublime; the boundless ocean ,
forthat reason, inspires awful sensations: to give it pie·
turesqueness you must destroy that cause ofits sublimity;
for it is on the shape and disposition ofits boundaries lhat
the picturesque in great measure must dependo
DOCUMENTS
 '" Uniformity {which is so great an enemy to the
picturesque) is nol o"ly compatible with the sublime, bu!
often Ihe cause orit. Th3! general equal gloom which is
spread over all natufe befare a storm, with the slillness so
nobly described by Shakespeare, is in the highes! degree
sublime. The picturesque requires greater variety, and
does nol show itselftill the dreadrul Ihunder has ren! the
region, has lossed the clouds ¡nlo a Ihousand towering
forms, and opened (as il were) Ihe reces ses ofthe sky. A
blaze aflign! unmixed with shade, on the same principies,
tends lo the sublime only: Millon has placed lighl, in ils
mas! glorious b,ightness, as an inaccessible barrier round
the Inrone ofthe Almighty:
'far Cad is lighl,
And never bu! in unapproached light
Dweh from elernity.
And such is the power he has given even lO ils diminished
splendour,
Thal Ihe brighlesl seraphim
Approach not, but with both wings veil Ihei, eyes.'
In one place, indeed, he has introduced very picturesque
circumstances in his sublime represenlation oflhe deily¡
i but it is ofthe deity in wrath - it is when from the weakness
and narrowness of our conceptions we give the names and
the effects of our passions to the all·perfect (reator:
'And douds began
To darken all the hill, and smoke lo roll
In dusky wreaths reluctant flames, the sign
Orwrath awak'd.'
In general, however, where the glory, power or majesty of
God are represented, he has avoided that variety ofform
and of colouring whieh mighl lake offfrom simple and
uniform grandeur, and has encompassed the divine
essence with unapproached lighl, or with the majesty of
darkness.
Again (if we descend to earth), a perpendicular rock of
vast bulk and height, though bare and unbroken - a deep
chasm underlhe same circumslances, are objects that
produce awful sensalions; but without sorne variety and
intricacy, either in themselves orlheir accompaniments,
they will nol be picturesque.lastly, a mosl essential
d ifference between the two characters ¡s, that the sublime
by ils solemnity takes offfrom Ihe loveliness ofbeauty,
whereas the picturesque renders it more captivating.
According lo Mr. Burke, the passion caused by the
great and sublime in nature, when those causes operale
most powerfully, is aSlonishment¡ and astonishment is
that state ofthe soul in which all its motions are suspended
wilh sorne degree ofhorror: the su blime also, bei ng fou nded
on ideas of pain and lerror, like them operates by slretching
the libres beyond their natural tone. The passion excited
by beauty is love and complacency; il acls by relaxing the
fibres somewhat below their natural tone, and Ihis is
accompanied by an inward sense of melting and languor.
Whelher this accounl ofthe effects of sublimity and
beauty be strictly philosophical, has, 1 believe, been
questioned, bul whelher the fibres , in such cases, are
really slretched or relaxed , il presenls a lively image ofthe
sensations oiten produced by love and astonishment. To
pursue the same train ondeas, 1 may add, Ihal Ihe effect of
Ihe picturesque is curiosity; an effect which, though less
INCEP TIO N
splendid and powerful , has a more general influence; il
neilher relaxes nor violently slrelches Ihe libres, but by its
active agency keeps Ihem l o Iheir fulllone, and Ihus, when
mixed with eilher ofthe olher characters, corrects the
languor ofbeaulY, or Ihe horror ofsublimity. But as the
nature of every corrective must be to take offfrom the
peculiar effect of what il is to correct, so does the
picturesque when united to either ofthe others. It is the
coquetry of nature; il makes beauty more amusing, more
varied, more playful, but also,
' l ess winning soit,less amiably mild.'
Again, by ils variety, ils inlricacy, its partial concealments,
it excites that active curiosity which gives play lo the mind,
loosening Ihose iron bonds with which astonishment
chains up its faculties.
Where characters, however d istinct in the ir nature, are
perpetually mixed logether in such various degrees and
manners, it is not always easy to draw the exact line of
separation: I think, however, we may conclude, that where
an object, or a set of objects, is without smoothness or
grandeur, but from its intr icacy, its sudden and irregular
deviations, its variety offorms, tinls and lights and
shadows, is interesting to a cultivated eye, il is simply
picturesque; such, for instance, are the rough banks that
often inclose a bye-road or a hollow lane: Imagine Ihe size
ofthese banks and the space between them to be
increased till the lane becomes a deep dell, the coves large
caverns, the peeping stones hanging rocks, so that the
whole may impress an idea ofawe and grandeur; the
sublime will then be mixed with the picturesque, though
the scale only, not the slyle ofthe scenery, would be
changed. On the olher hand, if parts ofthe banks were
smooth and gently sloping, orlhe middle space a 50ft
dose·bitten IUn, or if a gentle stream passed between
them, whose clear unbroken surface reflected all thei,
varielies - the beautiful and the picturesqu p by means of
that softness and smoothness, would then De united.
• <1 Pr e 'Ar [ ,y P .!ure ,ue O
Tne Gen'
'f ' ng
. Ruw. N,'w lork. 19/ •
John Bnnckerhoff
JACKSON
The Word Itself [- 984]
Why is ¡t, I wonder, that we have trouble agreeing on the
meaning of'landscape'? Theword i5 simple enough, and il
refers to something which we think we understand; and
yet lo each of us il seems to mean something differenl.
What we need is a new definitiono The one we find in
most dictionaries is morethan three hundred years old
and was drawn up for artists. It tells us Ihat a landscape is
a ' portion ofland which the eye can comprehend at a
glance'. Actually when it was first introduced (or
reintroduced) inlo English it did nol mean the view itserf, it
meant a picture ont, an artist's interpretation. It was his
task to take the forms and colours and spaces in front of
him - mountains, river, forest , fields and so on - and
compose them so thal they made a wOrk of arto
There is no need to tell in detail how the word gradually
changed in meaning. First it meant a picture of a view¡
then the view itself. We went into the country and
discovered beautiful views, always remembering the
criteria oflandscape beauty as established by crilies and
artists. Finally, on a modest scale, we undertook lo make
over a piece of ground so that il resembled a pastoral
landscape in Ihe shape of a garden or park. Just as the
painter used his judgement as lo what to indude or omit in
his composition, the landscape gardener (as he was
known in Ihe eighteenth cenlury) took pains to produce a
stylized ' picturesque' landscape, leaving out Ihe muddy
roads, the plowed fields, the squalid villages ofthe real
countryside and induding certain agreeable natural
features: brooks and groves oftrees and smooth expanses N
of grast The results were oiten extremely beautiful, but --
-
they were still pictures, though in three dimensions.
The reliance on the artist's point of view and his
definition oflandscape beauty persisted throughoul the
nineleenth century. Olmsted and his followers designed
their parks and gardens in ' painterly' terms. 'Although
three·dimensional composilion in landscape material s
differs from two-dimensional landscape painling, because
a garden or park design conuins a series of pictorial
compositions', the Encyelopaedia Sritannica (thirteenth
edition) informs uS,' "0 nevertheless in each ofthese
pictures we find the familiar basic principies of unity, of
repetition, of sequence and balance, ofharmony and
o
contrast'o But within the last halfcentury a revolution has
taken place: landscape design and landscape painting
j
•
have gone their separate wayso landscape architects no
longer turn to Poussin or Salvator Rosa or Gilpin for ª
Z
M
inspiration¡ they may not even have heard oftheir worko
Knowledge of ecology and conservalion and
environmenlal psychology are now part ofthe landscape
,r architect's professional background, and protecting and
'managing' the natural environment are seen as more
important than the designing of picturesque parkso
Environmental designers, 1 have nOliced, avoid the word
landscape and prefer land or tenain or environment or
even space when they have a specific site in mindo
Landscape is used for suggesting the aeslhetic quality of
the wider countrysideo
As for painters, they have long since lost interest in
producing conventional landscapes. Kenneth Clark, in his
book Landscape into Painting, com ments on Ihis facto
'The microscope and telescope have so greatly enlarged
the range of our vision', he writes, 'Ihat the snug, sensible
nature which we can see with our own eyes has ceased to
satisfy our imaginations. We know that by our new
standards of measurement the most extensive landscape
is practically the same as the hole through which the
burrowing anl escapes from our sight'.
This does nol str ike me as a very satisfactory
explanation ofthe demise oftraditionallandscape
paintingo More Ihan a change in scale was responsible.
Painters have learned to see the environment in a new and
more subjedive manner: as a diR"erent kind of experience.
But that is nol Ihe point. The point is, the two disciplines
which once had a monopoly on the word -Iandscape
architectute and landscape painting- have ceased to use
it Ihe way they d id a few de<.ades OigO, and it has now
reverted as it were lo the public domain.
What has happened to Ihe word in the meanlime? For
one Ihing we are using it with much more freedom. We no
longer bother with its literal meaning -which I will come
lo later- and we have eoined a number of words similarto
it: roadscape, townscape, cityscape, as ifthe syllable uope
meant a space, which it does not; and we speak oflhe
wilderness landseape, the lunar landscape, even ofthe
landscape al the bottom ofthe ocean. Furthermore the
word is frequently used in critical writing as a kind of
metaphor. Thus we find mention ofthe 'Iandscape of a
poet's images', 'the landseape of dreams', or 'Iandscape
as antagonist', or 'the landscape ofthought', or, on quite a
differenl level, the 'politicallandscape ofthe NATO
eonferenee', the 'patronage landscape'. Our first reaction
to these usages is that they are far·fetehed and
pretenlious. Yet they remind us of an importanl Irulh: Ihal
we a lways need a word or phrase lo indicate a kind of
environmenl or setting whieh can give vividness to a
Ihought or event or relationship; a background placing it in
the world. In Ihis sense /ondscape serves Ihe SOl me useful
purpose as do the words e/imate or atmosphere, used
metaphorieally.ln fact /andseape when used as a painler's
lerm oflen meanl '.111 Ihal part of a picture whieh is not of
the body or argument' -like the stormy array of elouds in a
battle scene or Ihe glimpse oflhe Capitol in a presidential
portrait. In the eighteenlh eenlury,/andscape indiealed
scenery in the theatre and had the function of discreetly
suggesting the location ofthe action or perhaps Ihe lime of
day. As I have suggested elsewhere, there is no better
indication ofhow ourrelation lO the environmenl can
change over Ihe cenluries Ihan in Ihe role ofstage scenery.
Three hundred years Oigo Corneille eould write a five-act
Iragedy with a single indicalion ofthe setting: 'The action
takes place in Ihe palace ofthe king' .Ifwe glance al Ihe
work of a modern playwright we will probably find one
detailed description of a scene afler another, and the
ullimale in Ihis kind oflandscape, I suppose, IS the
eontemporary movie. Here the set does mueh more Ihan
merely identify Ihe time and place and establish the mood.
By means ofshifts in lighling and sound and pel'Spective
the set actualty ereates Ihe players, identifies them and
tells them whal lo do: a good example ofenvironmental
determinismo
But these scenie devices and theatre landscapes are
mere imitalions of real ones: easily understood by almost
everyone, and shared. Whal 1object lo is Ihe fallacy in Ihe
metaphorical use ofthe word. No one denies that as our
thoughts become complex a nd abstract we need metaphors
lo give them a degree of reality. No one denies Ihal as we
become uncertain of our status we need more and more
re-enforcement rrom our environmenl. But we should not
use Ihe word /andseape to describe our private world, our
private mierocosm, and for a simple reason: a landscape is
a concrele, three-dimensional shared reality [ ... 1
•
. " ",
t •
'"' d.l>4.PD.
John BARRELL
, knowa landscape as picturesque is by applying to ¡t a set
ee
( ... 1Ifthe landscape and the features within il are to be
sueeessfulty subjected lo Ihe poet, and lo be organized by
him, unlil they become as far as possible the landmarks on
his eye's journey, elements in a general composilion which
does its best lo prevent the particular things within it rrom
asserting themselves at 0111, the poet must have the space
between the landscape and himself which a high
viewpoint affords. Only as il looks from rising ground can
the eye separate the immediate, disorganized foreground
from Ihe malleable area beyond il. The importance oflhis
separation oflhe poet from Ihe landscape he describes is
reflected in the poetic vocabulary ofthe eighteenth
cenlury, and particularly in those words which were more
or less interehangeable with the word 'Iandscape' itself-
'view'. 'prospect', 'scene' - ,,11 of which make Ihe land
something out Ihere, something to be looked al from a
distanee, and in one direction only. 'Prospect' carries this
sense from its lalin root, pro-spicere, lO look forward, or
out into the distance: before anything else a prospect is
what is in front ofyou - the phrase en [aee perhaps
expresses il best -and some distance away. And though in
Ihe eighleenlh cenlury Ihis sense of direction became
gradually more submerged, it did keep a limiting influence
over the sense that could be mOlde ofthe word. Thus, when
Thomson writes in Ihis passage that the 'prospect'
spreads immense 'around', there is eertainly a tension
between Ihe sense of'prospect', something in a fixed and
opposile posilion to the observer, and 'around', which
suggests a wide are oflandseape stretehing out beyond
Ihe arc oflhe poet's visiono This tension relates very
dosely lo the process of organizalion bolh Claude and
Thomson were engaged in: that of organizing what was in
fact an are - Ihe 'eireling landseape' as it was often called
by eighteenlh-century poets - on to a flat surface, that of
the canvas or an imaginary one. 1I was partly lo make Ihis
feat or organization easierfor the connoisseur of
landscape Ihal the Claude-glass was invented: a plano·
convex mirror which 'gathers every scene reflected in il
into a tiny picture'.
The word 'scene', applied to a landscape, assumed
also that what was being described lay opposile the
observer, en foce: and this sense came wilh it rrom its
theatrical origin - the flat and square-shaped skint behind
the orchestra in a Greek theatre, and the square frame of
the proseenium aren which the English Iheatre had
adopted since the Restoration. A 'scene', then, in the
description oflandscape. is something opposile you and
endosed by the limits of your vis ion in very much the SOl me
way as a painting is endosed within its frame ¡ ... )
What is uncultivaled is uncivilized - Ihal is its
attraction - and thus 01150 mysterious; bul just as a
progressive farmer can endose a tract ofheath or
moorland, and eultivate it, so the picturesque Iravetler can
appropriate and thus destroy in the plaees he visits
precisely what attracts him lo them, the sense Ihat Ihey are
mysterious and unknowable: and he does this nol only by
'"
putting Ihe places he visits on the map, whether literatly or
in some other sen se, but 01150 because the only way he can
of'picturesque rules', as it were eategories of perception
without which any knowledge ofthe landscape would be
impossible for him [ ... 1
ce
, "
184 , r
," •
Kenneth FRIEDMAN
Words on the Environment
[1983]
[ ... J In Frame Ana/ysis: An Essay on rhe Organizarion af
Expe,ienee ('9741, social anthropologist Erving Goffman
made a charming leap ofimaginalion thal is instructive for
the study and criticism ofEnvironmental Art. He perceived
that words shape Ihe: organization of experienee, Ihal our
organization and framing of experience shape our
perception, and that 0111 the many factors ¡nvolved in the
developmenl of'words' of'organizalion' or of'rraming'
are theoretically of equal importance, differing in realily
only accordingto time and cireumstanee. As a result, he
took a Iruism on which most social scientists agree, using
il lo ereate the framework for a remarkable volume by
drawing on sources as common as newspaper artietes.
Rather Ihan using constructed experiments or observed
interactions as he had with greal success in pasl sludies,
Goffmann's leap consisted in the sensible choice of using
some oflhe very materials that create and frame
experience in the most common and pervasive manner.
In considering Environmental Art, mosl eritics and
artists have failOO to appreciate the meaning, context and
nature ofthe environmenl. That is to say that a nolion of
Enlolironmento/ Art has been elaborated rrom theories of
art and from notions of an art Ihat is related to natuTe,
nature being 'the environment' in which ' Environmental
Art' takes place. Nothing could be more evidently sensible
in today's art world - and nothing eould be more wrong.
To understand Environmental Art, one must begin wilh
a simple yet significanl queslion: What is the
environment? or perhaps, What does the word
enlolironment mean?
Webster's Collegiore Dictionory (1943), an excellenl
version ofWebster's New Internotiona/(second edition),
defines the word e"",i,onment in this manner. ',: act of
environ ing; state orbe¡ ng envi roned 2: that which environs;
surroundings; specificatly the aggregale of 0111 the external
eondilions and influences affecting the life and develop-
ment of an organism, etc., human behaviour, society, etc'.
The degree to whieh the word en",ironment is related lo
the sense ofsurrounding orofoverall placement and
situation can be seen through Ihe development and
descent ofthe word from its origin in lalin. Bloch and von
DOCUMENTS
 ". Wartburg in Ihel, Dictionnoire de la langue
¡ral1fo;se (second editioo, 1950) locate ils origin in Ihe
latín word "ibrare, which P:utridge reports as meaning ' lo
shake O( brandish' in Origins: A Short Etymologicol
Dictionary ofModern English. from thal word grew lIirore
orvulgar Latín and gyrore oflate latin, gyrore meaning 'lo
turn (something), (anything) about' and lIirore meaning 'lo
cause something lo go about', particularly - in its original
meaning - 3 vessel 01 ship. Through old Freneh and
Freneh, the word became lIirer, and into English as I/eer, as
well as Ihe nautical term wear meaning to cause a vessel to
go a!>out by turning Ihe Do ..... away f,om the wind.
lhe word lIirer in Old freneh and Freneh had a
derivalive word, lIi,on, meaning 'a cirde, a round, t he
country around (or surrounding something)', which
appeared in Old French and in Early Modern French. From
that word Old French and French gave birth to the wOrd
en¡¡iron meaning 'in/around' and functioning as a
preposition and later as an adl/erb. In Middle French and
Ea rly Modern French Q "en¡¡iron came to mean 'in the
vicinity', and from it the plural noun en¡¡;rons was adopted
I by the English language. The Old French preposition
en¡¡iron also gal/e rise to the verb en¡¡ironner, whence
,,
'1 emerged the verb 'to environ'. While other old French and
Middle French words are related - as are certain archaic
meanings from Early English, induding the rare word
en¡¡;ronment - the current meaning and use ofthe word
en¡¡jronment apparently derives from the I/erb 'to environ'.
Current acceptable meaning in common English is
evident in Webster's 5eventh New Col/egiate Dictionory
(1969), based on Webster's rhird New Intemationa/
Dictionory: '1 : something that environs: surroundings 2a:
the complex of climatic, edaphic and biotic factors that act
upon an organism or an ecological community and
ultimately determine i15 form and survival b: the aggregate
of social and cultural conditions that influence the life of
an individual or community'.
With the growth of concern for the biosphere as a
political issue ofthe movemen15 identified with 'ecology'
and 'environmental activism', the term began to be
inappropriately and almost exclusively applied to ' nature'.
The misunderstanding bound up in this media-inAuenced
slippage of meaning should be evident in the fact that it is
the total environment (social, political, economie, cultural
and natural) thal affects our relationship to 'nature and
ecology' as it has come to be understood. Given that
human beings and Iheir culture are in the largest scale of
description simply a form oflife mOl/ing about and acting
on the surface ofthe planet, the drilling of an oil company
is as much a part ofthe 'enl/ironment' as a tree. Thal the oil
company acts differently towards its host organism , the
planet, than does a tree is significant, but bolh exist and
rema in . In sorne senses one can view human culture in its
use of planetary resources much as one can view a colony
of animals in its use of a forest or a group ofinsects
meeting in the core of a planet. It is the decisions that
human societie s make that control their uses of nature
and ofthe planet. Thus it is that, at least in human terms,
the wid est us e ofthe wo rd environment is in a direct sense
the most appropriate.
Thomas Ford Hoult's Dictionory ofModern 5oci%gv
INCEPTION
(1977) defi nes the word en¡¡ironment appropriately for our
purposes: 'In the most general sense, all the external
conditions, physical and sociocultural, which can
influence an individual or a group; sometimes used to
denote physical surroundings as distinguished from Ihe
sociocultural; when employed in the general sense, ofien
used synonymously with milieu'.
Hoult goes on to cite Kingsley Dal/is, who in Humon
50ciety (1949) wrote that 'there is no such thing as
environment. There are many different environments, and
what is enl/ironment in onesense may nol be so in another'.
The term En¡¡ironmentQ/ Art has come to have a
meaning that summons up images of earth art or art
forms ¡nvoll/ed with 'ecological invest igat ions'. A closer
look at Environmental Art and at artis15 who engage
environmental concerns in Iheir art will reveal dimensions
that are as much cultural as natural. Human beings create
art as a cultural act, commenling through cullure on
culture i15elf and on all those aspects of existence and
experience lhat affect them - including nature.
Only false romanlicism or Ihin analysis can imagine
Environmental Art to be related exclusively to 'the natural'.
A phenomenon is lodged within the contexts ofboth
culture and nature, as are atl forms of art to a greater or
les ser degree. As an art form concerned with the relation
of our species and our societies to the planet on which we
lil/e or as an art form using our placement on and percep·
tion ofthe planet, what is called Environmental Art is as
dearly focused on culture as it is on anything else. The
focus may be diffuse, it may change and vary in proportion
and perSpedive in the work of one artist or another, it may
even seem to have more to do with ' nature' than with
'culture' as subject matter, bul Environmental Art remains
an art form Ihat must - in order to be successful - deal
with 'all the external conditions, physical and socio·
cultural, which can influence an individual or a group'.
'Word on lne [nv,ronment·. Ar( rn tM€
ed. lI.lan I P. utlQ" & • York. 198 .
Dave HICKEY
Earthscapes. landworks
and Oz [1971]
' The country is really too big for human beings to lil/e in
withoul making a conscious adjustment, and there are
only two you can make: Vou can either increase, through
mind or machine, your own reach in space and lime, or
you can break that space into man-sized chunks. The artist
working in this enl/ironment, almost by necessity, renders
his strategy pub!ic ... '
A strict decorum gOl/erns conversation between man and
man in hard dimates and desolate country. Direct
assertions are taboo, as are conl/ersations face to face,
since you can read private things in a man's face. And
since they demand response, direct queslions are always
redesigned . So conversation , in such country, takes place
with men standing side by side addressing themsell/es to
some eKternal object or phenomenon wilh an attention
which amales outlanders. They do not understand thal
those two men stand ing on Ihe concrete apron ofthe
Mobil slation, staring down the highway towards a fragi!e
wisp of doud, may, while discussing that doud, rel/eal
their souls, and only discover as much of one another as
they want.
My father-in·law is aman of such elegance. When we
lalk we mostly !ook at douds, cottonland, horses, heavy
equipment or just distance, but we get it said. We might
say it more eloquent!y before Michael Heizer's Double
Negoti¡¡e. 5ince my father·in·law makes roads, moves
earth and loves the big machinery s uch work requires, it
would be the kind of work he might e njoyo and since it is
huge and vulnerable, il would lend itselfto his most
Roman topie (t he favourite of all adult males west ofFort
Worth): the ravages of nature upon the works of man oHe
would lik'é dril/ing out to the site in his while jeep, wearing
his narrow-brimmed 5tetson, his khaki slacks and jackel
and his Gokey boots. The more difficult Ihe trip, the more
complete!y il would reinforce his serene pessimism. rhot
would be his idea of going to see sorne arto mine, too, in
propercompany.
In big country you do not see in the ordinary way. There
is no 'middle distance', only 'near' and 'far', the dust at
yourfeet and the haze on the horizon. Between, just a
rushing away. There is lite rally nothing lo see, so that is
what you look at: the nothingness - the nothing- ness.
Vacant space is the physical fact you perceive most
insistently, pressing down on the earth as the prehistoric
oceans used too Objects intrude upon the vacancy to little
effect; they only dutter your sight. Since you do not see
things, but simply see, it is always easier to experience
what has been taken away Ihan what has been added. 50
you can 'add' by taking away. By making his two cuts
across the concavity ofthe mesa, Heizer has 'Created' a
'double negatil/e' space between them. Once negative by
the mesa's cul de sac, and twice by the hOrizontal column
implied by the cuts.
I wonder ifthis particular negative space would be as
palpable in a more duttered, 'posilive' environment? t do
know Ihat privative pieces - those which involve cutting
away, digging out or marking - have much more authority
and intimacy with the country itselfthan the additive
pieces like Smithson's 5piroljetty or Heizer's Block Oye
ond Powder Dispersol, which are dwarfed in a way that
even smaller pril/ative pieces are noto5mithson 'sjetty,
particularly, has a beaux-arts look about it, more related to
other sculpture than to the lake. Like Wallace 5tevens' jar,
it makes the 'slovenly wilderness' surrounding it, 'no
longerwild ', and like the jar, 'it takes dominion
el/erywhere'. Which is al1 right ifyoll like imperialistic art,
whieh Ido. 50mehow, though, I would rather it took
dominion over the MoMA than ol/er Ihe Great 5all Lake.
Rereading the abol/e - slrange, that the things we say
in the presence of art are always indirecto Our crilical
remarks veil personal confessions, and our private
revelations are nothing but aesthetics in d isguise. But just
as well - I mean, art can be so much less than an occasion
for discourse, and art's attemp15 to subvert discussion
onl)' ¡¡ssure us Ih¡¡t Ihe talk, when il arises, will have a
certain density and subtlety.lt is misleading, Ihough, lo
speak of qualit)' in art when what we;¡re reatl)' appraising
is the qu¡¡lity of our own response. For me, there is ¡¡
distinction between art which is ottroctive and art which I
think is good. when ¡¡ work is either or neither, there is no
question oftute; but when I suspect that il mOl)' be bolh,
Ihere are difficulties - ¡¡S wilh so much ofthe work done in
the landscape. 1I is so oUroctive at ¡¡ primitive personal
and cultural level (Ihal levell share with m)' father-in-I¡¡w
who, for atl his virtues, cares nol a rip for ;¡rt) thal it is
alwa)'s difficult to decide: whether a wor\¡ is true lo itselfor
on!)' true lO some old echoes within m)'se:tf, some resonant
private mythology.
'Well. Yes! Dorolh)', ¡¡nd the Scarecrow, and Ihe Tin
Woodman, ¡¡nd Ihe Cowardl)' lion, ¡¡nd Tolo have been lo
Oz. It was far out and groovy (Oz was), but ¡nsincere:. And,
like wow, Ihe Wizard for 0111 his power was kinda fake)' and
sexuall)' ¡¡mbiguous.1 mean , il was Ihe Emerald Cil)', and
Ihe road was )'e:llow brick, ¡¡nd it did go to Oz and not lo
Kansas City, ¡¡nd il was in technicolour which Kansas is n't
to Ih is da)', but it wasn'l real, )"know? Now, tomorrow
Doroth)' is going lo borrow Aunlie Em's Irencher and cul a
M6bius strip in the No. 7 Pasture. She sa)'s;1 is going lo be
¡¡ half-mile long and a quarter-mile wide and Art. Can )'ou
dig il?'
Radical gestures have an elegance: and inevitability ¡¡boul
Ihem, but the)' lack much sense ofbecoming. Now it
follows: thal an ¡¡rt concerned wilh Ihe gap between the
world ¡¡nd our idea ofit would evenluall)' address itse!fto
the world itselfand Ihe: s)'stems we use lo pareel it UPi Ihal
an art conce:rned wilh Ihe sem¡¡ntics ofspecific objects
would soon become involved wilh subtler forms of
nomina lization (wilh mass, locative, gerundive and
collective concepls and their ph)'siul equivalents)i that
painling obsessed wilh Ihe idea of'ground' and sculpture
with the logistics of'grounding' would evenluall)' discard
the metaphor and address Ihe: archelypal plane/pl¡¡in. The
question is, whal follows Ih¡¡l?
II doesn'l follow that American artists are once more
fleeing back 10 the landscape with the e:quipmenl and
ideology ofsome: secular and cosmopolita n art, Ih¡¡1 the)'
are once ¡¡gain making ¡¡rt oul oflhe ironic re!alionship
between dirt, earth, country, propert)', landscape, territory
and nalure. That seems to be one: ofthe dumbest
Americon Ou:oms: lO caplure Ihe I¡¡ndscape while
capluring our im¡¡ginalions. The milit¡¡ry meuphor is
unnerving (people are alwa)'s coplllrrng the American
imagination); bUI from Emerson's Noture lo Fitzgerald 's
Oulch sailors (Ihe e)'es oflhe Hudson River School) , lO
Ihose ever-so Eas)' Rjders aboad Iheir chrome ponies,
souls stuffed wilh tapioca and reruns oflhe Cisco kid, il is
manifest.
Once more 'The Nature thing!' I don 'l want lo sound
like: a siss)', but I can't see wh)' people find nalure more
'n¡¡lural' than anything else, or better for being so. The
natural part of nature makes )'OU sweal, sling and shjver.
Forgel jt.
Do I impl), Ihat Dorolh)', fresh back from Oz, cannot
find happiness as an artist in the fields ofKansas? - thal
true: happiness mighl elude her as she solves mapping
problems in Ihe wheat up lop Aunlie Em's Ihresher? I
certainl)' hope nol. I couldn't think of a more eJlcellenl
enterprise. Making art in the landscape allows the
elevation of man), splendid activilies from Ihe bondage of
utility into Ihe realms ofimilation - activities like sipping
iced tea from a big glass while sining on a Iractor seal,
loading ¡¡ rock crusher, mapping out the land benealh your
feet orcle:aring )'our sin uses wilh Ihe fragrance of asphall.
As Ceorge Puttenham was wonl lo sa)', Ihe artist is 'both a
maker and a counterfeiler'. These are atl things worth
dolng in and ofthemselves, however rich in referenee.
1emphasize this beca use, according to the art press, 1
am probabl)' one ofthal effele corps of dealers, crilies,
curalors and collectors who are supposedly incensed,
bewildered and frighlened b), Ihe people who make Earth
Art. This isn't the case. I am incensed, bewildered and
frightened b), the people who make laws, bUI towards
Earth Artists I am s)'mpalhelic, even enthusiaslic. I know
Ihal Ihe movement (pun?) could use some delractors
(pun?!), but Ihis isn'l the good old da)'s, when we had an
avanl-garde:, when )'OU were judged b), the qualit)' of )'our
enemies, when you had it mOlde ifHarold Rosenberg used
the New Yo,ker space usuall)' allotted to the J. Press ad to
announce Ihat Kurt Schwiners did what )'ou are doing JI
numberof )'ears ilgo. Ubi su ni? Now )'ou hilve il milde if
)'ou can survive Ihe banal praise and keep the guls or
stomach to make arto
I don't, however,look forward lo the much-heralded
abolilion oflhe: object from ;¡rt. For atl the rage al our
acquisitive society, I musl agree with Mary McCarthy that
Americans, beset b), traditions of rationalism, purjtanism
and transcendentalism , have never had a trul)' eas)'
inlimacy wilh objects. It is certainl)' an acquired taste wilh
me, ¡¡nd after )'ears of cultivaling it I'm nol about to quit.
Earth Art, at least, isn't predicated upon Ihe abolition of
the object. lt is concerned with marking out, activating and
conlrolling spaces ¡ and an object in an unbounded
environment occupies space, il doesn't control il - unless
it is monumental. (Dennis Oppenheim's plan to
move a 14,oo<>-fool mountain to Kansas s hould delight
Dorolh)'.) Qtherwise, an object onl)' conl(ols endosed
spaces b), inter¡¡ction wilh Ihe endosure. So Heizer's
granile masses in cement depressions are bivalenl. Each
entire piece is an eXlerior work, wh¡le the granile masses
cre:ate: interior works lIis-Q·vis the enclosures.
Which doesn't mean thal the StiltUS ofthe object is not
in jeopard)' from Ihe museums, who have nullified the
liveliest object.art b), hoarding ji in a place where Ihere is
nOlhing but art and therefore no need for il. The vitlue of
object art (where surface and s)'mbol are co-elrtensive,
portable and visible) is Ihal il ciln be moved inlo Ihe
funkiest, most secular places and nOI lose its recognition .
So there is the possibilil)' of confronting it
unawares and responding lO jt while )'ou are munching a
peanul butter silndwich or looking for the TV Cuide,
withoul gening inlo )'our art-walching suit. Sometimes,
whe:n this happens, )'ou can have a kind oflow-grade
epiphan)', the kind which would help Lew Archer solve a
use, but which onl)' helps us non-flction chilracters forgel
thewar.
for eJlample, the olher mornlng I was reading an artide
about earthworks tilled ' Oirty Pictures' (heh, heh) when 1
noliced from the cornar of m)' e)'e that Ihe linear
configurations Peter Plagens had left on his large paper
painting, when he painte:d il brown, were the same as
those Heizer was marking onlo the desert with his bike,
and Ihe same brown colour. Peter had pajnted oul 120
square feet oftaped-toge:ther roadmap to milke Ihal
painling. In effect he had painted the earth back over Ihe
ideiltional s)'stem oflhe map, leaving ¡¡ negative
configuration scaril)' similar to the one Heizer was
mapping on the surface. That doesn't meon anything, of
course, bul it does iIIustrale: how object art will gel )'ou
through breakfast.lt has some impliations ilS well.
To understilnd how appropriate il is thal AmeriCil was
named forlhe man who mapped her ratherthan the man
who discovered her, )'ou should make the run 1make from
time lo time: from Kansas eit)' through Oklahoma City and
OaUas down to Austin, where Ilive. You drop like a tear
down the face ofthe map, running before the wind which
hasn'l hil so much as a billboard since it left Canada,
through country of such spectacular monoton)' Ihat, like a
blind man, )'ou become acutel)' sensilized to the
conceplua Ispaces th rough which you ilfe plu mmeting -
timezones,states,counties, water districts, flywa)'s,
national pilrks, wealher s)'stems (the skies are nol cloud)'
all mid-morn ing )'ou lose Ihe eBS station in
Kilnsas Cil)' and pick up the N BC slation in Pittsburg,
KansilS, offlo Ihe east_You have sludied the comparalive
news styles ofthe networks, so now )'ou can eoncentrate
on the stylistic vilriations among Ihe individual
broadcasters (Dalias Townsend has one greal voice).
Hourl)' )'ou nolethe incremental change inthe newslext,
suggesti ng how lime passes al the h ighest priority.
Al sundown pick up WBAPoutofFort Worth , and
after midnight, the all-nighllruck driver's show: country·
western music - cold soul, sugar-tittle black pills and
neon lights. The stalion broadcasls at fift)' thousand watts,
and afterdark you can pick il up coast to coast. From the
dedications, I guess most truckers do: 'eould )'ou please
pliI)' something b), Little Jimmy Oickens for Lero)' who's
driving for Snowcrop out ofButte, from Laura and Sue in
Bozier City ... and here's one: from the girls al the Cline's
Corners truck stop for Jim Bob Brown who's driving
tonight for Double:-M wa)' up in Miline.1 hope )'ou're
listening Jim Bob, 'cause here comes Roger Miller and
Bobbie MeGee'.
The I¡ghts ofOklahoma City are sucked behind )'ou,
and soon )'ou are: running south again down )'our own
short tunnel oflight. In your mind the enlire spread oflhe
American nighl is plotted oul, its paslures dark, its cilies
beds of coals, and its being traced the
puddles oflighl that run before the big trucks, whose
drivers, up on the high lonesome, musl feel the eilrth is
rolling and Ihe Iruck standing still. Somewhere west, near
Salinils, Roger haslel her slip aWil)'.
The country is reall)' loo big for human beings lo live in
wilhout making a conscious adjustmenl, and there are
onl)' two )'ou can make: You can either increase, through
mind or machi ne, )'our own reach in space and lime, or
)'ou un break that space: inlo man-sized chunks. The artist
working in this e:nvironment, almosl by necessity, renders
DOCU t.lENT S

'" his strategy public. The trail·hands who used lo drive caHle
up and down the Irail lo Montana tried bolh ways. They
had songs like The TUQS Rongers which through
incremental variations could extend lo Jiterally hundreds
o( verses, so Ihat a cowboy walking his hOrse broke his day
¡nlo discrete distances aftime, bu! nane so small as the
'narrow grave, juSI six by three'. This, by Ihe way, is
I essentially the strategy ofEd Ruscha's books which
contain sequences of photographs of gas st¡¡tions, parking
lots, apartment houses, swimming pools, etc., eaeh
photograph depicting ane stopping place, or increment,
on a human journey Ihrough space and time. A good
rhetorician could also make a case for Nine Swimming
Pools as an earthwork (heh, heh).
At night the cowboys would make up and recite brags
by which they imaginatively expanded themselves into the
landscape so as nol lo be swaUowed up, 'I'm bigand I'm
bold, boys, and I was bigand bold when I was bul nine
days old. I've rode everything with hair on it and a few
things thal was loo lough lo grow any hair. I've rode buU
moose on the prod, she·grizzlies and long bolls of
lightning. I got nine rows ofjaw teeth and holes bored for
more. when I'm hungry leal slick dynamile cut wilh alkali,
when I'm thirsty I can drink a rising creek plumb dry, and
when I'm tired, I pillow my head on the Big Horn
Mountains, and slrelch oul from the Upper Grey Bull River
dean over to the Crazy Woman Fork. 1set my boots in
• •
Monlana and my hat in Colorado. My bed tarp covers half
ofTexas and all ofOld Mexico. The Grand Canyon, son,
•
ain'l nOlhing bul my bean hole ... '
Maybe Ihis is whal MacLeish meant when he said thal
'the West i$ a country in the mind and so eternal'. The
Irucker lislening lo WBAP, the cowboy reciting his brag,
the eartn artist executing a gigantic work at a distance of a
few feet, aU carry in their head the topographical image,
which, al any given point on Ihe surface, has more interest
than the terra in they can actuaUy see.1 would imagine that
for most Weslerners this Iranslalion from man.high
ground view into an aerial mapping is a cultural reflex.
Before one ofOppenheim's double or triple.scale mapping
problems, or Heizer's or De Maria's desert drawings, this
transtation from ground level lo topography is rendered
conscious and the viewer participates in the same kind of
psychological apotheosis as the cowboy in his brag. tt is a
p ity aerial pholos exisl lo preconfirm your visiono
II should be obvious thal the s tatus of objects in the
West is lenuous enough without any assislance from
Canal Slreet. Even should an innocent object escape time,
wind, weather and the Baptist Church, there is stiU the
soda/lhing, 'Nice people buy land, only Irashy folks buy
Ihings'. So you can always leU the artists who make things
out here by the silly little smile thal f1ickers around their
lips. like kamikaze pilols building their own planes, they
are constantly alT'azed by the lunacy oftheir own activity.
The question is: Why have the nalional art magazines
bolh overrepresenled and misrepresented the earthworks
movement and its related disciplines, choosing to portray
them as a kind of agrar ian Children's Crusade against Ihe
art markel and the museum syslem, when this is obviously
not the case? First: the work is marketable - anything is
marketable, as SI. Paul so aptly demonstraled. Second: the
INCEPTION
museums have proved a good source of commissions for
these artists. And third: even ifthe work weren't
marketable and the museums were rejecting it, an
aeslhelic trench in Ulah is going lo have aboul as much
effect on Ihe object market and museum endowments as
admission figures al Ihe Grand Canyon.
The answer might be: II is not the Earth Artists who are
chaUenging the market and Ihe museums, bul the
magazines Ihemselves. Earth Art and its unpackageable
peers cannol hurt the market, bul erlensive magazine
coverage can, since not as much object art will get
exposure. The magazines have found in this
unpackageable art a vehicle Ihrough which they can
declare their independence from Ihe art dealers who
invented Ihe critical press, nurtured it, and have tended to
treal il like a whoUy owned subsidiary. Now Ihere is an art
form ideally suited lo presentalion via magazine. Work
consisling of pholographs and documenlation is not
presented by journalism, bul as journalism - a higher
form , needless to sayo
The people on Ihe magazines must believe (and Ilhink
rightly) that these indefinite art forms might do for the
magazines whal Pop Art did for Ihe dealers -Iend a certain
instilulionalluslre, and wilh il a modicum of arbilrary
power.
Should Ihese art forms f10urish and develop we shall
soon need a kind of Nationa/ Geogrophic fa, Aesthetes.
Already Philip leider and Oiane Waldman have been out to
see Double Negotille, and have relurned wilh (Iiterally and
figuratively) breathless accounts. New styles of criticism
are evolving: it's goodbye Clement Greenberg and Michael
Fried, helio Ernie Pyle and Richard Harding Davis. As the
artist's style oflife becomes tess analogous to Ihat oflhe
craftsman and more analogous lo thal oflhe professional
soldier, concerned with specific campaigns in specific
siles, with logislics, ordnance and Ihe burdens of
command, so art history and memoirs will change their
tone, and we will find chaplers like 'The Mojave Desert
Affair: Tactical Successes, Stralegic Failures ', replete wilh
snide attacks on the bureaucrats who never carne out in
the sun, brief praise for one bureaucrat who, allhough a
peasanl who didn'l understand a thing, did nevertheless
sign the check. (No more, no more Kirk Oouglas, earless in
Amsterdam, lusting for tife. Now il's David lean directing
lee Van Cleefinjones of/he Mojl:we.) What can happen,
simply, is whal happened lO poelry and poels. The rituals
Ihat used lo constitule marketing promotion - Iectures,
magazine articles, visiling.artist grants, museum
commissions - can become money·making activities in
Ihemselves. This is nol so far·fetched as it sounds. An
artist who makes documenls needs an editor, nol a dealer.
Now Pop Art was really deo/er's arto It belonged in a
commercial gallery, and il lenl Ihe men who deall in il a
certain mystery and charisma. Consider: here is this
commercial image done up as a painting, somehow
transubstantialed from dross ¡nlo 'art', an object of a
higher order, but still for sale. And here is this guy in his
handmade shoes and his serene smile selling this 'higher-
order-soup-can' for thousands ofbucks. Righl? While Ihis
poor schmoe down the streel is hustling real soup cans for
two·bils and his have fOUp. Obviously it takes a higher-
order tradesman to hustle Ihis higher order of
merchandise. A Wizard? Right, Oot!
There was a 10t ofthat about the Pop exhibitions in Ihe
19605. It was a cosmopolilan moment, wit h a kind ofself·
conscious, genu ineo rh inestone, shallow.soph istication,
linsel.glamour joyo And then, as now, the pure in heart
were appalled; and then, as now, il was hard lo leU the true
Marxisl revulsion wilh capitalism from the old-line,
shabby.genleel revulsion with peopte 'in trade', as they say
in Jane Austen. And the times were changing until the first
CasteUi Warehouse show showed how they could stay the
same. In a twinkling we wenl from Ultra Violel to the Red
Cuard, from Ben Dayto May Oay, from androgynous
popsters to post.cultural.revolulion macho heavies. But
the relationship oflhe work to the warehouse, and ofils
aeslhelic lO 'mainstream sculpture', is structuraUy
analogous with the relalionship ofPop lo the gallery and
the aesthelics ofP<!p lo mainstream painting.
There is a curious kind ofShem-Shaun relalionship,
100, between Pop Art and Earth Art. They are both arts of
localion and dislocalion, deriving energy from
sophisticated forms oftrespassing. The Pop Artist
imposes his vulgar image on Ihe sanctioned 'art'
environment, while the Earth Artist imposes his artificial
image upon a secular ' non·art' lacalion. Between the two
there is a greal deal of work with processes and indefinite
objects which, while violating the gallery space the way
Pop did, concerns ilselfwith place in a general way.lt is
hard lo say, for inslance, whether De Maria's Pure D,n ¡s a
simple ¡ndefinite object piece, an audacious Pop gesture,
or an earthwork under house arrest, and it doesn'l really
matter. What is interesting is that Dennis Oppenheim has
executed the antithesis to De Maria's thesis: his Gollery
Tronsplant replicales Ihe floor plan of a Stedelijk Museum
gallery on a lot in Jersey City. Here Oppenheim demon· •o
slrates the inverse attitude aboul mediation which again
pairs earthworks with Popo The artist will begin with a
•}
mediated image (Johns wilh a map ofthe United States) •
which he remediales by, in essence, painting a picture of a
picture. The Earth Artist wiU often begin with a mediated
image as well (Oppenheim wilh a map oflhe Uniled
States), but Oppenheim will de-mediate. With alterations
he wiU force the map back upon the earth which il
represenls. This, again, is nol unlike Lichtenstein applying
the Ben Day illusionistic shadow$ and highlights 10 an
actual round coffee-cup. Another kind ofthesis and
antithesis. Probably the most ilIuminating 'cut' which
could be made would be lo dislinguish Ihe arts oflocation
and dislocation according to their specificity. Thal is, lo
dislinguish those arts concerned with the semantic idea
of'place', Ihose concerned wilh the cultural idea of'art'
and ' non·art' space, and those concerned wilh actual
cartographic ' Iocalion'. This would make a cut which
would group Huebler's conceptual pieces and
Oldenburg's monument proposals and Ruscha's books
wilh Ihe olherwork I have been discussing.
It is in Terry AUen's sludio in lubbock, a storefront out
on the Amarillo highway. Terry is banging his piano, and
beer cans are dancing atop iti the wind is banging signs
and doors, and Ihe November sky is fuU oflocal topsoil.
Everyone in the room is laughing lo hold back lears of
sublime self-pity as Terry plays A Truckload ofArt. It is
more than the paranoia and bathos ofthe song¡ there is
an authenlic ambivalence between a commitment to
technicolour Oz and the sepia-tone city outside:
'A truckload of art from New York City,
Came rolling down the road;
Yeah ... the driver was singing and the sunsel was pretty,
But the Iruck turned over and she rolled offthe road.
Yeah ... a Truekload of Art is burning near Ihe highway,
Precious objects are scattered 0111 over the ground,
A terrible s ight, if a person were to see it,
But there weren'l nobody around.
Yes ... the driver went sailing high in Ihe sky,
Landing in Ihe gold lap ofthe Lord ,
Who smiled and then said, 'Son you're better off dead,
Than hauling a truckload full ofhot allant-garde'.
oh ... a Truckload of Art is burning near the highway,
An' il's rag ingfarout of control ,
An' what the crities have cheered is now shattered and
queered,
And tneir noble reviews halle been stewed on the ro ad .'
- Lyrics by Terry Allen, courtesy Clean Music Ine.
"
Willoughby SHARP
Notes Toward an
Understanding of Earth Art
[1970]
Sinee the fal! of '966, a new kind ofsculpture has become
increasingly recogn ized . The exhibition oftnese works
and the critical interest tney have stimulated indica tes that
tnis seemingly accidental, unordered, and unpretentious
art is tne outeome of a sculptural sensibility wnicn is
qu ite independent oftne last dominant mode, M in imal
Sculpture. Variously characterized as anti-form, anti-
¡lIu sion, elemental sculpture, imposs ible art, microemotive
art, the new naturalis m and poor art, tne new work was
examined in at leart four other important exhibitions in
1969: '9 at Leo Castelli', New York City; 'When Attitudes
Become Form', Kunsthalle Bern; 'Square Tags in Round
Holes', Sledelijk M useum, Amsterdam; and 'Anti-Illusion:
Procedures¡ Materials', Wnitney Museum of American
Art, New York City.
One ofthe most striking aspects oflnis work is tne wide
ra"ge and un usual cnaraeter oftne materials employed,
materials seldom previously associated witn the making of
sculpture. Tnese halle eertain features in common: Ihey
tend to be easily manipulated, commonplace, flexible and
often neallily textured. How farcontemporary sculptors
have lIentured in their seareh for new materials for
sculptural express¡on is clearly snown by tne following list,
by no mean s exnaustive: air, alconol, asbestos, ashes,
bamboo, benzene, candles, chal k, cnarcoal , down, dust,
eartn, excel s ior, feh, fire, flares , flock, foa m, gra ph ite,
grease, hay, ice, lead, mercury, mineral oil, moss, racks,
rope, rubber, sand, sawdust, seeds, slate, snow, steel wool,
string, tar, twigs, twine, water and wax.
Tne treatment of material by different sculptors is
nardly less diverse Ihan the range oftnings used and is to a
lafge extent dictated by the properties peculiarto each.
They are bent, broken, curled , crumpled , neaped, or nung¡
piled, propped, rolled, scattered, sprayed, spread and
sprinkled. Such procedures appear casual, off.hand; tney
blatantly deft tne definition of sculpture as sometning
modeled or carved. Nothing is made in the traditional
sense¡ materials are allowed to 5ub5ide into, or aS5ume,
tneir final shape naturally without being coerced into a
preconeeived formo Tne tool5 employed are very basic or
else considered redundant. With a tremendous lIocabulary
of means at its disposal, tne new sculpture manifests itself
in an infinite lIariety of configurations. A common
denominator ofthese works is their focus on physical
properties - density, opacily, rigidity - ratner than on
geometric properties.
A natural consequenee oftne features singled out
abolle is tne intimate relation whicn Ihe work bears lo its
site. Many pieces are improyised in siru. Distribution of
tne constituent matter is intuitive and informal, and little
attempl is mOlde to arrange tne material. Tne massiveness
oftne works is often d ictated by economic faeton ratner
tnan by aestnetic considerations. A sense of anonymily
and impermanence emanates from tnem. Of espe<:ial
importanee in the context ofsite is tne work's relation to
tne floor or the ground. The new sculpture does not stand
remote and aloof on a pedestal. It is la id down on the
ground or cut beneatn ¡ts surface. Tne floor or ground
oRen forms an integral part oftne piece, as may Ine wall
plane. Spectators can sometimes pass tnrougn the work
as well as past it or around it.
Apart from the new attilude lo making and the close
work-to-plaee relationsnip, otner aspects oflne new
sculptural sensibility are an empnasis on time arld
process, and anti-object orientalion, and a desire lO
subvert style. Tne new works seem lo proclaim the artists'
rejection of painting and previous scuiplural coneerns; tne
production of artifacts; Ine commercial art world and its
consumer etnos; the urban environment¡ and the long-
standing aestnetic preoccupations wiln eolour,
composition, illusion and tne internal relation of parts.
Many works express a strong desire to draw attention by
artistic means to real pnenomena. Materials usually
thougnt of as mundane and inartistic nave now been
designated as aestnetically interesting. Witn the new
seulpture, tne pure presentation of materials in carefully
selected situations nas become a significant aestnetic
statement. Tne non-utilitaria n use of certain ordinarily
useful materials is not without a sense of paradok: many of
Ine works display a certain stubbornness and
recalcitranee, as tnougn tney refuse lo be absorbed into
tne ekisting culture. One major consequence ofthis is thal
tne traditionalline between art and life nas become
blurred. We are encouraged lo draw Ihe distinction
between Ihe two afresn.
SOURCES ANO INSPIRATIONSOF EARTHWORKS
•
Early indicalions of a painterly i nterest in ea rth malerials
'"
may be seen in Ducnamp's Oust (1920), tne pebbles in
Pollock's Number 29 (1950) and Robert Rausenenberg 's
Nature Pointings (1952-S3). A more environmental
attilude is present in Herbert Bayer's outdoor playground,
Earth Mound (1955) in Aspen , Colorado; in Waller De
Maria's proposal for an 'art yard' (1960) using
earthmovers in an empty city lot¡ and in Heinz Mack's
Sahoro Project (1961), an 'art reservation' wnicn aimed to
activate sculpturally a large-scale land mass. A number of
kinetic sculptors became inlerested in eartnmoving works
in the mid sixties.ln 1964 David Medalla mOlde both h is
first Sond Mochine and tne first ofhis series ofMud
Mach ines. In 1966 Cünther Uecker did two works witn
sand, Smol/ ond lorge Oesert and Sond Mil/. ARer that, the
interesl in outdoor eartnworks accelerated with Robert
Morris' Model and Cross-Section for a Project in Earth and
Sod (1966) and Earth Project (1967); Robert Smitnson 's
rar Pool ond Cral'e1 Pit (1966); Hans Haacke's Crass Cube
(1966) and Cross Mound (1967)¡ Mike Heizer's
Oepressions (1968); Barry Flanagan 's One Space Sand
Scu/pture (1967); Richard Long's Oirt 1'967); Claes
Oldenburg's Pit (1967); Dennis Oppenneim's Cut in an
Ooklond Mountoin (1967); Walter De Maria's Pure Dirt
1'968), and Jan Dibbets' C,oss RolI (1967). Wnile local
factors nave played sorne role in shaping Ihe works of
these artists, cross-currents in the art world and the
almost immediate information flow naye brought aboul
the existence of a truly international sensibility witn
national variants. Civen tne number of significant works
witn earth , critics nalle nailed an Eartn Art mOllemen\. Bul
most oflne artists mentioned nave sculptural coneerns
whicn transcend tne use of any single material or group of
materials. There is no Earth Art, tnere are just a number of
eartnworks, an important body of work eatego,ized under
a catcny heading.
The sources oftne earth sensibility are elClremely
diverse: Pollock's drip paintings inspired by tne Indian
sand painters, Rauscnenberg's reatization Ihal ellerytning
can be used as artistic material, Kaprow's emphasis on tne
pracess of materials used in large·seale situations, and
Morris' writings focusing on the way in which sculplure is
experienced. Tnese all nave mOlde a strong impact on most
oftne Eartn Artists, especially Ine Americans. Older works
nave also nad an influenee. Carl Andre has said tnat
arcnaic eartnworks nave nad a tremendous influence on
nis tninking. Stonenenge and the Englisn eounlryside
i
,
wnicn ne visited in 1954 also made a great impact on his
sculpture. Andre's interest in tne six.incn.nign Indian
mounds wnich stretch for miles tnrough Minnesota is also
relevant, since he showed a small mound of white sand in
the 'Monument and Tombs ' exnibition at tne Museum of
Conlemporary CraRs in New York City in 1967. But Andre
is primarily eoncerned with place and elemental units
rather tnan tne use of eartn materials pe, se.
Robert Smithson, who spent nis cnildhood in Passaic,
New jersey, on tne cliffs ofthe Palisades, is interested in
geological phenomena and has created sculptural projects
witn glaciers and volcanoes. Anotner influence on
Smithson has been nis work since July 1966 as 'artist·
DOCUMENTS
 consu Ita nt' for the architects.engineers, Tippetts·Abett·
McCarthy·Stratton, in thedevelopment of an air terminal
site near Fort Worth and Dalias. This experience
introduced the artist to a systems approach for the study
ofinformation: maps, surveys, reports, specifications and
construction models.
The influence offormal garden arrangements shows
up in Dennis Oppenheim 's 1968 scale models which use
grass, trenches, furrows , flowers and hedges. His recent
work, Wheat, in Holland calling for the seeding of a field
in accordance with its topographical configuration and
the subsequent harvesting ofit relates directly to ordinary
farming.
Born ofGerman farming parents, GOnther Uecker says
that his slrongest childhood memories are of drawing in
the sand on the shores ofthe Baltic and ploughing the
Mecklenbergian fields , an activity which was to be
simulaled in one ofhis proposals for the ' Earth Art'
exhibilion. Another formative influence ofUecker's work
has been his interest in Oriental culture, particularly the
Zen rock gardens. Richard long's works which almost
disappear into the land, appear lo have grown directly out
ofhis physical environment, the gently rolling moorlands
ofsouth·west England surrounding his home in Bristol.
His soft·edged indentations certainly reflect the subtleties
ofthe English landscape.
It also may be significant Ihat Iwo ofthe earth workers,
, David Medalla and Mike Heizer, have fathers who are
anthropologists. Heizer's Depressions, diggings done with
simplelools like a pick and shovel in the Nevada mudf1ats,
resemble the abandoned excavation sites thal he
frequented during his youth.
COMMON ASPECTSOF EARTHWORKS
Despite the extremely disparate origins ofEarth Art,
several sculptural concerns are widely shared by Earth
Artists, induding a total absence of anthropomorphism
and a pervasive conception ofthe natural order of realily.
The conceptual bases ofthe works vary greatly, but visually
Ihey all tend to be unpretentious and relatively unobtru·
sive. This apparent lack of sophistication, however, is
deceptive. The works are without physical support,
without base, grounded in their environment either
indoors oroul. The result is an unframed experience
with no one correct perspective or focus.
Outdoor works such as Oppenheim's ice cut in Beebe
lake present thedynamics of elements in the environment.
The whole work cannot be taken in at a single glance. The
spectator has to experience the different stages ofthe
system ifhe wants to experience the whole work, which
has ils own life span. Neither can such works be fuUy
understood through single photographs in the manner
oftraditional painting or sculpture.
Apart from thetime dimension, which forms an
integral part of much ofthe work with earth materials, the
most common perceptible aspects of earthworks is thei,
formal simplicity. The materials aretreated in a direct,
straightforward manner, allowing physical comportment
of substanceto take precedenceover any plaslic ambition.
In many cases the medium is presented intact with
minimum formal modification. Although Smilhson has
INCEP TION
said that he is not interested in presenting the medium fo,
ils own sake, several artists (De Maria, long, Mortis) are.
But the inlellectual and artistic aspirations evident in their
work, as in alt the earthworks in the exhibition, go further
than mere media presentation. Each artist has carefully
worked out a theoretical framework for his sculptural
projects, and in a sense th is may be said to be a substitute
forthe traditional sculplural 'base'. Haacke enlertains a
programmatic approach to his work and advocates
sculpture which 'experiences, reacts 10 its environment,
changes, is non·slable ... which lives in t ime and makes
the experience time ... ' He stresses process,
Ihe growth cycle ofliving syslems, allowingthem t o
develop from birth to death. Uecker, a German kineticisl
and member ofthe Zero Group, has written very little
about the aesthetics ofhis work; he wanlS the beauty of
Ihe material and ils motion to become self--evident. So he
endeavours to purify, lo reduce lo the elemental zero point
everything but the essential aesthetic experience ofthe
work. He wants lo 'beaulify the world with movement'.
Neillenney's work aspires lo Iranscend its visual image
through an environmental theatricality, a tableau
consisling of objects which shock the spectatorwhen he
realizes that they are nol a part ofthe natural environment
but ofthe piece. According to lenney, ' The activity among
the physical presences ofthe ilems and events they
realize, providing they exist together, is theatrical'. Related
to this attitude is De Maria's and Heizer's concern forthe
religious aspect oftheirwork, which is not without a moral
element. De Maria has written, 'God has created the earth
- and we have ignored it'. And Heizer sta tes that art is
tending more towards religion. Similar sentiments are
present in the persistent pantheism of many ofthe
outdoor earthworks. Perhaps this connects to Heizer's
anti.urbanism, a quality of much ofthe work in earth. It is a
reaction lO the city where art is necessarily first seen in a
gallery or museum.lenney takes a different attitude, 'Take
any portion ofthe world out therej pul it out ofcontext in a
gallery, and it's beautiful'. lenney's dependence on the
gallery site singles him out from the other artisls in the
Cornell exhibition, all of whom have executed or made
plans for outdoor works. Ifhis work were placed in an
outdoor situation it would probably go unnoticed, because
it could not work against the natural environmenl. Being
professionals, all the artists take their exhibition
opportunities where they come and are reluctant to
express general preferences. Heizer, forexample, says that
he works outside because he likes the space and it is the
only place where he can display mass. But he claims that
there are just as many aeslhetic restrictions working in the
Mojave Desert as there are in the Dwan Gallery. Such
viewpoints indicate the strong environmental sensibility
and the concern for a man·nature in teraction that these
artists share.
Another force operative in bringingthe new Sculplure
back to earth is the artists' sharp awareness ofthe artistic
' mistakes' ofthe immediate pasto The drunken
redu ndancy ofthe abstract expressionist gesture, the
commercialism and campofPopArt,and the pristine
absolulism of minimal sculpture all were only incidental
factors in these individual modes until Ihey were exploited
by the gallery and museum syslem, by an overanxious
press geared to superficial exposition, and by an
insensitive art public ( ... J
IDEOLOGICAL BASES OF TH E NEW SCUlPTURE
Earthworks show a clear emancipation from ideologies
and doctrinaire aesthetic codeso Only a few ofthe new
sculptors have themselves been associated with recent
attempts made in New York dty lo plan reforms ofthe
existing art world structure.' These catl for radical postures
indudingthe payment of rental fees by museums for
works shown in exhibitions, the ooycott of commercial
galleries by artists, more legal protection against the
exploitation of art works, and increased control by the
artist over his work. Such potential reforms obviously
require long and careful exploration. But experimental
exhibitions like this one help to modify the prevalent
anachrooistic situa!ion of contemporary art in America. A
marked feature ofthis radical work is that it casts doubt on
a whole range of previous assumptions aoout the nature of
sculpture, the nature of art itself. 1t is understandablethat
Earth Art should throw open to question the exhibilion
system generally adopted throughout the world. The artist
is traditionally expected to make a work in his studioj when
the work is selected for an exhibit he rarely has further
contact with it. Now it is possible forthe artist to leave his
studio and produce whatever he wants in the exhibition
area itself, and this offers him a way ofhaving greater
control over his artistic output.
THEAESTHETIC SIGNIFICANCE OFTHE NEW
SCUlPTURE
In art's escape from object orientation, the new sculpture
i5 trying to confront new issues, ones of vast scale, of
open, unstructured space and non·materialistic attitudes.
The cloud·seeding project that Oppenheim proposed for
the opening ofthe exhibition, his large·scale crop
arrangements in Holland, and his recent underwater
projects in the Bahamas indicate the wide·ranging nature
of current sculptural concerns. Earth Art calls for the
radical reorganization of our natural environment; it offers
the possibility of mitigating man's alienation from nature.
While the new sculptor is still thinking aeslhetically, his
concerns and techniques are increasingly becoming those
oftheenvironmental manager, the urban planner, the
architect, the civil engineer, and the cultural
anthropologist. Art can no longer be viewed primarily as a
self·sufficient enlity. The iconic content ofthe work has
been eliminated, and art is gradually entering into a more
significant relationship with the viewer and the
component parts ofhis environment.
1 5ee publicaUons Jf lhe Artworken CoaHUon .
80.553, Old :Ilelsea StatlQn. New He ... York 10011
Wl11ouql>by Sharp •. Notes lowanl an Understanding of [artl>
Mt·. Andrew Oickson Whlte ... Corne11
Jnwersity. 1thaca. New 1970, n.D.
 •

•
,

• •• • .,
 202 Not ha ving seen Liranies or read the description ofit in
-1lchel FOUCAULT Exhibit A, I cannot say how il was affected by Morris'
withdrawal or whal its aesthet ic condition was alterthe
Space. Knowleaqe und artist signed his statement. Perhaps the construction
turned into what one permissive critic has called a 's uper·
r 1
object ofliteralist art' or a n 'anti·object ofConceptual Art'.
Or perhaps it became an 'anxious object', the kind of
Space is fundamental in any form of communallife; space modern creation that;s destined to endure uncertainty as
is fundamental in any exercise of power. to whether it is a work of art or noto In a ny case, the obviou s
intent ofMorris' deposilion was l o convert Litan;es inlo an
object ofthe same order as Ihe reductionist.inspired
boxes, modules and s haped canvases that flooded the art
world in the sixties. Morris' de-aestheticized construction
antidpated, for example, the demand of Min imalist
Claes OLDENBURG Donald Judd for an art wi th 'the specifidty an d power of
actual materials, actual colours, actual s pace'.
I Am tor an Art 0(1961) o o Both Morris' aesthetic withdrawal and ludd's call for
materials that are more real, or actual, than others - for
I am for 3n ilrt tnat is political-erotical-mystical, that does example, brown dirt ratherthan brown paint - imply a
somelhing otherthan sit on its ¡¡SS in a museum. decision to purge art ofthe seeds of artifice. Towards Ihal
I am for an art that grows up nol knowing il is art al all, an end, Morris' verbal exordsm would probably be less
art given Ihe ehance ofhaving a starting point of zero. effective than ludd's pre·selected s ubstances. For works lo
I I am for an art thal embroils ¡tselfwith Ihe everyday crap & be empty of aesthetic content, it seems logical Ihat they be
'i¡, still comes out on topo produced out of raw rocks and lumber, out of stuff
,I I 3m for an art thal ¡milates Ihe human, thal is comic, ir
necessary, or violent, or whatever is necessary.
¡ntended for purposes olher than art, such as strips of
rubber or electric bulbs, or even out ofliving people or
I am for an art thal takes i15 form (rom Ihe lines oflife ¡tself, animals. Belter slill, non·aeslhetic art can be worked into
thal twists and eKtends and accumulates and spits and nature ilself, in which case it becomes, as one writer
drips, and is heavy and coarse and blunt and sweet and recently put it, 'a fragment oflhe real within the real'.
stupid as tife itself{ ... 1 Digging holes or Irenches in the ground, cutting tracks
I am for the art that grows in a poI, tha! comes down oul of through a cornfield, laying a square sheel oflead in Ihe
the skies al night, like lightning, that hides in the clouds snow (the so·called earthworks art) do nol in their de·
and growls.1 am for art that is flipped on and offlike a aeslheticizing essence differ in any way from exhibiting a
switch [ ... 1 pite of mail sacks, tacking a row of newspapers on a wal1 or
I am for the art of scratchings in the asphalt, daubing at the keeping the shutter of a camera open while speeding
walls.1 am for Ihe art ofbending down and kicking metal Ihrough the night (Ihe so·cal1ed anti·form art). Aeslhetic
and breaking glass, and pulling at things to make them fall withdrawal also paves the way for 'process' art - in which
downl .. ·1 chemicat, biological , physical or seasonal forces affect Ihe
,,, e'
o
• New f p original materials and either change th eirform or destroy
"
,. prlnted ,e • Ar t m , them, as in works incorporating growing grass and
nd n.
" , ' '"
, ", bacteria or inviting rust - and random art, whose form an d
, •" '", , "
o ,
hdng ng rr content are decided by chanceo Ultimately, the repudialion
, M ",e
"' Oc ofthe aesthetic suggests the total elimination ofthe art
"" o
, object and ils replacemenl by an idea for a work or by Ihe
"
rumourthatone has been consummated - as in
Conceptual Art. Oespite Ihe stress on the actuality ofthe
Harold ROSENBERG materials used, the principie common lo all classes of de·
aestheticized art is thal the finished product, if any, is of
De-aestheticization (1972) less significance Ihan the procedures thal broughl Ihe
work into being and of which il is the Irace.
o
The sculptor Robert Morris once executed before a notary The movemenl lowards de·aesth etidzation is bolh a
public the following documenl: reaction againsl and a cont inualion ofthe trend towards
'Statement of Aesthetic Withdrawal formalislic over·refinement in the art oflhe sixties, and
The undersigned, Robert Morris, being the maker ofthe particularly in the rheloric Ihal accompanied it. Asserting
metal construction enlilled litanies, described in the the nostalgia of artists for invention, craftsmanship and
anne:ced bhibit A, hereby withdraws from said expressive behaviour, earthworks pro test againsl Ihe
construction all aesthetic quality and conten! and declares constricting museum·gal1ery syslem organized around a
that from the date hereof said conslruction has no such handful of aesthetic platitudes. Works Ihat are constru cted
quality and conten!. in the desert or on a distant seashore, that are not for sale
Dated: November 15, 1963 and cannol be collected, thal are formless pi1es of rubbish
Robert Morris ' orlhat are not even works but informalion aboul plans for
INCEP Tl ON
works or evenls that have taken place are, one earthworks
artist is qUOled as saying, a ' practical alternative to Ihe
absolute city system of art'. Herethe sociology of art
overtly enters into the theory and practice ofcrealion. The
c urrent defiance ofthe aesthetic is the latest incidenl in the
pere nnial reversion to primitivism in the art ofthe past
hundred years and the exaltation of ruggedness, simplicity
and doing what one c hooses without regard to the public
o
and ils representatives ( ... 1
Harol d 'Oe·aestheticiHt1an · . Oe- defin!tion of
Art AcUonAr! l. Pop 1< Horllon Ne w
1972. pp, 18·29; 32
Michael H EIZER.
Dennis OPPENHEIM .
RobertSMITHSON
Interview with Avalanche
[1970)
Avolonche Denn is , how did you fi rs l come lo use earth as
scu lplural m ater ial'
Dennis Oppenheim Well, it didn 't occurto me at first thal
this was whal I was doing. Then gradually I found myself
Irying to get below ground leve!.
Avolanche Wh y?
Oppenheim Because I wasn't very excited aboutobjects
which protrude from the ground. 1felt this imp1ied an
embellishment of external space. To me a piece of
sculpt ure ins ide a room is a disruption ofinterior space.
11'5 a protrusion, an unnecessary addition to what could be
a sufficient space in itself. My Iransition to earth materials
took place in Oakland a few s ummers ago, when I cut a
wedge from the side of a mo untain . I was m ore concerned
with the negat ive process of excavati ng that shape from
the mountainside than with making an earthwork as such.
It was just a coincidence th at I d id this with earth.
AvaJanche Yo u d idn 't t hi nk ofth is as an earthwork?
Oppenheim No, not Ihen. But al thal point I began lo
think very seriously about place, the physical terrain. And
this led meto question the confines ofthe gallery space
and lo start working th ingslike bleacher systems, mostly
in an outdoor conten but still referring back to the gallery
sit e and taking sorne stimulus from that oulside again.
Sorne of what Ilearn o utside I bring back to use in a gallery
context.
Avalanche Wo u ld yo u agree wlth Sm lths o n thal you,
Den nlS a nd Mlke, are ,"volve d ," a d lalectl c between the
outdoors an d the galle ry?
Oppenheim I think thal Ihe outdoor¡indoor relationship
in my work is more s u btle. I don't really carry a gallery
disturbance concept a round with me; Ileave that behind in
the gal1ery. Occasional1y I cons ider the gallery site as
though il were sorne kind ofhunting ground.
Avalanche The n for yo u the two actlvities are quite
se parate)
Oppenheim Ves, on the whole. There are areas where they
begin lo fuse, bul generally when I'm outside I'm
compleldy outside.
Roben Smithson I've Ihought in this way loo, DenniS.I've
des ig ned works for Ihe outdoors only. Bul what I wanl lo
emphasize is thal if you wanl lo concentrate exclusively on
Iheexterior, Ihal's fine , bul you're probably always going lo
come back to the interior in some manner.
Ava/a"che So what may really be the dlfference between
you IS the attlludeyou nave 10 Ihe slle Dennls, how would
you describe your attltude 10 a speofic slte Ihalyou 've
worked wllh)
Oppenheim A good deal of my preliminary Ihinking is
done byviewing topographical maps and aerial maps and
then collecting various data on wealher informalion. lhen
I carry Ihis with me lO the lerrestrial sludio. For inslance,
my frozen lake project in Maine involves plotting an
enlarged version oflhe Inlernalional Dale line inlo a
frozen lake and Iruncating an island in Ihe middle. I call
Ihis island a time-pocket because I'm stopping the IDl
there. So Ihis is an application of a theorelical framework
lo a physical situation -I'm actually cutting Ihis strip out
with chain saws. Sorne inleresting Ihings happen during
this process: you lend lo gel grandiose ideas when you look
at la rge areas on ma ps, Ihen you find they' re difficull lo reach
50 you develop a strenuous relationship wilh the land, IfI
were asked by 01 g¡tlery lo show my Maine piece, obviously
I wouldn 'l be ableto. So I would make a model ofit.
Ava/anche Whal aboul a pholograph'
Oppenheim OK, or a pholograph. l' m nol really that
¡ttuned to pholos lO Ihe extenl lo which Mike iS.1 don 't
really show photos as such. At the momenl I'm quite
lackadaisical abouI Ihe presentalion of my work; it's
almost like a scientific convenlion. Now Bob's doing
something very differenl. His non-sile is an inlrinsic part
ofhis activity on the sile, whereas my model is just an
abstract of what h¡ppens oulside ¡nd I jusi can 'l get Ih¡l
exciled aboul il.
Ava/an,he (ould you say somelhing, Bob. about the way
In whlch you choose your Slles)
Smithson I very often travel lo a particular area; that's Ihe
primary phase.1 begin in a very primitive way by going
from one poinl lo anolher.1 started taking Irips lo specific
siles in 1965: certain sites would appeal lo me more - sites
Ihat had been in some way disrupled or pulverized. I was
rea lly looking for a denatur¡lizalion r¡lher Ihan built.up
scenic beauty. And when you take a Irip you nee<! a lot of
precise data, so often I would use quadrangle maps; the
mapping followed Ihe Iravelling. lhe tirsl non·sile Ihal I
did was al Ihe Pine Barrens in soulhern New Jersey. This
place was in a state of equilibrium, il had a kind of
Iranquillity and il was d isconlinuous from Ihe surrounding
area because ofits stunled pine Irees. There was a
hexagon aimeld Ihere which lenl itself very well lo Ihe
applicalion of certain crystalline slructures which had
preoccupied me in my earlierwork. A crystal can be
mapped oul, and in fact I think il was crystallography
which led me to map.making.lnitially I went lo the Pine
Barrens lo sel up a system of outdoor pavements bul in
the process I became inlerested in the abslract aspects of
mapping. Al Ihe same t ime I was working with maps and
aerial photography for an architectural company. I had
great access to them . So I decided lo use Ihe Pine Barrens
site as a piece of paper and draw a crystalline structure
over Ihe landmass ratherthan on a 20 x 30 sheet of papero
In th is way I was applying my conceptual Ihinking directly
lo Ihe disruplion ofthe sile over an area ofseveral miles.
So you might say my Non·sile was a Ihree-dimensional
map oflhe sile.
Oppenheim At one point in Ihe process you've jusi
described, Bob, you take a quadrangle map of an airport. In
my recent piece at the Dwan GaUery, I took Ihe conlour
lines from a conlour map ofEcuador, transferred this two-
dimensional data onto a reallocation. I think Ihere's a
genuine similarily here.ln this particular case I blew up
the information to full size ¡nd Iransferred il lo 5mith
County, Kansas, which is the exact cenlre oflhe United
5tales.
Smithson I think that what Dennis is doing is taleing a site
from one part oflhe world and transferring the data aboul
it lo anolher site, which I would caU a dis·location. This is a
very specific activily concerned with Ihe Iransference of
information , nol at all a glib expressive gesture. He's in a
sense transforming a lerreslrial sile inlo a map. Where I
differ (rom Dennis is Ihal I'm dealing wilh an exterior and
an interior as opposed lo two exterior situations.
Ava/onche Whydoyou slill find II necessary loexh¡bll In a
gallery>
Smirhson Ilike Ihe artificiallimits Ihal Ihe gallery
presents. I would say my art exists in two realms - in my
ouldoor sites which can be visited only and which have no
objects imposed on Ihem , and indoors, where objects do
exisl ...
Ayo/anche Isn't that a rather artifiCial dlchotomy>
Smithson Yes, because I Ihink art is concerned witn limits
and I'm interested in making arto You ca n cal! Ihis
Iradilional if you like. Bul I have also Ihoughl aboul purely
ouldoor pieces. My firsl e¡¡trth proposals were for sinks of
pulverized malerials. But then I gol interested in Ihe
indoor-ouldoor dialectic. I don 't think you're freer
artistically in Ihe desert than you are inside a room.
Ayo/an,he Do you agree wlth that. M¡ke>
Michael He izer I think you have just as many limitalions,
if nol more, in a fresh air silu¡tion.
Aya /an,he But I don'l see howyou can equate Ihe four
walls of a gallery, 5ay, wltn the Nevada mudf1ats. Aren 't
Ihere more spallal reslrictlons In a gallery)
Heizer I don't particularly want lo pursue the analogy
between Ihe gallery and Ihe mudflats. Ilhink the only
importanl limitalions on art are Ihe ones imposed or
accepted by Ihe artist himself.
Ava/anche Then why do you choose to work outdoors?
Heizer I work outside because it's the only place where I
can displace mass. II¡ke the scale - thal's certainly one
difference between worleing in a gal!ery and working
ouldoors. I'm nol Irying to compete in size wilh any
natural phenomena, because it's lechnically impossible.
Aya/onche When Yves Klein signed Ihe world, would you
saythat was a way of overcommg hmlts>
5mithson No, because then he slill has the limils oflhe
world ...
Ava/anche Dennis, recently you have been doing really
large·scale ouldoor pleces. Whal propels you 10 work
ouldoors rather Ihan In already slructured sltuatlon' 20J
Oppenheim I' m following a fairly free palh al present so
I'm not exdusively outdoors in that sense.ln fact I' m
tending lO refer back to Ihe gallery.
Ava/anche Why do you find thal necessary>
Oppenheim 11'5 a kind of nostalgia, I th ink. II seems lo me
that a lot of problems are concerned mainly with
presentalion. For some people Ihe gallery iss ue is very
important now but I think Ihat in lime il will mel!ow.
Recently I have been laking gal!eries apart, slowly.1 have a
proposa! tha! involves removing Ihe floorboards and
evenlually laking Ihe enlire floor 01.11.1 feel this is a
creeping bacle lo the home sile.
Ava/anche Bob, how would you describe Ihe relatlon
between the gallery exhibil and nature?
Smithson I Ihink we all see Ihe landscape as co-extensive
with the gallery. I don't Ihink we' re dealing wilh matter in
terms of a back·to·nature movemenl. For me Ihe work is a
museum. Photography makes natufe obsolete. My
Ihinking in lerms oflhe slte and Ihe non-site makes me
feel Ihere's no need lo referlo nalure anymore.l ' m lotally
concerned wilh making art and this is mainly an act of
viewing, a mental activity Ihat zeroes in on discrete sites.
I'm not inleresled in presenling the medium for its own
sake. I Ihink thal's a weakness of a lot of contemporary
worle.
Avo/anche Dennis, how do you see Ihe work of other New
York sculptors, speclfically Morns, Judd, leWitt and
Andre?
Oppenheim Andre at one point began lo question very
seriously the validity ofthe object. He began l o talle aboul
sculplure as place. And SolleWitt's concern wilh syslems,
as opposed lo Ihe manual making and placement of object
art can also be seen as a move against the object. lhese
two artists have made an impact on me. They buill such
damn goad sluffthat I realized an impasse had been
reached. Morris also gol lo Ihe poinl where ifhe'd made
his pieces a little better, he wouldn't have had to make
them al all.1 fellthal veryslrongly and I knew Ihere musl
be another direction in which lO work.
Ayo/anche Are you referring to Mortis' minrmal work)
Oppenheim Yes, nis polyhedrons. The earth movement
has derived some stimulus from M inimal Art, but I Ihink
Ihal now il's moved away from Iheir main preoccupalio ns.
Heizer I don'l think that you ' re going lo be able lo say
what the source oflhis kind of art is. But one aspect of
earth orienlation is Ihat the works circumvenl the gal1eries
and Ihe artisl has no sense ofthe commercial or the
utilitarian. Bul il's easy lo be hyperaesthelic, and nol so
easy to maintain il.
Smithson If you 're inleresled in making art Ihen you can't
take a kind offacile cop·out. Art isn 'l made thal way. II's a
101 more rigorous.
Heizer Evenlually you develop some sense of
responsibility about Iransmitting your art by whalever
mean s are available.
Ava/anche What do you nave 10 say aboul that. Dennrs?
Oppenheim I think we should discuss what's going lo
happen lo Earth Art, because the cultural reverberations
stimulated by some of our outdoor pieces are going lo be
very differenl from those produced by a piece of ,igid
DOCUMENTS

'"' indoor sculpture.
Avalanche Forone thong,l thmk a 101 of artlstswdl beglll lo
see ¡he enormous posslbdl tles ¡nheren! In working
outdoors. 'Everythlng 15 beautlful bu! nol everylhmg 15 art',
He iztr Do you mean something ought to be said about
the impartane!! of what's being done with earth?
Aya/anche Yeso
HeiZf!r Well , look at it this way. Art usually becomes
another cornmodity. One ofthe implications ofEarth Art
might be lo remove completely the commodity-statu5 of a
work of art and to allow a return to the idea of art as ...
Ava/anche Art as actlvity?
Heizer No, ir you consider art as activity ¡hen il becomes
like recreation. 1guess I'd like to see art become more of a
religion.
Al/o/anche In what sen se?
Heizer In the sense that il wouldn 't have a utilitaria n
function any more. It's OK for the artist lo say he doesn 'l
have any mercenary intentions, knowing full well that his
art is used avariciously.
A",alanche So the artlst's responslbill ty extends beyond
the creatlve ael?
1
Heizer The artist is responsible for everything, forthe
,11 work and for how it's used. Enough attacks have been
made on my work for me lo have considered protecting il,
:I like a dog burying a bone in the ground.
I Oppenheim Oon 't you see art as involved wilh weather or
perhaps redirecting Iraffic?
Heizer Ilike your idea, Dennis, but it sounds as though
you want lo make a rain machine, which 1don 'llhink is
what you mean atall.
A",alanche Aren', you Ind Icatl ng pOSSI blltlles here thal
other artlsls haven't rea"y explored? It seems to me that
one ofthe principal functlons of artlsllC Involvemenl is lo
slretch Ihe Ilmlls ofwhal can be done and lo show olhers
that art Isn'! just maklng ObjedS to pul In gallerles, bu!
thal there can be an artlstlc relatlonshlp wllh thlngs
oulslde Ihe gallery Ihat IS valuable to explore Mlke, what
are you trying 10 achieve by worklng In nalure)
Heizer Well, the reason I go there is beca use il satisfies
my feeling for space. Ilike that space. That's why 1choose
to do my art there.
Has your knowledge of archaeologlCal
excavatlons had any bearlng on your work)
Heizer It might have affected my imagination because
I've spenl some time recording lechnical excavations. My
work is closely tied up with my own experiences; for
instance, my personal associations with dirt are very real. I
really like ¡I, 1real'y like to lie in the dirt. I don't feel close to
it in the farmer's sense ... And I've transcended the
mechanical, which was difficult. It wasn't a legitimate art
Iransition but it was psychologicaJly important because
the work I'm doing now with earth satisfies some very
basic desires.
So you're real'y happy dOlng 11.
Heizer Right.l 'm nola purisl in any sense and in'm ataU
interested in Bob's or Dennis' work, it's because I sen se in
it the same kind of divergence from a single ideal as in my
own . Thal's why t said earlier Ihat Earth Art is a very private
thing. And of course I'm not at all concerned about style.
Smithson 1think most of us are very aware oftime on a
INCEPTION
geological scale, ofthe great men! oftime which has gone
into the sculpting of matter. Take an Anlhony Caro: Ihal
expresses a certain nostalgia for a Carden ofEden view of
the world, whereas 1think in terms of millions of years,
including times when humans weren't around. Anthony
Caro never thought about Ihe ground his work stands on.
In fact, t see his work as anlhropocenlric Cubismo He has
yet to discover the dreadful object. And then to leave il. He
has a long way to go.
1I seems lo me Ihal Ihl5 con5ClOU5ness of
geologlcal process, of very gradual physical change. is a
posltlve feature, even an aes thetlc characte ns tic of some
oflhe more significant earth works.
Smithson 11'5 an art of uncertainly beca use instability in
general has become very important. So the return to
Mother Earth is a revival of a very archaic sentimenl. Any
kind of comprehension beyond this is essenlially artificial.
GeologlCal thlnklng seems to play an
importa nI role In your aesthellc.
Smithson 1don't think we're making an appeal to science
at all. There's no reason why science should have any
priority.
Heizer Scienlific theories could just as well be magic as
far as I'm concerned. I don't agree with any ofthem.
Do you see Ihem as ficllon)
Smithsotl Yeso
He izer Yes.llhink thalifwe have anyobjective in mind
it's to supplant science.
Smithson 1wrote an artide recently entitled 'Strala '
covering the Precambrian lo Ihe Crelaceous periods. 1
dealt with that as a fiction. Science works, yes, but to what
purpose? Oislurbing the grit on Ihe moon with the help of
billions of dollars. I'm more inlerested in all aspects of
time. And also in the experiences you get at the site, when
you're confronted by Ihe physicality of adual duration.
Take the Palisades Non-site: you find trolley tracks
embedded in the ground, vestiges ofsomething else. AII
technology is matter built up into ideal structures. Science
is a shack in the lava f10w ofideas. It must all return lo
dust. Moondust, perhaps.
Why don't we lalk about one of your pleces.
Bob, Ihe oneon the Mono lake, forexample.
Smithson The Mono Lake Non-site, yes. Maps are very
elusive things. This map ofMono lake is a map Ihal lells
you how toget nowhere. Mono lake is in northern
California and 1chose this site because it had a great
abundance of cinders and pumice, a fine granular
material. The lake itselfis a salt lake. lf you look at the map,
you 'lI see il is in Ihe shape of a margin - il has no centre.
It's a frame , actually. The non-site itselfis a square channel
that contains the pumice and Ihe cinders that coUected
around the shores ofthe lake al a place called Blad Poi nI.
This type of pum ice is indigenous to the whole area.
Avalanche Whal exaclly IS your concept of a Non,slle?
Sm ithson There's a central focus point which is the non·
site; the site is the unfocused fringe where your mind loses
ils boundaries and a sense ofthe oceanic pervades, as it
were. Itike the idea of quiet catastrophes taking place ...
The interesting thing about the site is that, unlike the non-
site, it Ihrows you out lo the fringes. In other words,
there's nothing to grasp onto except the cinders and
there's no way offocusing on a particular place. One mighl
even say thal the place has absconded or been 1051. This is
a map that will take you somewhere, but when you get
there you won't really know where you are. In a sense the
Non-site is the centre ofthe system, and Ihe site itselfis
the fringe or the edge. As II00k around the margin ofthis
map, I see a ranch, a place called the sulphur pond; falls,
and a water tank; the word 'pumice'. But it's all very
•
elusive. The shorelines tell you nothing about the cinders
on the shore. You're always caught between two worlds,
one Ihat is and one that isn't. 1could give you a few facts
about Mono lake. Adually, 1made a movie about it with
Mike Heizer. It's in a state of chaos, il's one ofthose things
thal 1wouldn't want to show to morethan a few peopte.
But Mono lake itselfis fascinating. Ceologists have found
evidence oHive periods of glaciation in the Sierra. The first
began about half a mili ion years ago, the last ended less
than fift.een thousand years ago. The glaciers left
prominent marks upon Ihe landscape, they gouged out
canyons, broadening and deepening them into U-shaped
valleys with steep headwalls and then advanced onto Ihe
plain. They buill up high parallel ridges of stony debris
called moraines. There are all sorts ofthingslike that. The
Mono craters are a chain of voleanic cones. Most oflhem
were formed after Lake Russell evaporated. That's why 1
like it, beca use in a sense the whole site tends to
evaporate. The closer you Ihink you're getting lo il and the
more you circumscribe it, the more it evapora tes. It
becomes like a mirage and it just disappears. The sile is a
place where a piece should be but ¡sn't. The piece thal
should be there is now somewhere else, usually in a room.
Actual'y everything Ihal's of any importance takes place
outside the room. But the room reminds 1.15 ofthe
limitations of our condition.
Ava/anche Why do you bother wlth Non'Slte al all?
Smithsotl Why do I?
Why don'l you JusI deslgnale aSile?
Smithson Because Ilike Ihe ponderousness ofthe
material. Ilike the idea ofshipping back the rocks across
the country. It gives me more of a weighty sensalion. In
just thought about it and held il in my mind it would be a
manifestation ofidealistic reduction and I'm not really
interested in thal. You spoke aboul evil: actually for a long
time people thought mountains were evil because they
were so proud compared lO Ihe humble valleys.ll's true!
Something called the mountain controversy. It started in
Iheeighteenth century.
How wouJd you characteflze your attitude lO
na ture)
Smithson Well, 1developed a dialectic between the mind-
matter aspec15 of nature. My view became dualistic,
moving back and forth between the two afeas. It's not
involved with nature, in the classical sen se. There's no
anthropomorphic referenceto environment. But 1do have
a slronger tendency towards the inorganic than to the
organic. The organic is closer lo the idea of nature: I'm
more interested in denaturalization or in artifice Ihan 1am
in any kind of naturalism.
Are there any elemenls of deslrucllon In your
work?
Smilhson !t's already destroyed. It's a slow process of
destruction. The world is slowly destroying itself. The slrange way, through a process oflogical queslioning by •
catastropKe comes suddenly, but slowly. artists. II hasn 't been like Ihese various looks which
Al'%l'!the Blg bang appear every Iwenty years or so; Ihey're ju sI minor
Sm ithson Well, that's for some. That's exciling. 1 prefer phenomena within the larger one that will be remembered.
the lava , the cinders that are completely cold and Al'olonche Do you approve o(lhls undermlnmg of eXIslmg
enlropically cooled o ff. They' ve been resting in a stale of art forrns)
delayed motion. 11 takes something like a rnillenn ium lo Heizer Ofcourse 1do, because then the artisl w ill realize
move Ihem . That's enough action for me. Actually that's thal only a real primitive would make somelhing as icon-
enough to knock rneout. like, as obviously pagan as a pai nting. 1worked all those
AI'tl /onche A mlllennlum o( gradua l flow years painting and now I' m critical oflhe fact that 1won' t
Smithson You know, one pebble moving one (oot in two allow myselflo do Ihose mindless things any more. 1I
million years is enough ilction lo keep me real ly exciled. looks as though the whole s piril of pa inling and sculpture
Bul sorne of us have lo sirnulale upheaval , slep up Ihe could be shrugged oR', in two years ' lime perhaps. II's
action. Somelimes we have to call on Bacchus. Excess. almost totally inconsequenlial. Of course it' ll never
Madness. The end ofthe World . Mass Carnage. Falling happen , bul il's conceivable, it could h3ppen.
, e""
'" ".
Empires. '"be ct
Al'a/a"chr: Mmmm. Whal would you S3y ¡¡bou! Ihe •• t y , ".'",
• • HI( h • N.·w (lrk.Aut .. mn
relatlonsl'up between your work ¡¡nd pholographs of 11) ,, , "
" e ". .•
n • ,
n
Sm ithstln Photographs sleal away the spirit ofthe work ...
Oppenheim One day the photograph is going lo become
even more importilnt thilt il is now-lhere'lI be a
... , ,,
'J on
• k J llJ Prp

heighlened respect for photographers. let's assume thal

art has moved awa)' from its manual phase and thal now
il's mOfe concerned wilh Ihe localion of milleriill ilnd wilh
speculation. So the work of art now has to be visiled o r
abslracted fro m a phologr;¡¡ph, ralher Ihan made. I don 'l
think Ihe pho tograph co u ld have had Ihe same richness o(
meaning in Ihe past as it has now. Bul I' m nol particularly
an advocale ofthe photograph.
Al'a/o"che It's somellmes d a lmed that the pholo 15 a
dlstortlon of sensory perceptlon _
Heizu Well, Ihe experience oflooking is constantly
altered by physical factors . I think certain pholographs
off"er a precise way o( seeing works. You can lake a
pholograph inlo a dean wh ite room, with no sound, no
noise. You can wait until you feelso indined before you
look at it and possibl)' experience lO a greater depth
whalever view you have been presented wilh .
Al'a/anche Whal are your pflmary concerns . Mlke. In
carrymg out one o( your DtprtSSlons)
Heizer I'm mainly concerned with ph)'sical properties,
wilh density, volume, mass and s pace . For instance, 1find
an 18-foo!' ( 1.7 m' l granite bouldet. That's mass. II's
alreadya piece ofs culplure. Bul as an artist it's not enough
(or me to say Ihat, so I mess with it. I defile ... ifyou 're a
naluralist )'ou'd say I defiled il, otherwise you'd sayl
responded in my own manner. And that was by pu"ing
some space under Ihe boulder. My work is in opposition lo
the kind of sculpture which invotves rigidly forming,
welding, seating, perfecting Ihe surface of a piece of
material. I also want my work to complele ils life-span
during mylifelime. Say Ihe work 13sls for ten minutes or
even six months, which isn'l really very long, il slill
satisfies Ihe basic requirements offact ... Everything is
beauti(ul, bul not everything is arto
Al'a/a"che Wj,al makeslt art)
Heizer I guess when )'OU insist on it long enough, when
you can convince someone else Ihal it is.1 Ihink thilt Ihe
look orart is broadening. The idea ofsculplure has been
deslroyed, subverted, pul down. And the idea of painting
has also been subverted. This has happened in a very

OOCU MENTS
 The synchronicity between social and cultural con-

ditions that characterised the 1960s was clearly evident in the decade's artmaking

and theory, Complex and complimentary impulses grew from a frustration with
,

the formal and economic frameworks of Modernism and a growing counter-

cultural ethos, driving early Land Artists like De Maria, Heizer, Smithson and

Oppenheim away from the city and into the desert, 'Processes of heavy

construction have a devastating kind of primordial grandeur [ ,,' 1The actual

- -
disruption of the earth's crust is at times very compelling '" The tools of art have
too long be en confined to the "studio", The city gives the illusion that the earth

does not exist', notes Smithson in his essay, 'Sedimentation of the Mind: Earth

Projects' , The essays collected in Integration begin to sketch out the

contemporary socio-cultural context of Land and Environmental Art: the rise of

anti-establishment critique: the celebration of the industrial. man made

environmenl: and the heroic posture of the 'artist-as-pioneer' in the open space of

a landscape subjected to repeated and variable forms of myth-making, symbolic

analysis and practical exploitation,

Isamu NOGUCHI
Artist's statement [1926]
It ¡s my desire lo yiew nature Ihrough nature's eyes, and to
ignore man as an object for special veneration. There must
be unthought ofheights ofbeauty to whkh sculpture may
be raised by Ihis reversal ofattitude.
An unlimited field for abstraet sculptural expression
would then be rea lized in whkh Aowers and trees, rivers
and mountains, as well as birds, beasts and man , would be
given th eir due place. Indeed, a fine balance of spiril with
maner can only concur when Ihe artist has so thoroughly
submerged himselfin the study ofthe unity of nature as to
truly become once more a part of nature - a part oflhe very
earth, thus lo view the inner surfaces and the life element s.
The material he works with would mean to him more than
mere plastic matter, but would act as a co-ordinant an d
asset to his Iheme. In such a way may be gained a true
symphony in sculpture. lie yolume, tine. point, giving shape, distance, proportion.
It is difficu lt l o visualize sculpture in words, especially Movement, light, and time itself are 01150 qualities ofspace.
that kind forwhich there are but few si miles. Sorne Space ¡s otherwise inconceivable. These are the essences
sculptors toclay appreciate the importance of matter, but ofsculpture ilnd as our concepts ofthem change 50 must
are too much engrossed with symbolism. Others who are our sculpture change.
undoubtedly artists are ¡nterested onlr in the interpretation Since ourexperiences of space are, however, limited to
ofstrictly human forms. May I therefore, beg to recognize momentary segments oftime, growth must be the core of
no antecedents with Ih is deda ration existence. We are reborn, and so in art as in nature there is
,a '. t " tate t'. 1m I ".' r O growth, by which I mean change attuned to the living.
Thus growth can only be ne w, for awareness is the
evercha nging adjustment oflhe human psyche to chaos.
1ft s ay that growth is the constant transfusion ofhuman
meaning into the encroaching void, then how great is our
Isamu NOGUCHI need today when our know ledge ofthe universe has fil1ed
space with energy, driving us toward a greater chaos and
Artist's statement [1946] newequilibriums.
I say it is the sculptor who orders and animates space,
The essence of sculplure is for me the perception of space, gives it meaning.
the continuum of our existence. AII d imensions are bul 1 •. .1' ;tdte ..ent·. ,ourteen
measures ofit,as in the relative perspectiveofourvision ed. e, MIl 'r. of Madern Art. Ne ...

INTEGRATlON
 , , ., • •
" allernalive lo Ihe picture we have ofhow we know
Jack KEROUAC
On the Road ['959]
What IS that (eeling when you're driving away from people
and they re<:ede on the plai" till you see thei, specks
dispersing? - ¡t's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's
good·bye. But we lean forward to the "en (fazy venture
beneath the sities ( ... 1
I wondered what the Spirit oflne Mountain was
thinking, and looked up and saw jackpines in the moon,
and saw ghosts of old miners, and wondered about it. In
the whole eastern dark wall ofthe Divide this night there
was silence and the whisper ofthe wind, except in the
ravine where we roa red; and on the other side ofthe Divide
was the great Western Slope, and the big plateau Ihat went
to Steamboat Springs, and dropped , and led you to the
western Colorado desert and the Utah desert¡ all in
darkness now aswefumed and screamed inour mounlain
nook, mad drunken Americans in Ihe mighty land. We
were on the roof of America and all we could do was yell, I
guess - across Ihe nighl, eastward over Ihe Plains, where
somewhere an old man wilh while hair was probably
walking lowards us wilh Ihe Word , and would arrive any
m in uleand make us silent ( ... 1
Rosalind KRAUSS
Passages in Modern
Sculpture [1977]
[ ••• 1The Double Nego!ive, an earthwork sculplure by
Michael Heizer, was made in 1969 in Ihe Nevada deser!. 1I
consists oftwo slots, each 40 feel deep and lOO feel long,
dug into Ihe tops oftwo mesas, sited opposite one anolher
and separated by a deep ravine. Because ofils enormous
size, and its localion, Ihe only means of experiencing Ihis
work is to be in il - to in ha bit it the way we think of
ourselves as inhabiting the space of our bodies. Vel Ihe
image we have of our own relalion lo our bodies is Ihal we
are untred inside themj we have knowledge of ourselves
Ihal places us, 50 lo speak, al our own absolule core; we
are wholly transparent to our own consciousness in a
manner Ihal seems lO permit us lO say, '1 know what I think
and feel but he does nol'. In Ih is sense Ihe Double
Negot ive does not resemble the picture Ihat we have ofthe
way we inhabil ourselves. fOT, allhough il is symmetrical
and has a centre (the mid-poinl ofthe ravine separating
Ihe MO sIOIS), Ihe cenlre is one we cannol occupy. We can
only stand in one slotted space and look across lo Ihe
other. Indeed, il is only by lcoking al the olherthat we can
form a picture ofthe space in which we sland.
By foreing on us this eccentric position relative to the
centre ofthe work, the Double NegQtille suggests an
ourselves. 1I causes us lo meditale on a knowledge of
ourselves Ihal is formed by looking outward loward the
responses of olhers as they lcok back at uso lt is a
metaphor for the self as il is known Ihrough i15 appearance
lo Ihe olher.
The eR"ect ofthe Double Negotive is to declare Ihe
eccenlricity ofthe pos ilion we occupy relalive l o our
physical and psychological centres. Bul it goes even
further Ihan Ihal. Because we musl look across Ihe ravine
lo see Ihe mirror image ofthe space we occupy, Ihe
expanse ofthe ravine ilself musl be incorporated inlo Ihe
enclosure formed by Ihe sculpture. Heizer's image
Iherefore depicts the inlervenlion ofthe ouler world inlo
Ihe body's inlernal being, taking up residence Ihere and
forming ils molivalions and ils meanings.
Bolh Ihe notion of eccenlricity and Ihe idea ofthe
invasion of a world inlo the closed space ofform reappears
in anolher earthwork, conceived contemporaneously wilh
Ihe Double Negotive bul execuled the following year in Ihe
Great Salt lake in Utah. Robert Smilhson's SpirolJetty
(1970) is a heaped runway ofbasalt rock and dirt, fifteen
feet wide, which corkscrews fifteen hundred feel oul into
the red waler oflhe lake oR"Rozelle Point. like the Double
Nego!ive, Ihe SpirolJetty is physically meanl lo be enlered.
One can only see the work by moving along it in narrowing
ares lowatd ils terminus.
As a spiral th is configuration does have a cenlre which
we as spectators can actually occupy. Vet the experience of
the work is one of continually being de·cenlred within Ihe
great expanse oflake and sky. Smilhson himself, in writing
aboul his firsl conlact wilh the site oflhis work, evokes Ihe
vertíginal response lo perceiving himself as de-cenlred:
'As Ilooked at the site, il reverberaled out lo Ihe horizons
only lo suggest an immobile cyelone while flickering light
made Ihe enlire landscape appear l o quake. A dormanl
earthquake spread into an immense roundness. from thal
gyrati ng space emerged Ihe possibilily ofthe SpirolJetty.
No idea, no concepts, no systems, no structures, no
abslractions could hold themselves together in Ihe
actuality oflhal phenomenological evidence'.
The 'phenomenological evidence' oul of which
Smithson's idea for theJettycame, derived not only from
the visual appearance ofthe lake, bul also from whal we
mighl call ils mythological setting, which Smithson refers
lO in his lerms 'immobile cyelone' and 'gyraling space'.
The occurrence of a huge interior salt lake had for
cenluries seemed to be a freak of nature, and the early
inhabitanls ofthe region soughl its explanalion in myth.
One such myth was Ihal the lake had originally been
connected lo the Pacific Ocean through a huge
underground walerway, Ihe presence of which caused
treacherous whirlpools lo form at the lake's cenlre. In
using the fotm ofthe spi,al to imitale the settlers' mythic
whirlpool, Smilhson incorporales Ihe existence ofthe
myth into Ihe space ofthe work. In doing so he expands on
the nature oflhal external space localed at our bodies'
cenlres which had been part ofthe Double Negotive's
image. Smithson creates an image of our psychological
response lo time and ofthe way we are determined lO
control il by the creation ofhislorical fanlasies. But Ihe
Spiro/Jetty attempts lo historica1 formulas wilh
Ihe experience of a momenl-to·moment passage Ihrough
207
space and time ( ... 1
Thomas MCEVILLEY
The Rightness of
Wrongness: Modernism and
its Alter Ego .. . [1992]
[ ... lln 1968 Earth Art was born in Ihe works ofOppenheim
and a group of other young artists, such as Michael Heizer,
Waller De Maria, Robert Smilhson and others. Most of
Ihese artisls were recenlly oul of art school and inspired by
the sense of mulliplying oplions in the airo Earth Art was a
multifaceted slralegy lO redirect Ihe art energy. On the one
hand , il located Ihe artwork in Ihe real world oflhe
landscape- indeed, often il made Ihe landscape the work,
but nol in Ihe sense ofthe Romantic reverence for scenery:
it could be a scene of urban decay and desolalion, or a
strip-mined area thal was brought inlo Ihe expanded
realm of arto In Ihis sense Earth Art, like olhertendencies
ofthe lime, was aboul demyslifying art by taking il oul of
its sheltered milieu into the world. On Ihe other hand, for
some ofits practitioners Earth Art had certain ancienl
resonances, harking back lo the era of megaliths,
pyramids, and other monumenlally scaled sacred objects
sited in Ihe landscape. ln Ihis somewhat contrary sense il
soughl lo regain a pre-modern feeling oflhe extra-
aeslhetic sacredness of art Ihrough a change of scale and
localion. Oppenheim's work was more ofthe firsl type
than Ihe second, but il had a theoretical focus Ihal was
different from either: il involved dispassionately working
out certain principies Ihat related primadly to a quasi-
scienlific melhodology for art making, rather Ihan to
aeslhelics, ideas ofsanctity, Or Ihe project of
demyslificalion.
Oppenheim's Londs/ide (1968), executed off
52 ofthe l ong Island Expressway, was one ofthe first
earthworks Ihal was actually realized ralher than merely
conlemplaled or skelched out¡ it was used by bolh Time
•
and Lije magazines in Ihal year lo indicale the beginning of
Ihe trend. Almost didactic in ils dispassionale approach,
Lond5/ide involved angled boards arranged around a
slope. 1I extended the idea of mínimal sculpture inlo
nature with suggeslions oflongitude and lalilude lines,
while simultaneously evoking the idea of a bleacher or a
communal viewing plalform. Oppenheim thoughl ofit as
'activating' a pre.exisling area ofthe world. In so far as an
area oflhe world would be changed inlo an art area by Ihis
activation, Ihe beginnings of'syslems art', named by Jack
Burnham in Ihe 1968 Arfforum artiele 'Real Systems Art',
can be seen. (Syslems art operaled by Iransferring an
object or site from one semantic syslem to anolher.)
In Ihe spring Of1968 Oppenheim worked furiously al
OOCUMENTS
". these theoretical proposals, defining the parameters ofthe
emerging genre ofEarth Art as he went along. Directed
Seeding !1969) was a wheat field harvested along 'i"es pre-
set by the anist in 3n ollersize parody of action pajnti"g
and painterly composilio" in general. In Annua/ Rings, the
pattern of growth ,i"gs (rom a tree trunk was transferred
to a huge scale and elched into the snow-covered ice of a
w¡terway occupying the United States-Canada border and
crossing ¡ time lane line. Oppenheim's tactie of
reconcei..,ing sornething by radically aftering ils scale
(usualty by enlarging ji) was emergí"g in these pieces, as
well as his tendency to emphasize borders -temporal,
spatial, behavioural - the breachi"g ofthem, the exchange
ofsystems and contexts, and so on. In Contour Unes
Scribed in Swamp Grass (1968) a pattern of elevation lines
from a topographical map was transferred to a swampy
field that lacked the indicated elevation and would be
submerged under water at certain times, the
cartographer's sign was shifted both in scale and in
meamng.
The rules that emerged for these works involved a
found or real world element, such as the map lines, as an
ethical surrogate for the site. Oppenheim, like other
elassical eonceptualists, felt eonstrained to work by
preconceived extra·aesthetic rules that go baek in form to
Duchamp's quasi-scientific inslructions for J Standard
Stoppages in '9'3-'4. Among otherthings, this served to
deny the Iraditional aeslhetic view of art as an absolutely
free play ofintuitions - a view that seemed somewhat
irresponsible in ils disregard for edernal realities. The
romantic·modernist beliefthat art was opposed lo science
was annulted by the introduction ofscientifie elements
into the vocabulary. At the same time art was to be
relocated culturally in a n area of practica I ralher Iha n
dreamy endeavour. What was emerging as a guiding
principie in Oppenheim's work was a requiremenl Ihat any
elemenl be justified by some external or found inde,,;; the
lines, for eumple, ofAnnual Rings or Cantour Unes could
nol be drawn freehand by Ihe artist 0141 of an eKpressive
impulse; tree rings, map signs, orwhatever, they had lo
have some real.world, semanlic conled from which Ihey
were being appropriated into the ' creative', or
recontextual izi ng, acto
Sometimes the real world indeK appears fleKible and
somewhat subjective. ln Salt Flat (1968) Oppenheim
spread rock salt over a rectangular area of earth on Sidh
Avenue in Manhattan j the size ofthe area was dictated by
the amount ofthe material he could afford to buyoThe
arbitrary, real-world indeK that served as limit for the piece
was the money in his pocket. For the most part, however,
Ihe method remained linked to a kind of objectivily outside
oflhe artist while carrying forward the issues ofthe
moment, such as the critique oflhe relalion between the
gallery and the outside world. In Ihe Gallery Transplant, for
eumple , Oppenheim took the dimensions of a galtery,
then marked off a similarly bounded space ouldoors. A
cognitive reversal is involved; the real·world ¡ndeK
ironically was derived from the gallery, and then
transposed lo Ihe outside world as a rejection oflhe realily
ofthe gallery. Structurally, Smithson's Non·sites are
s im ilar in mediating the ideologieal opposition between
INTEGRATIO N
the autonomous artwork isolated in the gallery and the
engaged artwork sited in the outside world. The Non·sites
are simpler, however, Ihan the Ga/lery Transplants in that
Ihey do not involve the ironic reversa!.
Anothertransplant piece, done fo, the first Earth Art
show, which was organized by Wiltoughby Sharp for the
Cornell University gallery in 1969, further complicated the
method. Oppenheim redrew the boundary lines ofthe
gallery in the snow of a bird sanctuary nearby. The gallery
space transplanted inlo nature was then randomly
activated by flocks ofbirds alighting on it in different
compositions that were unaffected by the artist's
intenlions. The piece involved another importanl anti-
modernist rule ortendency that was being articulated in
Ihe works as they emerged. The modernist aeslhetic view
ofart promulgated a myth ofthe complete control
eKercised by the artist- in whose work, for eKample, it was
supposedly impossible to change anything without losing
aesthetic integrity. Duchamp had articulated the
counterprinciple, Ihat of allowing chance to decide parts of
the work (again in J Standard Stappages), and that part of
h is artistic legacy was al so beari ng fru it now. In
Oppenheim's Cornell gallery Iransplanl, fo, eKample, Ihe
intervention offligh15 ofbirds was an element outside Ihe
artist's controL Increasingly Oppenheim wou ld come lo
feel that the artist should creale the circumstances for an
artwork to occur in - or set going the chain of causes
which would produce il - but not the work ¡tself, whieh
remains hidden or unknown tilt it appears out ofthe
manipulated causal web. The concept resembles the
modernist idea oflhe artwork as somelhing self·created or
miraculous, but reverses the power hierarchy.ln the
modernist discourse the artwork, though in a sense sel(-
created, still sprang somehow from the artist as medium;
in this approach the artwork springs (rom the world as
medium, the artisl being more dislanced.
Various works ofthe period investigaled siting the art
event wilhin the agricultural and climalic time cycles of
nature. The Ga/lery Transplant in the bird sanctuary, for
eKample, was done in the winter and disappeared when
the snow melted. It was like a part of nalUfe in otherwords,
and passed with the ehanging ofthe seasons. In One Haur
Run (1968) Oppenheim parodied action painling by
cutting snowmobile tracks intuitively oreKpressively in the
snow for one hour. Such pieces flaunted bolh their
ephemeralily and their conditionality, operating agai nst
the modernist crypto-religious beliefin the artwork as
elernal and autonomous like a Platonic Idea. The work is
subject to the conditions of nature like everything else, in
opposition to modernist work, which was conceived as
outside of nature and not susceplibleto its rhythms of
change and decay.
Oppenheim's work is characterized not only by Ihe
kind of clear analytical seeing oftheoretical issues that is
found , for eKilmple, in Smithson's work ofthe period too,
but also by a tendency lO compleKify melhods of
presentation through structural reversals.ln Cancelled
Crap (1969)a crop was harvesled in the shape o( an X and
the harvesled wheal was kepl from processing and never
consumed. A cultural sign, the X of cancellation, has been
applied to a field ofwheat as it might be applied to another
sign on a sheet of papero Cullure has co-opted nature. The
retenl ion ofthe wheat from processing and consumption
is again symbolically a subversion of aestheticism - a
denial thal the raw material oflife needs reshaping as art
and presenling lo an audience. So nature re-engulfs
culture again, but on culture's terms. There is little hinl of
Ihe flower child mood of affirmation of nature as a solution
to the problems o( culture.
•
For Oppenheim, the commitment to the earth as a site
was part of a more general commitment lo Ihe site. Olher
sited pieces located the artwork in urban ralherthan rural
matrices. In Sound Enclased Land Area (1969) four tape
recorders were buried in cages at four points in Paris,
delineating a rectangle of 500 :. 800 m . Each tape loop
projected a voice repealing i15 respective cardinal point:
North, Soulh, East or West. Here the solipsistic emphasis
of mueh early Conceptual Art was stressed. Joseph
Kosulb's work showing a chair and a photograph ofthe
chair, or William Anastasi's picture of a wall hung on the
same walt, and other works oflhe era, are related. In
something oflhe spiril ofFrank Stella's famous remark
about minimal paintings, 'What you see is what you get',
works like these tend to emphasize the self-identicalness
oflhe real·world elements ofthe piece, in opposition to the
modern ist idea ofthe a Ichem ical trans(ormation of real·
world elements by the art-making process [ ... ]
Ihoma< Mdv,lley. '1he of OIronqness: MOdern,s,"
a na It " 1 ter [q( '. Denn I $ Dppenfle;/1I: Se ren ed Io'ork S
196 90. P. • Museum. Ihe Inlt'tute for
Art/Harr)' N Abrams. .. 1992. pp. 16-21
Jan DIBBETS
Artist's statement [1972]
I think ¡t's quite a good Ihing lo do, but it's stupid forother
people lo do il, orto buy it from me. What matters is the
feeling. I discovered il's a great feeling lo pick out a point
on the map and lo search for Ihe place for three days, and
then lo find there are only two Irees standing there, and a
dog pissing against the tree. But someone who tried to buy
Ihat from you would be really stupid, becausethe work o(
art is the feeling, and he couldn't buy thal from me ...
I musl say I don't see how lo seU these kinds ofideas. I(
someone can use them he can take them. SeUing is not a
partofart.
I really believe in having projects which in fact can't be
carried 0141, or which are so simple that anyone could work
them oul. I once made four spots on the map ofHolland,
without knowing where they were. Then I found out how lO
gel there and went to Ihe place and took a snapshol. Quite
stupid. Anybody can do thal.
Jan 01 bbet', • Art 1H' r Ar¡ . a
Mpyer. t.P. l o., Ne .. Vork, 1972, p. III
 • • • •
rea y• e leve In aVln ro ects
.. . )
",r IC lln act can t e carrle J

or " T e t at aIlvone
.,'

COll wor t em out. once lna e

ollr s ots on tema o o an
• •
evwere.
,
.,

len oun out ow to et t ere

an went to t e ace an too a

can o t ato

Jlfl DI8BEíS • . . .. .
".
Diane WALDMAN
Holes without History [1971]
fhe vast expanse oftne desert was matched by ils
stillness, the arid heat and the wind. There were no signs
oflife except for the octasianal doud of dust r¡¡ised by an
automobile offin the distance. 1I took two days to reach
M¡,hael Heizer's Double Our first attempt failed
when Ihe only road beca me impassable, Ihe cars bogged
down, tyres spinning, and Ihe speclre of getting stuck or
miscakulating a turn and going offthe road over Ihe edge
ofthe precipice was 0111 too real. We tried again the nen day,
this time by avoiding Ihe road and cutting across Ihe mesa
looking for any signs oftyre tracks lo follow Ihal might
have been left by Ihe pick-up trucks orlhe cattle ranchers
in Ihe area. After two hours of gauging direction largely by
intuition, we succeeded in Ihreading our way to Ihe edge
ofthe mes¡. In contr¡st lo the monotony ofthe p¡rched,
cracked e¡rth ofthe mesa ¡ flat landsc¡pe of rocks,
tumbleweed ¡nd scrub brush drop offthe
escarpment unfolded ¡ vista ofh¡rsh beauty, wilh the
work itself cut below Ihe shelf ofthe mesa, overlooking the
snaking ribbon ofthe Virgin River far below.ln its present
slate, Double Negative is imposing: measuring 1,600 x S0
w30 feet (5,246 15 " 9 mI, wilh a displacement of 240,000
tons (244,800 tonnes), il is considerably larger than ils
first state; the original version (1969}, displaced 40,000
tons (40,800 tonnes) and measured 1, 100 42 feet
(335 13 x 9 mI. The work consists oftwo facing cuts;
from the air it is possible to see the entire configuration
but you cannot apprehend the work itself. From the
sheller ofthe walls, one can begin lo sense Ihe enormily
ofthe structure, but beca use ofthe chasm Ihat separates
Ihe easl and wesl faces , il is impossible lo view Ihe work
in ils enlirety from any one direction. At Ihe edge ofthe
mesa, one can gel another, but still fragmented , view of
the work. It is the land, of course, that unifies Double
Negotive. A hard I¡ndscape, Ihe sile neither enhances
nor delracts from Ihe work itself. As a result, Double
Negotive is nol only free of gratuitous decoration, a
characteristic th¡t unfortunately obt¡ins in much other
recent environmental work, but the gr¡ndeur and
simplicity ofits form convey a sense ofits inevitabilily-
ofils being pul ofthe I¡nd.
It had been difficult for me as a native New Yorker to
im¡gine Ihe change of context th¡t the work occ¡sions, for
not only does it place an entirely new sel of demands upon
Ihe object-oriented, studio/museum-going viewer, but it
¡Iso presents a I¡ndsc¡pe and a frame of reference alien lo
convenlion¡1 expect¡tions of ¡rt and the art experience.
This is true in p¡rticul¡r ofHeizer's work, but ¡Iso of other
recenl ¡rt, evolving as il has from conditions which many
younger artisls working in New York found il necessary to
reject. Critics writing ¡boul so·called earthworks, which
first came to their attention as a ' movement' in a Dwan
Gallery show in October 1968, saw il ¡S ¡ concerted effort
to reject the more pervasive conventions of recent art - not
only the discrete, finite object, but the gallery-museum
complex thal harbours it. This uncompromising re¡clion
INTEGRATlON
was inevitable; to pro pose a new type of art il was
necessary to re-examine the framework Ihal surrounded
the art oflhe 19605. While rejection ofthe object, per se, is
a foil occompli, many ofthe artists working with earth
have been influenced by the minimalists, whose posilion
they rejected but who in fact were initially responsible for
the displacement ofthe object. In de.emphasizing the
importance ofthe end-state, the minimalists predicted
several subsequent developments: with Robert Morris, the
focus of process/m¡terials was carried on by a group of
younger artists, who have chosen to retain, however
surreptitiously, the object o r some semblance ofit; with
SolleWitt, whose early ideation has been extended by a
younger group ofConceptual Artists; and with Car! Andre,
whose declaration ofsculpture as 'place' has provided
some ofthe impetus lo earthworks. Andre's evidenl
concern for situation, for allowing a specific location lo
determine in P¡rt the final d imensions of a work, is one
that he sh¡res with Flavin; Andre himselfh¡s referred lo it
as 'post sludio art'. For those artists engaged in
e¡rthworks, Ihe minim¡list emphasis on environment
prompled ¡n ¡II but total removal lo the outdoors.lfthe
simple basic sha pes, cuts or markings in or upon nature
ch¡r¡cteristic of m¡ny e¡rthworks appear to devolve from
the modular units ofthe minim¡lists, this resemblance is
¡t besl superfici¡1. The signifiunt difference in ¡ttitude
can perh¡ps besl be described by the lerm 'de-
differentiation', the 'revenion of specialized structures (as
cells) lo ¡ more gener¡lized or primilive condition oRen ¡S
a preliminary to major change'.
Wh¡l, then, ¡re earthworks? Remote, largely
inaccessible, they are sites known to a larger public solely
by me¡ns of phologr¡phs or occ¡sionally film.
Documenlation is fr¡gment¡ry, incomplete and ¡n
inadequate surrogate forthe realily ofthe work, leaving Ihe
viewer 101¡lIy unequipped lo do more Ihan b¡rely
comprehend the experience. It is a common ¡ssumption,
but ¡ misle¡ding one, that e¡rthworks only exist for the
photographs; but t o experience these sites at all, the
viewer is usually thrust back upon either the photographs
or residual experiences with nature, which, for the urban
art audience, is unrewarding. Although the art is often vast
in scale, it cannot be considered public; earthworks have,
in fact , disrupted the traditional relationsh ip between
scale and public monuments. Perversely illogieal in their
physical removal from their audience, such works are,
none Ihe less, entirely aesthetic in their appropriation of
nature for the very reason that they impose the syslem of
the individual artist upon the much larger and entirely
separate system ofthe earth. But ifthe gr¡tification forthe
spectator denied access to the work is all but impossible,
Ihe gratification for the artist must be enormous. As
Heizer has said, ' In the desert,l can find that kind of
unraped, peaceful, religious space artists have always
Iried to pul into thei, work. I don't want ¡ny indication I've
been here at all. My holes should have no history, they
should be ¡ndeterminate in time and inaccessible in
locale' :
In giving up the finile object,lhe artists making
earthworks have returned to a more direct contact wilh
their malerials, moving away from the urban mechanized
environment and the rigid standardized industrial units of
the minimalists to the very opposite extreme. In this shift
away from precise geometric forms, both the earthworkers
and the process artists are giving currency to a type of
expressionism that in some ways resembles 19505
attitudes. This is best explained by Robert Morris, who
wrote, ' Random piling, loose slacking, hanging, giving
passing form to the material. Chance is accepted and
indeterminacy is implied sinte replacing will result in
another configuration. Disengagement with preconceived
enduring forms and orders for things is a positive
assertion. lt is part oflhe work's refusal to continue
aesthelicizing form by dealing with it as a prescribed end'.'
Ofthose artists currently using nature as
form/medium/content/place, Michael Heizer is the most
intransigenl. Born in Berkeley, California, in 1944, he
attended the San Francisco Art Instilute in 1963-64. Afier
a as a painter, he begun to work with earth in 1967.
•
Heizer's early projects indicate a concern for random
order; in Dissipate , Number 8 of Nine Nevada Depressions
(1968), five shal10w cuts, each 12 feet (366 cmllong and
spanning So So feet (15 " 15 m), in the Black Rock Desert,
Nevada, were simply, in the artisl's own words,
' toothpicks Ihrown on a tablelop', The ironic, casual,
throwaway quality ofthis work was entirely at odds with
Ihe monumental severity and starkness ofthe deserto This
was all the more evidenl in that our frame of reference (Le.
the canvas rectangle, the 10ft or g¡lIery) no longer exists.
The gesture was almost self-effacing
in its acknowledgement of man's fundamentally
inconsequential efforts lo compete wilh the
overwhelming scale and austere beauly of nature,
arrogant in the decision to tackle nature and urgent in
its express ion ofthe need for catharsis to create anew.
Admitting as much , Heizer has said, ' Man wil1 never
create anything really large in relalion to Ihe world - only
in relation to himselfand his size. The mosl formidable
objects that m¡n has touched are the earth and the moan.
The greatest scale he understands is Ihe distance between
them, and this is nothiog compared to what he suspects to
exist'.'
From shallow culs, frankly linear in disposition, in such
early works as Dissipate, Circular Suifoce Drowing and
Loop Drawing, Heizer moved through a succession of
displacements and depressions, Munich Depression
(1969) and the more recent Double Negotive. Although
Heizer's work requires much ofthe same type of physical
effort and activity as Richard Serra's lead prop-pieces, Ihe
traces ofsuch activity are unrecorded. The documentalion
ofthe artist's process holds little interest for Heizer, and is
oflittle consequence to the viewer; one's apprehension of
and relationship lo the work, even vicariously, does not
depend upon either the angst ofthe creative act or its
traces. Bul just as Heizer imposes his own aesthetic
vision on nature, he allows nature to act on a work. Time,
therefore, becomes an important condition ofhis work:
erosion, changes of season, etc., become integral to his
concepto In so far as Double Negative approximates a
configuralion that achieves a precarious accommodation
with bolh Ihe forces of nature and art, it is Heizer's most
brilliant work lo date.
 In any comparison o!Heizer's work with that ofhis
contem¡:toraries , some striking differences emerge. This
is partíally due to the circumstances ofhis early develop-
mene as a teenager he accompanied his father, the
anthropologist Robert Heizer, on numerous
archaeological expedít ions. Coming to New York in
1966, Heizer had missed the evolution of min imal
sculpture, and expressed a decided preference for
painting; he produced a large number of canvases most
of wh ich he subsequently desttoyed. His first earthworks,
whkh seem quasi·geometric in structure, have an element
ofthe itrational to them, readily d istinguishable from Ihe
pristine formality ofthe min imalists; this strain ofthe
arbitnry or the capricious appears from time to time
both in his large works and in such minuscule pieces as
Windowsj Motchdrop (1969). Even more pronounced
is his predilection for an open-ended form, or a variety
offorms, a contrast to the basic un it-structure ofthe
minimalists. In the area ofscale- such minimalists as
Andre, Judd, Morris or leWitt were decidedly anti-
monumental- and most particularly in the shifl: from
studio to sile, Heizer's work takes a fundamentally
d ifferent d irect ion from that ofthe sculpture ofthe early
1960s.l n establishi ng his concept of'place', Andre was
actually defin ing an environmental situation. Once a work
place. We are for flat forms bec.ause they destroy illusion
and reveal truth.
5. It is a widely accepted notion among painters Ihal il does
not matter what one paints as long as it is well painted.
This is the essence of academism. There is no such th ing
as good painting about nolhing. We assert that the subject
is crucial and only that subject·matler is valid which is
Iragic and limeless. This is why we profess spiritual
kinship with primitive and archak art'.'
Myth offered the Abstract-Expressionist a way of
forcibly breaking with tradilion; Double Negotive, and the
desert work in general, is also a rejection -Iargely ofthe
current situation ofthe arts. The troubled heritage ofthis
country - the splendid beauty ofthe land, the struggle
between two alien cultures that is still very much a part of
our consciousness - is exemplified in many ways in
Double Negot ;ve. Double Negot;ve is the result ofthe
artist's awareness ofthe hislory oftaste, ofthe positive
conttibutions ofEuropean art, and of a basic
understanding onts failure for th is time. As Barnett
Newmanwrote:
'The artist in America is, by comparison lo European
artists, like a barba dan. He does not have the super-fine
sensibility towards the object that dominates European
feeting . He does not even have the objects.
Palace, 3885 regístered brands, keno, sulphur, mountain 211
•
lions, Showboat, tungsten, Frontier, cindercones, gold,
tarantulas, diamondbacks, chapparal, silver ... pine,
5tardust, OOillo, barite, Indian reservations, buckhorn,
neon wedding chapels, F·111 's, prairie dogs, roulette,
Flamingo, vullures, Boulder Dam, roadrunners,
International, geysers, pelicans, landmark, timber
rattlers, sand, titan ium , craps, javelina 5, cholla, bingo,
county-optioned prostitution, yucca, turtles, Circus·
Circus, tufa, blackjack, seagulls, basalt, nuclear munitions
stockpile, Four Queens, six·week d ivorces, molybdenum,
Golden Nugget, drifl: shafts, las Vegas, jackrabbits, Sands,
bobeats, Harrahs, 1 member US House ofRepresentatives,
Sierra Nevada (solid granitej, sink-holes, bats, sage,
mudflats, Barney's, Mormon tea , Harvey's, silica, Folies
Bergeres, Aladdin, frogs , potenlial SST landingstrip, seven
mile tunnel, the Strip, mackinaw, juniper, kildeer, rodeo
horses, cottonwoods, lizards, catlle, legalized gambling,
only architecturally un iform US city, feldspar, bombing
ranges, Sahara, wolves, Thunderbird, granodiorite,
Mapes , barate, lady luck, thorium , antelope ... "
, , , .,
, , e , ,
e' M r "-nt- for ' /lrt' r • 8, ..

ofhis was real ized, however, it could be moved lo another This is, then, our opportunily, free ofthe ancient 968.
context and another situation. In fact the min im alists paraphernalia , to come closer to the sources ofthe tragic
'" 4. oro
•
demonstrated that while a work could articulate a given emotion. Shall we not, as artists, search out the new IIbee 969. 6
situation, it also retained its autonomy as an object, and objects for its image?" lit N,,, ., •• - '"
despite any change in context/ location, the work itself The fact is, however, that there is titile in Double r fe. r ."1 .. 194 , p.

remained consistent. For Heizer, however, ' place' Negot ;ve specifically referenlial: the work is not "_Hemert 'r

presumes the virtual authority of a given site, to whkh the 'archaizing' - anything but. There is instead a sense ofthe _Ir t In rute " .... et Ce', ' 1 ,
work must adapllt is Ihe conclusive factor in determ ining unfamiliar, the unknown, a subliminal association • e,,'h.¡ , y·,ARne .. ·

the final outcome of a work. lo the extent that many ofthe perhaps with other forms , in a work that is thoroughly ¡ e U_41

other artists working with earth wete closely aligned with
Minimalis m, their work can be seen as a continuation of
those ideas, as primarily a shifl: in medium, rather than the
radical shifl: in d irection ofHeizer's work.
Ifthe 1960s were witness to an art of pragmatism
(there is no fundamental d ifference in this respect
between Pop Art, colour abstraction and Minimalism),
which has resulted in a cul-de-sac, then it is nol difficult to
understand why Heizer d id in fact react so violently.ln
doing so, he found in so-called ' primitive' cultures not only
a basic harmony belween their art and Ihe land (e.g.
Central and South American Indian cultures) but an
identification wilh ceriain basic modes of visualization.
This fact in itselfis not unusual. One is reminded ofthe
Abstract-Expressionists' interest in the Jungian 'collective
unconscious' and ofthe statement written lo The New
York Times in 1943 by Gottlieb and Rothko (with the
editorial aid ofBarnett Newman):
', . To us art is an adventure into an unknown world, which
can be explored only by those willing to take the risks.
2. This world ofthe imagination is fancy-free and violently
opposed lo common sense.
3- 1I is our function as artists to make the Spectator see our
way, not his way.
4. We favour the simple expression ofthe complex
thought. We are for the large shape because it has the
impact ofthe unequivocal. We wish lo re-assert Ihe picture
contemporary. Conventional forms , like monuments, can
be appropriated without a need lo consider hierarchical
values, consequently the artist can retain the presence of
great scale withoul recourse lo legend or myth.lf any myth
exists il is the myth of a new America, for which las Vegas
is Ihe symbol. By day Ihe mountains sutrounding las
Vegas turn the town into one long stretch ofdismal
houses, parking lots, cheap stores. The ranchers in the
area carry rifles in the back oftheir pick-up trucks: eyes like
slits, from squinting in the sun, gaze suspiciously at
strangers from lealhery faces. At night, when the neons
come on, the mountains disappear, the desert is forgotten ,
the sound of slot machines, dice, flashy cars replace the
silence ofthe day.
' ... coyotes, Silver Slipper, pumas, mesquite, scorpions,
AEC research and test cenlre, baccaral, natural pyramid,
kangaroo rats, mescal , squirrels, cultural phototroposis,
quail, Ruth pit, carp, Tropicana, faro wheel, 87% land
government ownership, hot sp,ings, mule deer,
s idewinders, Great Basin, open speed limits, gila
monsters, eagles, manganese, Wagon Wheel, creosote,
horned toads, rhyolite, wild horses, Yucca Flat, 5101
machines, centipedes, herons, joshua, antimony,
Hacienda, suicide table, Mint, hawks, greatest US slate
transient poputation, Harold's Club, uranium , black
widows, copper, diatomite, owls, petroglyphs, Caesar's
Robert SMITHSON
ASedimentation ofthe Mind:
Earth Projects [1968)
The earth's surface and the figments ofthe mind have a
way of disintegrating into discrele regions of arto Various
agents, both fictional and real, somehow trade places with
each other- one cannol avoid muddy thinking when it
comes lo earth projects, or what I will call'abstract
geology'. One's mind and the earth are in a constant state
of erosion, mental rivers wear away abstract banks, brain
waves undermine cliffs ofthought, ideas decompose into
stones of unknowing and conceptual crystallizations break
apart into deposits of gritty reason. Vast moving faculties
occur in this geologkal miasma, and Ihey move in the
most physical way. This movement seems motionless, yet
it crushes the landscape oflogic under glacial reveries.
This slow f10wage makes one conscious ofthe turbidity of
thinking. Slump, debris slides, avalanches all take place
within the cracking limits ofthe brain. The entire body is
pulled into the cerebral sediment, where particles and
fragments make Ihemselves known as solid conscious-
ness. A bleached and fractured world surrounds the artist.

OOCUMENTS
'" To organize this meS5 of corrosion ¡"lO patterns, grids and
subdivisions is an aesthetic process that has scarcely been
touched.
The manj(estations oftechnology are al times less
'extensions' of mil" (Ma rs hall McLuhan's
anth ropomorphism ) than they are aggregates of elements.
Even the mast advanced tool5 and machines are made of
the raw matter ofthe earth. Today's highly refined
technological tools are not mueh differenl in this respect
(rom those ofthe caveman. Mast ofthe better artisls
prefer proces ses that have nol been idealized, or
differentiated ¡nlo 'objective' meanings. Common
shovels, awkward·looking excavating devices, what
Michael Heizer calls 'dumb lools·. picks, pitchforks, the
machine used by suburban conlractors, g,im tractors that
have the dumsiness of armoured dinosaurs and ploughs
that simply push dirt around. Machines like Benjamin
Holt's steam tractor (invented in 188S) - ' It crawls over
mud like a caterpillar'. Digging engines and other crawlers
that can travel over rough terrain and steep grades. Dril1s
and eKplosives that can produce shafts and earthquakes.
Geometrical trenches could be dug with the help ofthe
' ripper' - steel·toothed rakes mounted on tractors. With
such equipment construction takes on the look of
destruction; perhaps that's why certain architects hate
bulldozers and steam shovels. They seem to turn the
terrain into unfin ished cities of organized wreckage. A
sense of chaotie planning engulfs site afier site.
Subdivisions are made - but to what purpose?
Building takes on a singular wildness as loaders scoop and
drag soil all over the place. Excavations form shapeless
mounds ofdebris, miniature landslides of dust, mud , sand
and grave!. Dump trucks spill soil into an infinity ofheaps.
The dipper ofthe giant mining power shovel is I5 feet high
and digs 140 cubic yards (ISO tons) in one bite. These
processes ofheavy construction have a devastating kind
of primordial grandeur and are in many ways more
astonishing than the finished project - be it a road or a
building. The actual disruption ofthe earth's crust is at
times very compel1ing, and seems to confirm Heraditus'
Fragment '24, 'The most beautiful world is like a heap of
rubble tossed down in confusion'. The lools of art have loo
long been confined to ' the studio'. The city gives the
¡llusion that earth does not eKist. Heizer calls his earth
projects, 'The alternative to the absolute city system'.
Recently, in Vancouver, lain Balder put on an exhibition
ofPiles that were located at different points in the city; he
also helped in the presentation of a Portfolio 0fPiles.
Dumping and pouring become interesting techniques.
Carl Andre's 'Brove site' - a tiny pile of sand , was d isplayed
under a stairway al the Museum ofContemporary Crafts
last year. Andre, unlike Baxter, is m ore concerned with the
elemental in th ings. Andre's pile has no anthropomorphic
overtone s¡ he gi ves it a darity that avoids the idea of
temporal space . A serenification takes place. Dennis
Oppenheim has also considered the 'pi/e ' - 'the basic
components o f concrete and gypsum ... devoid of manual
organization '. Sorn e ofOppenheim's propo sa ls s uggest
desert physiography - mesas, buttes, mushroom
mounds, and other 'deflations' (the removal o f material
fro m beac h and other land s urfaces by wind action) . My
t NTEGRATtO N
own ror Pool ond Grove! Pit (1966) proposal makes one
conscious ofthe primal ooze. A molten substance is
poured into a square sin k that is surrounded by another
square sin k of coarse gravel. The tar cools and flattens into
a sticky level depositoThis carbonaceous sediment brings
to mind a tertiary world of petroleum, asphalts, ozokerite,
and bituminous agglomerations.
PRIMARY ENVElOPMENT
At the low levels of consciousness the artist experiences
undifferentiated or unbounded methods of procedure that
break with the focused limits of rational technique. Here
tools are undifferentiated from the material they operate
on, or they seem to sin k back into their primordial
condition . Robert Morris (Artforum, April1968) sees the
paint brush vanish into Pollock's 'stiek', and the stiek
dissolve into 'poured paint' from a container used by
Morris louis. What then is one to do with the ,ontoine,?
This entropy oftechnique leaves one w;th an empty limit,
or no limit at all. Al! differentiated technology becomes
meaningless to the artist who knows this state. 'What the
Nominalists call the grit in the machine', says T.E. Hulme
in Cinden , '1 call the fundamental element ofthe machine'.
The rational critic of art cannot risk this abandonment into
'oceanic' undifferentiation, he can only deal with the limits
that come afterthis plunge into such a world of non·
containment.
At this point I must retu," to what I think is an
important issue, namely Tony Smith's 'car ride' on the
' unfinished turnpike'. 'This drive was a revealing
experience. The road and much ofthe landscape was
artificial, and yet it couldn't be called a work of art'.
('Talking with Tony Smith' by Samuel Wagstaff, Jr.,
Artforum, December 1966) He is talking about a
sensation, not the finished work of art; this doesn'timply
that he is anti·art. Smith is describing the slate ofhis mind
in the ' primary process' of making contact with matter.
This process is called by Anton Ehrenzweig
'dedifferentiation', and it involves a suspended question
regarding ' Iimitlessness' (Freud's notion ofthe 'oceanic')
that goes back to Civilizat ion ond Its Dis,ontents. Michael
Fried's shock at Smith's experiences shows that the
critic's sense oflimit cannot risk the rhythm of
dedifferentiation that swings between 'oceanic'
fragmentation and strong determinants. Ehrenzweig says
that in modern art this rhythm is 'somewhat onesided'-
toward the oceanic. Allan Kapro w's thinking is a good
example - ' Most humans, it seems, still put up fences
around their acts and thoughts'. (Artforum, June 1968.)
Fried thinks he knows who has the 'finest' fences around
Ihei r a rt. Fried ela ims he rejects the 'i nfi nlte' , but this is
Fried writing in Artforum, February '967, on Morris louis,
' The dazzling blankness ofthe untouched canvas at once
repulses and engulfs the eye, lilce an infinite abyss, the
abyss tha! opens up behind the least mark that we make
on a flat surface, or would open up ¡finnumerable
conventions both of art and practicallife did not restrict
the consequences of our act within narrow bounds', The
' innumerable conventions' do not exist for certain artists
who do eKist within a physieal 'abyss'. Most crilies cannot
endure the suspension of boundaries between what
Ehrenzweig calls the 'self and the non·selr. They are apt to
di smiss Malevich's Non·Objective Wor/d as poetic debris,
or only referto the 'abyss' as a rational metaphor 'within
narrow bounds '. The artist who is physically engulfed tries
to give evidence ofth is experience through a limited
(mapped) revision ofthe original unbounded sta te. I agree
with Fried that limits are not part ofthe primary process
that Tony Smith was talking about. There is different
•
experience before the physical abyss than before the
mapped revision. Nevertheless, the quality ofFried'sfear
(dread) is high, but his experience ofthe abyss is low-a
weak metaphor - 'Iike an infinite abyss'.
The bins or containers of my Non·sites gather in the
fragments that are experienced in Ihe physical abyss of
raw matter. The tools oftechnology become a part ofthe
Earth 's geology as they sink back into their original sta le.
Machines like dinosaurs must return to dust o r rust. One
might SIIy a 'de-arc.nilecturing' takes place before the artist
sets his limits outside the studio or the room.
BETIER HOMES ANO INDUSTRIES
'Cre at sprays of greenery make the lambert live·in room
an oasis atop a eliff dwelling. In a lighted by
skylights and spotlights, an oil by Jack Bush.
AII planting by lambert landscape Company.'
-Caption under a photograph, House and Carden, July
' 968
In Art in Americo, Sept-Oct '966, there is a Portrait of
Anthony Caro, with photographs ofhis sculpture in
settings and landscapes that suggest English gardening.
One work, Primo Luce '966, painted ye llow, matches the
yellow daffodils peeking out behind ¡t, and it sits on a well
cut lawn. I know, the sculptor prefers to see his art indoors,
but the fact that this work ended up where it did is no
excuse for thoughtlessness about installation. The more
compelling artists today are concerned with 'place' or 'site'
Smith, De Maria, Andre, Heizer, Oppenheim, Huebler -
to name a few. Somehow, Caro's work pieks up its
surroundings, and gives one a sense of a contrived, but
tamed, 'wildness' that echoes to the tradition ofEnglish
gardening.
Around 1710 the English invented the antiformal
garden as protest against the French formal garden. The
French use of geometrie forms was rejected as something
' unnatural'. This seems lo relate to today's deb¡te
between so-called 'formalism' a nd 'anti-formalism'. The
traces of weak naturalism eling t o the background of
Caro's Prima Lu,e. A leftover Arcadia with fl owery
overtones gives the sculpture the look ofsome industrial ,
ruin. The brighUy painted surfaces cheerfully seem to O
avoid any suggestion ofthe 'romantic ruin', but they are on
closer investigation related to ¡ust thal. Caro's industrial
f•
ru;ns, or concatenations ofsteel and aluminium may be
viewed as Kantian 'things-in.themselves', or be placed
into sorne syntax based on So and 50's theories, but at this
point I willleave those notions to the Iceepers of
'modernity'. The English consciousness of art has always
been best displayed in its ' Iandscape gardens'. 'Sculpture'
°
was used more to generate set of,ondirions.
Clement Greenberg's notion of'the landscape' reveals
itselfwith shades ofT.S. Eliot in an artide, ' Poetry of
Vision' {Arifotum, ApriI1968J. Here 'Anglicizing tastes' are
evoked in his descriptions ofthe lrish landscape. 'The
ruined castles and abbeys', says Greenberg, 'that strew the
beautiful countryside are gray and dim', shows he takes
' pleasure in ruins'. At any rate, the 'pastoral', it seems, is
outmoded. The gardens ofhistory are being replaced by
sitesoftime.
Memory traces oftranquil gardens as 'ideal natute' -
jejune Edens that suggest an idea ofbanal'quality'-
persist in popular magazines like HouSI! Beautiful and
Bettu Homes and Gardens. A kind of watered down
Victorianism, an eleganl notion ofindustrialism in the
woods¡ all this brings lo mind sorne kind of wasted charm.
The decadence of'i nterior decoration' is fu 11 of appeals lo
'country manners' and liberal-democratic notions of
gentry. Many art magazines have gorgeous photographs
of artificial industrial ruin s (sculptureJ on their pages. The
'gloomy' ruins of aristocracy ate Iransfotmed into the
'happy' tuins ofthe humanist Could one say tha! art
degenerates as JI approaches gardening?' These 'garden.
traces' seem part oftime and not history, they seem to be
involved in the dissolution of' progress'. tt was John
Ruskin who spoke ofthe 'dreadful Hammers' ofthe
geologists, as they destroyed the dassical order. The
landscape reels back into the millions and millions of years
of'geologic time'.
FROM STEEl TO RUST
As 'Iechnology' and 'i ndustry' began to become an
ideclogy in the New York Art World in the late '950S and
early '9605, the private studio notions of'craft' collapsed.
The products ofindustry and technology began lo have an
appeal to the artist who wanled lo work like a 'steel welder'
or a 'Iaboratory technician '. Th is valuation ofthe material
products ofheavy industry, first developed by David Smith
and later by Anthony CatO, led to a fetish for sleel and
aluminium as a medium (painted or unpainted). Molded
steel and cast aluminjum are machine manufactured, and
as a result Ihey be¡U the stamp oftechnological ideclogy.
Steel is a hard, tough metal, suggesting the permanence of
technological values. II is composed ofiron alloyed with
various small percentages of carbon; steel may be alloyed
with other met.als, nickel, chromium, etc., to produce
specific properties such as hardness and resistance to
rusting. Yet, the more I think about steel itself, devoid of
the technological refinements, the more rust becomes the
fundamental proper!y ofstee!. Rust itselfis a reddish
brown or reddish yellow coating that often appears on
'steel sculpture', and is caused by oxidation (an interesting
non-technological condition), as during exposure to air or
moisture¡ it consists almost entirely offerric oxide, Fe 2 0
3
and feme hydroxide, Fe(O H)r In the technological mind
rust evokes afear of disuse, inactivity, entropy, and ru in.
Why steel is valued over rust is a technological value, not
an artistic one.
By exduding technological processes from the making
of art, we began to discover other processes of a more
fundamental order. The breakup or fragmentation of
matter makes one aware oflhe sub·strata ofthe earth
before it is overly refined by industry into sheet metal,
extruded I-beams, aluminium channels, tubes, wire, pipe,
cold·rolled steel, iron bars, etc. I have often thought about
non·resistant processes that would involve the actual
sedimentation of matter or what I called ' Pu lverizations'
back in 1966. Oxidation , hydration , carbonization, and
solulion (the major processes of roek and mineral
disinlegration) are four methods Ihal could be lurned
toward the making of art. The smelting process Ihal goes
inlo the making of steel and olher alloys separa tes
'impurities' from an original ore, and extracts metal in
order to make a more 'ideal' productoBurnt-out ore or slag.
like rust is as basic and primary as the material smelted
from jt. Technologieal ideclogy has no sense oftime olher
Ihan its immediate 'supply and demand', and its
labaratorles function as blinders to Ihe rest ofthe world.
like the refined 'paints' ofthe studio, the refined 'metals'
ofthe laboratory exist wilhin an 'ideal system'. Such
endosed ' pure' systems make it impossibleto perceive
any other kinds of processes Ihan the ones of
diR"erentiated technology.
Refinement of matter from one state to anolher does
not mean Ihat so-called 'impurities' of sediment are ' bad'
- the earth is built on sedimentalion and disruption. A
refinement based on all the matter that has been discarded
by the technological ideal seems to be taking place. The
coarse swathes oftar on Tony Smilh's plywood mock·ups
are no more or less refined than the burnished or painted
steel ofDavid Sm ith. Tony Smith's surfaces display more
of a sense ofthe ' prehisloric world' that is not reduced lO
ideals and pure Gestalts. The fact remains that the mind
and things of certain artists are not 'unities', but things in a
state of arrested disruplion. One might object lo ' hollow'
volumes in favour of'solid materials', but no materials are
solid, tney al1 contain caverns and fissures. Solids are
partides built up around flux , Ihey are objective il1usions
supporting grit, a collecti()n of surfaces ready lO be
cracked. AII chaos is pul into the dark inside ofthe artoBy
refusing 'technologieal mirades' the artist begins to know
the corroded moments, Ihe carboniferous states of
thought, the shrinkage of mental mud, in the geologic
chaos - in the strata of aesthetic consciousness. The
refuse between m¡nd and matter is a mine ofinformation.
THE olSlOCATtON OFCRAFT -A ND FALLOFTHE
STUolO
plalo's Timoeus shows the demiurge or the artist creating
a model order, with his eyes fixed on a non-visual order of
Ideas, and seeking to give Ihe purest representalion of
them . The 'dassical' notion ofthe artísl copying a perfect
mental model has been shown to be an error. The modern
artist in his 'studio', working out an abstract grammar
within the limits ofhis 'craft', is trapped in but another
snare. When Ihe fissures between mind and matter
multiply into an infinity of gaps, the studio begins to
crumble and falllike The House ofUsher, so that mind and
matter get endlessly confounded. Oeliverance from the
confines ofthe studio frees the artist to a degree from the
snares ofcraft and the bondage of creativity. Such a
eondition exists wilhout any appeal lo ' nature'. Sadism is
the end product of nature, when il is based on Ihe
biomorphic order of rational creation. The artist is fettered
by this order, ¡fhe belie'(es himselfto be creative, and Ihis
allows for his servitude which is des igned by the vile laws
ofCulture. Our culture has lost its sense of death , so it can
kili both mentally and physically, th inking all the time that
it is establish ing the most ereative order possible.
THE oYINC LANCUACE
The names of minerals and the minera ls themsel ves do
not diR"er from each other, because al Ihe bottom ofbeth
the material and the print is the beginning of an abysmal
number offissures. Words and rocks contain a language
that follows a syntax ofsplits and ruplures. look at any
word long enough and you will see il open up into a series
offaults, into a terrain of partides each containing its own
void. This discomforting language oR"ers
no easy Gestalt solution ; the certainties of didactic
d iscourse are hurled into the erosion ofthe poetic
principIe. Poetry being forever 1051 must submit to its own
vacuity¡ it is somehow a product of exhaustion rather than
creation. Poetry is always a dying language but never a
dead language.
lournalism in the guise of art criticism fears the
disrupt ion oflanguage, so it resorts to being 'educational'
and ' historical '. Art crilics are generally poets who have
betrayed their art, and instead nave Iried lo turn art into a
matter of reasoned discourse, and, occasionally, when
their 'trulh' breaks down, they resort to a poetic quote.
Wittgenstein has shown us what can happen when
language is 'idealized', and that it is hopeless to try lo fit
language into some absolule logie, whereby everything
objective can be tested. We have to fabricate our rules as
we go along the avalanches oflanguage and over the
terraces of criticismo
Poe's Na"ative olA. Gordan Pym seems to me excel·
lent art crilicism and prolotype for rigorou5 'non-site'
investigations. 'Nothing worth mentioning occurred
during the next twenly·four hours except that, in examin-
ing the ground to the eastward third chasm, we found two
triangular holes of great depth, and al so with black granite
sides.' His deseriptions of cha5ms and holes seem to
verge on proposals for 'earthwords'. The shapes ofthe
chasms themselves bec:ome 'verbal (0015 ' Ihal spell out
Ihe diR"erence between darkness and lighL Poe ends his
mental maze with Ihe sentence - ' 1have graven it within
the hills and my vengeance upon the dust within the rock'.
THECLlMATEOF SIGHT
The dimate of 5ight changes from wet to dry and from dry
to wet according lo one's mental weather. The prevailing
conditions of one's psyche aR"ect now he views arto We
have already heard much about 'cool' or 'hot' art, but not
much about ' wet' and 'dry' arto The viewer, be he an artisl
or a critic, is subject to a dimatology ofthe brain and eye.
The wel mind enjoys ' pools and stains' of painl. ' Paint'
ilself appears to be a kind ofliquefaction. Such wel eyes
love lo look on melting, dissolving, soaking surfaces that
give the illu5ion at times oftending toward a gaseousness,
atomization or fogginess. This watery syntax as at times
relaled to the 'canvas support'.
'The world disintegrates around me.'
-Yvonne Rainer
ooeUMENTS
 'By Palm Desen springs ofien fun dry. '
'" -Van Dyke Parks, Song C."de
The following is a proposa1 for those who have leaky
minds. 1I (o uld be Ihougn! of as The Mind ofMud, or in
later stages, The Mind orelay.
THE MUOPOOlPROJECT
1. Dig up 100 R. sq. area of earth with a pitchfork.
2. Gel local tire department to till the area with water. A fire
hose may be used for this purpose.
3. The areil will be tinished when jt lurns to mudo
4. Le! il dry under the sun un!il il lurns lo day.
5. Repeat proces!> al will.
'When dried underthe sun's fays for a sufficientl y long
time, mud and clay shrink and crack in a network of
fissures which endose polygonal areas.'
-Fredric H. Lanee, F;eldGeology
The artisl or ed!ic with iI dan k brain is bo un d to end up
I
appredating anything Ihal suggesls saluralion, a kind of
I
walery effect, an overall seepage, discharges thal
1
111 submerge perceplions in an onrush of dripping
II,I
observation. They are graleful for an art Ihal evokes
generalliquid sta tes, and disdain the desiccalion of
f1uidity. They prize anything Ihal looks drenched, be il
canvas or steel. Deprecialion of aridity means that one
would prefer lo see art in a dewy green setting, say Ihe hills
ofVermont, rather Ihan Ihe Painted Desert.
Arislotle believed Ihal heat combined with dryness
resulted in fire: where else could Ihis feeling lake place
than in a desertorin Malevich 's head? 'No more
of realily", no idealislic images, nOlhing bul a
desert! ' says Malevich in The Non.Objectille \/Iorld. Walter
De Maria and Michael Heizer have actually worked in the
Soulhweslern deserts. Says Heizer, in sorne seattered
notes, 'Earth liners inslalled in Sierras, and down on desert
floor in Carson-Reno area'. The desert is less 'nalure' Ihan
a concept, a place Ihal swallows up boundaries. When the
artisl goes to the desert he enriches his absence and burns
offlhe water (painl) on his brain. The slush ofthe city
evaporates from the artist's mind as he insta lis his arto
Heizer's 'dry lakes' become mental maps Ihal contain Ihe
vacancy ofThanalos. A consciousness oftne desert
opera tes between craving and saliety.
Jackson Pollock's art tends toward a torrential sense of
material thal makes his paintings look like splashes of
marine sediments. Deposits of paint cause layers and
crusls Ihat suggest nothing 'formal' bul rather a physieal
metaphor without realism or naturalism. FIII/ Fathom Filie
becomes a Sargasso Sea, a dense lagoon of pigmenl, a
logieal slale of an oceanic mind. Pollock's introduction of
pebbles inlo his-privale topographies suggests an interesl
in geological artifices. The rational idea of'painling'
begins to d isintegrate and decompose into so many
sedimentary concepts. Both Vves Klein and Jean Dubuffet
hinted al global or topographic sedimentary notions in
Iheir works - both worked wilh ashes and cinders. Says
Dllbuffel, regarding the North and Sout h Poles, 'The
revolulion of a being on its axis, reminiscenl of a dervish,
INTEGRArlO N
suggests faliguing, wasted effort; it is not a pleas an! idea
to consider and seems inslead the provisional solution,
until a better one comes along, of despair'. A sense oflhe
earth as a map undergoing disruption leads Ihe artist lO
the realization thal nothing is certai n orforma l. Language
itselfbecomes mOllntains of symbolic debris. Klein's IKB
globes belray a sense offutilily - a collapsed logic. G.E.M.
Anscombe writing on 'Negation' in An Introduction to
Witfgenstein's T,octotus says, ' Bul il is dearthen an 0111·
while or all·black globe is nol a map'. 11 is also dear Ihat
Klein 's all blue globe is not a map; rather it is an anti-map;
a negation of'creation' and the 'crealor' Ihat is sup posed
lo be in Ihe artist's 'selr.
THE WRECK OF FORMER BOUNDARIES
The stra ta ofthe earth is a jumbled museum. Embedded in
the sediment is a tex! thal contains limits and boundaries
which evade the rational order, and social structures which
confine arto In order lo read the rocks we must become
conscious of geologic time, and ofthe layers of pre-historic
material thal is entombed in the earth's crust. When one
seans Ihe ruined sites of prehistory one sees a heap of
wrecked maps thal upsets our present art historical timits.
A rubble oflogic confronts the viewer as he looks into Ihe
levels ofthe sedimenlalions. The abstract grids containing
Ihe raw matter are observed as something incomplete,
broken and shattered.
In June1968, mywife Nancy, Virginia Dwan, Dan
Graham and I visited Ihe slale quarries in Bangor-Pen
Angyl, Pennsylvania. Banks ofsuspended slate hung over
a greenish-blue pond at the bottom of a deep quarry. AII
boundaries and distinctions 1051 their meaning in !his
ocean of slate and collapsed all notions ofGestal1 unity.
The present fell forward and backward into a tumult of'de-
differentiation ', lo use Anton Ehrenzweig's word for
entropy. It was as though one was at the bottom of a
pelrified sea and gazing on countless stratographic
horizons thal had fallen inlo endless directions of
steepness. Syndine (downward) and anlidine (upward)
oUlcroppings and the asymmetrieal cave-ins caused
minor swoons and vertigos. The brittleness ofthe site
seemed to swarm around one, causing a sense of
displacement. I collected a canvas bag full of slate chips for
a small Non·sile.
Vet, if art is art il must have limits. How can one conlain
this 'oceanic ' site? I have developed the Non·site, which in
a physical way conlains Ihe disruption ofthe site. The
container is in a sense a fragment ilself, something that
could be called a three-dimensional map. Withoul appea l
lo 'Gestalts' or 'anli.form', it actually exists as a fragment
ora greater fragmentation. 1I is a !hree-dimensional
perspectille that has broken away from Ihe whole, while
containing the lack ofits own containmenl. There are no
mysleries in Ihese vestiges, no traces of an end or a
beginning.
CRACKING PERSPECTIVES ANDGRIT IN THE
VANIS HIN G POINT
Parallactic perspectives have introduced Ihemselves into
the new eilrth projects in iI way Ihat is physiCill ilnd three-
dimensional. This kind ofconvergence subverts Gestillt
surfaces ilnd turns sites inlo vast illusions. The ground
becomes a map.
The map of my Non·site#, (an indoo, earthwo,k) has
six vanishing points thal lose themselves in a pre.existent
earth mound Ihal is at the centre of a hexagonal airfield in
Ihe Pine Barren Plains in Soulh New Jersey. Six runways
radiale around a central axis. These runways anchor my
Ihirty-one subdivisions. The actual Non-Sife is made up of
•
Ihirty-one metal conlainers of painted blue alum inium ,
each containing sa nd from Ihe actual site.
De Maria's parallel chal k lines are 12 feet apart and run
a hillf a mile illong the Dry lake ofEI Mirage in Ihe Mojave
Desert. The dry mud underthese lines is cracking inlo an
infinite variety of polygons, mainly six-sided. Under the
beating sun shrinkage is constantly going on, causing
irregular oullines. Rap id drying causes widely spaced
cracks , while slow drying causes dosely spaced cracks.
(See E.M. Kindle's Factors Affecting Ihe
Development ofMud Cracks', Vol. 25, 1917, p. 136, Jaumal
ofCeologv) De Maria's lines make one conscious of a
weilkening cohesion ! hal spreads out in all directions.
Nevada is a good place for Ihe person who wants to study
cracks.
Heizer's Compression Une is made by the earth
pressing againsl the sides oftwo parallellengths of
plywood, so Ihal Ihey converge in to two facing sunken
perspectives. The eart h s urrounding this double
perspective is composed of'hardpan' (a hard impervious
sediment tha! does no! become plastic, but can be
shatlered by explosives). A drainage layer exists under Ihe
entire work.
THE VALUE OFTlME
For too long Ihe artist has been estrilnged from his own
' time'. Critics, by focusing on the 'art object', deprive the
artist of any existence in the world ofboth m ind and
matter. The menlal process ofthe ilrtist which takes place
in time is disowned, so Ihat a commodity value can be
maintained by a syslem independent ofl he artisl. Art, in
Ihis sen se, is considered 'Iimeless' or a product of'no lime
at all'; this becomes a convenienl way lO exploit Ihe artist
oul ofhis rightful daim lo his temporal processes_ The
arguments for the contention that time is unreal is a fiction
oflanguage, and nol ofthe material oftime or arto
Criticism, dependenl on rational illusions, appeals lo a
society that values only commodily-type art separated
from the artist's mind. By sepa rating art from the 'primary
process' , the artist is cheated in more ways thiln one.
Separate 'things', 'forms', 'objects', 'shapes', e lc., with
beginnings and endings, are mere convenient fictions:
there is only an uncertain disintegrating order that
Iranscends the limits of ralional separalions. The fictions
erected in Ihe erodi ng time stream are apt lo be swamped
al any momentoThe brain ilself resembles an eroded rock
from which ideas and ideals leak.
When a th;ng is seen Ihrough the consciousness of
temporality, il is changed into somethi ng thal is noth ing.
This aH-engulfing sense provides Ihe mental ground for
the object, so Ihat it ceases being a mere object and
becomes art oThe object gels to be less and less but exists
as something clearer. Every object, ifil is art, is charged
with the rush oftime even though it is static, but .111 this
the viewer. Nol everybody sees the art in the
same way, only an artist viewing art knows the ecstasy or
dread, and this viewing takes place in time. A great artist
can make art by s¡mply casting a glance. A se! of glances
could be as solid as any thing or place, but the society
continues to cheat the artist out ofhis 'art oflooking', by
only valuing 'art objects'. The existence oflhe artist in time
is worth as much as the finished product Any critic who
devaJues the t ime ofthe artist is the enemy of art and Ihe
artist. The stronger and clearer the artist's v;ew oftime the
more he will resenl any slander on this domain. By
desecrating th is domain, certain critics defraud the work
and mind ofthe artist. Artists with a weak view oftime are
easilydeceived by this victimizing kind of criticism, and
are seduced into some trivial history. An artist is enslaved
by time only ¡fthe time is control1ed by someone 01
something other Ihan himself. The deeper an artist sinks
into the time stream the more it becomes o&/;loIio,,;
because ofthis, he must remain dose to the temporal
sumces. Many would like to forget time altogether,
because it conceals the 'death principie' (every authentic
artist knows this). Floating in this temporal ,iver are the
remnants of art history, yet Ihe ' present' annot support
the cultures of Europe, or even the archaic or primitive
civilizations; jt must ¡nstead explore the pre- and post·
historic mind; it must go into the places where remote
futures meet remote pam.
universe¡ it is the fiercest note, it is the highest light, jt is
the place where the walls ofthis world of ours wearthe
thinnest and something beyond burns through.'
-G. K. Chesterton
My concern with salt lakes began with my work in 1963 on
the Mono Lake Site-Nonsile in California. later I read a
book called Vornishing Troi/s oIAtocomo by William
Rudo lph which described salt lakes (salars) in Bolivia in .111
stages of desiccation , and filled with micro bacteria that
give the water sumce a red colour. The pink Aamingoes
Ihat live around Ihe salan match the colour ofthe water. In
The Use/ess Lond, John Aarons and Claudio Vita·Finzi
describe Laguna Colorada, fThe basalt (at the shores) is
black , the volcances purple, and !heir exposed inleriors
yellow and red. The beach i¡¡ grey and the lake pink, topped
with the icing oficeberg-like masses of salts'.' Because of
the remoteness of Bolivia and beca use Mono lake lacked a
reddish colour, I decided lO invesligate the Great Sall Lake
in Utah.
From New York City I called the Utah Park
Oevelopment and spoke to Ted Tuttle, who told me that
water in the Great Salt Lake north oflhe lucin Cutoff,
which cuts Ihe lake in two, was Ihe colour oftomalo soup.
That was enough of a reason to go out there and have a
look. Tuttle lold my wife, Nancy Holt, and myself ofsome
people who knew the lake. First we visited Bin Holt who
lived in Syracuse. He was instrumental in building a
causewaythat connected Syracuse with Antelope Island in
the southern part ofthe Creat Salt Lake. Although that site
was interesting, Ihe waler lacked the red colouralion I was
looking for, 50 we continued our search . Nexl we went to
see lohn Silveron Silver Sands Beach near Magna. H is
sons showed uslhe only boal Ihal sailed the lake. Due lo
passed through Corinne, then went on to Promontory. Just
•
beyond the Golden Spike Monument, which
commemorates the meeling ofthe ra ils ofthe first
!ranscontinental ra il road, we went down a d irt toad in a
wide valley. As we travelled , the valley spread inlo an
uncanny immensity un li ke the other landscapes we had
seen. The roads on the map became a net of dashes, while
in the far distance the Salt Lake existed as an interrupted
silver bandoHills took on the appearance of melting solids,
and glowed under amber light. We followed roads Ihat
glided away into dead ends. Sandy slopes turned into
viscous masses of perceptio n. Slowly, we drew near lo Ihe
lake, which resembled an impassive fa int violet sheet held
captive in a stoney matrix, upon which the sun poured
down lis crushing ligh!. An expanse of salt Aats bordered
the lake, and caught in its sediments were countless bits of
wreckage. Old piers were leR high and dry. The mere s ight
ofthetrapped fragments ofjunk and waste transported
one inlo a world of modern prehistory. The product.s of a
Devonian industry, the remains oh Silurian technology, .111
the machines ofthe Upper Carboniferous Period were lost
in those expansive depos its of sand and mudo
Two dilapidated shacks looked over a tired group of oil
rigs. A series of seeps ofheavy black oil more like asphal1
occur just south ofRozel Poin!. for forty or more years
people have tried lo gel oil out ofthis natural tar pool.
Pumps coated with black stickiness rusted in the corrosive
salt airoA hut mounled on pilings could have been the
habitation of'the missing link'. A great pleasure arose
from seeing .111 those incoherent slructures. Th is s ile gave
evidence of a succession of man·made system5 mired in
abandoned hopes.
About one mile north oflhe oil seeps I selected my site.
Irregular beds oflimestone dip gently eastward, massive

• • the high salt content ofthe water it was impractical for deposits ofblack basalt are broken over Ihe peninsula,
• ordinary boats lo use Ihe lake, and no large boats al .111 giving the region a shattered appearance. It is one offew
could go beyond the lucin Cutoff on which the places on the lake where the water comes righl up to Ihe

• tr.Jnscontinental railroad crossed the lake. At Ihat pointl
was still nolsure what shape my work of art would take. I
thought of making an island with the help ofboats and
barges, but in the end I would let the site determine what I
would build. We visited Charles Stoddard, who supposedly
had the only barge on the north side ofthe cutoff.
mainland. Under shallow pinkish water is a nelwork of
mud cracks supporting the jigsaw puzzle that composes
the salt flats. As I looked al the sile, il reverberated out lo
Ihe horizons only to suggest an immobile cydone while
flickering light made the entire landscape appear to quake.
A dorman! earthquake spread ¡nlo the Auttering stillness,

• , Sloddard, a well-driller, was one oflhe lasl homesteaders into a spinning sensation without movemen!. This site
• • • in Utah. His attempt to develop Carrington Island in 1932 was a rotary that endosed itselfin an immense roundness.

• ended in failure because he couldn 't find fresh water. ','ve
• • had the lake', he said. Yet, while he was living on the island
• •• with his family he made many valuable observations ofthe
lake. He was kind enough to take us to little Valley on the
• , • East side oflhe lucin Cutoffto look for his barge - it had
• , 5unk. The abandoned man·made harbours oflittle VaUey
• • gave me my firsl view ofthe wine-red water, but Ihere were
, ·. , • too many ' Keep Out' signs around to make that a practical
•• • site for anything, and we were told to 'stay away' by two
angry ranchers. ARer fixing a gashed gas tank, we returned
lo Charles Sloddatd's house north ofSyracuse on the edge
Robert SMITHSON of some salt marshes. He showed us photographs he had
taken of'icebergs',' and Kit Carson 's cross carved on a rock
The Spiral Jetty [1972) on Fremont Island. We then de<:ided to leave and go to
Rozel Poinl.
' Red is the most joyful and dreadful thing in the physical Drivíng west on H ighway 83 late in the aRernoon, we
From that gyraling space emerged Ihe possibility ofthe
Spirol)etty. No ideas, no concepts, no systems, no
structures, no abstractions could hold Ihemselves
together in Ihe actuality oflhat evidence. My dialectics of
site and nonsite whirled into an indeterminale state,
where solid and liquid lost themselves in each olher.lt was
as ifthe mainland oscillated with waves and pulsations,
and the lake temained rock still. The shore ofthe lake
became the edge oflhe sun, a boiling curve, an explosion
rising inlo a fiery prominence. Matter collapsing into the
lake mirrored in the shape oh spiral. No sense wondering
about classificalions and categories, Ihere were none.
ARer securing a twenty·year lease on the meandering
zone,' and finding a contractor in Ogden, I began building
the jetty in April, 1970. Bob Phillips, the foreman , senl Iwo
dump trucks, a tractor and a large fronl loader out lo the

OOCUMENTS
 site. The lail oflhe spiral began as a diagonalline ofstahs
'" Ihal extended into the meandering l one. A s lring was then
extended from a central stake in orderto gel the coils oflhe
spiral. From the end ofthe diagonalto Ihe centre ofthe
s piral, Ihree curves coiled to the left. Basalt and earth was
scooped up from the bea,h al the beginning orlhe jetty by
the fronl loader, Ihen deposite<! in Ihe trucks, whereupon
Ihe trucks backed up lo the outline of stakes and dumped
the material. On Ihe edge oflhe water, ill the beginningof
the lail, the wheels ofthe Irucks san k into a quagmire of
sticky gumbo mudoA whole afternoon was spent filling in
Ihis spot. Once the trucks passed Ihal problem, Ihere was
always the ehance Ihal Ihe salt crust restillg on the mud
f1ats would break through. The Spira/Jetty was staked oul
in such a way as lo avoid the 50ft ml.lds Ihat broke up
throl.lgh the salt crust, nevertheless there were some ml.ld
fissures that could nol be avoided. One could only hope
that tension would hold the entire ¡eHy together, and itdid.
Acameraman was sent by the Ace Gallery in Los Angeles
to fi lm the process.
The scale ofthe Spira /jetty tends to fluctuate dependo
ing on where the viewer happens to be. Size determines
an object, but scale determines artoA crack in the wall i(
viewed in terms o( scale, not size, could be called the
Grand Canyon. A room could be made to take on the
immensity ofthe solar system. Scale depends on one's
capacity to be conscious ofthe actualities of perception.
I When one refuses to release scale (rom size, one is left
with an object or language tha! appears to be certain. For
me scale operates by uncertainty. To be in the scale ofthe
Sp ira/Jetty is to be oul ofit. On eye level, the tail leads one
into an undifferentiated state of maHer. One's downward
gaze pitches from side to side, picking out random deposi·
tions of salt crystals on the inner and outer edges, while
the entire mass echoes the irregular horizons. And each
cubic salt crystal echces the Spira/Jetty in terms ofthe
crystal's molecular laHice. Growth in a crystal advances
around a dislocation point, in the manner o( a screw. The
SpiralJetty could be considered one layer within the
spiralling crystallaHice, magnified tritlions oftimes.
This description echoes and reflects Brancusi 's skelch
ofJames Joyce as a 'spiral ear' because it suggests both a
visual and an aural scale, in other words il indicates a
sense of scale that resonates in the eye and the ear al the
same time. Here is a reinforcement and prolongation o(
spirals thal reverberates up and down space and time. So
il is thal one ceases to consider art in terms of an 'object'.
The fluctuating resonances reject 'objective criticism',
because that would stifle Ihe generative power ofbolh
visual and auditory scate. Not to say that one resorts to
'subjective concepts', but rather that one apprehends
what is around one's eyes and ears, no maHer how
unstable or fugitive. One seizes the spiral, and the spiral
becomes a seizure.
After a poi ni, measurable steps ('Scale skal n. 11. or L; 11.
Sc% ; Lsc% usually sc%e pI., l. a. originally a ladder; a
flight of stairs; hence, b. a means of ascent") descend from
logic to the 'surd slate'. The ralionality of a grid on a map
sinks into what it is supposed to define. Logical purity
suddenly finds ilselfin a bog, and welcomes the
unexpected evento The 'curved' reality ofsense perceplion
INTEGRA TION
opera tes in and out ofthe 'straight' abstractions ofthe
mind. The flowing mass of rock and earth ofthe Spiro/
Jetty could be Irapped by a grid ofsegments, but the
segments would exist only in Ihe mind or on paperoOf
course, jt is al so possible to Iranslate the mental spiral into
a three·dimensional succession of measured lengths that
would involve areas, volumes, masses, moments,
pressures, forces, stresses and stains; bul in the Spiro/
Jetty the surd takes over and leads one into a world thal
eannot be expressed by number or rationality. Ambiguilies
are admitted ,alher Ihan rejected, contradiction s are
¡ncreased rather than decreased - the alogos undermines
the logos. Purily is pul in jeopardy.1 look mychances on a
perilous path, along which my steps zigzagged,
resembling a spirallighlning boll. 'We have found a
slrange footprinl on the shores ofthe unknown . We have
devised profound theories, one after another, to account
for ils origino At last, we have succeeded in conslructing
the crealure Ihat made the foolprinl. And lo! it is our own'.·
For my film (a film is a spiral made up offrames)1 would
have myselffilmed from a helicopter (from the Greek he/ix,
he/ileos meaning spiral) directly overhead in order lO gel
Ihe seale in lerms o(erralic sleps.
Chemically speaking, our blood is analogo us in
composition lo the primordial seas. Following the spiral
steps we return to our origins, back to sorne pulpy
protoplasm, a floating eye adrift in an anlediluvian ocean.
On the slopes o(Rozel Point I dosed my eyes, and the sun
burned crimson through the lids. I opened them and the
Great Salt Lake was bleeding scadet streaks. My sight was
saturated by the colour of red algae circulating in the heart
ofthe lake, pumping into ruby currents, no they were veins
and arteries sucking up the obscure sediments. My eyes
became combustion chambers churning orbs ofblood
blazing by the light ofthe sun. AII was enveloped in a
flaming chromosphere; 1thought ofJackson Pollock's Eyes
in the Heat (1964; Peggy Guggenheim Collection).
Swirling within the ineandescenee o( solar energy were
sprays ofblood. My moviewould end in sunstroke.
Perception was heaving, the stomach turning, 1was on a
geologic fault that groaned within me. Between heat
lightning and heat exhaustion the spiral curled ¡nto
vaporization. I had the red heaves, while the sun vomited
its corpuscular radiations. Rays of glare hit my eyes wilh
the frequency of a Geiger counter. Surely, the storm douds
massingwould turn into a rain ofblood. Once, when I was
flying overthe lake, its surface seemed lo hold atl the
properties of an unbroken field o( raw meat with gristle
(foam ); no doubt jt was due to some freak wind action .
Eyesight is often slaughtered by the other senses, and
when that happens jt becomes necessary to seek out
dispassionale abstractions. The dizzying spiral yearns for
the aSSurance of geometry. One wants to relreat into the
cool rooms of reason. But no, there was Van Gogh with his
easel on sorne sun·baked lagoon painting ferns ofthe
Carboniferous PeriodoThen the mirage faded into the
burning atmosphere.
FROM THECENTER OFTH f SPIRALJ fTTY
North- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
North by East- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
Northeast by North- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
Northeast by East- Mud, sall crystals, rocks, water
East by North- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
East- Mud, sall crystals, rocks, water
fas1 by South- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
Southeast by East- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
Southeast by South- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
South by Easl- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
South- Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
South by West-Mud, salt crystals, rocks, water
Southwest by South- Mud, sal! crystals, rocks, water
Southwest by West-M ud, salt crystals, rocks, water
West by South- Mud, salt erystals, rocks, water
West- Mud , salt crystals, rocks, waler
West by North-M ud, salt crystals, rocks, water
Northwest by West- Mud , salt crystals, rocks, water
Northwest by North-M ud, salt crystals, rocks, water
North by West-M sall crystals, rocks, water
The helicopter manoeuvred the sun's reflection through
the SpiralJetty until it reached the centre. The water
funct ioned as a vast thermal mirror. From that positjon the
flaming reflection suggested the ion source of a eydotron
that extended into a spiral ofcollapsed matter. AII sense of
energy acceleration expired ¡nto a rippling stillness of
reflected heat. A withering light swallowed the rocky
particles ofthe spiral, as the helicopter gained altitude. AII
existenee seemed tentative and stagnant. The sound of
the helicopter motor became a primal groan echoing into
tenuous aerial views. Was I but a shadow in a plastic
bubble hovering in a place outside mind and body? Et in
Utah ego. 1was slipping out of myself again , dissolving
into a unicellular beginning, trying to locate the nudeus at
Ihe end ofthe spiral. AII thal blood stirring makes one
aware of protoplasmic solutions, the essential matter
between the formed and the unformed , masses of cells
consisting largely of water, proteins, lipoids,
carbohydrates and inorganic salts. Each drop that
splashed onto the SpiralJetty coagulated ¡nto a crystal.
Undulating waters spread millions upon millions of
crystals over the basalt.
The preceding paragraphs referlOa 'scale of centres'
that could be disentangled as follows:
(a) ion source in cyclotron
(b) a nucleus
(e) dislocation point
(d) a wooden stake in the mud
(e) axis ofhelieopter propeller
(f) James ¡oyce's ear channel
(g) the Sun
(h) a hole in the film reeL
Spinning off ofthis uncertain sule of centres would be
an equally uncertain 'scale of edges':
(a) particles
(b) protoplasmic solutions
(e) dizziness
(d) ripples
(e) flashes oflight
(f) sections
(g) footsteps
(h) pink water.
 The equation of my language remains unstable, a
shifting ser of co-ordinates, an arrangement ofvariables
spilling into surds. My equation is as eleat as mud - a
muddy spiral.
Back in N_York , the urban desert, I conbcted Bob
Fiore and Barbara Jarvis and asked them to help me put my
movie together. The movie began as a set of
disconnections, a bramble ofstabilized &agments !aken
from th ings obscure and flu id, ingredients trapped in a
succession offrames, a strearn of viscosíties bolh still and
movíng. And the movie editor, bending over such a chaos
of'takes' resembles a paleontologíst sorting out gl impses
of a world not yet together, a land that has yet to come to
completion, a span oftime unfinished, a spaceless limbo
on sorne spiral reels. Film strips hung frorn the cutter's
rack, bits and pieces ofUtah, out-takes overexposed and
underexposed, masses ofimpenetrable material. The sun,
the spiral, the saft buried in lengths offootage. Everyth ing
about movies and moviemaking is archaic and crude_One
is transporte<! by this Archeozoic medium into the earliest
known geologica l eras. The movieola becornes a 'time
mach ine' that transforms truclc.s into d inosaurs. Fiore
pulled lengths offilm out ofthe movieola with the grace of
a Neanderthal pulling intestines from a slaughtered
mammoth. Outside his 13th StrH1loft window one
expected to see Pleistocene faunas , glacial uplifts , living
foss ils and other prehistoric wonders. like two cavemen
we ploned howtogettotheSp/1/lljettyfrom N_ York
City. A geopolit ics of primordial return ensued. How to get
aaoss the geography ofCondwanaland, the Austral Sea
and AtJantis be:ame a problem. Consciousness ofthe
d istant past absorbed the time that went into the making
ofthe movie. ! needed a map that would show the prehis.
toric world as co-exlensive with the world I existed in.
I found an oval map ofsuch a double world. The
continents ofthe jurassic Period merged with continents
oftoday. A microlens fitted to the end of a camera mounted
on a heavy tripod would trace the course of'absent
images' in the blank spaces oftne map. The camera
panned from right 10 lefl One is liable to see Ihings in
maps that are not there. One must be careful ofthe
hypothetical monsters that lurk between the map's
latitudes; they are des ignated on the map as black cireles
(marine reptiles) and squares (land reptiles). !n the pan
shot one doesn't see the flesh-eaters wa lking through
what today is called Indochina. There is no indication of
Pterodactyls fly ing over Bombay. And where are the corals
and sponges covering southern Cermany? In the
emptiness one sees no Stegosaurus. In the m iddle ofthe
pan we see Europe completely underwater, but not a trace
ofthe Brontosaurus. What line orcolour hides the
Clobigerína Ooze? I don' t know. As the pan ends near
Utah, on the edge of Atlantis, a cut takes place, and we find
outselves looking at a rectangular grid known as Location
NK 12-7 on the borderofa mapdrawn up the US
Ceological Survey showing the northern part ofthe Creat
Salt Lake without any reference lo the Jurassic Periodo
' ... the earth 's history seems at times lilc.e a story recorded
in a book each page of wh ich is lorn inlo small pieces.
Many ofthe pages and some ofthe pieces of each page are
. . ... "
mlsslng follows delus ion. The ghostly cameraman slides o ver the
glassed-in compounds. These fragments of a timeless
I wanted Nancy to shoot 'the earth's hislory' in one minute geology laugh without mirth at the time·fil led hopes of
for the third section ofthe movie. I wanted to tteat the ec010gy. From the soundtrack Iheechoi ng metro nome
aboye quote as a 'fact '. We drove out to the Creal Nolch van ishes inlo the wilderness ofbon es and glass. Trackmg
Quarry in New Jersey, where I found a quarry fating about around a glass containing a 'd inosa ur mumm y', the words
twenty feet high. ! climbed lo the top and threw handfuls of ofThe UnnQmob le are heard. The camera shifts lo a
ripped-up pages from books and magazinesovertheedge, specimen squeezed flat by the weight ofs ediments, then
wh ile Nancy filmed it. Some ripped pages from an Old the film cuts lo the ro ad in Utah.
Atlas blew across a dried out, cracked mud puddle_
'According lo all we know from foss il anatomy that beast
was comparatively harmless. lis only weapons were its
teelh and claws. 1don'l know what those obscene-looking
pouches mean - they don 't show in any foss il remains yet
found . Nor do Iknow whether red is their natural colour, or
whelher it is due to faster decay owing to all the oil having • "
dr ipped down offthem. So much for its supposed
identity." •
•
The movie recapituates the su1e ofthe Sp;ro/jetty.
Disparate elements assume a coherence. Unl ikely places
and th ings were stuck between sections offilm that show a
stretch of d irt road rush ing lO and from the actual site in
Utah. A road that goes forward and backward between
th ings and places thal are elsewhere. You migh! even say
that the road is nowhere in particular. The disjunction
o perating between reality and film drives one into a sense
"
of cosm ic rupture. Nevertheless, all the improbabilities
would accommodate themselves to my cinemalic
universe. Adrift am id scraps offilm, one is unable to infuse
inlo them a ny mea ning, Ihey seem worn-out, oss ified views,
degraded and pointless, yet they are powerful enough to
hurl one into a lucid vertigo. The road takes one from a
telescopic shot ofthe sun lo a quarry in Creat Notch New
Jersey, to a map showing the 'deformed shorelines of •
anclent Lake BonneviUe', to The lost World, and tothe Hall , , ,
ofLate Dinosaurs in American Museum ofNatural History.
The hall was filmed Ihrough a red filler. The camera
focuses on a Ornithominus Altus embedded in plaster
behind a glass case. A pan across the room picked up a
crimson ch iaroscuro tone. There are times when Ihe great
outdoors shrinks phenomenological1y to the scale of a
prison, and times when the indoors expands to the scale of
the universe_So il is with the sequence from the Hall of
Late Dinosaurs. An interior immensity spreads
throughout Ihe hall, ttansforming Ihe lightbulbs into dy ing ,
suns. The red filter d issolves the floor, ceiling and walls •
into ha1ations ofinfinite redness. Boundless desolation •
emerged from Ihe clnematic emulsions, red elouds, • • •
burned from Ihe intangible light beyond the windows , •
visibility deepened into ruby dispersions. The bones, the
glass cases, Ihe armatUtes brought forth a blood-drenched
atmosphere. Blindly the camera stalked through the 5ullen •
ligllt. Classy reflections flashed inlo dissolutions like •
powdered blood. Under a burning window the skull of a •
Tyrannosaurus was mounted in a glass case with a mirror •
under skull. ln thislimitless scale one's mind imagines
th¡ngs that are not there. The blood-soaked dropp ing of a , •
sick Duck-Billed Dinosaur, for insbnce. Roning monster
flesh covered with millions of red spiders. Delusion
OOCUME N TS
'" 1 '1 - a hydraulic system for flushing waste. Since the
eompany required a new pond anyway, and s ince
lived there. The area is rich in flint , much prized by the
Indians, who so ught, worke<! and traded il widely. The
• , f m I t Ld'.e 01

nut!eee , tart Smithson's earthwork could cost very little more, his ideas remains of a pre-Columbian Irading kiva exist 12 miles
f r tn WMt t aroused their interesl. ln his proposal for Toilings Pond, (19 km) soulh ofthe Amorillo Romp on the bank ofthe
Smilhson envisaged a work that would continuously Canadian River ( ... ] The area was eo nsidered unsuitable
progress over twenly.five years or so. Sorne 9,000,000 for white seulement unlil the 1880s, when Ihe railway line

. "'
, "nq nI 'e dI'"' t nI fu) a

tons (9,180,000 tonnes) oftailings would complete Ihe was buil!. The opening ofthe area for ranching
ti "fi H nd T n earthwork, to have been approximalely 2,000 feet (610 m) immediately attracted speculative international capital,
•
in diameter. Smithson allowed for an overflow ifthe principally Englis h and ScoUish, and settlement ofthe
,.
1 w ti r O"flfig h wd I r

, • f, . ," projected quantity oflailings exceeded ex pectation s by area by whiles began in earnest.

'r'., •
. " r nene In ,
d; ny ,
extending the design lo accommadate the excess tailings
into another half·section ( ... ]
I'm told that when the first ranchers came, Ihe buffalo
grass sup ported a greater number of catlle. 1I is a natural
• 1)1 t ro 1 Afier Iwo years ofsite selections, fund raising, and s pecies ofthe dry plains easl ofthe Rocky Mountains, a
pd 'ured A! T e ti 1 ( b".n 00 ea fl eH inevitable cancellations, his proposal for the construction tender protein-rich grass, the foed ofthe great herds of
, ,
., "
•
ofToi'ings Pond realized al last Smithson's vision of an art
Iha! mediated between Ihe industrial technological
buffalo wandering the prairies, and requires no artificial
fertilization. Unlike other ranching operalions whieh must
Pamphlet ! H • r J. 11 'y, Q49 processes al work within the landscape. II confirmed his grow feed, the Amarillo ranchers were blessed wilh a

• "n p N ,t 'dflge Ii ¡ • idea that the artist could become a functional worker natural food sourceJor their catlle. Continual overgrazing
I the ,al a within society; and making an art that restored lo Ihe systematicall y depleted Ihe grass. Now the grass is
common man his sense of place in Ihe world. cropped short and laced with mesquite, yucca and olher
ttóndlj't The Amorillo Romp, however, came into existence by noxious weeds that got a toehold from seeds in the
BeQnngdt nt u h
"
theN'H"! f e ' on l. 8 N"'. chance. Smithson and his wife, Nancy Holt, visited Creede droppings ofthe first catlle driven into Ihe area.
lIe 1: II lo work out the final design for Toilings Pond, but actual Although at first it seems impossibly desolate, the
tu .1. T 6';1 f"et hen e', n" 4' El fec \nen e work on the project was delayed for a few more months. AII Amarillo area is a dynamic center of agribusiness, a
Ihe abortive attempts over the preceding two years to central geographic location where cattle, grain and rail
, , , ,
.
D rt f make a piece had lefl: Smithson wi lh a sense of repressed transportation come togelher. Now, only ninety years afier

" " t and contained energy that needed unleashing. While the opening ofthe Fort Worth and Denver City Railway,
passing time in New Mexico they met a friend, Tony what was formerly considered unusable desert has
r uy f t.- A r di nqu Shafrazi, who told of a raneh with desert lakes he was become one ofthe beeflockers ofthe world.

, ., dd
d ,

gl
wor
l[,)n
P

p
h

n N'lmDe
Q' ,

th
about lo visit in the Texas Panhandle. The Ihought of
desert lakes teased Smithson's imagination lo such an
The Marsh Ranch straddles a primeval watershed
(probably a lake or sea hottom at one time) covered by a

h d H. •
lO!. D ubledal"

, ., r
, ,
extent Ihat he and Holt decided to go along.
The Marsh Ranch is aboul 15 miles (24 km) northwesl
re<! rock of compressed elay. Nowadays, water flows down
through this watershed into Tecovas Creek, which feeds

8
/Iv
neo Toe

O
'O

,t
Ne" York, R

,
a

.. •

%3, ,
1
of Amarillo township, silualed near the rim ofthe Bush
Dome, a gianl underground cavem deep in Ihe earth, used
to supply Ihe Western world's readily available supply of
into Ihe Canadian River ahout 12 miles (19 km) north ofthe
ranch, and then inlo the Mississippi. At the flood point of
the Tecovas Creek, just beyond Tecovas Lake, which is a
Roben m ti o, ·TI r e,. IIr helium gas. The rich helium source, found in the Texas gas man-made dam, the action ofthe water has gouged a
n n. d. N , , lt,rr fields near Amarillo afl:er World War 1, was the first lapped deep, twisted rocky canyon.
on , " locally; then as other fields were opened in Ihe Texas The dam that forms Tecovas Lake was built in the early
.
p 14] ot>e

IIr' 1}5, d, •
, , ," Panhandle, Oklahoma, and Kansas, helium gas was piped
lo Ihe Bush Dome, processed and stored there. Helium ¡s
a ' noble' gas, one that will not react chemieally with other
gases or bum, and one crucial to the space programme
John COPLANS since it is used to mainlain pressure in rocket fuellanks.
Other Ihan a small, heavily fence<!, and quite
The Amarillo Ramp [1974) anonymous industrial processing unil nearby,lhere is
little evidence ofi15 presence near the ranch. U is typical of
[ ... ] Smithson's overriding (oncern , especially in the last the area Ihal until one has probed around, it is hard lo
two yeilrs ofhis life, was to propagate his art as 'a resource grasp Ihe extraordinary evolulionary process the
that mediates between ecology and industry'. He visited surrounding land has undergone, especially in recen! time
severalstrip mines, and negotiated for earthworks which - a qualily thal fascinaled Smithson .
he argued would be ways of reclaiming the land in terms of This part ofTexas, east of a line drawn from Amarillo lo
arto He wrole lo numerous mining companies, especially New Mexico, appears on early maps as the Greal
those engaged in strip mining, reminding them that 'the American Desert, and the Panhandle (which, in fact, is Ihe
miner who cuts into the land can either cuhivale or northern part ofTexas) is still called West Texas, a re·
devastate it'. Through a Wall Street friend, he finally minder that geographically it was considere<! with in the
contacted a receptive mining company. They were arid Western frontier. The Indians have in habite<! tfte area
enthusiastic ahout his proposal for a 'tailings' earthwork at for thousands of years, beginning with the archaic Plains
a mine in Creede, Colorado. At this mine, vast quantities of Indians. Until Ihe last quarter ofthe nineteenlh centu ry,
rock are broken up, subjected to a chemical process to when Ihey were eleared out by Ihe US Cavalry in one ofthe
extract the ore, and the residue washed inlotailings ponds lasl aclions against Indians, the nomadic Comanches
sixties. Since then it has been sitted some thirty to forty per
cent with fine red elay. Before Ihe dam was emplied for the
building of Amorjllo Romp, the water level was roughly
8 feet (244 cm). The dam is part of a unique i"igation
system called Ihe Keyline, the first ofits kind buill in the
Westem hemisphere. Pioneered by a visionary Australian,
P.A. Yeomans, Ihe system is based on the local control and
development ofland and water resources. Large dams can
cost enormous sums of money, and the feeder canals and
pumping syslems necessary lo distribute the water can be
equally expensive. By contrasl, Ihe Keyline system ulilizes
every drop of water where il falls. Rainwater usually runs
offthe land faster than Ihe soil can absorb ¡I, and is
consequently wasted. Yeomans' plan doctors the land in
such a way that water is conserved as dose to Ihe water-
shed as possible. At the Marsh Ranch Ihe water running
down the watershed is dammed, pumped to a ridge 80 feet
(24 m) ahove, fedthrough 5 miles (8 km) of ditch to a lake,
Ihen conducte<! by gravity downhill, point by point overthe
surfaee ofthe 'ando The land is plowe<! to get an even
coverage from the water. The sparse rainfatl of zo inches
(SI cm) ayear is utilized tot he maximum.1 think whal

INTEGR ATlON
interested Smithson was the wonderful simplicity ofthe
system. the manner in which it so e<:onomically employs
smaller and smaller systems lo overcome Ihe aridity ofthe
area.
After Smilhson saw Tecovas Lake, he was abre to
convince Stanley Marsh lO lel him build an earthwork.
Marsh hired aplane 50 Smithson could take aerial
photographs lo chart Ihe lake's position and size.
Smithson went up in the plane, photographed the lake
and made sorne drawings. laler, he and Holl waded into
the lake and staked out a pie<:e, but Srnithson rejected this
plan and began aga in. A second proposal, for a work aboul
250 feet (76 m) in diameter, was dismissed because he felt
it displaced too much oflhe area ofthe lake. He reduced it
to 150 feet (46 m). Arter th is third proposal was staked out,
Marsh hired Ihe same aircraft to view Ihe staked·oul piece
from the airo On 20 July 1973, the plane was flying low over
the site when it stalled and dived into the ground, killing
everyone on board.
Soon aRer Smithson's death Holt thoughl Ihal the
piece should be built. Shortly after her return to New York,
she saw Richard Serra, who had witnessed part ofthe
construction ofSpira/Jetty. He broughl up the subject of
finishing Amarillo Ramp and volunteered his help. After
the funeral, he reminded Holt ofhis offer, and she made
the de<:ision lo return immedialely and finish the
earthwo,k with Serra and Tony Shaf,azi.
1I took about three weeks for the Amarillo Ramp lo be
built.1 know objections will be voiced as to whether it
really is a pie<:e by Smithson, and whether during the
process ofbuilding, Sm ithson would not have altered his
plan. Bul HolI attended all Ihe initial planning. She worked
with him on many ofhis projects , and Smithson discussed
wilh her Ihe final shape oflhe Amarilla Ramp in great
deUil, induding the use and piling ofthe rack from the
nearby quarry, from which he had decided to draw
material. Smithson leA: specific drawings giving the size,
gradation oflhe slope, and the staked-out shape ofthe
pie<:e in the water. lt musl be remembered, loo, Ihal
Smithson never visualized the final design of any work as
completely predetermined. The workers who built the
SpiralJetty were not just hired hands; they offered their
own suggestions as 10 how the machines and materials
could be employed to realize Smithson's temperament.
When Holt, Serra and Shafrazi a"ived in Texas, they
found that the water level oflhe Te<:ovas lake had ,isen,
and the stakes were almost covered. Their first problem
was how to begin 10 work. They could not find the drain lo
the dam which they knew existed, even though they
searched for hours in the muddy water. To pump the lake
dry would have taken three weeks, so they cut the dike and
emptied the lake, accord ing lO Serra's report, completely
changing the place. The mud lay several feel deep, like a
quagmire. The lake bed quickly became covered with
crabs, crayfish, and sand·dabs dy ing in the sun.
You come across the Amarillo Ramp suddenly. You drive
across the ranch following a track that meanders
according to slight changes in the topography for the
landscape, which is rolling, yucca,sludded prairie. You
don't realize that you are on a plateau , about 90 or so
vertical feet (27 m) aboye the lowest level ofthe land , until
you hit the edge ofthe bluffthat slopes firsl sharply, and
then gently down to Tecovas lake. There below, beached
like something tnat has drifted in , is the earthwork. The
curve ofthe shape repeats the rhythm ofthe edges oflhe
lake and the surrounding low valley. As you walk down the
slope toward it, there is a point - about three-quarters of
the way down - when the higher part ofthe ramp slices
across the horizon, after which the sides 100m up vertically
to block the horizon. From Ihe lop oftne bluff(an upper
sighting platform) the earthwork is planar; it gradually
becomes elevational on approach, but you don ' t really
sense or grasp the verticatity ofthe pie<:e until you are
dose, at the very bottom ofthe indine and about to climb
the rampo
Seen from aboye, it is a circle; as you climb, it becomes
an indined roadway. Walking up the slope ofthe ramp, you
look up-valley, far offtoward low, flal hills; as you negotiate
the curve and reach the topmosl part, you look down·
valley, across Ihe dike, to the land below Ihal gathers into
the canyon beyond. The top is also a sighting platform
from which lo view Ihe whole landscape 360 degrees.
Return ing down the earthwork, you retrace your footsteps ,
going past your own past, and at the same lime you see the
makings ofthe earthwork, the construction ofthe
construction: Ihe quarry in the nearby hillside from which
the rocks were excavated; Ihe roadway lO the earthwork
along which Ihey were transported ; the tracks oflhe earth·
moving equipment; the tops of wooden stakes with
orange·painted tips Ihal delineated the shape still slicking
out here and there; and Ihe slope ofthe ramp shaped by
the piled red shale and white caliche rack. An acute sense
oftemporality, a chronometric experience of movemenl
and time, pervades one's expe,ience ofthe interior ofthe
earthwork. And something else, too, in walking back and
looking down loward Ihe inside, you are intensely aware of
the concentric shape thal holds its form by compression,
heavy rock densely piled and impacted. Stepping offthe
earthwork, one has a sense of relieffrom pressure,
stepping back inlo the norma l world's time and space,
and even a sense ofloss . The piece then , is not jusi aboul
centring Ihe viewer in a specific place, but also about
elevaling and sharpening perceplion through locomotion.
The Amorillo Ramp is mule until enlered. And it is only
later, when you return to the top ofthe bluff, and look
back, thal you realize how carefully it has been sited,
how on firsl seeing Ihe earthwork from aboye, in plan,
everything is revealed by predestination . Once on the
bluff again, you are rem inded Ihal even if you think you
know the patter ofthe world , you slill have to move
through it to experience life. Thus to think ofthe Amarillo
Ramp in traditional terms, as an object or sculplure
dislocaled from its surroundings, is lo view it abstractly,
to strip it oflhe existential qualities wilh which it is
endowed [ ... [
, as the material allows. llike to work with il so that you feel
'19
James TURRELL
Roden Crater [1993]
[ ... ]Ifyou stand on an open plain you will not ice that Ihe
sky is nol limitless and it has a definable shape and a sense
of enclosure, wh ich is referred lo as celestial vaulting. If
you lie down the shape changes. Clearly, these limits are
mal1eable.1 looked for a hemispherically.shaped, d is hed
space, between 400 and 1 ,000 feel aboye a plain, in order
lo work with the limits oflhe space ofthe sky. The plain
would provide the opportun ity for celestial vaulting. The
dish shape would effect changes in the perception ofthe
size and shape ofthe sky. The height aboye the p la in was
important so Ihal Ihe slight qual ity of concave curvature lo
the earth experienced by pilots at low altitudes would
increase the sense of celestial vaulting after you emerged
from the crater space. I also wanted a high.altitude site so
tha! Ihe sky would be a deeper blue, which would ¡ncrease
a sen se of close·in celestial vaulting from the bottom ofthe
crater.
r f1ew all the Weslern sta les looking for asile [ ... 11 did
not want the work to be a mark upon nature, bul 1wanted
the work lo be enfolded in nature in such a way that lighl
from the sun , moon and stars empowered the spaces .
Usually art is taken from nature by painting or
photography and then brought back lo culture through the
museum. I wanted to bring culture to the natural surround
as if one was designing a garden or tend ing a landscape. 1
wanled an area where you had a sense of standing on the
planet. 1wanled an area of exposed geology like the Crand
Canyon or the Painted Desert, where you could feel
geologic time. Then in this stage set of geologic time, 1
wanted to make spaces that engaged celestial events in
lighl so thal Ihe spaces performed a ' music oflhe spheres'
in lighl. The sequence of spaces, leading up to the final
large space at Ihe top oflhe craler, magnifies events. The
work I do intensifie s the experience oflight by isolating jt
and ocduding !lghl from events not looked al. 1 have
selected different portions of sky and a limited number of
events for each ofthe spaces. This is the reason for the
la rge number of spaces. Each space essenlially looks lO a
differenl portion of sky and accepts a limited number of
events [ ... ]
James TURRELL
Mapping Spaces [1987]
light is a powerful substance. We have a primal
connection to il. Bul, for something so powerful ,
situations for its felt presence are fragile. 1form il as much
jI physically, so you feel the presence oflight inhabiting a
space. Ilike the quality offeeling that is felt not only with
Ihe eyes . It's always a little bil suspect to look al something
really beautifullike an experience in nature and want to
OOCUMENTS
220 make il arto My desire i5 lo se! up a situalion lo which 1take
you and let you see. 1I Decomes your experience. I am
doing Ihal al Roden Crater. It's nol taking {rom nature as
mueh as pladng you in contact with ¡l.
Jam . 'Roden rater', T"rre . , The
Andy GOLDSWORTHY
Stone [1994]
Fixed ideas prevent me from seeing clearly. My art makes
me see again what is Ihere, and in Ihi5 respect I am also
rediscovering the child within me. In the past 1have felt
uncomfortable when my work has been ilssociated with
children because oflhe implication Ihal what I do is merely
play. Since having children of my own, however, and
seeing the intensity with which Ihey discover through play,
I have to acknowledge this in my work as weU.
I had lo forget my idea of nature and learn again that stone
is hard and in so doing found that it is 01150 soft. ! tore
leaves, broke stones, cut feathers ... in orderto go beyond
appearances and touch on something ofthe essence. !
would often start by clearing a space in which to work and
put things - place was as closely cropped as the material.
I cannot disconnect materials as 1used to. My strongest
work now is so rooted in place that jt cannot be separated
from where it is mOlde - the work is the place. Atmosphere
and feeling now direct me more than the picking up of a
leaf, stick, stone ...
1nevita bly materials a nd places gather associations a nd
meanings as my work develops, but in ways that draw me
deeper into nature rather than distracting me from it. What
1could previously see only by working close up is now also
visibleto me from a distance. ! now want to understand
the untorn leaf, the unbroken stone, the uncut feather, the
uncleared space ... and to perceive all materials as the
same energy revealed differently.
1am no longercontent simply to make objectsj instead of
placing works upon a stone, I am drawn to the stone itself.
t want to eJO:plore the space within and around the stone
through a touch that is a brief moment in its rife. A long
resting stone is not an object in the landscape but a deeply
ingrained witness to time and a focus of energy for its
surroundings.
My work does not lay claim to the stone and is soon shed
like a fall of snow, becoming another layer in the many
layers of rain, snow, leaves and animals that have mOlde a
stone rich in the place where it sits.
Although I occasionally work in wildernesses, it is the
areas where people live and work that draw me mostoI do
not need to be the first oronly per50n in a place. That no-
one has gone before me would be a reason for me not to go
there and I usually feel such places are best left.
INTE GRATl ON
! am drawn to wildness but do not have to be in a
wilderness to find it. If much of my work appears to be
made in such places it is because 1find wildness in what is
often considered commonplace. Going to othercountries
is interesting but not essential to my arto Most (if not 0111)
that I need can be found within walking distance of my
home. When travelling ! regret the loss of a sense of
change. 1seedifferences not changes. Change is best
eJO:perienced by staying in one place. 1travel because 1am
invited and accept this just as ! do ice when it's freezing
and leaves in autumn. The choice of where to work;s never
entirely within my control.
I am not a great traveller and when abroad 1willsettle into
a daily routine of going back and forth to work in the same
place. Even in the vast Australian outback 1worked mainly
in one afea of a small hill. I returned there on my second
visit and would be happy to go there for a third.
I revisit sorne stones, 0151 do places, many times over. Each
work teaches me a new aspect ofthe stone's character. A
stone is one and many stones at the same time - jt
changes from day to day, season to season.
Ido not simply cover rocks. I need to understand the
nature that is in 0111 things. Stone is wood, water, earth,
grass ... 1am interested in the binding oftime in materials
and places that reveals the stone in a f10wer and the f10wer
in a stone.
It is difficult for a sculptor to work with petals, f10wers and
leaves because oftheir decorative associations. 1can not
understand nature without knowing both the stone and
the Aower. I work with each as they are - powerful in their
own ways - the f1esh and bones of nature.
1feel the Sol me about colour. Colour for me is not pretty or
decorative - it is raw with energy. Nor does it rest on the
surface. I eJO:plore the colour within and around arock -
colour is form and space. It does not lie passively or flat. At
best it reaches deep into nature - drawing on the unseen-
touching the living rock - revealing the energy inside.
Andy G ·5tonp·. ;¡one. Abrams. Ne .. Vor_;
Doris BLOOM and William
KENTRIDGE
Heart and Gate [1995]
The manifestation ofthe project sets off a dialogue which
is the very content ofthe work. It is a dialogue which is not
about anything specific, not about any special common
past although there are of course myriads of references
everywhere to the artists' origins and life trajectories. To
their childhood and growing up, from smells to values,
from habits to momentous eJO:periences. 1I is a dialogue
alone as a mOl rker of a kind oflife principal, a n apoliticallife
principie with political consequences. Especially iftread
upon . Dialogue is thus nol an ideological concept. It is a
concept which belongs to the f10wing and uncompleted
life and as such is on the side of openness and freedom .
People are moved by dimension, they are brought
together by something which seemslarger than
themselves, even incomprehensible. It is precisely this
kind of movement which precisely land Art has the
capacity to create as geme, ifone can use the word. Land
•
Art lifts the work out ofthe realm ofthe personal and out of
the magic circle ofthe individual artist·destiny and turns it
into a space, a context, a wOrld which one cannot say is the
private individual's inner sphere. Land Art js to a radical
degree an art of exteriority. It marks the world as an
extended field expending its energies in the marking ofthe
world rather than in the communication of a personal or
private truth.ln the simple sense ofthe word, Land Art
brings our attention back to the world.
The two Land A,rt projects, Heart and Gate, can be seen
in photographic representation. They are a kind of
documentation of ceremonial beginning and serve to
dramatise the meeting oftwo artists.
Don Bloom W\ll Kentridge. '/Iurt GHe· .
arthts'
Sidney TILLlM
Earthworks and the New
Picturesque [1968]
In 1964 Oonald )udd wrote that conventional media and
the canvas rectangle were no longer adequate for a
contemporary expression and called for an art with 'the
specificity and power of actual materials, actual colour,
actual space'. The recently concluded exhibition of
earthworks at the Dwan Gallery in New York brings to a
climaJO: the subsequent involvement with 'actual' media in
recent arto The earthworks were just that - works made
either with actual soil or by marking lines, digging holes
and cutting rings on and into selected portions ofthe
earth's surface (il1ustrated in the exhibition by
photographs ofthe various sites). Never has it been
clearer that anything can be an artistic medium, as long as
it is used literally ratherthan symbolically. At the same
time, in the light of all th is, rarely has the future of
Modernism seemed more problematical.
Earthworks represent a speciat and conceptual
involvement with literal nature and it is not an accident
that almost every artist in the show exhibited 'mini mal' 3rt
in seasons pasto Either passages oflandscape are turned
into art, or object.art is turned into a kind oflandscape, or
object and landscape are combined in a way that is both
aesthetic and atavistic. Dennis Oppenheim proposes to
mow rings up to ten miles wide in the wheat fields
surrounding an active volcano in Ecuador next July,
whereas Robert Morris assembtes, in a gallery, and for one
time, a compost ofdark soll, a profusion of pipes, lengths
offelt and a gelatinous mass ofthick industrial grease.
Othervarieties ofthe literalist landscape experience,
either illustrilted or actually shown in the exhibition,
 ,
THEN,ARRIVEATAMOMENTWHEN

IS ATTHE LOWEST ESS IN ITS

OF MODERNISM AS A WHOLE.
 m ¡ndude Ihe vas! parallellines drawn across a Western
wasteland by Walter De Maria, and a gallery in Munich
with wall-to-wall dirt, also by De Maria. Rough-hewn
blocks of wood by Carl Andre were illuslrated snaking
through rores! underbrush; Michael Heizer dug sli!
trenches in forests and sun-baked mud f1ats. (raes
Oldenburg showed sorne dirt in a plastic container; the
dirt was said lo be seeded with worms. rhe hole he had
dug and filled up again behind the Melropolitan Museum
of Art was presented on film.
Whall think is ¡nvolved in Earth Art in particularand
actual media art in general is a twentieth-century lIersion
ofthe picturesque. The picturesque was a theory of
landscape tha! emerged in the late eighteenth and early
nineteenth centuries, especially in England. As the word
itselfimplies, the picturesque referred lo landscape seen
in an essentially pictorial way. Landscapes were judged for
Iheir pictorial beauties and the same effects in painting
were highly praised.ln other wo rds il was a way of seeing
nalure and the setting was very importanl. An extensive
body oflilerature descri bin g and illustrating pictu resque
loun carne inlo being.
I
Minimalist art is likewise dependent on setting.
IS
Whether ofthe technological and hard.edged sort, or the
geological and much softer kind, minimalist art is a form of
man·made nature or nature made over by manoIt does not
present objects with art on them but useless artifacts thal
create a setting rather than a space. The relationship, then,
belween an observer of minimalist art, or a minimalisl
object·scape, call it, is analogous to the relationship
between the cultivated man oftaste and his picturesque
view. It was this qua lity which provoked Michael Fried lo
describe mi nimalist or, a s he called it, literalist, scu Ipture,
pejoralively as ' Ihealrical'. For in Ihe Ihealrical work the
observer is no longer outside ofthe work of art but is
instead a part ofits setting. The work thus ' performs' for
theobserver. Sorne minimalist sites can only be
appreciated from the ai roOn the other hand, Robert
Smilhson virtually parodied the modern picturesque when
he visited the ' monuments' ofPassaic, carrying his
Inslamalic camera like Ihe older connoisseur carried a
sketchbook, perhaps. And like him, Smithson wrote up his
tour and illustrated it with photographs - of a factory
building, sand pits, drainage pipes and the eIDuvia of
industrialism generally.
As in the earlier and original picturesque, the values of
judging and choosing 'sites', or 'Non·sites' (as Smithson
calls his gallery objects), or the style in wh ich a landscape
is made over, derive enlirely from arto A thorough
knowledge of modernist art' is therefore a prerequisite for
the refinement actually involved in the literalisl
picturesque. For instance, qualities of shape and
composition or non-composition derive from specifieally
abstract precedents. Thus some are purely planar and/or
linear (Heizer's earth rings, De Maria's lines) , sorne are
Pop (Smithson's bins of rocks and photographs, his trip to
Passaic, 01denburg's hole in Cenlral Park), olhers are
virtually abstract expressionist in a conceptualized way
(Morris' dirt pile). Earthworks were limited lo works
involving the earth, bul Ihe media aesthetic is not limited
to a geological palette and other artists are working in
I NTEGR ATt ON
olher media which interpolate a correspond ing landscape
oftactility. And mueh ofit combines both soft and hard
componenls to recapitulate the basie formal dichotomy
(edge versus mass) at the root of aU art since the very
moment, in fact, when the cult ofthe p icturesque began to
tlourish. Consequently, it is further confirmation of my
analogy that Minimalism has resulted in a body of
theoretical wriling comparable to that produced by Ihe
proselytizers and theorists ofthe original picturesque.
Bul the picturesque was more than just a theory of
landscape in nature and arto It was a cruci¡1 episode in Ihe
history oftaste. Less than s ublime, yel seeking a surrogate
for Ihe ideal, it signalled, by v¡rtue ofits resultant
sentimenlality, Ihe end ofthe ideals ofhigh arto II
substituted the sentimenlal for nobility offeeling and
developed the cult of nature as an antidote to the excessive
sophislication of cultivaled society. Al Ihe same time it
was an affectation ofculti vated taste at its most refined. Its
ineipient morbidity matured finaUy with the complete
failure of scale in the early nineleenlh cenlury (nol even
Romanticism could save monumentality; realism was
inimical to it and lo the rise ofVictorianism).
As the twenlieth-century form ofthe picturesque,
earthworks signify an analogous degree ofover-cultivation
oflhe modernist idiom. And il implements the condition of
over-refinement in the course ofseeking to renew
Modernism by ¡ direct involvement with 'actual' media , an
involvement that has fun the gamut from wood, metal,
plastics, the enlire industrial process and now eommon
dirt. II thus I¡nks up with Pop Art as a kind of precious
primitivism seeking revitalization through willful banality.
And like Pop Art, il is effective only in so far as il confirms
the stylistic att(ition it seeks to re verse.
We can understand now why formalists restrict Ihe
possibility of qualily to an increasingly narrow sector of arto
As more and more art defects from what formalists
consider rigorous historical self-criticism, as more and
more artists substitute their own historieal·theoretical
definitions of modernist art hislOry, Ihe fewer the oplions
for a preponderantly formalist solution to problems of
conlemporary slyle. Thus Ihe intensity ofthe formalist
position increases to the degree that its conception of
quality is isolated in an art culture that has turned to other
means, including the extravagant ones in earthworks, for
solutions to problems of contemporary style. Clement
Greenberg, Ihe principal form¡list critic of modern limes,
was aware ofthe signific¡nce of growing unrest in
Modernism when he concluded something of a defense of
abstract art in 1964 in an article, 'The of Abstract
Art', in euriously eautious, even anticipatory terms.
Rejecting nolions of a 'crisis', he claimed colour painling
as the successor to painterly abstraction. Then he
terminated his article as follows:
'An unexplored realm of picture.making is being
opened up - in a quarter where young apes cannot
follow - that promises to be large enough to
accommodate at least one more generalion of major
painters.'
'Al le¡st one more generalion': a modest, almost
chastened claim, as ifGreenberg here senses thal the
fabrie ofModernism is wearing thin. And now, even the
best modernist abstraction is nol immune from the
delieacy th¡t is robbing Modernism ofits power.
Earthworks, then, arrive at a moment when Modernism is
at the lowest ebb in its history, and is therefore implicated
in, indeed signals, the weakness ofModernism as a whole.
An extreme is too much, and that by definition . It is
possible only through an oversimplication of alternalives
and an utterdependenceon the oneth¡1 is chosen. This is
•
necessary in revolution, bul when evolution has
assimilated revolulion, extremism becomes a form of
sentimentalily. ln minima!ist sculpture, this h¡s led lo an
exaggeration ofbeliefin one aspect of art - the medium-
and il furthermore holds Ihat every medium has inherent
properties which determine the s hape ofthe entire work.
Yet it is impossible not to impose on a medium. Ifwe do
not attempt lo conlrol it through, say, s hape, we still say
where the shape will happen. Thus Minimalism affects an
abseneeof conlrivanee when in practice it is all
•
conlrivance, brutal and exquisite at the same time.
On the other hand, the sentimental is a solution and
has it s pleasures.lt is the only way lo solve ¡ certain kind of
problem. Minimalists seek a complex lack of complexity, a
monumentality without parts and a 'natural' selection of
forms . Thus, from the didactic side ofMinimalism we can
learn a great deal about the problem of shape, colour and
seale in post·colour arto From its unconscious orconscious
¡ffinity with ¡rchitecture - and the landscapists among
the minimalists are neo-Gothlc type visionaries - we learn
of an exeeptional des ire for a consanguinity of art and
architecture, of architecture and nature, a desire that is not
only social, but ultimately moral . In any event, it is
significantly mysterious, involved somehow in a yearning
for a ritual impulse which whole societies once
experieneed in common. But recovery is imposs ible
unless one has models to remind one of what has been
lost. Because Minimalism rejects the past, it can only
illustrale Ihe impulse through a medium which becomes a
surrogate for representation.
•
everyning e Out )f th
d' y T '''. 'Earlhor, and lhe P, 'uresQüe·.
 The texts included here expa nd on ea rly investi ga-

tions of the landscape , often dovetailing larger philosophical questions with

specific analyses of artistic practice. 'Certain art is now using as its beginning and

as its means. stuff, substances in many states - from chunks. to pa rticles, to

slime. to whatever - and pre-thought images are neither necessa ry nor possible'.

writes Robert Morris in his 'Notes on Sculpture' . 'Alongsi de this approach is

change. contingency, indeterminacy', he continues, 'in short, the entire area of

process. Ends and means are brought together in a way that never exi sted before

in art'. Whether orchestrating existing elements in a landscape , introduci ng new

non-indigenous products into il. or taking elements from the land into th e gallery.

the kinds of art-making described and implied by the texts in this groupi ng are

involved in exploring altitudes to formo material and process. They rep resent a

radical opening out of the object of art and its relation to both vi ewer and space.

Michael FRIED
Art and Objeclhood [1967]
( ... ) I am suggesting, then, that a kind oflatent or hidden
naturilllism , indeed anthropomorphism, líes at the core of
literalist theory and practice. The concept of presence al!
bu! says as mueh, though rarely so nakedly as in Tony
Smith's statement, '1didn't think ofthem [Le., the
sculplures he made) as sculptures but as
presences of iI son'. The latency or hiddenness ofthe
anthropomorphism has been such that the literalists
themselves have, as we have seen, felt free lo characterize
the modernist art they oppose, e.g" the sculpture ofOavid
Smith and Anlhony Caro, as anthropomorphic - a
characterization whose leelh, imaginary lo begin with,
have just been putloo. By the same token, however, what is
wrong with literalist work is not that it is anthropomorphic
bu! tha! the meaning and, equally, t he hiddenness ofits
anthropomorphism are incurably theatrical. (Not all
literalist art hides or m asks its anthropomorp hism; the
work oflesserfigures like Stei ner wears it on its sleeve.)
The cruciol distinction thot 10m propos;ng so for is
between wo rk rh ot isfundomen to/ly t heot rico/ ond work
t hot is not. It is t heatrica lity which, whateverth e
differences between Ihem , links artisls like Bladen and
Grosvenor, both of whom have allowed ' gigantic scale [to
become) the 10adOO term' (Morris), with olher, more
restrained figures like Judd, Morris, Andre, McCracken,
LeWitt and - despile the size of some ofhis pieces - Tony
Smith : And il is in the interest, Ihough nol explicitl y in Ihe
nome , oftheatre that lileralist ideology rejects bolh
modernist painting and, al leasl in the hands ofits mos!
distinguished recent practitioners, modernist sculpture.
In Ihis conneetion Tony Smilh's description of a ca,
ride taken at night on the New Jersey Turnpike before it
was finished makes compelling reading:
'When I was leaching al Cooper Union in Ihe firsl year
or Iwo ofthe 1950s, someone told me how 1could get on to
Ihe unfinished New Jersey Turnpike. 1took three sludents
and drove from somewhere in the Meadows lo New
Brunswick. It was a dark nighl and Ihere were no lights or
shoulder ma rke rs, lines, railings or anything al all excepl
the dark pavement moving through the landscape ofthe
fla ts, rimmed by hills in Ihe distance, but punctuated by
stacks, towers, fumes and coloured lighls. This drive was a
revealing experience. The road and much ofthe landscape
was artificial, and yel il couldn't be callOO a work of art. On
the other hand, il did something for me Ihal art had never
d one. Al firsl I didn't know what it was, but its effect was to
liberate me from many oft he views I had had about art. It
seemed Ihat there had been a reality there which had nol
had any express ion in art.
'The experience on the road was something mapped
out bul nol socially recognized. I thoughl lo myself, il
ought to be clear Ihat's the end of art. Most painting looks
pretty pictorial after Ihal. There is no way you can frame it,
you just have to experience il. Later, 1discovered some
abandoned airstrips in Europe - abandoned works,
surrealist landscapes, something that had nolhing lo do
wi th any funetion , crealed worlds wilhoul tradition.
Artificial landscape wilhout cultural precedent began to
dawn on me. There is adrill ground in Nuremberg large
enough to accommodale two million men. The entire field
is enclosed with high embankmenls and lowers. The
concrete approach is Ihree 16·inch (41 cm) steps, one
above the olher, stretching for a mile or so'.
Whal seems to have been revealed to Smith Ihal night
was Ihe pictorial nalure of painling -even, one might say,
the conventional nature of art. And th ;s Smilh seems to
have understood, not as laying bare Ihe essence of art, but
as announcing ils end.ln comparison with the unmarked ,
unlit, all but unstructured turnpike - more precisely, wilh
the turnpike as experienced from wilhin the car, travelling
on il - art appears to have struck Smith as almost absurdly
small ('AII art loday is an art of poslage slamps', he has
said), circumscribed, conventional ... There was, he seems

OOCUMENTS

'" to have felt, no way to 'frame' his experience on the Toad ,
thal ¡s, no way to make sense ofit in terms of art, to make
art ofit, al least as art then was. Rather, 'you jusi nave to
experience it' - as il hopplms, as il merely ;s. (The
experience %nl! is what matters.) There i5 no suggestion
Ihal this is probJematic in any way. The experience is
clearly regarded by Smith as wholly accessible to everyone,
nol jusI in principie bUI in (act, and the question of
whether or nol ane has really hod il does nOI arise. That
this appeals to Smith can be seen (rom his praise of
Corbusier as ' more available' Ihan Michaelangelo, ' The
direct ilnd primitive experience ofthe High (oun Building
al (handigahr is like the Pueblos ofthe Southwest under a
(antastí, overhanging cliff. It's something everyone can
understand'. 1I is, 1Ihink, hardly necessary to add that the
availabilily of modernisl art is not ofthis kind, and that the
rightness or relevance of one's conviction about specific
modernist works, a conviction that begins and ends in
one's experience ofthe work itself, i5 always open to
question.
But what was Smilh's experience on the turnp ike? Or
to put the same question anolher way, ifthe turnpike,
airstrips and driJI ground are not works of art, whal are
they? Whal, indeed, if not empty, or ' abandoned',
I ,' situations? And what was Smith 's experience if nol the
11 experience of what 1 have been calling theotre? It is as
1 though the lurnpike, airstrips and drill ground re vea l the
theatrical character or literalist art, only without the object,
that is, without the ort itself- as though the object is
needed only within a room' (or, perhaps, in any
circumstances less extreme than thesel.ln each ofthe
above cases Ihe object is, so lo speak, reploced by
something: for example, on the turnpike by the constan!
onrusl1 ofthe road, the simullaneous recession of new
reaches of dark pavement illumined by the onrushing
headlights, the sense ofthe turnpike itself as something
enormous, abandoned, derelict, existing for Smith alone
and for Ihose in the car with him ... This last point is
important. On the one hand, Ihe lurnpike, airslrips and
drill ground belong to no one; on the other, !he situation
established by Smith's presence is in each case felt by him
to be hif. Moreover, in each case being able lo go on and on
indefinitely is ofthe essence. What replaces the object-
what does the same job of distancing or isolating Ihe
beholder, of making him a subject, that the object did in
the closed room - is aboye all the endlessness, or
objectlessness, ofthe approach or onrush or perspective.
It is the explicitness, that is to say, the sheer persistence,
with which Ihe experience presenls ilself as directed al
him from outside (o n the turnpike from outside Ihe car)
that simultaneously makes him a subject - makes him
subject - and estabtishes Ihe experience itself as
something like that of an obiect, or rather, of objecthood.
No wonder Morris' speculalions aboul how lo pul literalist
work ouldoors remain slrangely inconclusille:
'Why not put the work outdoors and further change the
terms? A real need exists lo allow th is nex! slep to become
practicaL Archilecturally designed sculpture courts are nol
the answer nor is the placemenl of work outside cubic
architectural forms. Ideally, il is a space wilhout
architecture as background and reference, thal would gille
INTERRUPTlON
differenl terms lo work with.'
Unless the pieces are sel down in a wholly natural
conlext , and Morris does not seem lo be adllocaling thi s,
some sort of artificial but not quite archilectural setting
mus! be conslructed. Whal Smith's remarks seem to
suggest is thal Ihe more effective - meaning effectille as
theat,e - the setting is made, the more superfluo us Ihe
works Ihemsellles become [ ... J
, "e 'o, pt f re "'
0-. ArtforUfII. .. .
CarlANDRE
Artist's statement [1970]
My idea of a piece of sculpture is a road. That is, a road
doesn't reveal itself at any particular poinl or from any
particular point. Roads appear and di sap pear. We either
halle lo Iravel on them or beside them. Bul we don't halle a
single point of lIiew for a road al all, except a moving one,
moving along il. Most of my works -certainly the
successful ones - have been ones Ihal are in a way
causeways - they cause you to make yo ur way along them
or around Ihem or move lO the spectalor oller Ihem.
They're like roads, bul certainly not fixed point lIistas. 1
Ihink sculpture should halle an infinile point of view. There
should be no one place, nor ellen a group of places where
you should be.
• on Ihe hiltside. The idea was a sellere disjuncture from the
Dennis OPPENHEIM
Another Poi nt of Entry:
Interview with Alanna Heiss
[1992]
[ ... 1Alonno H/!;ss Let's tal k about yOUf early pleces, where
ideas were more Imporlanllhan seduction, more vllal
than IIlsuals . Annual Rings (1968) and Londslide (1968)
halle a quasi-sclenllfic quallty lo them, whlch seems lo be
al odds with whal feels like the old·fashioned nolion of the
artlst ImmerSlng hlmself In nature. In a 1968 artlele on
earthworks, Sldney Tilhm speculaled aboul Earth Art
'plcturesque quest', as a subslllution of sentimentalily for
nobillly offeeling. the cult of nature as an anecdote for
excess ille CU Itu ra l so phl sllca tlon .
Dennis Oppenheim Wetl, this nolion oflhe artist
immersing himselfin nalure - Ihe theory ofthe
picturesque - was nol part ofthe recipe of entry that
concerned atl Earth Artists. Only a few ofthem have had a
dialogue with this idea, perhaps Richard Long and some
other English artisls. My use of quasi·scientific nuance or
notalion was meant to oppose abstract gestures on the
land, lines that only meant tnemselves and didn 'l refer lo
anything else. 1 believed applying abstract gesture onlo Ihe
land was carrying a studio ideology thal referred t o
painting, out of doors. 1I was retrograde. If you were going
lo use land, you should make il part of a holistic,
ecological, geological, anlhropological continuum.
So when 1d id lines on the snow, lines which came from
a map, 1referred to them as information lines. They may
have looked like abstract gestures, even abstract
expressionist but the intent was lo suture the
work with lines or notations Iha! had larger fields of
association. Unes could mean rainfall ortemperature.1
was not paying attention to the picturesque as a
possibility. 1 used terms like 'sludio organism', quasi.
ecological terms that were meant lo contrast studio habils
with exterior habils or habitats. Ilook my ctues from
ecology, pushing towards whal the critic Jack Burnham
called 'real time systems'. A sculptor in real time syslems
wouldn't wanl studio references to bleed inlo the land. He
would want to halle a new dialogue with the external site.
Heiss So, if you weren't searchlng out locatlons because
they were beautiful or Inleresling to you, how would you
delermine where you would do an Earth Art piece, for
example? Why choose exil52 on the Long Island
Expressway for Londslide)
Oppenheim 1was drawn to rallaged siles. When 1wanted
lo undertake a piece, 1would go to New Jersey and stomp
around chemical dumps. This was one ofthe reasons why
it was difficult lo do earthworks under Ihe jurisdiction of a
planned exhibition. Sites were places tnat had not been
incorporated into a system - dumps, borders of countries,
deserts and wasle lands - peripheries. Iflhe land wasn'l
degenerate enough for me, I'd write words like 'diphtheria'
pastoral [ ... ]
He;ss But Tillim al so implied Ihal you guys were alt
kidding. Instead of staring al the sunset and sighing, you
were takmga chalnsawand cultlnga hole In the ground
and looklng allhe sunset and sighing. So you were doing
basically Ihe same Ihlng.
Oppenheim Well, one has to come to grips with what
amount ofthe gesture went lowards the site and what
amount didn'l have anything lo do wilh il. A good part of
the Ihinking could have been supplanled to objects or non·
objects or dematerialized slales, nol localions. There are
Earth Artists who have only focused on a lIery specific
formal treatmenl for Iwenty.fille years. Clearly, a large
percentage oftheir momentum was already
monomaniacal at the time.
For me, Earth Art was already decompartmentatized
and splitting apart as I was doing il. 1I quickly whiplas hed
into what was diametrically opposed lO it - Body Art. 1
knew Ihal 1could have gotten another ten years out of
 •

•
THEM
OR BESIDE THEM.BUTWE DON'T
HAVE A SINGLE POINT OF VIEW FOR A ROAD
Al ALL, EXCEPT A MOVING ONE,MOVING ALONGIT.
 making inscriptio ns in the gro und before they wo uld start
to wea rth in. 1also knew I wo uld have trouble justifying
s uch a m ono-d irectional purs u i1. I wasn't looking for the
Ea rth Art to gi ve wa y, and Bady Art to lake over; I was
looking (or a kind ofh ybrid u nbeknownst to me. II was like
m ixi ng your own che m istry as you' re th inking. Mi xing
liqu ids in yo ur own syste m , not knowingthe exact
outcome.
Heiss Wasyour Earth and Body Art an extension. ora
denunClallon, ofthe Influence ofMlnlmalism on art In the
late 1960s and 1970S?
Oppenheim Conceptual Art, by and large, was in a
dialogue with Min imalism, and was literally descended
from Minimalis m thro ugh its practitioners_They retain a
d ialogueto th is day_In (act, the earthworks yo u see now
that are done by the elassic practitioners areeither a
continuation ofthis original posilio n o r a degeneration
rising out of sheer (atigue from the distance they've gone.
That's one ofthe problems with formalism; a fatigue factor
registers in the work.
Heiss Was your work an extenslon or a denuncia tion?
I Oppenheim The urge was to go beyond Minimalism. lt
I,
was elear, even to the minimalists, that their idea was
", reaching ground zero. That's why phenomeno logy
became a way of expanding the domain - and a valid way
at that. We know that Minimalism quickly liRed offinto
phenomenology via the work ofBruce Nauman and Turrell
and the writings ofRobert Monis.
Heiss Dennis, how does II feel lo look back on Earth and
Body Art pieces thal you made twenty years ago, Ihal do
not eXlst , exce plln docum enlallon tha l seems so limlted
and In some cases Inferior?
Oppenheim In 1968and 196911ived in an apartment.1
didn 't need a studio. Everything thal I had done as an artíst
was contained in one small case ofslides. And it
accounted for two ofthe most strenuous years of work in
my whole life. 1distinctly remember realizing this while
sitting and looking at virtually everything I had done [ ... )
Heiss Over the years plclures documen llng your early
work have beeome ieonic, bul whal do they really
communlcate aboul those works or about the experlence
o f making those workslo us twenty years laler?
Oppenheim As pictures age, they remove thems elves
(rom the instant; certain th ings happen to the informatio n
in them. I've always admitted that it was neces sary t o
make photogr3ph ic documentation. 1I was a na ivete th at
co·existed with the outdoor work.
Heiss In a 1968article In Newsweek. Ihere IS a plcture of
Landslide. taken from Ihe lop oflhe hdl, and you're
standing al Ihe boltom. 1looked al il and sald . 'Wail a
minu te. This makes the piece complelely dlfferent (rom
Ihe way I know II from olher pictures ·. What reaUy was the
pleee? [ ... )
Oppenheim The photographer who took the p icture for
Newsweelc ass umed a strange positi on on the bank. After
looking Ih rough Ihe lens he s3id , ' 1eould destroy you with
this s hot'. I real ized the n that we had problems. On one
hand, I kn ew virtuaU y nobody was go ing t o see Lands/ide,
exeept the phol ogr3 pher. But once he die ked the s hutter,
m iUions of peo ple we re going to s ee the p iece. So I realized
the photogr3ph was important. As muc h as I may have
INTERRUPTlON
recognized the importance of documentation, and even if
1foeused on it lo the point where it fed my ideas Ihrough
paranoia, I eouldn't make the obsession stick. The next
day I was offdoing another piece, earing even less abaut
the way it would be seen. This is the truth ¡ ... )
You can 't understand how strange it was to be a
seulptor who exhibited photographs. You operated on
trulya large sea le, but when photographs represented the
work everything closed down into a pictorial configura.
tion. You were always making excuses for poor docu-
mentation, saying what you were doing was an advanced
art, and there were only a few ways to communicate it. But
in reality the work was gone, and there was nothing to see.
That was the way I wanted it l ... )
Heiss But, what wos the plece? In your mind, dld those
early pleces eXlst beyond your original realizallon thmugh
documenlalion, however modest) For example. In my
mind. Smilhson's Spiraljeuy 15 Jusi two pholographs.
Oppenheim That's certainly what Baudrillard would sayo
Heiss 11'5 a memory to me . aided by two pholographs. Not
many people saw 11. By Ihe way, I have no problem wl lh
ephemeral arto Mosl art eXlsIs in memory aided by
photographs. After all, how many limes do you check In al
Ihe Prado? How many limes do you aClually see Boseh's
pamlmgs?
Oppenheim There's another point here, Alanna, another
consideration about SpiTa/Jettv and the early Earth Art
pieces.ln terms of pereentages, they didn't have 3 high
visual quality. SpiTa/Jetty is 75 per eent mental. It doesn't
need pictorial differenliations. It's basiully the idea of
earthworks, the ¡de3 ofthe salt flats. There are millions of
spi,al configurations. In other words, it's abaut the salt,
submersions, the jetty, what is around the salt flats . In the
end, it's about mental eonfigurations.
So me of my pieces, like the snow pieces, were about
temperature, the (act that it was freezing. When you do a
drawing ofthe piece, and it's freezing wlth a ehiU factor as
you m ove 3 pencil across the paper, that's the idea. The
visual quotient is not as strenuous as you think. What am I
supposed to do ? Carry around ice eubes, asking people to
put their hand inside the bag?
Heiss Relative lo painllng and sculplure. It took a 101 of
money 10 make Earth Art. lo gel everythlng (lghl ¡... J The
artlsl was glven a chanee to do somethlng on a seale Ihal
was no t only beyond a gallery or a museum. but beyond
n allon allty [ ... )
Oppenheim II was radical, if you consider lale 1967 or
1968 as the time whe n most ofthese huge pieces were
done. I defend the approach of radicality, the (¡¡ct that
outd oor works invited a dialogue with real time in ways
that art had nol done be(ore. They were a strenuous
departure from Ihe traditional art settings and contexts.
Unfortunately, the work qu ickly became postured, a
recycling o( abstract sculptural idiom. In otherwords, it
just didn 't go Ihe full nine yards. 1ehose a eourse, a
d iabal ical act, to circumvent i1. I found this other 3gitation,
the body, and I felt thal unless I have myselfthe chance lo
pursue lt, 1was going to be forever disappolnted. I couldn't
help but slretch myselfinto it.
Heiss You undertook the body art as a para llel acl ivlty?
Oppenheim I slarted a d ialogue between 'Iand wounds'
and scars on my body in works like Land Indsion (1968)
and Art O{W¡,e (1969). Then in 1969, I got video
equipment, and I began to record activities. Earth Art
quickly evolved inlo Bady and Performance Art (or me [ ... )
AlaMa Hel ' . P lnt ) f En\rj An !nter.,p" ..
)"nnl lppenh ... ,m ·. _MI lIor'
'96' 9( . P.S 1 Museum The for .. porarj
Art,IIHrjll Abra,.,. Yor ' . 199<' . pp. 138
•
CHRISTO and JEANNE-
CLAUDE
Project Notes [1969-91]
WRAPP.,fD COAST, UTTLE BAY, ONE MILLION SQUARE
•
FEET, SYDN EY, AUSTRAUA, 1969
Little Bay, property ofP,ince Henry Hospital, islocated
9 miles 114.5 km) south-east ofthe centre ofSydney. The
cliff-lined shore area that was wr3pped is approximately
1.5 miles 12km) long, 150--800 feet (46-2.44 m) wide, 85
feet (26 m) high at the northern cliffs, and was at sea level
at the southern s3ndy beach.
One million square feet (93,000 m' ) of eros ion control
fabrie (synthetic woven libre usually manufactured for
3gricultural purposes), were used (or the wrapping.
35 miles (56 km) of polypropylene rope, 1·5 (4 cm), tied
the fabrie to the rocks.
Ramset guns fired 25,000 eharges offasteners,
threaded studs and clips to seeure the rope to the rocks.
Mr. Ninian MelviUe, a retired major in Ihe Army Corps
ofEngineers, was in charge ofthe workers at the site.
17,000 manpower hours, over a periad offour weeks,
were expended by fifteen professional mountain elimbers,
110 labourers, architecture and art students from the
University ofSydney and East Sydney Technical College, as
weU as a number of Australian artisls and teachers.
The project was finaneed by Christo and Jeanne-Claude
through the sale of original preparatory drawings and
eollages.
The coast remained wrapped for a periad often weeks
from 28 October, 1969. Then aU materials were removed
and the site returned to its original condillon.
CHRISTOAND )EANNE.CLAUDE, VALLEY CURTAIN ,
RIFLE, COLORADO,1970--72
On August lO, 1972, in Rifle, Colorado, between Crand
lunction and Clenwood Spring in the Crand Hogback
Mount3in Range, at 11 am, a group ofthirty-five
construction workers and sixty·fourtemporary helpers,
art sehools, eollege studenls and itinerant art workers
tled down the last oftwenty·seven ropes that secured the
142,000 square feet 112,780 m' ) of woven nylon fabric
orange Curtain to lis moorings at Rifle Cap, seven miles (11
km) north ofRifle, on Highway 325.
Vallev Curta;n was designed by Dimiter Zagoroff and
lohn Thomson ofUnipolycon ofLynn, Massachusetts, and
Dr. Ernest C. Harris ofKen R. White Company, Denver,
Colorado. It was buílt by A and H Builders Ine. ofBoulder,
Color.ldo.lt built by A H Suilders Ine. ofBoulder,
Color.ldo,i>resident, Theodore Oougherty, under the site
supervision ofHenry S.leininger.
By suspending the Curtain width Ofl,2S0 feet (381
m) and a height curving from 365 feet (111 m) at end to
182 feet (55.5 m) at the centre, the Curtain remained dear
ofthe slopes the Valley bottom. A '00-foot (3 m) skirt
attached to the Iower ofthe Curtain visually
completed the between the thimbles and the ground.
An outer cocoon endosed the fully fitted Curtain for
protection during tr.lnsit and at the time ofits r.lising into
position and securingto the eleven cable damp
connections at the four main upper cables. The cables
spanned 1,368 feet (417 m), weighed 110,000 lbs (49,895
kg) were anchored to 792 tons (720 tonnes) of
concrete fou ndation 5.
An inner cocoon, integr.ll to the Curtain, provided
added insurance. The bottom ofthe Curtain was laced to
3·inch (7.5 cm) Dacron rope from which the
control and tie-down lines r.ln to the twenty·seven
anchors.
The Va/ley Curtain project took twenty-eight months to
complete.
Christo tempor.lry work of art was
financed by the Va/ley Curtain Corporation
Christo-javacheff, president) through the sale ofthe $ludies,
drawings and collages, scale models, early
worlu and
On August 11 , 1972, twenty-eight hours after complet·
ion ofthe Curtain, a gale estimated in excess of60
mph (100 kmph) made it necessary to the remol/a!.
CHRISTO ANO jEANNE-CLAUOE, RUNNING FENCE,
SONOMAANO MARI N COUNTlES, CAlIFORN lA,
1972-7 6
Runn ing Frner, 18 feet (5.5 m) h igh, 24.5 miles (39 km)
long, extending east-west near Freeway 101 , north ofSan
Fr.lncisco, on the pril/ate properties offifty-nine r.lnchers,
following the rolling hills and dropping down to the Pacific
Ocean at Bodega Bay, was complete<! on September 10,
'976 .
The art project consisted of. forty.two months of
collabor.ltive efforts, the ranchers' participation, eighteen
Public. Hearings, three sessions at the Superior Courts of
california, the drafting of Environmenbl
Impact Report and the temporary use ofthe hills, the sky
and the Ocean.
AlI expenses for the tempor.lry work of art were paid by
Chri$lo and jeanne-Claude through the sale of $ludies,
preparatory dr.lwings collages , scale models
originallithographs.
Running Fence was made of 2..40,000 square yards
(200,000 m') ofheavy woven white nylon fabric, hung
from a $leel cable strung between 2,050 steel poles
21 feet (6 mI long, Hinches (9 cml in diameter) embedded
3 feet (1 m) into the ground , using no concrete and br.lced
laterally with guy wires (90 miles 1'45 km] of $leel cable)
and '4,000 anchors. The top and bottom edges of
the 2,OSO hbric panels were secured to the upper and
lower cables by 350,000 hooks. AlI parts ofRunning
Frner's $lructure were designed forcomplete removal and
no I/isible evidenceof Running Frnce remains on the hills
ofSonoma and Marin Counties. As. it had been agreed with
the ranchers and with County, Sbte and Federal Agencies,
the removal ofRunning Fence surted fourteen days aRer
its completion and all materials were given to the
r.lnchers. Running Frnee crossed fourteen roads and the
town orvalley Ford, leal/ing passage forcars , cattle and
wildlife, and was designed to be viewed by following 40
miles (65 km) of public roads, in Sonoma and Marin
Counties.
CHRISTOANO jEANNE-CLAUOE, THE UMBREllAS,
IAPAN . USA, 1984-91
At sunrise, on October 9, 1991 , Chri$lo and jeanne-
Claude's 1,880 workers began toopen the 3,100 umbrellas
in Ibar.lki and california, in the presence ofthe artists.
This lapan-US tempor.lry work of art reflected the
similaríties and differences in the ways oflife and the use
ofthe land in two inland I/alleys, one 12 miles (19 km) long
in japan , and the other 18 miles (29 km) long in the USo
In japan, the valley is located north ofHibchiota and
south ofSatomi, 75 miles (120 km) north ofTokyo, around
Route 349 and the Sato River, in the Prefecture oflbar.lki,
on the properties of 459 private landowners and
governmenbl agencies.
In the US, the I/alley is located 60 miles (96.5 km) north
oflos Angeles, along Intersbte S and the Tejon Pass ,
between south ofCorman and Gr.lpel/ine, on the
properties ofTejon Ranch, twenty.fil/e private landowners
as well as gOl/ernmenbl agencies.
Eleven manufacturers in lapan, US , Germany and
canada prepared the various elements ofThe Umbrdlas:
fabric, aluminium super·structure, steel trame bases,
anchors, wooden basesupports, bags and moulded base
covers. A1I3,100 umbrellas were assembled in Bakersfield,
california, from where the' ,340 blue umbrellas were
shipped to la pan.
Startíng in December '990, with a total work force of
500, MutoCon$lruction Co. ud. in Ibar.lki, and A. L Huber
& Son in California insulled the earth anchors and $leel
bases. The sitting platform/base covers were placed
during Augu$l and September 1991 .
From September '9 to October7, '99', an additional
con$lruction work force began transporting the umbrellas
to their assigned bases, bolted them to the receiving
sleel/es, and elevated the umbrellas to an upright dosed
position. On October 4, $luden15, agricultural workers
friends, 960 in US and 920 in lapan, ¡oined the work force
to complete the insullation ofThe Umbrdlas .
The Christos' twenty.six million dollartemporary work
of art was entirely financed by the artists through The
Umbrellas, Joint Project for Japan and USA Corporation
Oean ne·Claude Ch risto-Iavacheff, president). Previous
projects by the artists have 4111 been financed in a similar
manner through the sale ofthe $ludies, preparatory
dr.lwings, collages, scale models, early works and original
lithogr.lphs. The artists do not accept any sponsorship.
The removal surted on October 27 and the land
restored to i15 original condition. The Umbrellas were
taken apart and all elements were recyded.
The umbrellas, free-sunding dynamic modules,
reflected the al/ailability Qfthe land in each valley, creating
an ¡nl/itational ¡nner s pace, as houses without walls, o r
temporary settlements and relate<! to the ephemeral
character ofthe work of art. In the precious and limite<!
space ofjapan , The Umbrellas were positioned intimately,
dose together and sometimes following the geometry of
the rice fields. In the lulturiant vegetation enriched by water
year round , the umbrellas were blue.ln the california
I/astness of uncultil/ated grazing land , the configuration
ofthe umbrellas was whimsical and s preading in every
direction. The brown hills are covered by blond grass,
and in that dry landsc.ape, Thr Umbre/las were yellow.
From October 9, 1991 for a period ofeighteen days, the
umbrellas were seen, approached and enjoyed bythe
public, either by car from a distance and d oser as they
bordered the ro ads , or by under Thr Umbrdlas in
their luminous shadows.
'1 rence ,-,
NancyHOLT
Sun Tunnels [1977] [revised 1995]
Sun Tunne/s is in north-we$lern Utah on land I bought
specifically as a s ite for the work. The forty acres are in
large, flat valley with sa1ine soil and I/ery little vegetation.
It's land worn down by lake Bonneville, an ancient lake
that gradually receded over thousands of years - the Great
Salt lake is what remains ofthe originallake today. From
my site you can see mounbins with horizontallines where
the old lake bit into the rock as it was going down. The
mirages are extraordinary; you can see whole mounbins
hovering over the Earth, reflected upside down in the heat.
The feeHng oftimelessness is overwhelming.
Time is not just a mental concept or a mathematical
abstraction in Ubh's Creat Basin Desert. Time bkes on a
physical presence. The rocks in the distance are ageless;
they have been deposited in la yers over hundreds of
thousands of years. Only ten miles south ofthe Sun
Tunnds site are the Bonneville Salt Flats, one ofthefew
areas in the world where you can actually seethe curvature
ofthe Earth. Being part ofthat kind oflandscape and
walking on earth that has never been walked on before
evokes a sense ofbeing on this planet, robting in space, in
universal time.
Sy marking the yearly extreme positions ofthe sun on
the horizon, Sun Tunnels indicates the cydical time ofthe
solar year. The tunnels are aligned with each other and
with the angles ofthe rising and setting ofthe sun on the
days ofthe solstices, around june 21 and December21 . On
these days the sun is seen on the horizon centred through
tunnels. Actually, around the Summer Solstice the sun
be seen through the tunnels for many days, the sunlight
glowing bright gold on thetunnel walls.
The four concrete tunnels are laid out on the desert in
an open X configur.ltion, 86-feet (26 m) long on the
OOCUt.4ENTS

'" diagonal. Eac h tunnel is 18·feet (5.5 mi long and has an
outside diameterof9 feet, 2.5 inches (3 mi, and an inside
diameter of8 feet (2 m).
The configuration orhales in the upper half of eaeh
tunnel corresponds with a constellation, either Capricorn,
Columbia, Oraca or Perseus. The rour diameters oflhe
holes va'1 from 7 lo 10 inches (18-25 cm), relative to the
magnitude oflhe stars lo which they correspondo During
the day, the sun, a star among stars, shines through the
holes, casting a changing pattern of painted ellipses and
circles oflight on the bottom half of eaeh tunnel. Toe
shapes and positions orthe areas oflight differfrom hour
to hour, day to day, alld season to season, relative to Ihe
positions ortne sun. The spots ofwarm light in the cool,
shady tunnels are like stars cast down to Earth, inverting
the sky, turning day into night. And on many desert nigh15.
moonlighl shines through the holes, casting i15 own paler
pattern.
Since the two gran15 I re<eived from the National
Endowment for the Arts and the New York State Council
forthe Arts covered only one-third ofthe total cost for
making Sun Tunnels , 1 had to finance the rest with my own
money. This meant making business deals to keep the cost
down, whicn did nOlcome easily to me and was often
exasperating. 1don't nave any roman!ic notions about
teslingthe edges oflhe world that way. 11'5 jusI a necessily.
1I doesn't lead to anything except Ihe work.
I wanled to bring the vast space ofthe desert back
down to human scale. 1had no desire to make a megalithic
monumento The panoramic view ofthe landscape is too
overwhelming to take in without visual reference poin15.
The view blurs out ratherthan sharpens. When you stand
al the centre oflhe work, Ihe tunnels draw your vision into
the landscape, opening up the perceived space. But once
you're inside one ofthe tunnels, the work encloses and
surrounds you, and the landscape is framed through the
ends ofthe tunnels and through the star holes.
The material and colo ur oflhe tunnels is the same as
the soil in the landscape they are a part of. The inner
subslanceofthe concrete-the solidified sand and slone-
can be seen on the insides ofthe holes where the core dril!
cut through and exposed il.
The local people and I differ on one point: ifthe land
isn't suitable for grazing, or ifil doesn't have water, or
minerals, o r shade, or inleresling vegetalion, Ihen they
think it's not muen good. They find it strange when I camp
out al my site, although Ihey say they're glad 1found a use
forlhe land. Many ofthe area residenls who came to my
Summer Solstice camp·out had never been in thal vaUey
befo re. So by putting Sun Tunnels in the middle ofthe
desert, 1 have nol put il in Ihe middle ofthe res iden15'
regular surroundings. The work paradoxically makes
available, or fecuses on, a part oflhe environmenl Ihal
mosl oflhe peo'ple who live nearby wouldn't normally have
paid much attenlion lo.'
" " '"
" , , "
•• • uMe . ,. 1 man could ever develop. ll's all organic in the firsl place so
pp
INTERRUPTION
Michael HEIZER
Interview with Julia Brown
[1984]
Julio Brown (ould you elaborale on your Ideas aboul
materials)
Michoel Heizer My obligalion as a sculplor is lo work with
anything Ihat is tangible and physical.1 realize there is
expressive potential in materials, but ,'m more interested
in the structural characteristics of materials Ihan their
beauty.1 think earth is the material with the mosl potential
because il is the original source material.
Brown Whal is ¡nvolved In your choice of malerials?
He;zer The first object sculplure 1 built was
Disploced¡Reploced Moss , which used granite blocks se!
inside three depressions in Ihe ground which were lined
wilh concrete. These materials were close lo Ihe existing
malerials ofthe region. The rock was grey, the concrete
was grey, the entire work was colourless. The materials
were chosen fortheir nature and application. What it
would 'ook like was nol the issue. 1 hope to find this as a
surprise at Ihe end ofthe work ratner Ihan use known
factors in a calculated manner to achieve predictable
resu l15.
Brown Do you dlfferenllale between man-made malerials
and natural material s?
Heizer Yes, synthetics are intensificalions oflhe organic
sources.
Brown 1n what way do you mean intensificatlOn? What IS
more intense than something in lIs natural slale as It is?
Heizer 1Ihink you mean 'being' as opposed lo matter. 1
only mean the material. Steel is an inlensificalion ofiron
ore through a process of additives and temperature.
Aluminium is bauxite, combining addilives and a refining
process. Bronze is an alloy of copper and tino These are
chemical manipulalions ofbasic minerals Ihat casI off
impurilies and introduce strengthening minerals tha!
inlensify the original malerial.
Brown (ould you dlScuss your work process? Regardless
oflhe scale ofthe prOlect you seem very much involved
wlth maklng your work yourself wlth dlrect physlcallabour.
Heizer There are several reasons 1work this way: cost, my
ability 10 produce wilhout fabricators , and Ihe way Ihe
value of work is affected ifit is, or is not, made by the artist.
Brown What is Ihe dlfferentlatlon between your control in
your work process and Ihe mfluence ofthe forces such as
gravlty and welght?
He;zer When I began lo build sculpture I always made it
outdoors. I immediately encounlered large amounls of
material and eventually Iried lo incorporale gravity as a
free and nalural source of energy.
Brown Is the luxtaposition ofthe geometric and organic
an Issue foryou as In Adjactnt. Against, Upon in Seattle?
He;zer Geometry is organic. The sludy of crystallography
demonstrates thal Ihere is more geometry in nature than
there is no reason why a crystal form which exists can'l
expand and then ullimately be a part of an ama lgam that is
larger and less crystalline in form oThere is no sense of
order that doesn't exist in nalure. You won't find the exact
shape of an airplane in nature, but 1don't mean that, 1
mean basic forms, as opposed to designed forms .
Brown Is composit¡on importantlo you?
Heizer Very; whalever can be found and used to stimulale
cognitive response is important.
Brown There seems to be a difference m those works thal
•
are cut inlo the earth like Oouble Negatille and those works
thal take malerials out oflhe earth such as Adjocenl.
Against, Upon, and place them in a different contextoThls
diffe rence seems as much in content and process as in
resultant formo
Heizer 1I m ig ht appear to be regressive lo restate physical
volume after the negative works. From my poinl of view,
Ihe totally negative works are phenomenological. There is
no indication ofwhy they are there, or whal happened 10
the voided material. The Double Negotille, due to gravity,
was made using i15 own substance, leaving a full visual
stalement and an explanation ofhow it was made. In
Double Negotille there is the implicalion of an object or
form that is actually not there. In orderto create this
sculpture material was removed rather than accumulaled.
The sculpture is nol a traditional object sculplure. The two
cu15 are so large thal there is an implication that they are
joined as one single form oThe tide Double Negotille is a
literal descript ion oftwo cu15 but has metaphysical
implications because a double negative is impossible.
There is nothing Ihere, ye! it is slill a sculpture.
This work was followed by Complex One, an attempt to
build an object sculpture based on architectural size and
concep15 and using natural malerials from that place. The
idea was to restate Ihe sand and gravels Ihal existed under
Ihe silt overburden. 1p iled Ihe alluvial to form the
mas taba, washed Ihe sand and gravel, m ixed it with
cement and reinforcing bar, put it in wooden forms. 1
ended with a surprisingly primilive and independent work
that was actually te<h"ologically, socially dependenl. It
interested me to think about building Complex One on the
edge of a nucleartest site in Nevada, and hav ing the front
wall be a blasl shield. We had specifications for seismic
conditions for the strength ofconcrete Ihat were Ihe
highest specifications Ihat could be achieved. We
measured all our water, we washed all our sand, we mixec!
carefully and had laboratory sheartes15 that surpassed
whal the engineer said wewere required to have.
Brown Your land m Nevada is next lo a nuclear lesling site?
Heizer Yes, it's a highly charged area. but I'm reluctanl lo
discuss-it that much.
Brown But it's part ofyour plannmg?
Heizer Part of my art is based on an awareness Ihal we
live in a nuclear era. We're probably living al the end of
civilization.
Brown Whal are you plannlng after Complex One? Are you
building Complex Two?
Heizer I'm building Complex Two, Three and Four righl
now. They will all be separate works. Complex Two is
basically completed, Three and Four are under way.
Complex Two is already as big as the Double Negotille; il's
over a quarter of a mile (26 m) long.
Brown Is II a form above the ground?
Heizer It's half aboye the ground and halfbelow the
ground. I didn't want to repeat the idea of putting an object
on lhe surface oflhe ground; Comple:t Two is halfway
aboye and halfway under lhe ground. What "ve done is
taken the area in front ofComplex One and lowered it 20
feet 176 m). I removed it, so now when you approach
Complt:t One you're 20 feet 176 m) underground and you
look up at i1. lhe ground level has been dropped, it's like a
plaza. lhe sculpture will be endosed on all four sides. lhe
plaza Roor drops again making it multi-Ieve!. lhe plaza wiU
be the only place to see these works because aU four face
onto it; they are aU frontal.
Brown What 15 the funct lo n ofthe p laza)
Hf!izef It is a reversal ofissues; since the earth itselfis
thought to be stable and obvious as 'ground', 1 have
attempted lo subvert or at least question this_ l o remove
and lower the grade around an object made of earth and
placed on the earth, would possibly make the remaining
surrounding earth a pedestal, visuaUy, at least from ceruin
viewpoints_ You can walk around Ihe back of each
individual work but you won't see much other than the
back of apile of dirt. You have lO go inside to see it.l1's a
complex that faces itself, there'5 only one way to 5ee it and
that's from inside.
Brown 15 Compfe:t Ofle re laled ( O yo ur pa ifl tm gs )
Heizer My idea with Complex One was to create an object
that was essentially frontal. 1thought about paintings and
sculpture simultaneously. Oue to Ihe size ofthe facades 1
also thought about billboards and the big casino signs in
Vegas. My feelings was that if you create a sculpture
weighing in excess of 9,000 tons (9,180 tonnes), il would
indisputably be a sculpture even though the frontal area
was the only 'treated' area. 1 based components of
Complt:t One on paintingsj three or four paintings indude
most ofthe elements in that sculpture. Complex Two has a
relationship to my paintings from the mid 19705.
1decided to make the City visible only from the inside.
len years ago the valley was remote, the work was isolated
and could be in the open. Since then, there has been the
threat ofthe MX missile being built there and now
powerlines are coming in through the vaUey. I want lo cut
offthe view ofthose things. 1also want to enforce the idea
that it's nol landscape arto
Bro wn How are you dOlng that )
Heizer Ifyou walk down into the plaza you either see the
sky or the seul plu re bul you don 'Isee any mountains or la nd.
Brown So Ihe approach lo lhe 5cul pture IS less Importa nl
to you than what happens when yo u are actually In It.
Heizer It's like making a room; the sculpture makes its
own area, ¡t's completely isolated. lhe only thing you can
see is the sky. It stops the idea that this is a form of
landscape art, to be seen in some beautiful part ofthe Ihe
world. It becomes more effective visually because you
don't see a tree, you don't see a hiU, you don't see a cow
walking around. You see nothing el!cept the arto It's a way
to enhance and concenlrate visiono In sorne ways il is
similar to the intent of a museum or gallery [ ... J
" . •• ,,
...
" " ."
Robert SMITHSON
The Monuments of Passaic:
Has Passaic replaced Rome
as the eternal city? [1967]
' He laughed softly. "1 know. lhere's no way out. Not
through the Barrier. Maybe that isn't what 1want, afier aU.
But this - this - He stared at the Monument. seems
all wrong sometimes. 1just can't explain it. It's the whole
city. It makes me feel haywire. lhen I get these flashes -",
- Henry Kuttner,jesting Pilor
, ... today our unsophisticated cameras record in their
own way OUT hastily assembled and painted world.'
- Vtadimir Nabokov, Invitarion to a Beheoding
On Saturday, September 30, 1967, I went to the Port
Authority Building on 41st Street and 8th Avenue. 1 bought
a copy ofthe New York Times and a Signet paperback
called Eorthworlrs by Brian W. Aldiss. Next I went to ticket
booth 21 and purchased a one-way ticket to Passaic. After
that I went up to the upper bus lellel (platform 173) and
boarded the number 30 bus ofthe Inter-City
lransportation Co.
I sat down and opened the Times. I glanced over the art
section: a 'Collectors', Cfitics', Curators' Choice' at A.M.
Sacns Gallery (a letter I got in themail tnat morning invited
me 'to play the game before the show doses October 4'),
Walter Schatzki was selling 'Prints, Drawings.
Watercolours' at '33 1/3% off', Elinor jenkins, the
'Romantic Realist', was showing at Barzansky GaUeries,
XVIII·XIX Century English Furniture on sale at Parke·
Bernet, 'New Oirections in German Grapnics' at Goethe
House, and on page 29 was jonn Canaday's column. He
was writing on 'lhemes and the Usual Variations' .llooked
at a blurry reproduction ofSamuel F. B. Morse's Allegorica/
Londscape at the top ofCanaday's column; the sky was a
subtle newsprint grey, and the douds resembled sensitive
stains of sweat reminiscent of a famous Yugoslav
watercolourist whose na me I halle forgotten. A little statue
with right arm held hign faced a pond (orwas il thesea?).
'Gothic' buildings in the aUegory had a faded look, while an
unnecessary tree (or was it a doud ofsmoke?) seemed to
puff up on the left side ofthe landscape. Canaday referred
to tne picture as 'standing confidently along with other
allegorical represenlatives ofthe arts, sciences and high
ideals tnat universities foster'. My eyes stumbled over the
newsprint, over sucn headlines as 'Seasonal Upswing', 'A
5huffie 5ervice', and 'Moving a 1,000 Pound Sculpture
Can Be a Fine Work of Art, l oo'. Other gems ofCanaday's
dazzled my mind as I passed through Secaucus. 'Realistic
waxworks of raw meat beset by vermin' (Paul lhek), 'Mr
Bush and his colleagues are wasting their time' (jack
Bush) , 'a book, an appleon a saucer, a rumpleddoth'
(Thyra Oavidson). Outside the bus window a Howard
johnson's Motor lodge flew by - a symphony in orange
and blue. On page31 in Big letters: lHE EMERGING
POLleE SlATE IN AMERJCA SPYGOVERNMEN1. ' In Ihis
book you willlearn .. . what an Infinity lransmitter is.'
lhe bus turned offHighway 3, down Orient Way in
Rutnerford.
I read the blurbs and skimmed through Eorthworh.
lhe firsl sentence read, 'lhe dead man drifted along in the
breeze'. It seemed Ihe book was about a soil snortage, and
the Earthworlrs referred to the manufacture of artificial
soi!' lhe sky over Rulherford was a dear cobalt blue, a
perfect Indian summer day, but the sky in Eorthworks was
a 'great black and brown shield on which moisture
gleamed' .
lhe bus passed over the first monumento I pulled Ihe
buzzer-cord and got off at the corner ofUnion Avenue and
River Orive. lhe monumenl was a bridge over thO! Passaic
River that connected Bergen County witn Passatc County.
Noonday sunshine cinema·ized the site, lurning the
bridge and the river into an oller.exposed picture.
Pholographing it with my Instamatic 400 was like
photographing a photograph. lhe sun became a
monstrous tight bulb tnat projected a detached series of
'stills' through my Instamatic into my eye. When I walked
on the bridge, it was as though I was walkingon an
enormous photograph that was made of wood and steel,
and underneath the dver existed as an enormous movie
film that showed nOlhing bu! a continuous blank.
lhe steel road that passed over the water was in part an
open grating flanked by wooden sidewalks, held up by a
heavy set ofbeams, while aboye, a ramshackle network
hung in the airo A rusty sign glared in the sharp
atmosphere, making it hard to read. A date tlashed in the
sunshine ... 1899 ... No .. . 1896 ... maybe (at thebottom of
the rus! and glare was the na me Oean & Westbrook
Contractors, N. Y.). 1was completely controlled by the
Instamatic (or what the rationalists can a camera). lhe
glassy air ofNew jersey detined the structural parts ofthe
monument as I took snapshot afier snapshot afier
snapshot. A barge seemed fixed to the surface ofthe water
as it ca me toward the bridge, and caused the bridgekeeper
to dose the gates. From the banks ofPassatc I watched Ihe
bridge rolate on a central axis in order lo allow an inert
rectangular shape to pass with its unknown cargo. lhe
Passaic (west) end ofthe bridge rotated south, while the
Rutherford (east) end ofthe bridge rotated north; such
rotations suggested the limited movements ofan
oulmoded world. 'North' and 'south' hung over the static
Tiver in a bi·polar manner. One could refer to this bridge as
the 'Monumenl ofDistocated Directions'.
Along Ihe Passaic River banks were many minor
monuments such as concrete abutments tnat supported
the shoulders of a new highway in the process ofbeing
built. River Orive was in part bulldozed and in part intact.lt
was hard to tell the new highway from the old road; Ihey
were both confounded into a unitary chaos. Since il was
5alurday, many machines were nol working, and this
caused them lO resemble prehistoric creatures trapped in
the mud, or, better, extinct machines - mechanical
dinosaurs stripped oftheir skin. On Ihe edge ofthis
prehistoric Machine Age were pre· and post-World War 11
suburban houses. lhe houses mirrored themselves inlo
colourlessness. A group of children were throwing rocks at
no eaen other "ear a dileh. 'From now on you're nol going to
come to our hide-out. And I mean ¡t!', said a little blonde
girl who had lJeen hit with a rock.
As I walked north along what 'ollas left ofRiver Orive, I
saw a monument in the middle orthe river- it was a
pumping derrick with a long pipe attached lo ¡l. The pipe
'ollas supported in pan by a set of pontoons, while the rest
ont extended about three blocks along the ,iver bank t ilt il
disappeared into theearth. One could hear debris r¡¡ttling
in the waterthat passed through the great pipe.
Nearby, on the ,iver bank, was an artificial erater tha t
contained a pale limpid pond of water, and from the side of
the crater protruded six large pipes thal gushed the water
ofthe pond into the riller. This constituted a monumental
fountain thal suggested si){ horizonlal smokeslacks Ihal
seemed lo be flooding Ihe river wilh liquid smoke. The
greal pipe was in some enigmalic way connected wilh the
infernal fountain. 1I was as Ihough Ihe pipe was secretly
sodomizing some hidden technological oriftce, and
causing a monslrous se){ual organ (Ihe founlain) to have
an orgasmo A psychoanalyst mighl say thal Ihe landscape
displayed 'homose){ual tendencies', but 1will nol draw
such a crass anthropomorphic conclusion. I will merely
say, '11 was Ihere'.
Across the river in Rutherford one could hear the fainl
voice of a P.A. syslem and the weak cheers of a crowd at a
football game. Actually, the landscape was no landscape,
but 'a particular kind ofheliotypy' (Nabokov), a kind ofself·
deslroying postcard world offailed immortality and
oppressive grandeur. 1had been wandering in a moving
picture that I couldn't quite picture, but just as 1became
perple){ed,1 saw a green sign Ihal e){plained everything:
YOUR HIGHWAY TAXES 21
ATWOf(K
Federal Highway US Oepl. ofCommerce
Trusl Funds Bureau ofPublic Roads
2867000 Stale Highway Funds
2867000
New Jersey Stale Highway Oept.
That 2ero panorama seemed lo contain ruins in reverse,
that is - all the new construction thal would eventually be
bui1t. This is Ihe opposile oflhe 'romanlic ruin' because
Ihe buildings don'tfoll inlo ruin ofterthey are built but
rather rise into ruin before they are built. Th is anti·
romantic mise-en-mine suggests the discrediled idea of
time and many olher 'out·of-date' things. But the suburbs
e){ist withoul a rational past and without the 'big evenls' of
history. Oh, maybe there are a few statues, a legend and a
couple of curios, bul no past - just what passes for a
future. A Utopia minus a bottom, a place where Ihe
machines are idle, and the sun has lurned to glass, and a
place where the Passaic Concrele Planl (253 River Drive)
does a good business in STONE, BITUMINOUS, SAND
and CEM ENT. Passaic seems full of'holes' compared to
New York Cily, which seems lightly packed and solid, and
Ihose holes in a sense are Ihe monumental vacancies Ihal
define, without Irying, the memory·traces of an
abandoned seloffutures. Such futures are found in grade·
B Utopian films, and then imitated by the suburbanite. The
windows ofCity Motors auto sales proclaim the exislence
ofUtopia Ihrough 1968 WIDE TRACK PONTlACS-
INT ERRU PT IO N
Executive, Bonneville, Tempest, Grand Prix, Firebirds,
GTO, Catalina and LeMans - Ihal visual incantalion
marked the end oflhe highway construction.
Nen I descended into a set of used car 10ts.1 musl say
the situalion seemed like a change. Was I in a new
terrilory? (An English artist, Michael Baldwin, says, 'It
could be asked iflhe country does in fact change - il does
nol in Ihe sense a traffielight does'.) Perhaps I had slipped
inlo a lower slage offulurity -did Ileave the real future
behind in order lo advance into a false fulure? Yes, I did.
Realily was behind me al that point in my suburban
Odyssey.
Passaic centre loomed like a dull adjective. Each 'slore'
in it was an adjective unto the nen, a chain of adjectives
disguised as slores. 1began to run out offilm, and 1was
getting hungry. Actually, Passaic cenlre was no cenlre - it
was inslead a typical abyss or an ordi nary void. What a
greal place for a gallery! Or maybe an 'outdoor sculpture
show' would pep that place up.
Al Ihe Golden Coach Diner (11 Central Avenue) 1had
my lunch, and loaded my Instamatic.1 looked atthe
orange-yellow box ofKodak Verichrome Pan, and read a
notice that said:
READTHIS NOTICE:
This film will be replaced if defective in manufacture,
labelling or packaging, even though caused by our
negligence or other fault. Except for such replacement, Ihe
sale or any subsequent handling ofthis film is withoul
other wa rranly or lia bility.
EASTMAN KOOAK COMPANY DO NOTOPEN THIS
CARTRIOGEOR YOUR PICTURES MAY BE SPOllEO-12
EXPOSURES - SAFETY FILM - ASA 125 22 DI N.
Afterlhal I returned to Passaic, or was il the hereofter-
for alll know that unimaginative suburb could have been a
clumsy eternity, a cheap copy ofThe City ofthe Immortals.
But who am 1to entertain such a Ihough!? I walked down a
parking 101 thal covered the old railroad tracks which at
one time ran Ihrough the middle ofPassaic. That
monumental parking lot divided the dly in half, turning il
into a mirror and a reflection - bul the mirror kept
changing places with the reflection. One never knew what
side oflhe mirror one was on. There was nothing
interesting or even strange aboul Ihat flat monument, yet
it echoed a kind ofcliché idea ofinfinily: perhaps the
'secrets ofthe universe' are juSI as pedestrian - not lO say
dreary. Everything about the sile remained wrapped in
blandness and littered with shiny cars - one after anolher
Ihey enended inlo a sunny nebulosity. The indifferenl
backs ofthe cars flashed and reflected the stale afternoon
sun. 1took a few listless, entropic snapshols ofthal
lustrous monumenl. Ifthe future is 'out-of-date' and 'old-
fashioned', then 1had been in Ihe future. 1had been on a
planet Ihal had a map ofPassaic drawn over it, and a rather
imperfect map at Ihal. A sidereal map marked up with
'Iines' the size ofslreets, and 'squares' and 'blocks' the
size ofbuildings. Al any momenl my feet were apt to fall
Ihrough the cardboard ground. 1am convinced that the
future is 1051 somewhere in the dumps ofthe non-
historical past, it is in yesterday's newspapers, in the
jejum: advertisements ofscience fiction movies, in the
false mirror of our rejected dreams. Time turns metaphors
into things, and stacks them up in cold rooms, or places
them in the celestial playgrounds ofthe suburbs.
Has Passaic replaced Rome as The Eternal City? If
certain cities oflhe world were placed end to end in a
straight line according to size, starting with Rome, where
would Passaic be in thal impossible progression? Each city
would be a three-dimensional mirror that would reflect the
nen dty into existence. The limits of eternity seem to
•
contain such nefarious ideas.
The last monument was a sandbox or a model deserto
Underthe dead light oflhe Passaic afternoon the desert
became a map ofinfinite disintegration and forgetfulness.
This monument of minute particles blazed under a bleakly
glowing sun, and suggested the sullen dissolution of
entire continents, the drying up of oceans - no longer were
there green forests and high mounlains - all that existed
were millions of grains of sand, a vast deposit ofbones and
stones polverized into dust. Every grain of sand was a dead
metaphorthal equalled timelessness, and lo decipher
such melaphors would take one through the false mirror
of eternity. This sandbox somehow doubled as an open
grave - a grave Ihat children cheerfully play in.
' ... all sense of reality was gone. In its place had come deep-
sealed illusions, absence of pupillary reaction to light,
absence ofknee reaction - symptoms of all progressive
cerebral meningitis: the blanketing ofthe brain .. .'
- Louis Sullivan, 'one ofthe greatest of all architects',
quoted in Michel Bulor's Mobile
I should now like to prove the irreversibility of eternity by
usi ng a jejune experimenl for proving entropy. Picture in
your mind's eye the sandbo){ divided in half with black
sand on one side and white sand on the other. We take a
child and have him run hundreds oftimes clockwise in the
box unlil the sand gets mi){ed and begins to lurn grey; after
thal we have him run anti-dockwise, but the resull will not
be restoralion ofthe original division bul a greaterdegree
or greyness and an increase of entropy.
Ofcourse, if we filmed such an experiment we could
prove the reversibility ofelernity by showing the film
backwards, but then sooner or later the film itself would
crumble or get losl and enterthe state ofirreversibility.
Somehow this suggests that the cinema offers an illusive
ortemporary escape from physical dissolution. The false
immortality oflhe film gives the viewer an iIIusion of
control over eternity - bul 'the superstars' are fading.
'eplacea RO"le", 'Iy'·. Robert
94
Ar,rorlJ"'. •.. " Yor". Jece,.b," 967
Robert MORRIS
Notes on Sculpture Part 4:
Beyond Objects [1969]
[ ... ) 'Then, the field of vision assumes a peculiar structure.
In the centre there is the f.avoured object, fixed by our gaze¡
its form seems dear, perfectly defined in all i15 deu ils.
Around the object, as f.ar as the limits ohhe field of vision,
there is a zonewe do not Ioole at, but which , nevertheless,
we seewith an indirect, vague, inattentive vision ••. Ifit is
not something to which we are accustomed, we cannot sa)'
what it is , exactl)', thal we see in th is indirect vis ion.'
- Orteg"a)' Gasset
'Our attempt al focus ing must give wa)' to the vacanl all·
embracing sUre ...'
- .... nton Ehrenzweig
Ifone notices one's immediate visual field , what is seen?
Neither order nordisorder. where does lhe field terminate?
In an indeterminate periphefill zone, none the less actual
or unexperienced for its indeterm inacy, thal shifts w ith
each movement ofthe eyes. What are lhe contents of .ln)'
given sector ofone's visual field? A heterogeneous
collKtion ofsubsunces and sh.lpes, neither ¡ncomplete
nor especiaJly complete (except for lhe singular tou lity of
figures or moving th ings ). Sorne new art now seems to
take the conditions oflhe visual fie ld i15elf (figures
exduded) and uses these as a structuraJ basis forthe art.
Recent past.lrt took lhe condit ions within ind ividu.ll
th ings - specific extension and shape and wholeness of
one malerial- for lhe project of reconstituting objects as
.lr1.. The d ifference .lmounts tO.l shift from a figure-ground
perceptual set 10 thal ofthe yisual fie ld. Ph)'sically, il
amounts to a shift from d iscrete, homogeneous objects to
.lccumulations oflhings or stuff, sometimes yery
heterogeneous. lt is a shift that is on the one hand doser lo
the phenomen.ll f.act of seeing lhe yisual field .lnd on the
otner is allied lo \he heterogeneous spread of substances
tnat make up lhat field. In another era, one m ight have said
that lhe d ifference was between a figur.ltiye and l.lndscape
mode. Fields of stuff which nave no central conuined
focus and extend into or be)'ond lhe periphefill visio n offer
a kind of' landscape' mode as opposed to a self-conuined
type of organization offered by the specific object.
Most ofthe new woric under d iscussion is still .l spread
of subsunces or things thal is cleart)' m.lrked offfrom the
rest oftne environmenl and there is nOl any confusion
.lboul where the woric stops. In this sense, it is d iscrete but
nOI object·like. It is still separate ffom the enyironment so
in lhe broadest sense is figure upon a ground. Except for
sorne outside work which removes even lhe ffilme ofthe
room itself, here the 'figure ' is !iterall)' lhe ' ground'. But
woric thal extends to the peripheral vision cannot be taken
in as a distinct whole and in this way has a different kind of
discreleness from objects. The lateral spread of sorne of
the woric subyerts either a profile or plan view read ing. (In
the past 1 have spread objects 01 structures into a 25 to 30
foot [762-915 cm) squ.lre .lrea and the work was low
enough to haye liWe Or no profile and no plan view was
possible even when one was in the midst ofthe work. But
in these instances, the regularity ofthe sh.lpe and
homogeneity ofthe material held the work together as a
single chunk.) Recent work with a marked lateral spre.ld
.lnd no regulari2ed units 01 symmettical intervals tends to
fracture into a continuity of deuils. An)' overall wholeness
is a secondary feature often established only by the lim i15
ofthe 1oom. lt is onl)' with this type of recent work that
heterogeneity of material has become a possibility again;
now any substances or m ixtures of subsunces and the
forms or states these might uke- rods, p.lrticJes, dust,
pulp)', wet, dry, etc. - are potentiaUy usable. Previously, it
was one 01 two materials and a single or relatiye form to
conuin them. Any more and the work began to engage in
part·to-part and part·to-whole relationships. Even so,
Min imal Art, with two or three substances, gets caught in
p l.l)'s of relationships between transparencies and solids,
voids and shadows , and the parts separate and the work
ends in a kind of demure and unadm itted composition.
Besides lateral spread, mixing of materia!s and
irregul.lrity of substances , a reading other than a critical
part·to-part o r part·to-whole is emphasized b), the
¡ndeterminate aspect of work which has physicaU)'
separate parts or is loose or flex ible. lmplications of
conS"tant change .lre in such work. Previously,
indeterminacy was a characteristic of perception in the
presence of regulatized objects - i.e., each point of view
pve a d ifferent read ing due lo perspective. In the work in
quest ion indeterm inacy of arrangement of parts is a literal
aspect ofthe physic.ll existence ohhe th ing.
lhe art under d iscussion relates to a mode ofvision
wh ich Enrenzweig terms v.lriousl)'.ls scanning,
syncretistic or ded ifferentiated - a purposeful detachment
from hol istic readings in terms ofCestalt·bound forms .
Th is perceptual mode seeks s ignificant clues out of which
wholeness i5 sensed rather than perceived as an image
.lnd ne ither randomness, heterogeneity of content, nor
indeterminacy are sources of confusion forth is mode. It
m ight be 5.lid thal the work in question does nol so much
acknowledge this mode as a wa)' of seeing as it
h)'postatizes it into a structural fealure ofthe work itself.
By doing this, it has used a perceptual accommodation to
rep lace specific form or image control and projection. This
is behind the sudden release of materia ls th.ll are 50ft or
indeterm inate Or in p ieces wh ich heretofore would not
nave met the Cesta lt-orientated demand for an imagistic
whole . It is an example of art's restructuring of perceptual
relevance wh ich subsequentl)' results in an almost
effortless re lease of a flood of energetic work [ oo. )
Chip LORD
Automerica [1976]
A Cad iUac m.lgazine ad from 1949 proclaimed ' Regardless
oflhe price cJass from which )'ou expect to select )'our next
car, you are cordiall)' invited to inspect the new Cadillac in
yoor Dealer's showroom ', .lnd.lt the bottom ofthe page:
'Codilloc: The Standard ofthe wo,Id'. During the 1950'5
CadiUac reall)' was the 'SUnd.lrd ofthe Wortd', in
engineering, ' ride', safety and dependability. It was also a
status s)'mbol, something to aspire to own, a symbol that a
person had arrived.lt a comfortable leve! or
accomplishment oflife. But as the decade ofthe 19505
proceeded , something strange and wonderful happened
to th is 'SUndard' - it sprouted u il fin s, and the)' grew each
year, until b), 1959 the)' stood 42 inches (107 cm) offth e
ground.
As kids growing up in .... metica during th is decade, we
were aculel)' awa re ofthe cJass sym bolism a nd s tyli ng
trends that the Cadill.lc represented. Genera l Moto rs used
Cadillac to introduce the lail fin beca use they believed the
prestige ofCad illac would ma ke the rad ical styli ng idea ,
Ihe u il fin , .lccepuble lo all cons umers. This
consciousness was something s hared by the members of
Ant Farm, so when Stanle)' M.lrsh invited us to make a
proposal for a site specific art work in 1973, we proposed
the Cadilloc Ranch.
The piece was bu ilt in June ' 974, after several months
of prel im inary wo rk acqu iri ng Cadillacs.1t W.lS constructed
over fourda)'s using a m otorized back·hoe and primitive
surveying tools. On Ihe fifth da)', Marsh hosted a party to
celebrate the unvei li ng. lt sUnds 300 )'ards (274 m ) from
Interstate 40, the highwa)' that replaced Route 66 in 1965.
Like the best read)'·mades, it accumulates power from the
f.act ofits mass.produced component parts and the
cultural history they bring with them to Ihe work. Also, it
was bu ilt just after the 'Arab O il Embargo', an international
action by the oil cartel that demonstrated to .... metica i15
dependence on fossil fuel and the absurd ity ofthe cars its
auto industry was producing. Almost immediatel)', it
beg.ln garnering media attention.
••
• •
Alice AYCOCK
Project for a Simple Network
of Underground Wells and
Tunnels [1975]
ElIcavate an area approx imately 20 x 40 feet (6 x 12 mI.
Build a series of six concrete block weUs, 4 feet , 4 inches
squ.lre (39.5 m ' ), connected by tunnels. Three ofthe wells
are open entry wells, 7 feet (2 mI deep. Three ofthe wells, 7
feet, 8 inches (2 m) deep, are ind icated aboye ground but
capped w ith permanent covers and a la)'er of earth. One
can crawl from entry well to entry well through narrow
tunnels , 32 inches (81 cm) wide and 28 inches (71 cm) high ,
interrupted b), vertical ' rel ieving' we lls wh ich are cJosed
and completel)' 5urrounded by e.lrth. lhe underground
structure is demarcated b), a 12·inch (30.5 cm) wall, 28 x 50
feet(8 ·sx 15 mJ.
A subterrane.ln network of pass.lges set up for the
purpose o foperating below the surface ofthe earth j
Gaston Bachelard's reference to ' underground
manoeuvres' and childhood fears ofthe cellar and attic.
(See Bachelard, Gaston, The Poeties ofSpoce, 'The house,
from cellar to attic, the s ignificance ofthe hut')
The circu lar p its ofthe Matmatis people who live
beneath the lunis ian desertj square courtyards extending
30 feet (9 m ) below lhe earth which are I¡ght wells for
DOCU MEN TS
 •
232 underground dwellings in the loess belt o(China¡ burial
holes now ¡nhabite<! by the living in Siwa, Egypt¡ tunnels lo
underground bunkers (Mal1ory, Keith, and Arvid Otrar, The
A"hitecture ofWor, p. 118); The Federal Reserve Bank of
New York -subterranean vaults five storeys deep; dug-
outs, ceUars. sarcophagi.
The 12 ¡neh (30.5 cm) high outside wall designates tha!
a specific area of earth can be penetrated - that a solid
mass is pocketed with empty spaces, like the caves ofKor
which were a 'honeycomb ofsepulchres'. The covered
wells indicated on the surface are visual elues. Something
is under there. Once underground a persan crawls in the
dark (rom light source lO light source. The structure is
underslood by physically e¡,:ploring it while remembering
the surface configuration.
The lumpenprolelarians jumping out oftheir barreis.
a slill from Eisenstein's film, Stri/t.e
Second Hag:
Come hither.
She (to the young womon):
O my darling don', stand by, and
I see this creature drag me ¡down]!
Second Hog:
'Tis the law drags you.
She:
'lis a hellish vampire, clothed all
about with blood, and boils and
blislers.
- adapled from Aristophanes, Ecc/esiozusoe
The Hopi/Anasazi Indian kivo - a ceremonial chamber
sunk in Ihe earth, roofed wi lh limber and earth. II
developed from pilhouses, corn slorage cislerns and
burial pits. (limbing down inside a building is a
sign ifica nlly differenl experience tha n enterin g from Ihe
side. It involves a greater expenditure of energy. !t's harder
lo gel out.
Troglodyte -liletally, one who creeps into holes; from
trogle - a gnawed hole.
Monlague Summers' reference to inslances in which
exhumed corpses were found to have swallowed their
shrouds and eaten their own Aesh
-See Summers, Montague, The Vampire ín Europe
'A hundred or so irregular niches, analogous to mine,
furrowed the mountain and the val ley. In the sand Ihere
were shallow pits; from Ihese miserable holes (and from
Ihe niches) naked, grey·skinned, scraggly-bearded men
emerged. I thoughl I recognized Ihem¡ they belonged lo
Ihe beslial breed ofthe Iroglodytes, who infest the shores
ofthe Arabian Gulf and the caverns ofElhiopia¡ I was nol
amaled that Ihey could nol speak and Ihallhey devoured
serpenls ... To leave the barbarous village, I chose the mosl
public hours, the coming of evening, when almost all the
men emerge from thei, crevices and pits and look al the
setting sun, wilhoul seeing it.'
- Jorge Luis Borges, The Immorto/
The entry wells are deep enough so thal once inside a
person is completely surrounded by concrete and cannot
INTE RRUPTlON
see out. [ ... ] Sorne tunnel e ntrances are allhe bottom of
the wells - o ne crawls under Ihe slructure¡ through the
centre ofthe mass.
The concrete wa lls ofthelunnels a nd wells are
basically retaining wa lls. They hold back earth,like cellar
walls. The project as an idea evokes anx iely in people -
anticipatory calegorizing. Bachelard links Ihe space ofthe
cellar with feelings of'exaggerated fear' and 'b uried
ma d ness'.
Vincenl Scully's reference lo Greek mystery cults
whose architectural s ites generally 'invoke interior, cave
experience' e.g., the underground chambers ded icaled lo
Ihe goddess Rhea where caslralion rites were celebrated¡
Ridet Haggard's character, She, who lived for 2,000 years
att ended by deaf mutes with her dead lover in the caves of
Kor, a charnel house containing the embalmed bodies of a
mysteriou s civil izalion.
At the inlersection ofthe tun nels and the closed
vertical wells Ihere is a drop·off where o ne reaches out into
dark empty space:
' ... my chin rested upon Ihe floor ofthe prison, but my lips,
and the upper portion of my head, alth oug h seemi ngly at a
less elevation Ihan the chin, touched nothing ... 1 pul
forwa rd my arm, and shuddered ... '
- Edgar Allen Poe, The Pit ond the Pendu/um.
A Ay', .. , , ¡ tor J , .. t Net,,¡rI. '1 Underground
""n '. 'r
" •n ! tn l/ .• ' r . t v•
""
Kate LlNKER
Mary Miss [1983]
Mary Miss' enterprise is directed towards a viable public
art - towards an art in which the viewer is more than the
neulral percipient ofits processes. Ir. a period marked by
overwhelming dissension and by the increasing reduction
of experience, her work represents an attempl lo compose
a common language - to use vernacular elements and
images within the everyday environment, to draw
on archetypal sensalions ofspace and lo create, againsl a
background ofshimmering signs, dense perceptual
expertence.
Miss has composed one ofthe most complex
meditalions on space in the art ofthe last two decades,
both Ihrough herexploralion ofits multiple dimensions,
by which space moves us perceptually and allusively in
time, and Ihrough her altention lo the Iransilion from
private to public site. During Ihe late 1960s, prior lo
widespread minimalist discontent, Miss was already
involved in herown, contenl-oriented production,
foreshadowing a broad redirection of concerns. Yet Miss'
work also puts into reliefcertain questions common 10
'architeclural sculplure'. She has repealedly disclaimed
interest in specific reference to archi leeture and in the
precise natu re ofthe constructed form, 'The ex perience
you can have with a co nstruction in a landscape in a
particular situation interests me more than just what the
structure ;s'. Built forms, among others, are employed fo r
Iheir physical appeal, for the;r ability to define space, and
forthe emolional force oftheir configurations. References
are progressively milled, distilled and transformed within
her wo rk to yield Ihe inherent power oftheir forms . In her
work the relations of means and ends, reference and form
and, indeed, sculplure and architecture are interwoven lo
produce a co ncise reAection on space.
' er. 1'1 • • , Art & Arc."'tenure . IrH tute ,f
•
,temporar"J.rt. mdM. 1983. p 1(8
Walter DE MARIA
The Lightning Field [1970]
SOME FACTS, NOTES, DATA, INFORMATION,
STATtSTICS ANO STATEMENTS
The Ligbtning is a permanent work.
The land is nol the setti ng for the wo rk but a part ofthe
work.
The work is located in Wesl Cenlral New Mexico.
The stales ofCalifornia, Nevada, Utah, Arizona and Texas
were searched by Iruck over a five.year period before the
location in New Mexico was seleeted.
Des irable qual ities ofthe locatio n included Aatness, high
lightning activity and isolallon. The reg io n is located 7,200
feet (2.196 m ) aboye sea leve!. The lightning Field is 1"5
r<lr "
m iles (12 km) east ofthe Continental Divide.
The earliesl man ifestali on ofLand Art was represented in
the drawings and plans for the Mi/e-Long Poral/eI Walls in
the Desert, 1961-63-
Th e lightning Fie/d began in the form of a note, following
the co mp le tio n ofThe Sed ofSpikes in 1969.
The scul pture was com pleted in ils physical form on
Novemben ,1977·
The work was commissioned and is mainlained by the Dia
Center for the Arts, New York.
In Ju ly '974, a smalllightning Fie/d was conslructed . This
served as th e prolotype for the 1977 lightning Fie/d. It had
th irty.five sta inless steel poles wilh pointed tips, each 18
feel (5.5 m) tall a nd 200feet (61 mI apart, arranged in a five·
row by seven-row grid.lt was located in Northern Arilona.
The la nd was loaned by Mr. and Mrs. Burton Tremaine. The
work now is in Ihe collection ofVirginia Dwan. It remained
in place from 1974 Ihrough 1976 and i5 presently
dismantled, prior to an in slallation in a new location .
The sum ofthe facts does noí constituíe the work or
determine ¡ts oesthetics.
The ligh tn ing Field meas ures 1 mile x 1 km and 6 m (5,280
feet x 3,300 feet).
There are 400 highly polis hed stainless steel poles with
solid , poin ted tips.
The poles are arranged in a rectangular grid array (16 to the
width, 25 to the length) and are spaced 220feet (67 mI apart o
A si mple walk around the perimeler ofthe poles lakes
approxi mately two hours.
The primary ex perience lakes place within The lightning
Fíe/d.
Each mile-Iong row contains twenty·five poles and runs
east·west.
Each kilometre-Iong row contains sixteen poles and runs
north·south.
Because the sky·ground relationship is central to the work,
viewing The Ughtning Field from the air is of no value.
Part ofthe essential content ofthe work is the ratio of
people to the space: a smaJl number of people to a large
amount ofspace.
InstaJlation was carried out from June through October,
19n·
The principal associates in construction, Robert Fosdick
and Helen Winkler, have worked with the sculpture
continuously forthe last three years.
An aerial survey, combined wit h computer analysis,
determined Ihe positioning ofthe rectangular grid and the
elevatlon ofthe terrain.
A land survey determined four elevation points
surrounding each pole positlo n to insure the perfect
placement and exact he ight of each element.
II took five months to complete both the aerial and the land
surveys.
Each measuremenl relevant to foundation pos ilion,
installation procedure and pole al ignment was triple.
checked for accuracy.
The poles's concrete foundations, set one foot below the
surface ofthe land, are 3 feet (91.5 cm) deep and 1 foot (JO.5
cm) in diameter.
Engineering studies indicated that these foundat ions will
hold poles to a vertical position in winds of up to 110 miles
(176km) perhour.
Heavy carbon steel p ipes extend from the foundation
cement and rise through the lightning poles to give extra
strength.
The poles were constructed oftype 304 stainless steel
tubing with an outside d iameler of 2 inches (5 cm).
Each pole was cut, with in an accuracy of 0.002 of a
centimetres (.001 ohn inch). to its own ind ividuallength.
The average pole he ight is 20 feet 7.5 inches (627 cm) .
The shortest pole height is 15 feet (458 cm) .
The tallest pole height is 26 feet 9 inches (815 cm).
The solid, stainless steel t ips were lurned to match an are
having a rad ius of6 feet (18] cm).
The tips were welded to Ihe poles , Ihen ground and
polished, creating a continuous unit.
The total weight ofthe sleel used is approximately ]8,000
lbs (17,252 kg).
Al! poles are parallel and the spaces between them are
accurale to within .25 ofan inch (0.5 cm).
Diagonal d istance between any two contiguous poles is
]1 1 feet (95 m I.
tflaid end to end the poles would stretch over 8,240 feel
(25 km) (1.5 m iles).
The plane ofthe tips would evenly support an imaginary
sheet of glass.
Ouring Ihe m id.po rtion ofthe day seventy to ninety per
cent ofthe poles become virtually invisible due to the high
angleofthesun.
It is intended that the work be viewed alone, or in the como
pany of a very small number of people, over at least a
twenty.four·hour period.
The originallog cabin lacaled 200 yards (18] m) beyond
the mid·point ofthe northern most row has been restored
to accommodate visitors' needs.
A permanent caretaker and administrator will reside near
the lacallon for continuous maintenance, protection and
assistance.
A visil may be reserved only through written correspondence.
The cabin serves as a shelter during extreme weather
conditions or storms.
The dimate is semi·arid¡ 11 inches (28 cm) of rain is the
yearlyaverage.
Sometimes in winter, the Lightning Fie/d is seen in ligM
snow.
Occasionally in spring, ]0, to 5o-mi1e-an·hour (48. to 80'
km·an·hour) winds blow steadily for days.
The light is as important as the lightning.
The period of primary lightning activity is from late May
through early September.
There are approximalely sixty days per year when thunder
and lightning activity can be witnessed from The Lig htning
Fie/d.
TH E I NVISI BlE IS REAL
The observed ratio oflightning storms which pass over the
sculpture has been approximately three per th irty days
during the lightning season.
Only afier a lightning strike has advanced lo an area of
about 200-feet (61 cm) aboye the Lightning Field can it
sense the poles.
Several distinct thunderstorms can be observed al one
time from The Ughtning Fie/d.
Traditional grounding cable and grounding rod protect the
foundations by diverting lightning current into the earth.
lightning strikes have nol been observed lo jump or are
from pole to pole.
lightning strikes have done no pereeptible damage lo the
poles.
On very rare occasions when there is a strong electrical
current in thea ir, a glow known as '5t. Elmo's Fire' may be
emitted from the tips ofthe poles.
Photography oflightning in the dayt ime was made
possible by the use of camera triggering devices newly
developed by Dr. Richard Orville, Dr. Bernard Vonnegut
and Robert Zeh, ofthe State University ofNew York at
Albany.
Photography ofThe Lightning Fie/d requ ired the use of
medium· and large·formal cameras.
No photograph, group of photographs or olher recorded
images can complelely represenl The l ightn ing Fie/d.
Is%tion is the euenee ofLond Art.
, . , University, in Ohio, Robert Smithson had begun to occupy
Rosalind KRAUSS
Sculpture in the Expanded
Field [1979]
[ ... J Even though scu/pture may be reduced lo what is in
the Klein group the -¡eute! l erm ofthe not·/ondscope plus
the not·Qrchiteeture, there is no reason not to imagine an
'"
oppositelerm -one that would be both londscope and
o,ch rtecture-which within this schema is c.alled the
complex. But to think the complex is to admil into tile
realm of art two terms that had formerly been prohibited
from il: /ondscope and orehrlecture - terms tha t could
function to define the sculptural (as Ihey had begun to do
in Modernism) only in the;r negative or neuter condition.
Because il was ideologically prohibited, the eomplex had
rema ined excluded hom what might be called the closure
of posl.Renaissance art. Our culture had not before been
able to think the complex, although other cultures have
thought this term with gfeal ease.labyrinths and mazes
are both landscape and architecture; Japanese gardens are
both land·landscape and architecture¡ Ihe rilual playing
fields and processionals of ancient civilizations were all in
th is sense the unquest io ned occupants ofthe complex.
Which is not to say that they were an early, or a degenera te,
or a varianl form ofsculpture. They were part of a universe
or cullural spaee in which seulpture was simply another
part- not somehow, as our historicist minds would have
it, the Sol me. Their purpose and p leasure is exactly that
they are opposite and differenl.
The expanded field is thus generated by problematizing
the set of oppositions between which the modernist cate·
gory seu/pture is suspended. And once this has happened,
once one is able to think one's way into this expansion,
there are -Iogically -three other eategories that one can
envisio n , all ofthem a eondition ofthe field itself, and none
ofthem assimilable to seu/pture. Because as we can see,
seu/pture is no longer the privileged middle term between
two things that it is n' l. Seu/pture is rather only one lerm on
Ihe periphery of a field in which there are other, differently
strudured possibilities. And one has thereby gained the
' permission' lo think these olher forms ( ... J
It seems fairly clearthat Ihis permission (or pressure)
to th ink the expanded field was fell by a number of artists
at about the same time, roughly between the years 1968
and 1970. For, one after another, Robert Mortis, Robert
Smithson, Michael Heizer, Ric hard Serra, Walter De Maria,
Robertlrwin, SolleWitt, Bruce Nauman ... had entered a
situation the logical conditions of whieh can no longer be
described as medernist. In order to name this historieal
rupture and the structural transformalion ofthe cultural
field that characterizes it, one must have recou rse to a nother
termo The one already in use in other areas of criticism is
Postmodernism. There seems no reason not to use it.
But whatever term one uses, the evidence is already in.
By 1970, with the Portio/ly Bu,ied Woodshed at Kent State
the complex axis, which for ease of reference I am calling
site eonstruetion. In 1971 with the observatory he buill in
wood and sed in Holland , Robert Morris had joined him.
Since that time, many other artists - Robert Irwin , Alice
Aycock, John Mason, Michael Heizer, Mary Miss, Charles
5 imonds - have operated within this new set of
possibilities.
Similarly, Ihe possible combination of/andseope and
not./ondseope began to be explored in the late 1960s. The
term mQrked sites is used to identify work like Smithson's
DOCU MENTS

'" Spiro/jetly (1970) and Heizer's Double Negariv/! (1969).
as it also describes sorne orthe work in the 19705 by Serra,
Morris, Car! Andre, Dennis Oppenheim, Nancy Halt,
George Trakis, and many others. But in addition 10 actual
physical manipulations ofsites, this term also refers to
otherforms of marking. These might operate through tlle
application ofimpermanent marks - Heizer's Depressions,
Oppenheim's Time Lines, or De Maria's Mi/e Long
Orowing, for example -or through the use of photography.
Smithson's Mirror Displo,ements in tlle Yuca ton were
probably the first widely known instances ofthis, but sinee
then the work ofRichard Long and Hamish Fulton has
(ocused on the photographi, experience of marking.
Christo's Running Fence might be Sol id to be an
impermanent, photographic and political instance of
marking a site ( ... ]
.' ,
38- 41
Donna HARKAVY
Meg Webster [1988]
Evídent as herdebt lo minimalist sculpture is, the sources
ofher imagery are equally in the Earth Art movement ofthe
19705. The relalionship ofWebster's work lo Ihe Earth
projects ofRobert Smithson, Nancy Holt, Robert Morris
and Michael Heizer, whom Webster worked for in 1983, is
mosl evidenl in her ouldoor sculplure. Her first major
ouldoorcommission was Hollow, a packed earth structure
which she compleled in 1985 on a sile al Ihe Nassau
Counly Museum ofFine Art in Roslyn Harbor, New Vork.
From Ihe outside, Hollow resembled alarge cylinder,
gently tapering al the top and partially submerged in the
ground. Archilectural in scale - ils interior walls measured
10 feet (305 cm) high - it vaguely suggested Ihe dwelling of
sorne primitive society. From the exterior, its severe
geometry and relatively uninflected surface gave no hint of
what lay inside. The visitor approached the piece by
walking down a 90 foot (27.5 m) long, gently sloping dirt
path. Civen the length ofthe walkway and lis gradual
descent below ground, approaching and penetrating the
work assumed ritual significance. Entering the sculplure
through its slot-like portal, one encountered a lush inlerior
- a great mass ofbrightly coloured f10wering planls.
Two rock seats were provided from wbich visitors
could contemplate this rich profusion of planls. In Ihe
Nassau piece, as in her olher outdoor works, Webster
wanls to intensify the viewer's perceplion of nature. ' I'm
not making nature, surely', she has said, 'bul I'm pulling
[Ihe viewer] to il'.' A viewer able to return several times
over a period of months to this meditative environment
could not help bul focus on nature's processes. As the
seasons changed, so did Webster's sculpture.
CIen (1g88), anolher large·scale enclosed sculpture,
commissioned for the Minneapolis Sculpture Carden, is
Webster's most site-specific outdoor work lO date. It
consists of a circular depression carved into the slope that
forms the eastern border ofthe Carden, and it was
INTERRUPTION
constructed in response lo the surrounding landscape.
Two triangular steel walls that serve as retaining walls
from a s lrongly sculptural entryway to Ihe in ter ior oflhe
piece and establish a ceremonial nexus belween its
interior and exterior. The terraced inlerior ofG/en is
planted with carefully arranged flowering plants. The
overal! effect is like a poi ntillist canvas: the varicoloured
f10wers are like dots of paint Ihat merge lo create an .111·
over surface. Webster's 'canvas', however, is rich with
texture and scent.
Webster's environmental structures are distinguished
by their strong spatial quality and the way in which they
enhance a sense of place by surrounding the viewer. f or
such earth Slructures, she prefers a circular form because
it is primary and enclosing, like embracing arms. Webster
has 01150 characterized her planted works as womanly and
sexual, not only because oflheir womb·like quality and Ihe
nurturing attention required to maintain them, but also
because the works must be penetrated in order to be fully
experienced. In spring, especially, the pieces are alive with
possibility; procreation occurs over and over by insects
pollinating the flowers, investing her work with the spirit
ofbirth and regeneration.
Although Webster, by her own accoun!, never actively
participated in the rhetorie ofMinimalism, she
nevertheless believes her work 'continues the dialogue'
with ils aesthetic principies. In expressing her relationship
to Minimalism, she says, ' I'm eoming al il because ofthe
geometry ... and the need to present an idea or coneept'. By
her use of organie materials such as earth, hay and plants
in combinalion wilh the cool vocabulary of minimalisl
seulplure, Webster ereales sensuous animale forms.
,, , , qunH' fee""
, "
an"erl ", L I ,Iy 19a
• ,. . "eQ Io.,k t pr' • 11'1""
WdH.rA,t 1ter. MTn' 1985 . , n.
" structure that they pul in it - they run it on a tape loop in
Richard SERRA
Spin- Out '72-'73 for Bob
Smithson [1973]
What I've decided is thal whal I'm doing in my work right
now has nolhing lo do with the specific inlentions ( ... J
Ifl define a work and sum il up wilhin the boundary of a
definition, given my inlentions, Ihal seems lo be a
limitation on me and an imposition on other people ofhow
lO think about the work. Finally, it has absolulely nOlhing
lo do with my activity or art. I think Ihe significance oflhe
work is in its effort nol in ils intentions. And Ihat effort is a
state of mind, an activity, an interaction with the world [ ... J
Vou can lalk about them. Vou can talk aboul defining
the lopology ofthe place, and the assessment oflhe
characterislics oflhe place, through locomotion. Vou can
talk aboul Ihe palh through Ihe place which defines Ihe
two boundaries as you walk Ihrough the p iece. There is a
certai n ki nd of para lIax [ ... J
Firsl you see Ihe plales as parallel; when you walk leh,
they move righl. As you walk inlo them, Ihey open up, and
there's a eertain kind ofcentr ifugal push into the side of
the hill. ln fact the people at the Kroller-Müller wanted lo
call the piece 'Centrifugaal ' in Dutch. They talked a lot
aboul vorticism. And Ihen when you walk aboye it, Ihere's
anolher path which connects the two sides oflhe valley.
There's a ridge which encircles the whole space at
aboul 150 feel. When you walk on the ridge, Ihere's a
conlraction and the space becomes elliptically
•
compartmentalized, which you ean't see as you walk
through lt, and it's a d ifferenl way of understanding your
relation lo the place: you're overhead looking down. The
plates were laid out at twelve, four and eight o'dock in an
elliptical valley, and Ihe s pace in between them forms an
isosceles triangle, 152 feet (46 m) o n the long side, 78 and
78 feet (24 m) on Ihe legs. Each plate is 10 feet (3 m) high by
40 feel (12 mJ long by 1·5 inches (4 cm) Ihick hol rolled
sleel sunk inlo the incline al an equal elevation. Now 0111 of
those Ihings could I?e talked abouI, and those in part were
the intentions [ ... )
When you imply Ihat there's some sort of specific
inlentions, Ihat someone's going lO learn somelhingfrom
a work, or Ihat it's goal-oriented in Ihal way, or Ihal il's
going to teach somelhing ... I don't even know iflhal's Irue
or val id any more. I Ihink Ihat art's about a certain kind of
activitythat burns ilself oul and Ihen Ihere's something
else, and it burns itself out as you finish each piece.
The focus ofthe art for me is Ihe e){perience ofliving
Ihrough Ihe p ieces, and Ihal experience may have very
little lo do with physical facts oflhe work of art, very little to
do with Ihal. But when you're talking about intentions, all
you're lelling people about is the relalion of physical facts.
And I think an artwork is nol merely correctly predicting all
Ihe relalions you can measure ( ... )
Sorne people think il is, so Ihey sel up a construct and
eO,,!'
". tell people their inlentions, and then Ihe construct verifies
the intenlions. Everybody has Iheir own language
Iheir head - and what Ihal does, Ihose kinds ofintentions,
is to preclude people from experiencing Ihe work. And
righl now my pieces are m ostly involved with walking and
looking. Bul I can'l tell someone how lo walk and look. The
piecein Holland takes up ... 1 mean, there isn'lany
definillon ofboundary ... il takes up the whole valley. Vou
can walk through it in as many ways as you can
conceivably think of walkinglhrough il [ ... J
R :Mrd ,erra, ' Sp\n "t' '73forSobSmith lnI9B ·.
l'Iuseum. 981. pp. 36 31
 n,

Along with the development of aggressively

interventionist strategies in the land came competing theoretical approaches and a

growing emphasis on the individual as subject in the landscape. There was a

feeling that art need not be a production líne of more objects to fill the world',

Richard Long writes: 'My interest was in a more thoughtful view of art and nature, 1

was for an art made on common lands, by simple means, on a human scale. It was

the antithesis of so-called American Land Art, where the artist needed money to be

an artist. to buy real estate, to claim possession ofthe land and wield machinery',

Long's stated desire to be 'a custodian of nature, not an explorer of il', characterizes

both the practica 1and philosophical drift of this section. Increasingly reflective of

the broader social and polítical specifics ofthe times - the rise of 'Body Art', the

impact of feminism, situationism and interest in different belíef systems - these

texts also reference elements of a cultural past. The works to which they

correspond bring these arguments into a context of more subjective meanings and

activities, sometimes combining the personal with the política!.

indeed mere idlers and vagabonds j but they who do go send back our emb¡lImed hearts only as relics to our
Henry David TH OREAU there are saunterers in lhe good sense, such as I mean. desolate kingdoms. Ifyou are ready to leave father and

. 'a ' ' nq' lE '
I wish to speak a word for Nature, for absolute freedom
and wildness, as contrasted with a freedom and culture
Sorne, however, would derive the word from sonslerre,
without land ar ahorne, which, therefore, in the good
sense, will mean , having no particular hame, but equally at
home everywhere. For this 15 the secret ofsuccessful
sauntering. He who sits still in a house all the time may be
motller, and brother and sjster, and wife and child and
friends , and never see them again - ¡fyou have paid your
debts, and made your will , and settled all your affairs , and
are a free man - then you are ready for a walk ( ... J
'".'\¡" • e

merely civil- to regard milln as an ¡"habitant, or a part and the greatest vagrant of all; but the saunterer, in the good e , ,;. ",-,
parcel ofNature, rather than a member of society. 1wish to sense, is no more vagrant than the meandering river, e 8

make an extreme statement, if so 1may make an emphatic
one, for there are enough champions of civitization: the
minister and the school committee and every one of you
will take care ofthat
I have met with but one ortwo persons in the course of
my life who understood the art ofWalking, that is, oftaking
walks - who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering,
which word is beautifully derived 'from id le people who
roved about the country, in the Middle Ages, and asked
charity, under pretence of going ti la Saint Terre', to the
Holy Land, till the children exclaimed, 'There goes a
Sainte· Terre,', a Saunterer, a Holy.Lander. They who never
go to the Holy land in their walks, as they pretend, are
which is aH the while sedulously seeking the shortest
course to the sea. But 1prefer the first, which, indeed, is
the most probable derivation. For every walk is a sort of S gmund FREUD
crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us, to go
forth and reconquer this Holy Land from the hands ofthe Mases and Monathelsm
Infidels.
It is true, we are but faint·hearted crusaders, even the
---,
walkers, nowadays, who undertake no persevering, nevero
ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tourS, and Man found that he was faced with the acceptance of
come round again at evening to the old hearthside from 'spiritual' forces , that is to say such forces as cannot be
which we set out. Halfthe walk is but retracing our steps. apprehended by the senses, particularly not by s ight, and
We should go forth on the shortest walk, perchance, in the yet having undoubted , even extremely strong, effects.lf
spi,it of undying adventure, never to return, prepared to we maytrust to language, it was the movement ofthe air

DO CUM ENTS
 •

I
l'

•
, , --
that provided the image of spirituality, since the spirit
borrows its name from the breath ofwind (Qnimus,
spiritus, Hebrew: fua,h = smoke). The idea ofthe soul was
thus born as the spiritual principie in the individual ... Now
the realm of spiri15 had opened for man, and he was ready
to endow everything in nature with the soul he had
discovered in himself.
,
qm d I "
• Around the time ofthe outdoor exhibition, 1was searching
.' pany. B .t, , jI!
GuyDEBORD
Theoryofthe Dérive ['9'61
Among the various Situationist methods is the dérille
'drifting1, a technique oftransient passage
through varied ambiances. The derive entails playful-
constructive behaviour and awareness of psycho-
geographical effects j which completely distinguishes jt
from the dassical notions ofthe journey and the strol!.
In a derive one or more persons during a certain period
drop their usual motives for movement and action, their
relations, theirwork and leisure activities, and let
themselves be drawn by Ihe attractions ofthe terrain and
the encounterS they find there. The element of chance is
less determinant than one might think: from the derive
point of view cities have a psychogeographical relief, wilh
constant curren15, fixed poin15 and vortexes which
strongly discourage entry into or exit from certajn zones.
Bul the derive indudes both this letting go and its
necessary contró1ldiction : the dom ination of
psychogeographical variations by the knowledge and
calculation oftheir possibilities. In th is latter regard,
ecological science- des pite the apparently narrow social
space to which it limits itself - provides psychogeography
with abundant data [ ... J
Chance plays an important role in derives precisely
because the methodology of psycho geographical
observation is still in i15 infancy. But the action of chance is
naturally conservative and in a new setting tends to reduce
everything to an alternation between a limited number of
varian15, and to ha bit. Progress is nothing other than
breaking through a field where chance holds sway by
creating new conditions more favourable to our purposes.
We can say, then , that the randomness ofthe derive is
fundamentally different from that ofthe stroll, but also
that the first psychogeographical attractions discovered
run the risk offixating the dériving individual or group
around new habitual axes, to which they will constantly be
drawn back ( ... J
1'100 ,991! An AnU'" '11 f hdng'ng ed
Harr, an Paul W" a. Bla, ... 11 P"bl
Fujiko SHIRAGA
About Myself and the
Outdoor Exhibition [1955]
P intensely for an existence beyond my own. I was
determined to express, as a human being, an immense
force - a force so great that it would defy any human
control.
1want tocreate an enormous gash in an empty sky.
No material or skill will be visible, but it will arouse
awe in the viewer's mind and unhinge his m ind. lt has
nOlhing to do with a natural phenomenon: it is a product
of my own mind. I do not want to turn my impression of
natural phenomena into any kinds offorms -even
abstract ones.
t aM . theedge (as I had projected in a model in my March 1969
, "' .
> H
" '
, , ,> ,
• " Agd'
" \. \
" "" . . r " ...
PeterHUTCHINSON
Paricutin Volcano Project
[ 1970]
Jay and Ileft New York City by jet and arrived in Mexico City
the afternoon ofTuesday, January 6, 1970. We stayed at the
Hotel Genéve. The nen morning we contacted Bernard at
h is oftice and explained the project ( ... ]
I wanted a dormant but live volca no, with bare rock,
ground heat and steam. The only way to find out was to go.
I knew that the volcano had burst out of a field in 1943. In
nine years it had grown to 1,400 feet (a bout 9,000 feet
aboye sea level) , making it the mosl recent growth of an
entire volcano (1 believe the only growth of an entire large
volcano in living memory).
From Uruapan wetook a taxi to an Indian village, ten
miles away. The roads were very bad. The trip took well
over an hour. The countryside was dotted with old
volcanoes, typically flat on top, mostly overgrown by trees.
It was easy to see the different ages ofthese old volcanoes,
in fact, by judging how erosion had altered their shape and
by the thickness ofthe vegetation on the slopes ( ... ]
The path was steep and first led downhill through pine
forest and across sharp sloped but dry arroyos ( ... ] After a
mile or two we entered a grassy field and saw the volcano
several miles away.lt was a rounded cone, halflightish
ash , halfblack cinder. The second peak (at the other crater
rlm) was not at first visible from this, the north-west side.
Then we saw the jet black edge ofthe lava flow. It had
destroyed two viUages. The second village- Paric utin -
was completely covered by many feet oflava but the
church tower survived and still stands. The lava shield
surrounded the volcano on almost all sides, except for a
narrow approach from the south. There had been three
major lava flows . Afte r it the lava lay from 10 to SO 2J7
feet thick, completely impassable. The surface was very
rough, composed oflarge often loose cinder blocks which
were sharp and treacherous, often weak enough to break
under a person's weight. We rounded promontory after
promontory ofthe lava, indented with deep bays of
blackened flat ground [ ... J
Ilooked into the crater. It was about 300 feet deep, a
double inverted cone, with one point about twenty feet
below the other. The sides were steep and much eroded.
The grit and ash was slowly filling in the bottom which
contained these materials. Across from us were cliffs of
red lava rock. About fifty feet below the edge on the side
where we stood was a magnificent depos it of sulphur -
yellow, red, green, black and gold (perhaps sulphur.oxides,
carbon and ores of various kinds that were deposited by
the steam o r gas). Cases stil1 ca me from this area in some
quantity ( ... ]
The volcano 'ooked perfect for my project. 1could use
'" show), or possibly the inside ofthe crater, though this
. oO. seemed somewhat impractical because ofthe steep
.
" ,. eroding ash sides and the presence of probably poisonous
gases( ... ]
At the top 1told everyone that I didn't want to be
rushed. We went about feeling the rocks for temperature
differences and looking for steam patches. There was
enough steam coming from the cinders on the flattish
ledge by the crater. In one clert, though, there was gas
which had built up thin orange deposits of crystals. We
became used to spotting the dangerous emissions and
holding our breath near them. Steam was whitish while
the gases were bluish or brownish.
Ilaid out a line ofbread as marker, using the natural
fault lines for my s hapes. The bread was mostly wet from
the steam from its overnight storage. The Indians and
Bernard started tearing open the bread packages and
fiUing in the shapes 1had marked [ ... ]
My project was to lay the bread, wet it once and let the
steam and the heat ofthe rocks and sun d o the rest. 1
expected mould to grow in large quantities and I hoped in
patches large enough to show in the photographs 1would
take. I would cover the bread with plastic in the interim
which would condense the water on its surface and make a
super-saturated environment, in which mould likes to
grow. This, in effect, would make a greenhouse
environment in surroundings which hitherto had been
practically sterile and certainly unable to support moulds
or even lichens ( ... ] I wanted an amorphous effect that
would change colour as mould grew. The only shapes
involved were dictated by the nature ofthe faults that
were splitting up the edge into segments that would
eventually crumble and fall into the crater. The result
was a kind oftripartite line with uneven edges and
thickness, becoming in part both line and shape.
Now 1 photographed the piece from various places
around the crater edge. ln 1958 (according to the National
Geographic Society) the width ofthe craterwas 875 feet
(26,687 cm). I estimated the width as much greater - due
1suppose to erosion ofthe edges and thus a constant
widening effect. My piece was roughly 250 feet (7,625 cm)
OOCU MENTS
 2" in length and using this as a yardstick I estimated (from
aerial pholographs taken liilter) Ihal the crater was very
roughly,,.4oo feet (42.700 cm) in diameter. However,
accurate measurements were nOI taken since this was nol
my purpose for being Ihere. The crater appears almos!
circular 1... 1
The spores ofthese yeasts and moulds Ihal I ex pected
lO grow were lo come (rom the air - 1didn'l seed them.
They might be rarer al ¡¡Itilude bul there are few places on
this planet where they are nol found - perhaps in the
deepest seas or al the poles. These spores are incredibly
hardy in Iheir non·active spore stage and can exist for lo ng
periods without dilmage. Sorne can withsland OOiling
temperatures and o °F or below. Bul most need the range
from 33"F to around 9SoF before they can grow, sporulate
and reproduce. I was aiming forthe fastest growth
condition and planned to allow only five or si¡¡: days forthis
project. Some spores can reac h sporulation in thirty.si¡¡:
hours or less if conditions are right ( ... ]
I found myself growing stronger but getting more cut
up every day from falling in the hard cinders and basalt.
This new landscape is nol yet eroded into the 50ft shapes
we aU e¡¡:pect.jay and I counted the ravens. I see si¡¡:, he
sees ten,l twelve, he fourteen. They f10at like vultures.
Would they eat the bread? I saw an ant, a seedli ng, a spider
web, a dead bee near a 2oo°F+ smoke hole. 1never saw red
grass before. It was incredibly quiet there. No insect hum,
even the few birds were siJent. I saw a cricket or grasshopper
I
on Ihe highest peak. The sky was very clear and blue -
beautiful conditions for photography ( ... ]
Si¡¡: days later I went back to the Indian viUage ( ... )
The bread had grown mould as I hoped. Thesteam had
heated and wetted it and near ideal growing conditions
must have been attained night and day because the mould
was growing in large patches. Only in the one section
where we had wet the bread once but where Ihere was nOI
steam, was there no mould. Here Ihe bread had dried and
bleached even whiter from the sun. In the mould-growing
areas there were large patches (about two to three inches
in diameter) ofblack bread mould (white in this stage] , red
bread mould (pinkish orange) and a dark red species Ihat I
do nol know. I brought some ofthe moulds back with me
in a film can. 1took them to Columbia University for
analysis. Unfortunately, in my sample the red bread mould
had killed offthe other molds. There were also live bacteria
and dead round worms present ] ... )
It is not eKtraordinary to grow mould on bread. I was
not doing so in any scientiflc sense. 1was attempting
several other things - to juKtapose a micro-organism
I aga inst a macrocosmic landscape, yet in such amount that
I the results would be ptainly visible through colour
changes. I also chose an environment that, although
having the necessary elemenls for growth, needed a subtle
alteration on utilization to make growth possible. Volcanic
ground in a sense is new material, sterilized and
reorganized then thrown out from the deepercrust ofthe
earth. It is similar to the earliest earth landscapes and
related to the early geological periods such as the pre-
Cambrian when moulds and algae played the dominant
I role on dry land that today belongs to the higher mammals
I and insects. Today, when volcanoes appear from the sea,
I INVOlV EME NT
they are first colonized by bacteria, moulds and algae. The
conditions of early history are continually duplicated.
l"Iut,h,n n. 'P.,. uton Project·. 1969.
Art<, 1994. pp.
Lucy R. LlPPARD
Overlay: Contemporary Art
and the Art of Prehistory
[ 1983]
RITUAL
Discussing or even exploring the prehistoric sites today is
like visiting a museum, or peering around a church as a
tourist. For aU the formal beauties that are accessible, the
essence oflife is elusive. Contemporary artisls are looking
to ancient forms both to restore that breath and also to
take it for themselves. The animating element is often
ritual- private or public, newly created or recreated
through research and imagination (in itselfa breath oflife) .
Artmaking is a ritual, perhaps the most valid - ifelitist -
one left to th is society. tt is, however, in danger of
becoming as disengaged as institution alized religion.
I::mile Durkheim's conclusion that 'religion is something
eminently social' should also apply to arto 'Collective
representation accum ulated over vast spans of space and
ti me are resul ts of a special intellectual activity ... which is
inflnitely richer and more complex tha n Ihat ofthe
individual."
The do mina nt alienation of maker from what is made,
and the afienation of art and work from life, has Jed some
contemporary artisls to a conscious restoration of severed
connections. Over the last flfteen to twenty years there has
been a move to reconnect 'medium and message', 'subject
and object', in the course of which some artists have
become quite literaUy e/oser to their arto They have become
more necessary to its perception - not only as the actors in
body art or performance art, but also as the major
protagonisls oftheir individual aesthetic ideas in lectures
and writing. The result has been an increased dialogue
between them and their specialized art audiences. Too
often, however, a broader audience remain s out of reach,
even to those artists most resistanl lo the eros ion of art's
communicative functions , because available forms are not
easily understood.
Immateriality and impermanence, for instance, though
sometimes valid strategies against commodification, have
often backfired , leading to the same ki nd ofisolation and
inaccessibility the artisls hoped to overcome. Although
the form has changed - for e¡¡:ample, from e¡¡:penstve steel
to ine¡¡:pensive ¡¡:erox, or from object to action - the content
is still meaningless to many people. In an ambivalent
antidote tothis situation, many artisls have found
themselves drawn more directly into aU aspects of making,
e¡¡:plaining and distributing, even promoti ng and seUing
their arto In the process, they become public figures and
their art, almost accidentally, has to become more public
too. For some this syndrome is irrelevant, partofone
'movemen!' or another, or 'making it'; for others it has
been an eye·opener, a consciousness-raiser, a way forthe
audience and ils life concerns to enter and directly affect
the art being made.
Ofthosewho have tried to replace society's passive
expectations of art with a more active model, many have
chosen lo call their activities 'rituaJs'. The word is used
very broadly, but its use indic'ates a concern with that
balance between individual and collective, theory and
practice, object and action that is at the core of any belief
system . Durkheim's division of religious phenomena tnto
beliefs and rites is applicable to aesthetics. 'The first', he
says, 'are states or opinions and consist in representations;
the second are determined modes of action'.'
Any discussion of ritual in recent art raises the
important question ofthe relationship ofbeliefto the
forms that convey it, or at least suggest ils structure in a
general way. Images and activities borrowed from ancient
or foreign cultures are use fui as talismans for self-
development, as containers. But they become ritual in the
true sense only when filled by a communal impulse that
connects the past (the last time we performed this act) and
the present (the ritual we are performing now) and the
future (will we ever perform it again?).
When a ritual doesn 't work, it becomes an empty, self-
conscious act, an e¡¡:clusive object involving only the
performer, and it is often embarrassing for anyone else to
witness. When a ritual does work, it is inclusive, and lea ves
the viewerwith a need to participate again _At this point,
ritual becomes propaganda in the religious sense in which
the word origin ated - the sense that evolved from the
rituafs ofthe Catholíc Church, the sense of'spreading the
word' (or the seed, as in propagation) . Today, as Dennis
Oppenheim has put it, 'ritual is an injected ingredient ...
It's an objectively placed idiom necessary to move the
work away from certain kinds ofsterility'.' But the concept
ofkn owi ng through doing and communicatingthrough
participating continues, whether it is applíed to daily
routines or mystical mtes ofenlightenment.
The active, orformal, element of repetition which
characterizes 50 much and such diverse American art from
the last three decades can be seen as an acknowledgement
ofthe need for ritual. Art that is called ritual but is never
repealed is finally an isolated gesture ratherthan a
communal process. Repetition is necessary to ritual, and
repetition was a major component ofthe work ofthose
artists in the lale 19605 who were adapting a deadpan
minimal style to an often sensuaUy obsessive contento
(Freud compared culture to neurosis, equating phitosophy
with paranoia, religion or ritual with compulsion, and art
with hysteria.) It seems probable that in the New Stone
Age, ritualization oftasks and 'Iearning by heart' were the
prime manner of perpetuating belief and history.
Eventually oral history was handed down only by Iravelling
bards and minstrels, who were 'homeless', as artists are in
this society. Eva Hesse said she used repetition in her
sculpture because it recalled 'the absurdity oflife', 'If
something is absurd , it's much more euggerated, more
absurd ifit's repeated ... Repetition does enlarge or
increase or e¡¡:aggerate an idea or purpose in a statement'.'
 Yvonne Rainer has said ofherchoreography, 'Ifsomething
is comp\e.¡(, repetition gives people more time to uke it in'.'
The feminist development of ritual in art c.ame in
response lo a genuine need on both the personallevel (for
identity) and the communallevel (for a revised history and
j a bfoaderrrameworkinwhich lo make art). Mary Beth
• Edelson, who sees hersetf as creating a 'Iiturgy' for \he
feminist movement, introduced the function of ritual to
het children in the early 1970s:
'1'NaS setting aside a particular time, saying to them, "This
activity thilt we do now is speciill. This time ilnd these
gestures I hope witl make a lasting impression on you . So
we are going to act it out. We are going to ritualise our
behaviour and document oursefve.s with photographs.
The photographs wiU sbnd as a record ofthe unity and
wonder that we expeñenced-."
At t:he same time, women notlCed correspondences
with traditional female work and arts. Artists began to see
utilitiirian activities with aesthetic eyes, sometimes ilS the
counterparts of mantras - social formulas for copingwith
oppression, for surviving. 'The cumulative power of
infinite repetition' was manifested, for instance, in the
masonry techniques ofthe women who built the immense
PuebJo Bonito in Chaco únyon, a complex layering of
small stone fragmen1$. Vincent Scully has remarked how
the ritual dances there were performed 'tight up aga inst
the bui\dings .•• and t:he beat ofthose dances is built into
t:he architecture, which thus dances too'.' Artist Judith
Todd has observed how the puebJo was laid out in clusters
resembling matrilocalliving patterns, and how the
concentric aJr.l.ngement and obsessive Iilyering ofthe
"¡vos, ordomed underground chambers, also symbo[ized
protection, the way t:he earth enfolds the sou[, in a
[ilbynnthine pattem.'
The rituals of modem artists evoke primitive muals,
especially those ofthe agrarian cyde ofthe birth , growth,
sacrifKe and rebirth ofthe year god j the cirde dance
encouraging sun and moon to turn; the Troy dances oflife
and death. Michelle Stuart has written about her earth-on·
paper scrolls, ' Move the body repeatedly and you will sbrt
Itnowing yourselfbec.ause you no longer Itnow anything at
3011. When I pound roclts or rub over layers and I¡yers ofdirt
and move my body in dance, I don 't want to stop ...
Destroying lO create a new sbte ofbeing. It's like a murder
- the destructiveness of creating'.' 'fet the forms do not
survive without the beliefs, as Jamake Highwater, a
Blackfoot¡ Cheroltee who is both a participant in and
articulate criti< of avant·garde culture, says in his book
Rituo/s ofExperience. Describing the labyrinthine
patterns ofthe farandole in southern France - a snaltelike
winding dance which is still executed but has lost its
signifiance - he observes that when expressive form is
abandoned, 'what rem¡ ins is neither art nor ritual but
something else ... decorative entertainment'.lO
In \he 1960s, experimental dance broke away from the
theatfe wond and became more dosely associated with
t:he visu¡1 arts, infl uencing them, in turn, to incorporate
body and movement. Repetition suggests not only
eroticism, but action and ' revolution'. Process and
performance and ritual art are all to a degree restJess
oppositions to the status quo. Visual artists' interest in
dance coincided with the politic.al need to ' dematerialize'
art objects. Dance is also experience ritualized , and Mircea
Eliade has observed that ' reality is acquired solely through
repetition or participation'. ' No form ofdance is
permanent', wrote cmic John Martin . 'Only the basic
principie ofdance is enduring, and out ofit, like the cycle of
nature i1$elf, rises an endless succession of new springs
out of old winters'."
Dance is considered the oldest art, and certainly the
most socialized . with singing and music, it is the art most
rooted in a continuing present, ' Myths are th ings which
never h¡ppen but always are'.'} Ritual takes place in the
temperal framework of myth, in that Celtic 'time between
times' oftwiligh1$, mists and hybrids which John Sharkey
has compared to the ' entrelacs' ofCeltic visual arts, the
intertwining knots and puns and curves - repetitive
images arising from tasks set the contemplative m ind.'"
Also Jesus was worshipped as 'the dancers' master'
(and the mosaic labyrinths set in the floors of med ieval
churches were surely vestiges ofdances as well as
pilgrimage metaphors) , 'Christianity has lost i1$ dances '"
and consequentJy i1$ spiral, growing motion, the natural
cirding around the spindle/axis. AII that rema ins is the
linear procession. A sixth-century Cnostic hymn warned,
'who danceth not, knoweth not what cometh to pass'. A
more recent version is Emma Goldman 's 'Ifthere's no
dancing at the revolution, I'm not coming'. (A revolution
¡s, by definition, a cirde dance.) In contemperary art, ritual
is not just a passive repetition but the acting out of
collective needs ( ... )
• lIppord How do a ll lhese Ih ings relate 10 each olner?
•
Charles SIMONDS
Microcosm lo Macrocosm .
FanlasyWorld lo Real World:
Inlerview wilh Lucy R.
Lippard [1974]
Lucy R. lIppard What do you do)
Chorles 5imonds 1) Sirth: In 1970 I buried myselfin the
earth and was reborn from it. This exists as a 16mm film and
a double series oftwenty.four time-Iapse colour photographs.
2) Landscape·Bodv·Owel/ing: (First done 1971 ). Ilie down
nude on the earth, cover myself with day, remodel and
transform my body into a landscape with clay, and then
build a fantasy dwelling.place on my body on the earth .
There are two films ofthis (1971, 1973).
3) Dwelfings: Since 1970, most of my time has been spent
going around the streets ofNew 'fork bu ilding day
dweUing·places for an im¡ginary civilization ofLittle
People who are migrating through the city.
4) Project Uphil/: Forthe last year I h¡ve been working with
the Lower East Side Coalition for Human Housing and the
community on East 2nd Street, designing a p¡rk.playlot-
a hilly landscape between Houston and 2nd Streets,
Avenues B and Ci construction begins in the spring.
5imonds I' m interested in the earth and myself, or my
body and the earth , what happens when they become
entangled with each other and all the th ings they indude
emblematically or metaphoricallYi like my body being
everyone's body and the earth belng where everybody
lives. The complexities work 01,11 from this juncture. One of
the original connections between the earth and my body is
sexual. This infuses everything Ido, both the forms and
the activities. In my own personal mythology I was born
from the earth, and many ofthe things I do are aimed at
refreshing and art iculat ing that awareness for myself and
others. Landscape·Sody-Dwel/jng is a prccess of
transformation ofland into body, body into I¡nd. I c.an feel
myselflocated between the earth beneath me (which bears
the imprint of my body contour) and the clay landscilpe on
top of me (Ihe unders ide of which bears the other contour
of my body). Both S ;rth and Landscope·Sody.Dwelling are
rituals the Little People would engage in. Their dwellings
in the stree1$ are part ofthat sequence. It's the origin myth
- the origin ofthe world and of man and ofthe people. This
progression establishes beliefs and relationsh ips at the
very centre, at the very begin ning, in a physical way. Then I
am free to go and spread these beliefs into the world as a
fantasy through the little People, and into the world ¡S a
reality through the park.
Llppord Doesn't II bother yOIl Ihat there isn't anything
people can [ook back to f,om a greate, dlstance'
Simonds Well, some ofthe effect ofthe. th ings I do is
OOCU ... ENTS
 lO" strengthened bythe fact In3t they're ephemeraL Ir you
leave thoughts behind you Ih3t olher people can develop,
you've had an effect on how the world looks or how ¡t's
thought about. I don't see any reason lo teave behind
'things' which lose their meaning in time, or ellen exist as a
symbol of meaning al a given time pasto The few objects I
do make each rear, al 50 landscapes with life ilrchitectures
on them, are mueh more conceptualized - ane thought
brought lo ane place in one form ( ... ]
Formyself, Ilhink ofthem in terms of making. Their
nign point for me is the momen! when I finish them, when
the ciar i5 sliU wet and I'm in control of.lit the textures of
the sand and the colours, when earth is sprinkled on the
clay and it' s 50ft ilnd velvety, very rich. As Ihey dry, they
fade, and cease to be as vivid for me. Actually, I'm
constructing a little world of my own, allowing part of me
to make a place to be.lt's a very calm feeling. Even when
I'm 5urrounded by lots ofactivity, my focus is on this very
small world. The Little People, as they in ha bit that space,
take on their own energy and draw me along ( ... J
The dwellings have a past as ruins and they are the past
ofthe human race, a migration. They throw into reliefthe
I scale and history ofthe city. You have Ihal feeling offalling
I'
into a small and distan! place which, when entered,
I"
becomes big and real- a dislocation which gives jI a
I dreamlike quality.
I:
I
To look at one dwelling on a formal, art-informational
level is a mistake. It's more fruitful to relate them to the
American Indian image they recall because, like the
Indians, the little People's lives centre around belief,
anitudes towards nature, towards the land; because of
theirvulnerability but persistence taken against a
capitalist New York City ( ... J
The city has to do with a concept of nature that
ekploits, pictorializes, steps outside of nature and tries to
superimpose on it OOth an abstract ideal of'good design'
and/or a short-sighted capitalism. By working on land
that's already ruined, you're hopefully preventing what
could happen in the fulure by working wilh whal did
happen in Ihe pasto Right now, given the state ofthe city,
the parle's undulating hills are a superimposition, the
same way the little landscapes are drawn onlo the
architecture. The park can be seen as a montage of
horizontallandscape on the vertical axis ofthe city, but this
site is mosl important to me because pedestrians can also
walk through it _lt's a passageway of real earth forms , a
respite from the city, not like those vest.pocleet parks
which are like stage backdrops, or dead ends. To bring the
relationship of city to land form more into balance, many
vacant lots and odd pieces could be landscaped to create a
meandering web ofhills f10wing throughout the city, a
continuous reminder ofthe earth' s contours beneath the
asphalt.
Robert Smit hson' s idea ofdealing with mining
companies, wilh the real world that is visually and
conceptually and economicaUy concerned wilh the earth,
focuses on the relationship between an aesthetic
consciousness and reality. Strip mining is based on what is
the quicleest and least expensive way of ripping up the
earth and taking oul ont what is wanted. Smithson was
trying to find ways that his work could profit from the
INVOlVE MENT
amount of e nergy and earth-moving actually employed,
and at the same time, ways he could restructure Ihe strip
miners' thoughts to inelude other values not strictly
capitalistic. [ ... JVacant space on the lower East Side
represenls a kind of devastation ofthe earth similarto a
strip mine. Poor planning has made that land
unproductive, Le., unprofitable. A raped piece ofland has
no tife lefl: in it, anracts no lifeto ¡t . last week a dead dog
was found in the lot where the park will be.
Llppard Does 15 have lo be art Ihal resta res tha!
deva sla tio n >
Simonds That's just it. Seeing it as on is 10lally irrelevant
in terms of whal we know art's relationship lo the real
world to be right now. You wanl lo affect the
consciousness Ihal's actually chewing up the earth. What
those people end up doing to the earth is what we will
ultimately experience the earth to be. That great gash in
the middle ofthe counlry is whal comes back lo us as a
visual image, a gesture, a concept [ ... J
NancySPERO
Tracing Ana Mendieta [1992]
Ana Mendieta carved and incised in the earth and stone,
and, in July 1981, on Ihe almost inaccessible walls of caves
in Jasuco Parle in Cuba: always the symOOI ofthe female
body, the brealhing woman's body melding wilh the earth
or stone ortrees or grass, in a transformative
represenlation ofthe living body mutating into another
substance. This repelilive ritual, never the same, always
the same, was in sum a constellation oftiny planets -the
female mark, the vulva, fealureless, sexual, dug intothe
ground.
Alone with her special lools and gear, she would hike lo
a chosen site, lie down and mark her body on the ground,
dig trenches, filling Ihem wilh gunpowder and sening
them alight lo blaze madly. Celebraling Ihe small earthen
shape of an abstracted female formo A violenl ritual, yet
contained. The land evenlually covered up the traces ofthe
performance as her art eroded and the earth returned to its
previous state. The only records are pholographs and
videos made by the artist.
Ana did nol rampage Ihe earth to control or dominate
or lo create grandiose monuments of power and aulhority.
She sought ¡ntimate, recessed spaces, protective habitats,
signalling a temporary respile of comfort and meditation.
The imprinl of a woman's passage eroding and
disappearing, the regrowth of grass o r the shiAing
of sands or a carved fragmenlary relief, a timeless cycle
momentari!y interrupled, receiving the shape of a woman
- a trace, such as Ihe s mudged OOdy-print a victim offire
mighl lea ve, or a shadow, Ihe recessive mark lefl: by a
victim ofthe OOmb in Hiroshima or Nagasaki ...
Ana's angerfed her desire t o create works of
endurance, works made lo exorcise - with blood, with fire ,
with rock, with earth, with stress - her profound sense of
displacement. Her art is an elemental force, divorced from
accidents onndividuality, spealcing oflife and death,
growth and decay, offragility yet indomitable will. It is an
intense, unified oeuvre, encompassingthe violent fire
pieces and the quietly Iyrical works in which she lay on the
ground covered with leaves orflowers, observing
the transmutalion of matter and spirit that marks the rites
of nature and of nature's rec!amation. If one ofher
sculptures were sent to a distanl planet or were kepl
sealed for thousands of years on earth, it would still convey
the imagery, strength, mystery and sexuality ofthe female
human form - woman's body and spirit inscribed.
Walking around Washington Square Park, Isometimes
think t see Ana Tunning, circling the park as she used lo.
We would wave to one anolher and conlinue on our
individual routines.
Nancy ,pe re , ' Tta, ing Al!. Art foru m. Ne w Yor k.
Aprl Ul 9': , PP. 75.7' . n ' publ, ,n IIdncy Spero . PM I don
•
Prro ndon . 1996. p. 139
Atan SONFIST
Autobiography [1975]
1946 May 26 at 10:10 p.m.: myfirst ekperience was airo
1948 Firsl major project was to build a tower in a hole-
which I covered.
'949 conected coconuls - and made pyramids.
1950 Planted my firsl seeds in a pickle jar and observed
thegrowth.
1951 Sal on an anthill and was covered with ants; sticks
trailed me.
'952 planted seeds from the fTuil I ale in Ihe Bronx Park;
my orange seeds did sprout.
1953 Upon tightroping on a waterfall, I woke up in a
hospital with my face bandaged.
'954-59 Visited all the museums in New York City; I went
lo Museum ofNalural History al least once a month lo
observe the stuffed animals; at this period I was going lo
Bronx Zoo and looking at caged animals.
1954 Set my righl arm on fire; discovered a dead dog Ihat
had fallen from the fa lis - went back severa! times.
1955 Grew cryslals; watked off a cliff- fToze my lefl: hand.
1956 Upon the death of my great.grandmolher, I was told
that I am a great artist; created animals and talked; woke
up under my bed.
1957 Summer rock turning; rolled down a hill - Iost
consciousness.
1958 Swam a mile within a triangle.
'959 Sat with an antelope in its cage.
1960 Started a freshwater aquarium with two guppies
and five snails.
1961 My brother shot a bird and I cried; brother and I built
a OOx we lived in forthe summer.
1962-65 Joined mysubconscious underself-induced
hypnosis; played with animals ofthe pasto
1963 Constructed a fuel cell; sun paintings.
1964 Collected dead animals; collected neslings of
animals; made sounds of animals.
1965 Land exchange - Macomb, IlIinois, to levinown,
long Island¡ 'Observations' - Verbal to visual translation¡
produced. spiritual production called 'lifening' that
showed the essence oftife¡ ran untill was out ofbreath,
then ran twice as faro
1967 Ended painting by stretching rubberthat decayed
into powder in 1970; glass block flowing to a plate.
1968 Started growing micro.organism as an entity; water
falls in midair; weather change in my body.
1969 lIIusion of dominance - snails dominated a
freshwater aquarium; skydiving began and ended; walking
through the dark, I became onewith an animal; white
powders - minerals - vegeta bies - anima 15; took samples
ofNew York City air - posted the analysis w ith the samples
on loations samples were taken from ; placed a mound of
seeds in the centre ofCentral Park, New York City, atlowing
displacement by wind ; 'Observations' - Made graphic
patterns Of1oo people through the Wh itney Museum,
New York City; ecological environment - time landscape¡
land exchange- Bronx, New York, to Fallsburg, New York;
seed d istribution.
'970 Planted plastic and real flowers in Central Park, New
York City; floated in the ocean facing down for s ix hours;
'Observations' - Physical media reaction; 'Observations'
- Avoid - Enler; placed a thorn in my heel to become aWilre
of my foot; 'Observations' - Spatial energy, Milan, Italy;
loop-listen ; nonmovingmovie and nonmoving movie -
moving; presentation of natural phenomena des ignated
as 'scenic' by Kodak; beans - sprouts - flowers - beans;
natural vanations; movie: accumulation movie collects
dust; motion into line; 'Observations' - Visitors' physicat
characteristics; posted s ign ' look at the sky - we are at the
end ofthe spiral ofthe Milky Way'; seed distribution -
international project; printed la beis 'Please recyde this
can' to be put on metal containers and relurned to the
president ofContinental Can Corporation; posted sign
'Send to your Congressman a pollutant or a piece of
pollution and send the documentation to the gallery';
'Observations' - Star plotting: people were asked to 'go
right ten stars from the North Star'; water, earth, air, outer
space sounds; an imal markings; dosed an eye fur a day;
dark and light collections¡ memory maps; 'Observations' -
Natural- Artistic; living myth .
1971 Animal hole diggings - piles of mud; collected
breaths of air; visitors ' reaction box; Jived on island
surrounded by floating isles of oil; tracked a deer by the
signs ofthe forest; land exchange - Montdair, New Jersey,
to Panama to Carl Shuhz Park; nature theatre - twenty·
four (hour]life cyde; fish in suspension - released; snail
excrement patterns; nest building - selection of artificial
and natural material; bird exchange; occupation-
posilion; 'Observations ' - Visitor reaction endosure;
'Observations' - After seeing this exhibilion, what type of
project would you create; victim·victor room; rock into
sand - water into air; movies: energy build-up, perceptuat
micro-chimges, moving rock, consummation , nature's
time; through the dark I killed an animal; experienced the
sea in five different languages; movements oftime; filled a
room with nitrous oxide gas to slow down perception;
danced in the cut ofthe earth.
1972 Area earth mound; bird m igratio n patterns; rubber
maze forming a channel ; experienced and lived the
Altamira Cave; North Star plotting - international project;
talking bird -talking people; taped earth sounds from 20
feet (610cm) to 200 feet (6,100 cm) over New York and
Milan; earth core o to 30 feet (91 5 cm) in New York City and
Akron, Ohio; droppings - Akron, Ohio; founded
corporation Conditions, Inc. : identified trees by touch and
smell; lived in darkness for a day; tracking a cat, at the
Sol me time beingtracked by the cat; turned over areas with
the Andover Forest; dreams with Asher B. Dura nd; theatre
of characteristics; patterns and structures; line offire;
landscapes (elements selection) from Tarrytown, New
York, re-created from Macomb, IIlinois, '965; earth liftings
o n four sides; created the animals of my past;
'Observations' - People with different characteristics were
asked in the local newspaper to go to museum (Akron)
each day; recording ofhigh and low days; sculpture dusted
for fingerprints; erosion casting; three weeks tracking
army ants in Central American jungle; watked into my
shadow.
1973 landscapes (elements selection) from Orange,
Newark, and Montdair, New Jersey; trees of Andover;
cydical timing ofexistence; marsh reconstitution-
Cambridge, Massachusetts; land exchange - Central Park,
New York City, to Mount Ber'1, Georgia¡ after death body
becomes work ofart in Museum ofModern Art, NewYork
City; lived in darkness for a week; smell of death coming
forth from endosures; impressive - artistic;
'Observations' - Cher'1 blossoms - Natural-artistic at the
Coreoran Museum Art School , Washington OC; spat ial
energy - Cincinnati, Ohio; tracked a deer over its path that
existed two days earlier in Mount Ber'1, Georgia; revisited
the animals ofBronx Zoo; sun burnt a hole through a eloud
- 1sat within; watched the earth move-looking at a
square inch; became one with my shadow; ball into plate;
battlingtrees.
1974 listened to a square i'lch of ground; two birds called,
1joined; sun rose five times during a day; dropped 100 feet
in about thirty seconds; looked at the star - felt a web
surround me; revisited Charles - Iooking at a tree; carne to
a beginning or a rainbow; left side of my body became
numb; as the sun opened and dosed, I followed ; lay in the
nesting ofthe deer.
p.
Richard LONG
Five. six. pick Up sticks
Seven. eight.lay them
straight [1980]
Ilike simple, practical, emotional,
quiet, vigorous arto
Ilike the simplicity of walking,
the simplicity ofstones.
Ilike common materials, y.'hatever is to hand,
but especially stones. Ilike the idea that stones
'"
are what the world is mOlde of.
I Jike common mean s g¡ven the si mple twist of art.
I like sensibility without technique.
Ilike the way the degree of visibility
and accessibility of my art is controlled
by circumstance, and also the degree to which
it can be either public or private,
possessed or not possessed.
Ilike to use the symmet'1 of patterns between tilT'e,
places and time, between distance and time,
between stones and d istance, between t ime and stones.
I choose lines and cireles because they
do the jobo
My art is about working in the wide
world, wherever, on the surface ofthe earth.
My art has the themes of materials, ideas,
movement, time. The beauty of objects, thoughts, places
and actions.
My work is about my senses, my instinct, my own scale
and my own physical commitment.
My work is real, not illusory or conceptual.
It is about real stones, real time, real actions.
My work is not urban , nor is it romantic.
It is the laying down of modern ideas in
the only practical places to take them.
The natural world sustains the industrial world.
I use the world as 1find it.
My art can be remote or very public,
0111 the work and 0111 the places being equal.
My work is visible or invisible. It can be an
object (to possess) or an idea carried out and equally
shared by anyone who knows ahout it.
My photographs are facts which bring the
right access ibility to remote, tonely
o r otherwise unrecognisable works. Some sculptures
are seen by few people, but can be known about by many.
My outdoor sculptures and walking locations
are not subject to possessio n and ownership. Ilike the fact
that roads and mountains are common, public land.
My outdoor sculptures are places.
The material and the idea are ofthe place;
sculpture and place are one and the same.
The place is as far as the eye can see from the
OOCUMENTS

'" sculpture. The place for a sculpture is found
by walking. Sorne works are a succession
of particular places along a walk, e.g.
Mi/estones. In this work the walking,
the places and the stones alt have equal importance.
My talenl as 3n artist is lo walk across
a moor, or place a stone on the ground.
My stones are I¡lce grains ofsand in
Ihe space oflhe la ndscape.
A true understanding oflhe land requires
more Ihan the building of objects.
The sticlcs a nd stones I find on the land,
I am the first to toueh them.
Awalk expresses space and rreedom
and the knowledge ofil can live
in the imagination of ¡¡nrone, ilnd Ihal
is analher space too.
A walk is jusi one more layer, a mark, laid
upon the thousands of olher layers ofhuman
and geographic history on the surface ofthe
land. Maps help to show this.
A walk traces the surface ofthe land,
it follows an idea, il follows Ihe day
and the night.
A road is the site of many journeys.
lhe place of a walk is there before the
walk and after it.
Apile ofSlones or a walk, bOlh
have equal physical reality, though
Ihe walk is invisible. Some of my
Slone works can be seen, but nOI
recognised as arto
lhe creation in my art is not in the common
forms -cireles, lines - 1 use, but the
places I choose t o pul them in.
Mountains and galleries are both
in their own ways extreme, neutral , uncluttered;
good places to work.
A good work is the right thing in the rig hl
place al Ihe right time. A crossing place.
Fo,ding a ,iver. Have a good look, sil down, lake off boots
and socks, lie socks on to rucksack, put on boots, wade
across, sil down, empty boots, pul on socks and boots. It's
a new walk again.
INVOLVEt-4HH
I have in general been interested in usingthe
landscape in differenl ways from
Iraditional representation and the lixed view.
Walking, ideas, statements and maps are some means to
this end.
I have Iried 10 add something of my own view as an
artist to the wonderful and undisputed Iraditions
of walking, journeying and climbing. Thus, some
of my walks have been formal (slraight,
circular) almost ritualised. lhe patterns of
my walks are un ique and original; they
are not like following well-trodden routes
taking travellers from one place to another.
1 have sometimes elimbed around m ountains
instead ofto the top. 1 have used riverbeds
as footpaths. 1have made walks about slowness, walks
about stones and water. I have made walks within
a place as opposed to a linear journey;
walking without travelling.
Words after the fact.
. .' ."
. -, . ,, .
Hamish FULTON
Into a Walk into Nature [1995]
The physical involvement of walking creates a
receptiveness to the landscape. I walk on the land to be
woven ¡nto nature. Vertical trees and horizontal hills. The
characler of a walk cannot be predicted. A walk is practical
not theorelical. A c rosscountry walk ineluding camping
allows a continuity oftime influenced by the weather. A
road walk can Iransform the everyday world and give a
heightened sense ofhuman history, but in Ihe end all
avenues point to the ' wílderness'. I drive a car but do nol
use it to go to or from a walk. I make art in Ihe capitalist
system which in itselfis a political statement (selling art
for the next walk). 1do not ¡¡ve in the Highlands ofScotland
but in the heavily lrafficked rural suburbia ofsouth·east
England. I am nol a studio artíst. There is no one syslem by
which I choose to make all my walks. I have no plans for
making walks indoors but I imagine it could be possible.
(Absent - lhe landscape is nOI in the gallery.) A physically
demand ing walk is more rewarding than a wa lk not about
exertion and both are of equal importance. AII my walks
are related, from the lirst to the last. When I am not
walking I eat and drink too much oWhen I walk and camp I
carry all my food therefore I eat less, which is the preferred
sta te. Weaker but lighter, but the rucksack ' heavier'. On a
road walk Ihe availability of drink and food keeps the
energy levels high. Pelrol - food as fuel, nOl a stimulant.
Occasionally I make route.finding mistakes. 1 have 10Sl
two tenis on s eparate occasions both in gusting winds;
both were mistakes, nOI accidents. 1once made the error
offalling into a small crevasse, in retros pect, not an
experience to have missed. Walking the dog oMost, though
not all, of my walks have been made alone. when walking
alone, nothing is deflected. A walk has alife ofits own, and
does not need to be made into a work of art oFew of my
photographs show people, but my art should not be
thoughtofas anti·people. On my walks I have met many
inspiring human beings and on one walk I encountered a
family ofthree grizzly bears. My art has been influenced by
a variety offriends. lo na me but a few: Marina Abramovié,
Roger Ackling, Richard long and Nancy Wilson - by the
walking peoples ofthe world from all periods ofhistory,
native American culture, Tibetan religious art,
mountaineers a nd Japanese Haiku poets. My art
acknowledges the element oftime, the time of my life.
(One distance in the mountains, another distance down
the road.) The artwork cannot re·present the experience
of a walk. The flow ofinfluences shou/d be from nature to
me, nol from meto nature.1 do notdirectly rearrange,
remov(l" sell and nOI return, dig into, wrap or cut up with
loud machinery any elements ofthe natural environment.
AII my artworks are made from commercially available
materials (wooden frames and photographic chemicals). 1
do not use found-natural-objects like animal bones and
ri ver st ones. However, the difference between these two
ways is symbolic, nol ecological. Some technology has
greally enhanced human life but often il forms a barrier
between us and nature. Divisions. Some human abilities
based on a elose relationship with nature have been lost,
broken lineage. Most of my text works are in the English
language. I respect the existence of alllanguages. Both
sides ofthe river. As an ' arm-chair mountaineer', my art
has been influenced by the British Himalayan climber,
Doug Scott, not by the Romantics Turner and Wordsworth.
1grew up in the ship-building city ofNewcastle-upon.
Tyne. Through art·making I feel a continuity with my
childhood and always carry a mental image ofthe
Northumbrian landscape. (In cold weather, packing the
rucksack for a hot weather walk. In warm weather, packing
the rucksack for a cold weather walk.) I am not a world
travener and have only visited a few cou nlries. In itself,
transport (sitting) is oflittle interest lo me. I would prefer
to walk for a week ratherthan r¡de around in a vehicle for
six months. lhe world gets bigger the more I travel. For
me, staying in one place and 'travelling' are of equal
importance. Far away and long ago. (No meaning in
distant places, conversations ofthe here and now.) In the
valley, dreaming ofthe hill. On the hill, wishing forlhe
valley. Lying, s itting, standing, walking. (Walking,
standing, sitting, lying.) MOllement is an important
dimension in my arto Movement exists in relation to its
apparent opposite, stillness. The designed city exists in
relation to its opposite, Ihe landscape. Natural, but less
wild.lnterrelated borderline. Vin and Vang. Mountain high,
river deep. Nothing stays the same. Everything is
changing. One things leads t o another. Here we go again.
AII my walk texts are true. Ifthey were not, the only person
I could cheat would be myself. I have chosen to record the
walks out of respect for their existence. lhe texts are facts
forlhe walker and liction for everyone else. Walking inlo
the distance beyond imagination. For years I only made
framed photo-text works, now in addition I can see the
purpose ofinvestigating a variety ofideas. Plans stored on
paper, a wall paioting could be repainled one hundred
years later. (Weighl form colour. Framed art works are
objects, nol sculptures.) Walking is the consta ni, Ihe art
medium is Ihe variable. Numbers are both ofsignificance
and 00 significance. The total oumber ofleaves on one tree
exists whether counted or noto (Counled, nol estimated.) I
am curious aboul Ihe number seven. Erosion. Mounlain
skylines are the meeting place ofheaven and earth. The
outline of a small, roadside stone can be drawn around
immediately. An unrecognizable shape of an indescribable
colour is something nol easily calegorized. 1see the
landscape not in terms ofjust materials but of
environments with a diversity oflife forms, snakes,
spiders, worms aod lice. Trekking through jungles and
across ice caps would be genuine adventures, but they
01150 imply money, jet travel, too much travel. It is good lo
walk tTom my doorslep starting al sunset and ending at
sunrise. Walking without a map in an unspectacular
laodscape. In 1973 after compleling a 1,022·mile (1,644
km) walk, I made the commilment to only make art
resulting from the experience ofindividual walks. IfI do
not walk, 1cannol make a work ofart. To dale, I have
'spenl' more time involved in making artworks and
exhibitions than walking. (Exhibition administration takes
away loo much energy from walking.) A work of art may be
purchased but a walk cannot be sold. Over the years I have
consistently made walks Ihough I would describe Ihem as
short: this is a queslion of scale and standards.
Observations are not objects, walking is active. My
orientation to words and drawings results from the ease of
carrying pen and paper, not chiser (hammer) and stone.
Imposed order on paper, not the land. II shourd be possible
for me lo make art with no words. Talking and no talking
are of equal importance. 'Too much talking' with mind and
voice can deflect nalure so Ihal 1 no longer see Ihe drifting
douds or hear the birds sing. As an artist, ' cannot imagine
making only walks and no works of arto I am an artist who
walks, nol a walker who makes arto Irony results from
being wet and cold and seeing it's going to happen all over
again very soon. Humour is an important part oflife.
Ir, 1M .IU1 , ¡ ,rty ne
5tephen BANN
The Map as Index ofthe Real:
Land Art and the
Authentication ofTravel [1994]
Maps can mean many things, and oRen their meanings
change over the centuries oftheir existence. Maps which
al first had a way-finding purpose read very differeotly
when their direc\ions can no longer be relied on. They
become icons tTom the distant pasto An equally
pronounced varialion of meaning occurs when the map
enters the regime of representation: that is to say, when it
is annexed lo, or induded in, a work of arto
This artide is about the special circumstances in which
the map is used lo reproduce, and at the same time to
aulhenticale, the artist's journey, as in the distinctive con·
temporary form of expression which gces by the name of
land Art. However, Ishall bearguinglhalthiscontemporary
art movement is not unprecedented in the way it utilizes
the map. Indeed the map's role of authenticating travel
can be seen as a perennial possibility, depending on the
precise conditions which the cartographic sign is designed
to fulfil . My inlroduction lo land Art will Ihus ¡ndude a
specific reference to the representation of a seventeenth·
century map which works in this way.
I shall, however, begin with a morefamous seventeenth-
century example which could well be used to demonstrate
Ihe many-Iayered possibilities ofthe map within repre-
seotatioo. Jan Vermeer's Art ofPointing incorporates a
splendid map ofthe United Provinces, displayed on Ihe
back wall of an artist's studio.' The map is rendered with
aSlonishing precision, so mucn so that it has become 'a
source for our knowledge of cartographic history'.' Bul it
is more than thal. lit dramatically from the side, with its
intricately painted folds and crinkles deooting its status
as an object, the map becomes an index ofVermeer's
exceptional skill in describing the infinite particularities of
the visible world. Both an objeet ofknowledge, marking
real relationships and distances, and a represented object
caught in the glancing light, it funetions as an eloquent
internal metaphor ofVermeer's art ( ... )
let me juxtapose witn Vermeer's work a painting ofthe
same perlod but with virtually nothing else in common:
the miniature oflohn Bargrave and his two travelling
companions painted by Matteo Bolognini at Siena in 1647.
In Vermeer's painting, the map serves as the ullimate
index ofhistory rather than discoune: it is what pre·exists
the work of representation and what can aet as a paradigm
for the 'Art ofOescribing', though only in so far as it
manifests a system of relations which diagrammatically
reproduces those in the real world.ln Bologoini's painliog,
the map serves instead to say, this is where we are, and
this is where we are going. The ¡ndex finger oflohn
Bargrave, the leader ofthe little expedition, designales
their place oftemporary residence and the direction which
they will take on proceeding to the goal oflheir joumey, the
city ofRome ( ... )
This representation of a map is there to perform,
through enunciation, an indexical function . The bottom
edge ofthe map exaetly corresponds to the bottom edge of
the image¡ the written information corresponds to the
main towns fealured in the trio's expedilion; moreover,
they are featured in such a way that we, the observers, can
read thelr names. When Bargrave established his Cabinet
ofCuriosities in his canon'slodgings at Canlerbury in the
16605, and when he arranged to hang hislittle painting on
a ribbon from one ofthe wooden knobs, he was simply
fulfilling the project which had been ioherent in the
commission from the start. ' Here we are, and this is where
we are going' was converted into 'This is where we were,
and this is where we went next'.
It may weU seem that 1 have made a kind ofelision in
passing from Vermeer to the Bargrave miniature in this
way. For in Vermeer's work, play is being made with the
notion ofenunciation as an authorial funetion, a function
which the map does not ¡ hare. In the Bargrave miniature,
Bolognini Ihe artist, responding to a specific commission,
'"
has abdicated his authorial role in favour ofthe
enunciative presence assumed by the three travellers. My
subject is the recent phenomenon ofland Art, and I
cannot remain for much longer in the seventeenth century
without seeming irrelevant. But I will emphasize, before
vaulting over the centuries and landing in the present, that
there seems to me to be as good a reason for scrutinizing
the art ofthe seventeenth century for signs ofthe
duplication ofthe authorial and the enunciative role as
there is for drawing attention to its presence in
contemporary art. In other words, in its use of maps, land
Art dces not di savow the ioheritance oflandscape art
which most art historians agree commenced its
development in the early seventeenlh century. Precisely
the reverse, it is the very disposition ofland artists to seek
a fuller register of semiotic possibilities, including that of
the map, which denotes their kinship with the sevenleenth
cenlury as opposed to the latercenturies oflandscape
painting with whose precedent the land artists often
appear to be m aking a decisive break ( ... J
The recent display at the Tate Gallery, london,
featuring Richard long among other Land Artists, reflects
the roles ofthosedifferent elements in Ihe very
heterogeneity ofits installation. Photographs show us
Richard long's A Squorf! ofCround (1966) and, on the wall
in the background, the same artist's Cerne Abbos Wolk
(1975). lel us treal the map, forthe moment, rather like the
map in Vermeer's Art ofPainting, as something waiting in
the background to be incorporated into the total field of
long's art, while we look more carefully at the object in the
foreground. which may be as deceptive as the easel
painting in the foreground oflhe Vermeer. This foreground
object is a cube in section, visibly made of plaster and
painted on the upper surface. But it is also quite clearly a
derivative of a certain kind oflandscape.
Svetlana Alpers writes well about a type ofOutch
seventeenth-century landscape painting, of which Philips
Koninck was a weU·known exponent, where the frame
delimits what would otherwise be a seemingly endless
stretch offlat Dutch counlrysideseen from a high viewpoinl
under a sullen sky.l long's work is reminiscent ofthis, but
it has proceeded through an intermediale stage, incorpo-
raling the technical innovations of ourown periodojust as
Koninck used the inventions ofhis own.1 would suggest
that long's landscape can be read through Ihe medium of
aerial photography, since it is not a square of ground in the
literal sense, but a section of an aerial prospect of ground,
delimiled by an implicil grid in the way a map grid delimits.
Positioned at a low height in relation to our viewpoint, it
produces the structural features ofthe aerial view, with the
effect that its smooth green surfaces become fields, its
rough green forests and its crannies rushing streams. This
very early work by long thus posilions the spectator, and
Ihrough invoking the technical feature of a specific mode
of viewing, opens up the object to a landscape reading. In a
sen se, he has nol ceased to do this, although sincethen he
has kept his feet on the ground as weU as venturing a view
from the upper airo
Cerne Abbos Wa/k is a good example ofthe complex
DOCUMENTS
 and hete rogenous elements Ihal combine to form Long's
'" discourse. There are two framed prospects, one a
landscape photograph which does nol !>ea, a caplion, and
the olher a montage, whose ground ¡s the Ordnance
Survey map of a part of central Darset. The photograph
needs no caplion. tt ¡s a view oflhe Darset countryside, lit
obliquely perhaps by a setting sun; as iI photograph, it is
before al! else indexical, denoting Inat the artist has
stopped for iI while in Ihal precise location. The framed
map, however, needs lo be captioned; a pasted piece of
paper !>ears the legend 'A sil( day walk oller all roads lanes
and double tracks ¡nside a six mile wide cirde centred on
the Ciant oreerne Abbas'. This explains the formal
features orthe drawn lines which occupy the centre ofthe
map; an imptied cirde with its centre at Cerne Abbas has
been outlined, and the different tracks which tie within the
cirde halle been emphasized because they - untike the
conceptual cirde - halle been tramped oller exhaustillety
in the course ofthe six days.
I am reminded here ofthe work ofPatrick Wright, who
has been inllestigating a curious phenomenon resembting
, the boy·scout mOllement which delleloped in a Dorset
estate during the 1930s.· ln retrospect, this para.political
, group has come to seem both fascinating and slightly
sinister, by lIirtue ofthe similarity onts guiding ideas with
I
some ofthe headier ideologies ofthe periodo In the same
way, Ican imagine that a few decades from now, the lIery
idea of an artist walking systematically through the
countryside will halle come to halle an archaic, perhaps
ellen quaint significance. Just ¡S a person on fool in a rich
American suburb is a focus ofimmediate suspicion, it is
conceillable that a person who walks oller all roads, lanes
and double tracks may soon appeareccentric, ifthe public
pressure protecting rights of way is not maintained.
This is just speculation, but it links up with the point
that I halle tried to make about the landscape lIision of
Wals, or the expedition ofJohn Bargralle, which resulted in
the publication ofthe first English guide to Italy (1648).' At
the beginning of a practice which will be later sanctioned
by culture, its elements are no doubt in suspension (Iike
atoms in a molecule) and particularly accessible to
knowledge. Thus retrospectillely, the Bargr¡lIe I,io seem to
halle been embarked on a Crand Tour, but it was a Crand
Tour in the days before such a practice had acquired its
later, conllentional characteristics and when the etymology
of a term derilling from 'Tour' or 'Cirele' was still so fresh
that the tralleller might well imagine himselfindeed to be
inscribing a cirde on the map. Much more work remains to
be done, in my lIiew, on what might be called the 'self·
image' ofthe tralleller: indeed, at a time when trallel has
been largely reduced to a uniform, accelerated process to
which ellen the sea cannot be allowed to interpose a
barrier, the genealogy ofthe practice, in a Nietzschean
sense, still rem'ains to be written.
We can see Richard long and a handful of other, mainly
British artists, as contributing to this process ofhistorical
reconstruction. I halle been struck for some time by the
coincidence that Kenneth Clark's influential book,
Londscapt: into Art,' with its bleak forecasts for the future
oflandscilpe painting, went into a second edition at the
lIery moment in the mid 19705 when Richard Long and his
INIIOLVE MENT
colleilgues were effectillely renewing the ilrt oflilndscape
after their training in the 5culpture 5chool of5t. Martin's
College of Art. But what they were renewing was the use of
iconic, symbolic and indeKical elements in combination,
ratherthan the mimetic tradition acelaimed by Ruskin and
by Clark. In artistic terms, Long's model is not the
seamless web ofthe mimetic prospect, carried to its
ultimate degree offinesse by Turner, but the collage
practice ofthe cubists, jurtaposing and superimposing
separate registers of meaning within the lIisual field. 50 an
official, numbered imageofthe phallic giant is pasted oller
the map, not indeed where it belongs in topographical
terms, but just below the prehistoric encampment of
Maiden Castle. The infinite particularity ofthe map's detail,
its palimpsest of names, places and physical features, is
obliterated by the image's presence, and by the authorial
sign which marks the date ofLong's intefllention: Dorset
'975·
1should stress at this point that Long does not always
use maps in his work; indeed the constant factor is not any
one mode oftranscribing the landscape but his insistence
on more than one mode operating simultaneously. This is
what 1halle called the semiotic dimension, meaning that
the representation draws attention to tts signifying lellel at
tne same time as it offers an icon or prospect ofthe real
world. One oflong's most celebrated pieces, dating from
1967 (the year after his 5quare ofCround) is A Line Made
by Wa/lcing. Here the 'Iine' both makes the picture, in a
compositional sense, and seflles as an indeK ofthe artist's
mOllement through the landscape. Hubert Damisch has
drawn attention to the Roman institution of repetifio
rerum, when the Roman army would pause at the frontier
of a territory to be inlladed, and rehearse its capture in a
symbolic sense before proceeding to mareh in.' Long's
work also is a repditio rerum, but in rellerse, in that he
flattens the meadow grasses with his boots before
recording the prospect with his camera. The two
operations coincide in the spectator's reaction: 1, too, can
imagine myselfwalking that line.
It is worth making a rapid comparison with the
American pioneers ofLand Art, also featured in the Tate
display, since their works make use ofthe same composite
elements ellen iftneir olleralt effect tends to be rather
different. Dennis Oppenheim's Solt Flot (1968)
documents a massille transfer of salt from one place to
another - a contemporary lIersion ofthe prollerb about
sending coals to Newcastle. A thousand pounds ofbaker's
salt are laid out on an asphalt surface 50 x 100 feet (15 x 30
m) and, as the inscription puts it, ' identical dimensions are
to be transferred in 1 x 1 X 2 foot (30 x 30 x 6ocm) salt
lines' to 5alt lake Desert, Utah, where they will
presumably rellert to inllisibility. In this case, as in so many
the sheer sule ofthe American landscape
determines that the American Land Artist should be
engaged in large·scale feats ofinstallation or
trilnsposition. As with Walter De Maria's The Lightning
Fit:ld, a desert has to be sought out and the work
abandoned in solitary splendour, seemingly infinilely
remote and sublime, like Ihe summit ofEllerest orthe
surface ofthe Moon.'In comparison, Oppenheim is
conducting a fairly modest operalion, but the map of
Manhattan and New Jersey which he ineludes to mark the
urban site ofth e salt installalion has no function otherthan
to act as a pointer. lndeed the square within a cirele which
indicales the gallery site on the Allenue oflhe Americas
looks suspiciously like a gun·sight, as ifsorne airborne
weapon were targeting the work for destruction.
Richard Long's map pieces from the 19705 manageto
preseflle the features which had been established by the
•
pioneering work ofthe 1960s, ellen Ihough no photographic
image supports the landscape lIision.lt is interesting to
followthe mental operations which we perform when
looking at works from this period, like Eight Wo/h or A
Hundred Mi/e Wa/Ic %ng o Line in County Mayo, ¡,e/and.
Essential to our interpretation is an awareness that Long's
engagement with landscape has a history and has taken
many different forms: this helps tocrealethe contract,
without which we shoutd noteven be willingto acceptthe
elaims \hatare being implicitly made.
In Ejght Wa/h, Long superimposes the squared grid of
the Ordnance 5uflley on a delailed map ofthe Dartmoor
area but it is up lO 1.15 to interpret his 'walks' - the eight,
thickly·drawn, straight lines of equallength - as real tracks
in time and space, in the same way as the map offers 1.15
potential tracks in time and space which we could take if
we had the leisure. Long's tracks are not the conllenlional
paths that we would take ifwe were walking on Dartmoor.
They represent an order that is only comprehensible if we
imagine the map as a physical projection seen from a great
height. The contour lines and the numerous map.signs
which characterize the terrain conlley lo 1.15, as map·
readers, what we ofien lie ofthe land'. Long's
stfaight lines, as walks, halle lo espouse the irregularities
ofthe land, and consequently their measured symmetry is
offset by the lIaded times that each single track has taken
to complete, ranging between silCly and sellenty minutes.
The Hundred Mi/e Wa/Ic in Ireland is more mysterious.
Indeed I am not entirely sure how the distance gillen on the
map (a distance presumably greal enough to Irallerse the
whole country from east to west) has here been como
pressed into a single county. Perhaps the terrain requires
additional miles up and down , perhaps the lIarious rillers
had to be side·tracked and forded , perhaps the mileage
indicates bolh an outward and a return journey. The
interest ofthe work depends on the expectation that there
will be a reasonable answer to these issues, and that we
can reach it simply by the inspection ofthe work - that is,
the map with superimposed line and caption. In th is case,
the credit gillen to the Irish Ordnance SUflley puts 1.15 in no
doubt that this is an official, copyrighted map such as we
might oursellles use if we were in the area. But, as the title
Ordnance 5uflley recalls, the origíns of mapping lie in
practical, ofien military, purposes, where the challenge is
precisely to domi nate the lIagaries ofla ndscape through
the planning of roads, canals and lines ofcommunication.
long aestheticizes the map but his walking project, done lo
time and most often in a straight line, repeats the regulatory
strategy ofthe engineer - except that on this occasion what
is being organized is not thefreeflow ofcommereeor
military supplies but thestructure ofa personal perforo
mance. This performance is indeed gratuitous except in so
far as it mobilizes our own pereeptions oflandscape.
 , ,
I have assumed up to this point that the different
semiotivegisters which converge in one oflong's
landscape worlcs are identifiiJble and distJnct.ln the Cerne
of retrieving a type ofsensibility most appropriate to it at
a time when landscape has become the stake of 50 many
competing agencies and interests. ln this respect, the use "v"
• •
,
, ... es • qUi
'"
AbbQS piece, for example, there is a cleardisc,imination ofthe map seems to me to h¡lIYe an exemplary purpose. I • • ••
between the icon as ¡mage - the giant - and the ican as For the map to be appropriated as a vehicle of personal fr.-'
diagram - the map. The indexical element is present expression and as a mode of enunciation , assumptions t • .. _ ., "a, •
beause photographs are used and, principally, beca use have to be made. One assumption is that this diagram. ro.lll(' "r : de
the tr"acks within the órde are the record ofthe artist's matic, essentially non·sensuous type of artefact can
walk. An artistic practice which works through these condense within itself cultural ideas of a rich not to say
particular means does so to a large extent by multiplying over-prodigal interest. I have quoted in an earlier paper on R d 9 R dqe.
" f¡

•
f

.t E n. I
•

the possibilitie.s of additional readings and by the ilmbi· aspects of mapping the extraordinary passage where the p, ,32: 3 a s ,te er
guities ¡nhetent in the proce.ss. Fer instance, the pladng of
a photograph ofthe Oorset cou ntryside ¡n doseconju nction
wTth a map and a title referring to iI walk invites us to make
American poet H. D. considers the map ofGreece:

' Look at the map ofGreece. Then go away and come back 1
.,
Frarf' au
o

an indexical read ing ofthe icon offered by the photograph: and look and look and lcok at it. The jagged contours stir ,ijn1 lb d. Q

where on his travels did the artist obtaio this particular and inflame the imagination ... Look at the map ofGreeceo
view? Equally, the imaginary cirele which occurs on the It is a hieroglyph oo. That leafhanging a pendant to the
map, the result of numerous wa lks term inated at a pre- whole ofEurope seems to indicate the living strength and orary. o 194.pp091l1,T e M

arranged poin\, becomes a symbolic construct giving un ity sap ofthe thing it derives from 'o "
aod completioo to the whole enterprise. In t 'tut!' o '1930

Both Long and his close colleague the Land artist
Hamish Fulton in fact achieve some oftheir most
memolOlble eff"ects through simplifying the ir graphic
means and concentlOlting their express ion in a s ingle trace
which condenses a whole signifying process. Long's The
Ctoning Place ofRoQd Qnd River (19n) involves two
adjacent panels. On the left is a photoglOlph indicating the
well-worn track wh ich crosses the infant river. On the
(ight, however, is - at first sight - a purely graphic
configulOltion oflines. The legend requ ired to interpret it
reads: 'A Walk ofthe same length as the River Avon: A 26
Mile Northward Walk along the Foss Way Roman Road '.
Consciously or not, Long has used the same device as the
Swiss concrete arust MilX Bitl, who catled a work from the
immediate post·war period Six Unes ofEqua/ Length,' the
point being that the common property ofthe coiled and
uncoiled lines is fin from being perceptuatly obvious and
has to be conceived by the m ind, almost in the teeth ofthe
visual evidence. Likewise, Long chatlenges us mentally to
stretch out atl the crinkles ofthe River Avon and line it up
- beside \he Foss Way which, being aRoman road, is a
byword for stlOlightness. '"
1want here to re iterate the genelOll proposit ion about
I Land Art which has been implicit in my argument. This is
that the break which has evidently occurred with the great
mimetic trad ition oflandsupe paint ing acelaimed by
Ruskin and Clane, un be seen as a return to the genealogy
oflandscape representation ; more specifkally, it can be
interpreted as a revers ion to the more open semiotic
register ofthe seventeenth century, when issues of
description and tlOlnscription, enunciation and effacement
ofthe authorial presence, were being worked out across a
IOInge of differing practices, one of which waslandscape
painting and another the compitation oftravel guides.
Since practices like these h ad not become conventionalized,
they were, to sorne extent, experiments in signification ¡
and this is how we can most fruitfully regard them , rather
\han as the precursory stages of a cultural phenomenon
whose later development we know only too well.
But Land Art is not simply or primarily a reversion. It
is a confrontation with the contemporary wortd, and a way
Here the poet swerves iconically in the course ofher
reflections and invites 1.15 to see th is hieroglyph as a leaf "
form , because she is in the business of using words. The Christian Philipp MULLER
challenge is still one of discovering an existential content
in the seemingly arbitrary form ofthe map. Green Border [1993]
Hamish Fulton's Coon to Coon Wo/ks (1987) is spare
and at first s ight uninsp iring by comparison ." But in the [ ... ] ' In view ofthe tensions and m isunderstandings that
d imensionality ofthe listed years - each ofwhich marks a had arisen w ith regard to the ¡ntegration of Austria n artists
track made according to a preconeeived plan - we are in international exhibition halls, the Austrian government
offered a kind ofsymbolic time, or historyoThis history is in decided in the autumn of 1912 to build a separate Austrian
turn linked to a more profound, more extensive history. We pa\/ilion on the premises ofthe Siennale in Ven ice."
are aU fam iliar with those historical atlases that show
battlefields, often indicated with crossed swords, and their Because ofthe outbreak ofthe First World War it pro\/ed
dates. These are both like and unlike Fulton 's tracks, in impossibJe to realize the plans des igned by Josef
that Fulton's marks are not punctual and confl ictual but Hoffmann in October 191]0 It was only on January 5, 1934,
labile and harmonious. He not only signals, in the course that Vienna decided to build an Austrian pavilion in Veniceo
of a walk, the abraded stone on the Dover Road which Aftet lengthy political controversies about who was to be
evokes a vanished age of pedestrian travel but also, in the the architect, JosefHoffmann emerged as the winner. Only
Coost to Coast Wo/ks, communicates an almost filial one month later he presented his first drawings. The
attention to the land and its outlineoIt is as if, while implementation ofthe project was, howe\/er, left to the
railways and motorways sur and sear the sumee, the pro-government architect Kramre iter, whose own project
tread ofthe artist's foot, in his preordained labour of many had been rejected [.00 1
years, could b ind it up again. The slightly modified plans of 1938 did not indude the
rO Ac!,fl'.'. rprucd park designed by the Venetian arch itect ArtusooHis
A intention had been to plant rap idly growing poplar trees in
everrteel!th 'Iury. nn 1983, Z order to ereate a green belt between the boundary ofthe
III<Ip. p. 12 ; Biennale premises and the pa\/ilionoHoffmann enelosed
d. D. ¡ the eourtyard ilnd its sculptures with a h igh wall and by
,bd .. PI 1445 means ofthis horizontal structure, which also
characterizes the rest ofthe pavilion, he del ineated
Austrian territoryoBy the time ofthe 21st Siennale,
however, Austria had disappeared from the milp of
'" e1y. no ·,,1648 Europe. The documents that were supposed to be used to
invite Austrian artists to the '938 Biennale, duly signed by
the President and the Secretary General ofthe Biennale,
I Huberl, Da", du louJge Pou'- un H;<!or e a, are still kept in the Sienna!e archives at Canale Grandeo 'As
la Pelo"re. Le Seu1 • Parlso 197 , p, IS8 you rightly assume, Berl in has informed 1.15 that the art ists
For a descr1pt n ¡ 0' "'ana' from the Ostmark will be presented in the German
;nce ',¡ ": ,', SQudre 111 , paviliono" The 'Austrian' landscape was, however, present
Age. at the 21st Biennale in the main Ital ian pavilion in the form
tnalllf'S and la ,aon, 1993 of paintings by the artists ofthe eighteenth and n ineteenth

DOCU tolE NTS

". centuries. Hofmilnn's pavilion remained empty unli11948.
ti was ooly Ihen and until his dealh in 1956 Ihal losef
Hoffmann, in his capacity as Commissioner, was
enlrusted wilh the selection of Austrian artists [ ... J
When I visited the site for the fin! time in August 1992,
I was struck by the overgrown inner courtyard and <In
emergenq e){it in the left corner oflhe courtyard. Through
the double door you enter a 50rt of no·man's land. A few
metres behind you can see the waU topped wilh barbed
wire, which surrounds the Biennale premises.1
immediately decided lo integrate Ihis piece ofland, which
had been forgotten and preserved for almos! forty years,
into the exhibition area. First of 3111 wanted to elear the
sickle-shaped green space towards the Austrian pavilion.
In Venice, where every single tree is subject to nature
protection, this was not an easy task. We finally succeeded
in removing the undergrowth but forlhe plants foreseen in
the plans of 19S4. We had to fulfil certain requirements but
slill gOl the permission from the authorities responsible
for the protection of monuments in Venice to remove a
section ofthe rounded par! ofthe courtyard wall. From the
spacious inner cour!)'ard we can now look onto a land-
scape. The visitor stands on Austrian Biennale territory
and has a Free view t owards an open border. (Unti11866
Ven ice belonged to the Austro-Hungarian Monarch)'.}ln
m)' contribution to the Biennale this 'open border' stands
for Ihe presenl geographical borders of Austria.
Neutral countries such as Austria Or Switzerland are
now trying lo redefine their position in Eu rope. The
European Communities have done away with man),
barriersj membership is, however, still controversia!.
Austria's neighbours in the East , on the other hand, are
redefining their borders and find themselves confronted
with a process oF growing disintegration. Austria has
become a sort oftunnel between the former Eastern bloc
and Western Europe, through which professional
organizations smuggle potitical and economic refugees
across the border against payment of vas! amounts of
mone)'. 1wanted to find out myselfhow easy it is to cross
the Austrian borders now. Disguised as a hiker Ileft
Austria unnoticed and wenl t o eight neighbouring
cou nlries: ltal)', Switzerla nd, the Principality of
liechtenslein, Germany, Czechia, Slovakia, Hu ngary and
Slovenia.1 used maps produced in Austria (scale:
1:50000) and trie<! to find wooded areas near the borders.
In Czechia my Polish assistant and I experience<! the
difference between the border as an artistic concept and
political reality. For more than two hours nobod)' prevented
us from laking phologrilphs and walking around freely.
Suddenly, however, we were seized b), frontier patrolmen
and gol a stamp in our passports that forbids us to re-enter
the counlry within the nex! three years ( ... J
For each ofthese eight border regionsl have chosen
one page from th is publication, which is now kept in Ihe
archives oflhe Austrian Nalional Library in Vienna. They
will be exhibited in the right wing ofthe pavilion, which
JosefHoffmann had intended forthe presentation of
graphic arts. We can see landscape paintings showing
regions no longer belonging to Austria, such as Merano
and BrnO.ln the archives ofthe Vienna Albertina and the
Kupferstichkabinett ofthe Academ)' ofFi ne Arts we can
INVOLVE MENT
find thousands of drawings and watercolours depicting
landscapes. These works of art, reminiscent offormer
Austrian possessions, are however subject lo s uch slrict
rules and regulalions Ihal prevented me from getting the
permission lo exhibit Ihem in Hoffmann's open pavilion.'
Together with the drawings we will exhibil eighl trees
thal will represenl the different landsca pes ofthe border
regions.' Planted into old lerrilcottil pols from the almosl
Forgotten Orangerie belonging lo Ihe Administration of
Municipal Parks in Ven ice, Ihese trees create Ihe
impression of an Orangerie ofthe North.1 do nol want lo
evoke Ihe dream of classicalltaly in Venice, but rather
show non-exotic trees from an Austrian Iree nursery. In
order to conserve the exhibits over the four m onths'
exhibilion period, we try to limil the temperalure to 20·C
and reduce air humidity. The inner courtyard ofthe
Hofmann pavilion situ ated belween thetwo wings with
their glass windows reminds me ofthe parks ofthe
classicalsuburban mansions. 'Gli hOríi, a(i giordini - oltre
al comodo - rendono uno certo magnijicienza, e
grondezza olla casa.' The dassical Renaissance villa ofthe
Veneto dominates the landscape. There is a garden in front
ofthe buildings and behind them there is an open space
withou! an)' walls. Owners do nol need fences. JoseF
Hoffmann wanted to design the space in fron! ofhis
pavilion along these lines, but was denied lo do so by the
Biennale management. The courtyard 1o pened in 1993
permits a view ofthe garden ( ... ]
I used more than 300 plants grown by proFessional
Venetian tree nurseries lo redesign the rear par! oFthe
courtyard. A slightly sweeping line ofbricks separales Ihe
earthy ground from the square.shaped ti les. Garden
mould from Austria and Veneto ensures the opulent
growth ofthe plants arranged in a wa)' that is reminiscent
oF Engl ish horticulturalla nd sca p ing.
I transferred the lotal width ofthe central entrance lo
the diameter of a garden table. This round garden table is
place<! in the left corner ofthe inner courtyard and turns
around a new centre, a tree. The table lop is made ofthe
most popular Austrian limber varieties.' There )'ou can buy
Ihis publication ( ... ]
" .
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GuyBREIT
eildo Meireles: Through [1989]
The work ofCildo Meireles gives one the feeling thal it is
locate<! simultaneousl)' in two worlds: in a quiet
classroom where questions of perception and Ihe
philosophy oF meaning are teased out - and in the slreet,
or in the forest ( ... ]
At the end ofthe 19605 and in Ihe early 19705, Cildo's
med italions on space and on dimension were poetically
and paradoxicall)' encapsulated in boxes and similar
devices. After conduction a reductio ad absurdum of
classicaLEuclidian and perspectival space b), constructing
a sor! oF portable indoor corner, a blind Irap ofthe
bou rgeois' 'own fOUT walls', which was shown in various
places, incl ud ing the beach on one occasion, Cildo moved
to invesligate space in its mulliple connotalions: as
' ph)'sical geomelric, h istorical, ps)'chologica 1, topolog ica I
and anthropological'. One box in his Arte Fisica series
(1969} contained a map and a bundle oF 30 kilomelres of
string which had been stretched along a section ofthe
coast in the stale ofRio de Janeiro. Anolher box, this time a
leather case in his series Geogrophical Mutations (1969),
recorded an action he undert ook at the frontie r between
the states ofRio de Janeiro and 530 Pauto. The nature oF
frontiers as mental co nstructs was indicaled by digging a
hole on either side and transferring earth, plants, etc. from
one hole to the other. The lealher case was mOlde as a
portable version oFthe evento In a beauliful extension of
this p lay on dimensions, Cildo mOlde two exquisile finger·
rings in '970. One, pyramidical in form and mOlde of gold
had a single grain of sand inside visible through a tin)'
sapphire 'window' (Desert}; the other was a version ofthe
Geographic Mutations: Rio - Sao Paulo Front ier in silver,
sapphire, onyx and ameth)'st. These perceptions of space
elearly inform Cildo's more overtly political work which he
"" • began around 1970. Here must be recognized not onl)' the
"" "
• artist's personal cou rage in producing this work at the
height ofBrazil 's military dictatorship (1970 was perhaps
• Ihe mosl terrible )'ear ofthe regime), bul also his artistic
"
'"
••
· "
"na, audacity ( ... ]
The fact that the passage oftime, political changes and
,
'"
• fashion, have tr ied to institutionalize such work, or mOlde
, • fun ofits hopes ofintervention in the real world (as had
'" •
• .- • intended lo happen wilh 0111 twentieth century movements
, ,
which have broken the barrier between art and lifej, does
,.
not make the iss ues jt raised, of contextualization and
efficacy, any less pressing. One ofits legacies must
,. ., .
precisel)' be imagination and flexibility in the use of
,
" •
different 'place/times'.
o, ", "" '" ,. , .. "' o- ," .
• "
" "
• • Au
•

Octavío ZAYA
Caí Guo Qíang [1996]
( ... ) Since the mid 19805, Ca; Guo Qiang has been creating
complex events and 3rt projects throughout the world,
projects which emphasize Ihe cosmic laws of opposition
between creation and destruction, yin and yang. By
selecting specific sites for his intervention and action, in
mueh the same way as an acupuncture doctor selects
specific spots on the body, úi has been using the leeh-
"iques ofChinese geomancy In making a
comprehen sive study ofthe cond itions oflhe 5íte, i nclud i ng
geography, history and industry, he diagnoses and heals
the land. Gunpowder is the main ingredient or material in
these adions thal culminate in a momentary phenomenon,
'a momentary eternity' in which, as Cai says, ' all forms of
existence, heaven, earth and human beings, lose aware-
ness. Time and space are suspended, or ralher, Ihey return
to Iheir starting poinl. They are in harmony wilh Ihe ch'i
(Ihe vilal force , the energy,) oflhe universe.'
In 1993, Ihe fire which Cai carefully arranged to extend
along Ihe Creal WaU ofChina ran len kilomelres in Ihe
Cobi Desert and then d isa ppeared. In Dragon Meridian,
Ihe exhibilion which mapped this aetion in Japan, Cai
mOlde medicine from plan15 grown in the Cobi Desert, and
fed it 10 people who were going lO China, in connection
wilh his próject in Ihal localion . This was a prevenlive
measure 10 help people gel used to an unknown land by
becoming as one wilh il beforehand. In Ihe project he
presented in 1995 al the first Johannesburg Biennale,
Restrained Vialence. Rainbow, an abandoned construction
(facing Ihe Power Planl building which housed Ihe
inslallations of mOl ny poI rtici poI nt cou ntries), suddenly
exploded before our eyes (momentarily). Inside the Power
Plant building, Cai showed an inslallalion Ihat emphasized
the healing power offire.
In Ihe exhibilion ofThe Century wirh Mushroom Clouds
project that Cai opened in Mayal P.S. 1, Ihe photographs
ofthe small mushroom douds Ihal he created with
gunpowder al Ihe Nevada Tesl Sile are not Ihe only
mushrooms on display. eai is also presenting drawings of
mushrooms, produced by controlled explosions on paper,
and Ihe real eh¡nese healing mushrooms which conlribule
to Ihe regulalion ofthe body from within. Again, Ihis
project emerges ffom Ihe Ihree basic Taoist concepts
which organize each ofhis ' riluals': grasp¡ng Ihe whole,
going beyond Ihe surface lo find the essence ofthings and
maintai n¡ng balance.
• , Acl. M,
'"
'"
Jane TOMKINS
Language and Landscape:
An Ontology for the Western
[ 1990]
[ ... JThe opening shols ofWeslern movies signal Ihe
importance oflhe landscape, of matteroverwords. The
faet ofthe land put out front, before the slory proper
begins, has a message ofits own lO send. This scene,
composed ofsolids rising from alevel plain bathed in a
pri sti ne li ghl, declares Ihe irrefraga bilily of Ihe phys ical
world and celebra tes ils hardness. Bul Ihe opening
landscape shot, dearly intended to frame the aetion, is
itself silenl. tls power Iies in ils tacilurnity. N atu re 's silence
gua rOl nlees i15 value and makes a n existential dai m . This
alone is real, il says, this abides.
The first sighl we see is usually a desert or prairie,
punetualed by buttes and sagebrush, or sometimes by
cattle, s mall hi lis or a wagon Irai n. N 01 infreq uenlly, a rider
appears in the opening shot, but more often, the human
figures enlerlhe pieture laler. lhe desert offers itself as
the white sheet on which to trace a figure , make an
im pression. 1I is a la bula rasa on wh ich mOl n ca n write,
as iffor Ihe first time, the slory he wants to live. Thal is
why Ihe firsl momenl of weslern movies, in which the
landscape is empty, is so full of promise. II is Ihe New
World, represenled here, not for Ihe firsl time, as a void.
The scene's austerity, Ihe sense ofits dryness and
exposure, translale into acode of asceticism thal founds
our experience of weslern slories from Ihe slart. ti is an
environment inimical 10 human beings, alandscape
defined by absence: absence oflrees, of greenery, of
houses , ofthe signs of civilizalion, above all absence
of waler and shade. Here a person is exposed, Ihe sun
beats down, Ihere is no place lo hide. lhe landscape of
the western challenges the body to endure hardship - that
is ils fundamenlal message at Ihe physicallevel. II says:
this is a hard place to be, you will have 10 do withoul here.
liS spirilual message is Ihe same, a nd equally irresisl ible:
come and suffer. The negations ofthe physical setling-
no shelter, no water, no res t, no comfort - are its siren
songo Be brave, be slrong enough lo endure Ihis and you
will become like Ihis - hard , austere, sublime.
The American Wesl as imagined in Ihese narratives
¡ncarnales Ihe European sublime. Men may dominate or
simply ignore women in Westerns, Ihey may break horses
and drive catlle, kili game and kick dogs and beal one
anolherlo a pulp, bul Ihey never lord it over nature. Nalure
is Ihe one transcendent thing, Ihe one Ihing larger than
men in Ihis world. Nalure is Ihe ideal towards which
human nature slrives. Not imitatio Christi for the Western
hero, Ihen, bUI imirario naturae. Whal is imitaled is a
physical Ihing, not a spiritual ideaj a solid slate ofbeing,
not a process ofbecomingj a malerial entily, not a person;
a condilion of objecthood, nol a form of consciousness.
The landscape's final invitalion - death as merger -
promises absolule materialization. Meanwhile, the
qualilies Ihal nature implicitly possesses - power,
endurance, rugged majesty - are the only ones that men
can aspire lO while Ihey I¡ve.
lhe validity and primacy of nature are echoed in the
hero's looks. He must be an emanalion oflhe land; as far
as possible, indislinguishable from il. Here is the lide
charaeter ofHondo, in l'Amour's opening description:
'He rolled Ihe cigaretle in his lips, liking Ihe lasle oflhe
tobacco, squinting his eyes against Ihe sun glare. His
buckskin shirt, seas onec! by s un, rain and sweal, smelled
stale and old. His jeans had long since faded lo a neulral
'"
colour Ihat losl ¡Iselfagainst the desert.'
The first thing l 'Amour mentions is iI man·made thing,
Ihe cigarette, but it is quickly resolved inlo a sensory effect,
Ihe lasle, and ils organic substance, the lobacco, and bolh
give way, via the hero's eyes, lo 'the su n glare'. lhe enlire
passage melds ils heterogenous elements - man-made
objects (cigaretle, sh irt), nillu ral su bsta nces (Iobaeco,
buckskin) , parts oflhe body (Iips, eyes), bodily effiuv¡a
(sweat, smell), nalural phenomena (sun, wind, rain,
desert) - inlo a single continuum. Everything blends
imperceplibly ¡nlo the deserto
' He wore nolhing thal gleamed. lhe lineback's dun
colour shaded inlo Ihe desert as d id his own clothing.'
'(His face) had alllhe charaeteristics ofthe range rider's-
the leanness, the red burn ofthe sun, and Ihe sel
changelessness Ihal came from years of silence and
sotitude.'
'He was a big man , wide.shouldered, wilh Ihe lean, hard·
boned face ofthe desert rider. There was no softness in
him. His loughness was ingrained and deep.'
'He had plainly come many miles ffom somewhere across
Ihe vast horizon, as the dust upon him showed. His boots
were white wilh il. His overalls were grey with il. lhe
wealher·beaten bloom ofhis face shone Ihrough it
duskily.'
These quotations, from three different novels (Hondo,
Riders ofrhe Purple Sage, and The Virginian) , are 0111
describing Ihe same man, a man, as l'Amourwriles in Ihe
foreword lO Hondo, 'bleak as Ihe land over which he rode',
and described on the cover of Heller with a Gun as
'merciless as Ihe frontier Ihal bred him'. Perhaps Zane
Grey sums il up besl in his description ofthe quintes-
senlial cowboy, NeIs, in The Light ofWestern StOfS (1913): -
'He's jusI come lo be part ofthe desert, you mighl say
he's slone an' fire an' silence an' caetus an' force' .
The qualilies needed lo survive on Ihe land are Ihe
qualilies the land itself possesses. And these qualities are
nol regarded as merely necessary lo survival, they are the
acme ofhuman moral perfection. lhe ethical syslem Ihe
Weslern pro poses, and the social and political hierarchy it
creates, never appearto reflect the interesls or beliefs of
any particular group, or ofhuman beings al 0111. They seem
lo have been dietated, primordially, by nature itself. lhe
sage-dotled plains, Ihe butles, Ihe infinite sky lell more
plainly than any words whal is necessary in aman. Thus
Ihe landscape sets up, by implied conlrast, an image ofthe
effele life Ihat Ihe genre never tires of criticizing, Ihe 'fancy
words and pretty aetions'l'Amourdismissed in Radigan.
We know Ihal the people who get offthe slage wearing
suits and top ha15 and carrying valises are doomed, nol
beca use of anything anyone says abouI Ihem but because
oflhe mounlains in the background and Ihe desert
underfool Ihal is conlinuous with the main Slreel oftown.
li is, of course, an interpretation of nature Ihat does the
OOCUMENTS
 ". work J am referring tooThe various kinds ofhardness
western "ature seems to inculcate are projected onto Ihe
landscape by men and read back offit by thern. lhe
emptines s we see there, Ihe sense of a hostile
environment, i5 3n effect of a certain way oflife and of
mental habitude.
For Ihe desert is no more bJank or empty than lhe
northeastern forests were when the Puritans arrived there.
It is full of growing things and inhabited by animals and
people, just as Massachusetts was before the English
carne - though they called il a lfocuum domici/ium . An
empty space. When European man walks or rides into a
rorest, however, he is losl among Ihe trees, he can'l see
ahead , he doesn 't know whal might be lurking there.
Strategically, he is al a disadvantage. And visually, the
forest doesn't provide a fl attering contrast to the human
figure. It sunounds it, tends even to obscure it, lite rally
with shadows and structurally by its similarity of
composition (vertical trees and the vertical human form)
and by i15 competitive detail . But when a lone horseman
appears on the desert plain, he dominates it instantly, his
view extends as fa r as the eye can see, enemies are
exposed to his gaze. Strategically, he has an even chanceo
'1
Visually, he conquers¡ he is the most salient point in the
I
picture, dark agai nst I¡ght, vertical against horizontal, solid
agai nst plane, detail against blankness.
Thus the blankness ofthe plain serves a political
function that remains below the level of consciousness. lt
implies - without ever stating - that this is a field where a
certain kind of mastery is possible, where a person can
re main completely autonomous, alone and in control of
himself, while controlling the external world through brute
strength and sheer force of will. The Western situates itself
characteristically in the desert, because the desert seems
by its very existence to affirm Ihat life must be seen from
the point of view of death, that physical stamina and
strength arethe sine qua non of personal distinction, that
matter and physical force are the substance of ultimate
reality, and that sensory experience, the history ofthe
body's contact with the world, is the repository of all
significant knowledge.
It is the power ofthe Western that when we are reading
the novel or watching the movie these truths seem to be
self·evident. But of course they do not simply emanate
from nature itself, as the desert landscape would have us
believe; they are dictated by the very things the Western is
pitting i15elf so strenuously against: language, book-
learning, laws, abstract systems of exchange, big
corporations, social hierarchies, fancy clothes, plush
interiors, temperance, the way ladies are taught to behave
in society. The opposition the Western sets up between
landscape and language, nature and culture, matter and
representation, itselfbelongs to a particular mode of
representing the world. Therefore, the story the Western
tells, which seems to be about the struggle between a
pristine natufe and a decadent cultu re, is really ahout who
will have the right to dictate the terms according to which
the culture opera tes, to say what the true oppositions are,
or, to put it somewhat differently, it is about who will have
the rigkt to name God.
That rigkt, in the course ofthe nineteentk century, kad
INVOLVE MENT
been passing from the clergy into the hands of popular
women authors, whose power the Western genre is
contesting. And so when the hero rides out ofthe desert at
the beginning oftne story, and back into the desert at the
end, his existence and journey are an assertion that
ontological purity resides in the masculine body, in
masculine action, in a masculine vision ofthe world [ ... )
Toshikatsu ENDO
On Fire [1991]
The imagination offire should not be limited to the
consciousness offire as an independent phenomenon.
From a structural viewpoi nt one ofthe primary elements
that compose the universe, fire exis15 on a continuum with
those other material phenomena: earth, water, air and s un.
Most important is thefollowing: it is within the
cosmological relation - where human tife becomes linked
with fire, eartk , water, air, sun and other physical elements
ofthe universe - that the material imagination can
become manifest and bring meaning.
In my early work, 1began to use water with increasing
frequency. At that time, through sheer mental exhaustion 1
was attracted to the most modera te, flexible and neutral of
materials. But perhaps most im portantly, I felt that
materials such as water could be considered within a
somewhat expanded concept ofMinimal Art, where words
are reduced to a minimum.
1soon realized that 1had been mistaken. Before long,
water began to tell its many stories and from behind its
transparent surface emerged strange and uncertain
signals. They were the words, the meanings given to water
throughout the history ofhumanity. Water was no longer
simply a liquid contained, but an endless spring of
meaning wetling up from the depths ofthe earth.
Then arose the idea of retu rn ing water to the earth:
using a shovel to dig a hole in the ground and fi lling its
centre with water. 1understood the duality - that by my
action water was simultaneously removed from the earth.
Th is gesture, a secret rite for the release of repressed
desires - was also a requiem for the water.
Water passed through my body, circulating within and
finally breaking out through some inner fractu re.
Suddenly, the water, that which had been returned to the
earth and that which had been taken from the earth,
metamorpkosed into fire and burst into flames.
These acts seemed to touch some place where
seductive memories tinged with madness have been
concealed within us, memories of destruction, burial and
prayer[ ... )
An. 1991. O.p.
FumioNANJO
Toshikatsu Endo [1989]
The bulk ofToshikatsu Endo's works consist ofcircles,
squares, cubes and rectangles. These simple forms are
reminiscentof minimalist artoHowever, tkis likeness does
not extend to his materials. Nordoes formal analysis
provide us with an understanding ofhis works. They are
based on an inner ideology bound up with history,
mythology and human existence.
Many ofEndo's works are burnt and scorched black.
Burning makes wood more resilient, hinting that the work
will actually last longer than ordinary wood sculptures. On
the symholic level, it seems that they last fOr halfof
eternity.ln this way, one can think oftheirexisting beyond
time. At the same time, black, which as a colour is the
ultimate and absolute, imposes on Ihe works a serious
spiritual tension devoid of embellishment.
The burning ofthe works is usually done out in nature.
Sometimes on a lake, in a forest , or on top of a mound of
earth. Tbis ceremo,:!ial event is never public; it is not
directed at an audience. Endo performs this alone. But it is
possible for us to follow the working process in our
imagination as photographs are taken on site. Apart from
the wooden works, fire is also often used and contrasted
with water in earth works which consist ofhollows in soil .
It looks as ifflames are rising from the bowels ofthe earth ,
as in a volcano. The swaying, image-evoking f1ames are
not controlled by man but by part ofthe immensity of
nature.
On the other hand, water is much more crucial to
Endo's works than fire. f or instance, the work shown at
the Indian Triennale in 1986 and at the Venice Biennale in
1988 con sists oftwenty.two black cylinders the tops of
which are filled with water. This is also a feature of a work
consisting of a round block of wood which has i15 hollow
parts filled with water. The work Allegory 11. Coffin ofSeele
('985), which is made of a rectangular, coffin·like box, has
water in it, even though it is not visible fur the viewer. In his
Land Art works, too, water is used in circular shapes.
Besides wood, Endo uses stone, iron and bronze. ln his
stone works some ofthe stones in cirdes have been burnt.
And some ofthe stones are actually made ofbronze c.ast
inlo stone forms.ln one ofhis bronze works Endo has very
carefully etched the surface. ( ... )
What then is important to Endo? It is important to
search for the archetypes within manoWater, for instance,
has, from the beginning, had a special attraction for him
due to ils close links with human existence, history and
life. It is impossible to bind the use ofwater to just one
incident, orto just one meaning. Water relates to a variety
ofstories and symhols connected with human life. lt is
difficu It to limit its significance.
We can, however, experience many aspects of water
just by letting il keep i15 manifold features . We can
experience the precise, refined aspect ofwater when we
see it on top ofthe cylinders, as they are filled to the brim,
the surface tension raising Ihe water ahoye the edge
without running over. We meet another similar aspect
when the water in a circular earthen pit reflects the sky.
Here we get a feeling ofexperiencing a peaceful effect
which is only one ofits innumerable modes of existen ce.
Thus, water in Endo's work relates to fundamental sta tes
of mind without the need for specific interpretation.
 The same can be said offire. like water, throughout ".
history fice has been both man's servant and enemy. The
control offire has been not only a technical problem but
also a feature of civilization. Today we have forgotten how
natural and wild fire actuaUy is. Originally, firewas one of
the most devastating forces in nature, at the same time as
being a visihle form of energy. when we see the fire in
these woru we feef struck to the heart and experience a
mysterious sense of excitement l··· J
When contemponry Japanese art is shown in the west,
it has a fundamental disadvantage compared with western
arto l(jt rejies on I!lIpressive means similar 10 those of
western art, it is looked upon as a kind ofimitation. On the
other hand, i(jt possesses profoundly Japanese qualities,
the only response it arouses is an interest in the exotic.
Japanese artists oftoday seem lo need to find a new kind of
orientation that is neither lapanese nor western. In this
sense, we can say that Endo's works are neither western
nor are they superficially Japanese, based on worn-out
concepts. He has a world ofhis own which integrates both
the Japanese and the western ( ... J
f".'0 •• nJO 'TOSh"HU [n40'

I ruCfntrf.llf1,,"I,' 1989. pp. u-u.

DOCUIoIENTS
2"

Political topicality and the idea of environ-

mental stewardship as a lyric device in the production of aesthetic experience are

matched here by a rise in pragmatismo The grass roots social movements ofthe
•
times demonstrated the potential for transforming personal philosophical

concerns into practical action . The evolution of theoretical critique gave rise to

functional activity: poetic interventions found parallels in science and politics.

The diversification and democratization of the social world was reflected in the
•
artworld. As Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison note. ' Ourwork causes

the conversation to drift in another direction . We take up the cultural and political.

the aesthetic and the ecological. all at once' . Cleaning. planting. remedial work.

conservation : all of these conventional pursuits. traditionally outside the purview of

artmaking. are brought together in the appraisals of and statements by the artists

included in Implementation . As Mierle Laderman Ukeles said in a 1991 interview,

'1I's not just artists decorating landfills. r m talking about artists sitting at the

decision-making table - [creating projectsl that will save our earth, our air, our

water. lfwe survive people willlook back and say, "Thal's the great design ofour age".'

Rachel CARSON
t ":ablp' rTomorrow', 12'
There was o nce a town in the heart of America where all life
seem ed to live in harmo ny wit h its s urro und ings. The town
lay in the m idst of a checleerboard of prospero us fa rms,
wil h fields of grain and hillsides of orchards where, in
s p ring, whit e clouds ofbloom d rifted aboye the green
tields. ln autum n, oak and ma p leand birch sel up a blaze
of colour t ha t f1a m ed and f1ickered across a backdrop of
pines[ ... ]
Along the roads, laurel, vibu rn um and alder, great fe rns
and wildflowers delighted Ihe Iravetle r's eye Ihroug h
muc h ofthe year. Even in win ter the roa d sides were p laces
ofbeauty, where counlles s birds came lo feed on the
berries and on t he s eed head s ofthe dried weeds rising
aboye the snow. The countryside was, in fact , famous for
the abundance and variety ofits bird He, and whe n t he
flood of migrants was pouring t hrough in spring and
il utum n people travelled from gre at dis tances to obse rve
t hem. Others carne to fish the streams, which flowed elear
ilnd cold out ofthe hills and contai ned s had y pools whe re
trout lay [ ... 1
Then a stra nge blight ( rept over the area and
everythi ng bega n to eha nge. Sorne evil spell had settled o n
the commu nity: mysterlou5 maladies swept t he f10cks of
chickensj t he cattle and s heep sickened ilnd died.
Everyw here was a shadow of deat h. The fa rmers s poke of
m ue h iIIness a mong t heir fa milies. In the town the docto rs
had become mo re il nd more puzzled by new kinds of
sicle ness appearing amo ng their patients. There had been
several s udden and unel(plained deat hs, nol o nl y among
adu lts but even amon g c hildren, w ho wo uld be striclcen
s udde nly white at play a nd d ie wi thin a few hours.
There was a stra nge st itlness [ ... ] o nly sile nce lay over
t he fiel d s and woods a nd m a rsh.
On t he farm s the he ns brooded, but no chicles hatched.
The fa rmers complained that they were unable to raise any
p igs ( ... J The apple trees were coming into bloom but no
bees droned a mong the blos soms, so there was no
pollinat ion and t here wo uld be no fruit .
The ro ads ides , o nce so attractive, were now lined with
browned and withe red vegetation as though s wept by tire.
These, too, were silent, deserted by a lt living things. Even
the s treams were now lifeles s [ ... J
In the gutters under the eaves and between the
s hingles ofthe roofs, a white granular powder stilt showed
a few patc hes; some weeles before jt had falten lilee snow
upo n the roofs and the lawns, the tields and streams.
No wi tchcraft, no enemy actio n had silenced Ihe
rebirth of new life in Ihis stricleen world. The people had
do ne it Ihemselves l ... [

A TIO N
 Simon SCHAMA
•
Landscape and Memory
[. 9q5]
[ ••• J Ir a ch¡ld's vision of natufe can already be loade<! with
complicating memories, myths and meanings, how muen
more elaborately wrought is the "ame through which OUt
adult eyes survey the landscape. Far although we ilre
ilccustomed to separate natufe ilnd human perception
into two realms, they are, in fact, indivisible. Befare it can
ever be a repose forthe senses, landscape is the work of
the mind. tu scenery is huift up as mueh from strata of
memory as from layers of rock.
Objectively, of course, the various e<:osystems that
sustain life on the planet proceed independently ofhuman
agency, just as they operated befare the hedie ascendancy
of Horno sopjens. But it is also tfue that it is difficult to
think of a single such natural system thal has not, for
better or worse, been substantiall)' modified b), human
culture. Nor is this simpl), the work ofthe industrial
centuries. II has been happening since the da)'s of ancient
Mesopotamia. It is coeval with wtiting, with the entirety of
OUt social existence. And jt is thjs irreversibl)' modified
world , from Ihe polar caps to the equatorial forests, Ihat is
al! Ihe nature we nave.
The founding fathers of modern environmentalis m,
Henry David Thoreau and John Muir, promised Ihal 'i n
wildness is the preservation ofthe world'. The
presumption was Ihat Ihe wilderness was out there,
somewhere, in the western heart of America , awaiting
discovery, and Ihat it would be Ihe anlidote for the poisons
ofindustrial society. But of course the healing wilderness
was as much the product of cullure's craving and culture's
j fram ing as an)' olher imagined garden. Take the first and
_"_ mostfamous American Eden; Yosemite. Though the
parking is almost as big as the park and there are bears
rooting among the McDonald 's cartons, we still imagine
__ Yosemite the wa)' Albert Bierstadt painted it or Carleton
) Walkins and Ansel Adams photographed it: wilh no trace
ofhuman presence. But of course the very act of
] identifying (not to mention photographing) Ihe place
• presupposes our presence, and along with us all the heavy
-" cultural backpacks thal we lug with us on the trail.
The wilderness, after all , does nol locale itself, does not
na me itself.11 was an act ofCongress in 1864 thal
established Yosemite Valle), as a place of sacred
significance for the nation, during the war which marked
the moment ofFaIl in Ihe American Garden. Nor could Ihe
wilderness venerate itself It needed hallowing visitations
from New England preachers like Thomas Starr King,
photogtaphers like Leander Weed, Eadwaerd Mu)'bridge,
and Carlelon Watkins, painters in oillike Bierstadt and
Thomas Moran, and painters in prose like John Muir lo
represent it as the hol)' part ofthe West; the site of a new
birth; a redemption for the national agon)'; an American re·
creation. The strangel)' unearthl)' topograph)' oflhe place,
with brilliant meadows carpeling the valle)' flush to the
sheer cliff walls ofCathedral Rock, the Merced River
winding through the tal! grass, lenl itself perfectl)' to this
vis ion of a democratic terrestrial paradise. And the fact
Ihat visitors had lo descendto the valle)' floor onl)'
emphasized the religious sensation of enlering a walled
sanctuary.
like all gardens, Yosemile ptesupposed barriers
against the beastl)'. But its prolectots reversed
conventions b), keeping the animals in and Ihe humans
out. So both the mining companies who had first
penetrated this area oflhe Sierra Nevada and the expelled
Ahwahneechee Indians were carefull)' and forcibl)' ediled
out ofthe id)'II.U was John Muir, the prophet of wilderness,
who actuall)' characterized Yosemile as a 'park valle)" and
celebrated ils resemblance lo an 'artificial landscape-
garden ... with charming groves and meadows and
thickels ofblooming bushes'. The mountains that rose
above the 'park' had 'feet set in pine.groves and ga)'
emerald meadows, Ihe;r brows in the sky¡ balhed in lighl,
bathed in floods of singing water, while snow·douds
avalanche and Ihe winds shine and surge and wreathe
about them as the )'ears go b)', as ifinto these mountain
mansions Nature had taken pains to galher her choicest
treasures lo draw her lovers into dose and confiding
communion with her':
But of course nature does no such thing. We do. Ansel
Adams, who admired and qUOled Muir, and did his best to
translale his reverence into spectacular nalure-icons,
explained to the director ofthe Natíonal Park Service, in
1952, Ihat he pholographed Yosemite in the wa)' he did lo
sanctify 'a religious idea' and lo 'inquire of m)' own soul
juSI what Ihe primevalscene reall), signifies'. ' In the lasl
anal)'sis', he wrole, ' HalfOome is jusI a piece of rock ...
There is some deep personal distillation ofspiril and
concepl which moulds Ihese earthl)' facts into some
transcendental emotional and spirilual experience'. To
ptolect Yosemile's 'spirilual potential ', he believed, meant
keeping the wilderness pure¡ ' unfortunalel)', in orderto
keep il pure we have to occup)' it'.'
There is nothing inherentl)' shameful about Ihal
occupation. Even Ihe landscapes that we suppose lo be
mos! free of our culture ma)' turn out, on closer inspection ,
lo be ils product. And it is the argumenl ofLondscope ond
Memory Ihal this is a cause nol for guill and sorrow but
celebration. Would we ralher Ihal Yosemite, for all ils over-
population and over-representation, had nelle, been
identified , mapped , emparked? The brillianl meadow-f1oor
which suggested to its first eulogisls a pristine Eden was in
fact the result of regular fire·clearances b), ils Ahwah-
neechee Indian occupants. So while we acknowledge (as
we must) Ihal the impact ofhumanity ofthe earth's
ecology has nol been an unmixed blessing, neilher has the
long relationship between nature and culture been an
unrelieved and predetermined calamit)'. Al the very leasl, it
seems right lo acknowledge Ihat it is OUt shaping
perception that makes the difference between raw matter
and landscape( ... )
, mandi ng both very precise
A r • r•
'ee ' .,
• ,
• '"
•
RobertSMITHSON
Untitled (Across the
Country .. . ) [1979]
ACROSSTHE COUNTRY THEREARE MANY MINING
AREAS, DISUSEDQUARRIES, AND POLLUTED LAKES
AND RIVERS. ONE PRACTICAL SOLUTION FOR THE
UTlLIZATION OFSUCH DEVASTATED PLACES WOULD
BE LANDAND WATER RE-CYCLlNG IN TERMS OF'Earth
Art'. RECENTLY, WHEN I WAS IN HOLLAND, I WORKED
IN A SANO QUARRYTHATWAS S LATE D FOR
REOEVELOPMENT. THE DUTCH ARE ESPE(lALLY
AWAREOFTHE PHYSICAL LANDSCAPE. A DIALECTIC
BETWEEN LAND RECLAMATION ANO MINING USAGE
MUST BE ESTABLlSHED. THE ARTIST AND THE MINER
MUST BECOM ECONSCIOUS OF THEMSELVES AS
NATURAL AGENTS.I N EFFECT, THIS EXTENDSTOALL
KINOS OF MINING ANO BUILDING. WHEN THE
MINEROR BUILDER LOSES SIGHTOFWHAT HE 15
DOING THROUGH THEABSTRACTIONS OFTECH·
NOLOGYHECANNOTPRACTlCALLYCOPEWITH
NECESSITY. THE WORLD NEEDS COALAND HIGH·
WAYS, BUTWE DO NOT NEED THE RESULTS OF STRIP·
MINING OR HIGHWAYTRUSTS. ECONOMICS, WHEN
ABSTRACTED FROM THE WORlD, 15 BLlND TO
NATURALP'RO EW 5 ARTCAN BECOMEA RESOURCE ••
o
THAT MEDIATES BElWEEN THE ECOLOGIST AN D TH E ¡
•"•
INDUSTRIALlST. ECOLOGY AND INDUSTRY ARE NOT
ONE-WAYSTREfTS, RATHERTHEYSHOULDBECROSS. o
ROADS. ARTCAN HELPTO PROVIDETHE NEEDED ••
8
DIALECTIC BETWEEN THEM . A LESSON CAN BE -•
LEARNED FROM THE INDIAN CLlFF DWElLINGS ANO
EARTHWORKS MOUNDS. HERE WE SEE NATURE ANO
NECESSITY IN CONSORT.
• •
•
Jack BURNHAM
Hans Haacke - Wind and
WaterSculpture [1967]
HAACKE'5 USE OF NATURAL MEDIUMS
Haacke's water boxes have a kind of maddening ambi-
guit)'o On the one hand he fusses with Iheir shapes, de-
proportions and
lechnical perfection, while on the olher he encourages Ihe
semi·random activit)' that pervades the boxes' inside
activity. How can an artist demand so much and at the
same time be contenl with the inevitable? II is t)'pical that
DOCUMENTS
he refuses to use screws, stainless steel braces or gaskets
to put his plastic boxes logether, bul at the same time he
con stantly searches for new degrees offreedom.
1can remember when Haacke took me to see an
example ofhis first water boxes (spring 1962), then in the
rental collection ofThe Museum ofModern Art in New
York. A secretary commenled that museum personnel had
been playing with it for days - it seemed lo have caused
more joyful curiosity than any number of'sculptures '-
and forthat reas on the museum neverthought seriously of
buying it as a 'work of art'. Forthose who watched the
water box, the aggregate emotion was that of delight and
perplexity.
Mos! saw the water box as essenlially frivolous, lacking
Ihe mystery, restraint, impaet, technical bravura, cruelty,
wit and optical salience that went into the games of olher
currently successful artists. Here was an art of essential
phenomenalism where the obligation lo !in was passed on
to the spectalor. The artist had struetured the events - take
it or leave it - the rest was up to the dimmed memory ofthe
viewer: to remember what he had forgotten since
childhood about Ihe ¡ntimate effects of wind and water.
In this respect, Haacke has spoken several times ofthe
Japanese mode of making precise but informal art and
gave me some examples from Ihe seventeen.syllable
haiku poems: short, terse fragments that are really liny
universes of sensibility. The water boxes in their own way
are encapsulated forms oflhe poetic condition.
'Spring rain
Conveyed underthe trees
Indrops.'
Just as within the Plexiglas container, th is poem makes the
discovery thal the same source of water, \IIhen altered by
an obstacle, can change in consistency and texture. Large
irregular drops ffom Ihe branches of a tree fall on the haiku
poet as he stands underneath peering al the fine fabr¡c of
spring rain. This is precisely the condition oflhe gravity.
controlled water boxes, where water becomes one thing,
then another - always varied lo the senses and changing
form as il meets new forms of material opposition. Haacke
cited anotherexample:
'The dew oflhe rouge-flower
When spilled
Is simply water. '
We see only what we want to see and the hardest th ing to
see is what is non.literary in origin, in faet, whal is wilh us
from the moment we first open our eyes. Thousands of
limes' have discharged the contents of a washbasin or
have swallowed liquid with Ihe purpose of removing the
contents fro m the cavity ofthe glass into the cavity created
by my digestive system. Few limes have I exerted what
Husserl calls ' reduetion' in isolating either Ihe molions of
my body in receiving the water or the aetions ofthe water
leaving the glass. Th is last is what Haacke is about, and its
full import only carne to me alter my visit lo his studio in
Cologne.
AII the containers strewn about his studio may have
looked si milar, but were in essential ways differenl from
each olher. In a typ ical one water f10wed from an
uppermost level Ihrough a partition with tiny holes to the
bottom, creating as il fell a lapestry ofsmall whirlpools and
IMPLEMENTATlON
drops. Another container divided water into converging
zigzag slreams (unning along transparenl sides oflhe box.
In some cases, not just form and partilioning, but
physical principies determine Ihe dynamics ofthe water
boxes. As one cylindrical vessej is ¡nverted, coloured
solutions merge, flatten and distend against each other, as
Haacke's wife, linda, remarked, like a Sam Francis
painli ng in slow molion.Later, this idea was incorporated
into a series offlat, panel-like construetions having partial
plastic walls. Coloured liquids would partition inlo bubble
struetures on Iheir jouroey to the top oflhe piece, slowly
forming and re-formíng as they rose upward.
More and more I began to sensethat the quality that
unified these construetions was their ability to transcend
merely mechanical operalion and lo assume sorne ofthe
pattero inherent in jife processes. In the translational
motion of regular water currents, say through a pipe, the
water remains unchanged at each segment oflhe pipe. In
contrast, liquids moving through an organic system or
digestive traet conslantly change in chemical slrueture as
they move in space. Ideally, Haacke would I¡ke somelhing
like that ifit were feasible. The partitions and other
de!errents in his constructions are the closesl thal he can
come in this direction.
Through Ihe anonymity ofPlexiglas with liquid passing
from level to level, he is Irying perhaps lo gel al Ihe
clockwork oflhe human body's own chemistry. There is a
sense ofimmanent completion with the further knowledge
that the cycle will begin all over again. One apparatus
could be said to simulate cell duplication¡ with the aid of a
small hand pump a chemical engenders overflowing
m ounds offoam. Soap particles dissolve as Ihey spread
out. Nol alllhe aetion is so apparent. Al one window oflhe
sludio a large transparent box stood in the sunlight
regenerating cycle i1fter cycle ofcondensation. With slow,
endless varialion Ihe Iranspilrent s¡des oflhe box were
patteroed with beads of moisture only to turn into rivulets
of waler as Ihey became too heilvy to remain drops. ln Ihe
sun a fine haze of vapour appears near the top oflhe
construetion, then drops in tiny trickles along the sides,
wilh pools ofwaler along the bottom.
Haacke had some interesting comments about this
lasl piece. This is one work Ihal did nol need to be turned
over by the viewer, yet in exhibitions its subtle aetion is nol
enough for some people and they wont lo set it on ils top o
Of course, Ihis jusi erases Ihe pattero eslablished on Ihe
plaslic, and the slow process ofbuilding up condensation
must begin again. Haacke claims that only the mos!
perceplive and sensilive viewers ever like his
condensalion box. For mosl observers its rate of change is
loo slow lo sustain any atlenlion. AII ofwhich suggests to
Haacke that the quieter and simpler phenomena of nalure
are no match loday for what people expect out oflife. For
Ihe sensitive kinetic artisl time scales are an importanl
elemenl - and particularly as they are junaposed in
mechanical and organic systems.
In relalion to this he gave me his own short manifesto.
' ... make something which experiences, reacts lo lts
environment, changes, is nonstable ...
... make something indetermínate, thal always looks
different, the shape ofwhich canoot be predieted precisely
... make something that cannot 'perform' without Ihe
assistance ofits environment ...
... make something sensitive lo light and lemperalure
changes, that is subject to air currents and depends, in its
funetioning, on the forces of gravity ...
... make something the spectalor handles, an object to be
played wilh and thus animaled ...
... make something that lives in time and makes the
experience time .:.
... articulate somelhing natural .. .'
- Hans Haacke, Cologne, January 1965
Haacke's statemenl brought lo mind the closing efforts of
Leonardo da Vinci and his thousands of notations on the
nalure and substance of air and water¡ ofhis lust lo
comprehend the currents, whorls and eddies; ofhis plans
in old age for miniature experimental water works; ofhis
sketches, which sought to link up relalionships
-
between the circulation of water in the earth, in Ihe cells of
plants, and the blood pumpingthrough the arteries ofthe
human body, of an instinet that anticipated Ihe statistical
mechanics of modern physics by four centuries, and not
least of all, the great Deluge drawings that tried to capture
the violent patteros ofwind and water as they destroyed al1
man· made aetivity / ... 1
lt is Ihis sensi bility, still scientifically aCCurate in its
broader respecls, thal speaks lo an artist such as Haacke
and permits him tosay, '1 am doingwhat artists have
always done - Ihat ¡s, e.rtendingthe boundaries of visual
awareness'.
Gradually Haacke has moved from the water pieces to
a mOre encompassing determination ofthe full scope of
his work. AII usable, flexible forces have become Ihe
means for remakingtiny bits ofthe wortd into boundless,
playful systems. These feats with air drafts and blower
systems could be termed weather events.ln this respect
some ofHaacke's recent 50;1 (1965) construetions were
accompanied by a statement Ihal echoed familiarly of
Leonardo.
' Ifwind blows into a lighl piece of malerial, il flutters like a
flag or it swells like a sall, depending on the way in whkh it
is suspended. The direction oflhe stream of air as well as
its intensity also determine the movements. None oflhese
movements 15 without an influence from all Ihe others. A
common pulse goes through Ihe membrane. The swelling
on one side makes the other s,de recede; lensions ar¡se
and decrease. The sensitive fabric reacts to the slightest
changes of air conditions. A gentle draft makes it swing
lightly, a strong air current makes il swell almost to the
bursting point or pulls so that it furiously twists ¡tself
aboul. Since many faetors are involved, no movement can
be precisely predieted. The wind·driven fabric behaves like
a living organism, all parts of which are constantly
influencing one anolher. The unfolding oflhe organism in
a harmonious manner depends on the intuitiveness and
skill oflhe player". His means to reach the essential
character ofthe material are man1pulations ofthe wind
sources and the shape and melhod of suspending the
fabrico His malerials are wind and flexible fabric, his tools
are the laws of nature. The sensilivity ofthe wind player
determines whether the fabric i5 given tife and breathes.'
• reads the 8ible. Still, similar question s can be formed
Today in the engineering of complex systems the problem
is to make the man-machine relationship as smoothly
functional as possible. The more variables present and the
fasterthe machine componen15 must make decisions and
transmit aruons the tess opportunity remains for the
human operator to assert his own degree of autonomous
control. For this reason - and for more practical ones-
Haacke's devices are purposely kept simple and
technically unetaborate. He is not after the usual passive
knob-pressing kinetic art, neither is the viewer in complete
control ofthe s ituation; instead, at best, a mutual
interaction between viewer and sail system is encouraged.
This is a level of authentic sensual involvement thal
Haacke senses the world has less time for today. Art is
natural medicine.
This was apparent the summer before last (1963) when
Gerd Winkler ofthe Hessische Rundfunk, a television
station in Franlcfurt, made a film in Haacke's studio. One
sequencewas devoted to the unin hibited play of several
children around a group ofballoons suspended on a
column of air - the children understood the point perfectly
ofknocking the balloons offthe column of air, whereas
grown·ups photographed doing Ihe same thing usually
felt a bit self-conscious. Certainly Haacke's
experimentation begins with the same playful intensity as
the early Dadais15, although in spirit it is less attuned to
alienation and therapeutic destruction.
One sen ses an innate distrust by Haacke of
complicated machines and electronic equipment,
basically on the grounds that they are non·visual and tend
lo break down. 'The simpler the better' is his sentiment,
'Iike the standing egg ofColumbus. It is best to get along
with unmechanical sources of energy.' On a monumental
scale he would invent new forms of windmilts and sail
constructions - 'driven and blown by naturally existing
winds'.
In his January 1966 show two 'air even15' were set up: a
7 x 7-fOOI (2 x 2 m) chiffon sa;1 suspended loosely parallel
lo the floor and kept swinging aboye an oscillating fan, and
the olher a large, while rubber balloon balanced on an air
jet. A number oftimes I've questioned Haacke on Ihe
saleability ofsuch works; after all they are fi-agile systems
not stable objects. His reply is Ihal he is fortunale lo have a
gallerythat can understand the importance of non-
saleable works, and Ihal they have lo be made in spite of
what happens to Ihem laler.
More basic Ihan the category ofkineticism or
mechanics is the fact Ihat the artist is trying to man ipulate
purely invisible forces , a strictly non-palpable art, in which
effects and interaction count for more than physicar
durability. This outlook is somehow remin iscenl oflhat of
Roger Ascham, tutor to Elizabeth I ofEngland, who wrote
in his Toxophi/us: The Sehole o/Shoot;ng, 'To see the wind
wilh aman his eyes il is impossible, Ihe nature ofit is so
fine and subtile'. After this Ascham proceeds to deduce the
consistency ofthe wind fi-om the effects thal it has on
certain lighl and flexible objects - grass, snow, dust and
other carriers oflhe invisibleforces ofhot and cold in
reaction lo each olher.
'Halh the rain a father? Or who hath the drops of dew?'
abaut the origins ofthe wind. The Earth i15elf can be
looked on as a greal wind.making device, forming patterns
of evaporation, rain and humidity over i15 surface as a kind
of enormous condensation container. Haacke's interest in
the invisible me<:hanics of nature is like 0111 meaningful art;
it is a re-evocation of what was always known about
existence, but forgotten at one time or another.
The water constructions are less easy to describe in
words beca use they embody a 'programme' directed by
gravity and composed of a numberof parts. II was
originally the discoverythat water is the most living of
inorganic substances thal brought Haacke lo his personal
work. 1talked to him about Ihis problem oftrying to
describe what is in fact only moving reflection . literary
illusion and hyperbole seemed lo fade in Ihe face of
something so completely phenomenal. His retort was that
even pholographs give a very incomplete impression and
that, al Ihe risk ofboredom, accurate, eJrtensive
descriptions have to be made 'Iike a police report'.
So then, process is the word that describes the
procession ofhydrodynamical events that permit water to
move in one ofthese boxes from a higher to a lower level.
In the simpler containers this i5 a matter of about five
minutes. Each sequence of even15 ¡s, in effect, a unified
visual statement.
At the inception ofthese hydrodynamic activities the
water dimples as the first set of drops begins to pass
through the tiny drilled openings ofthe interior partilion .
From that point onward animation ¡ncreases with the
more rapid passage of water. Soon the surface ofthe upper
body of water tightens into a relatively stabte pattern or
vortices. Light reAected fi-om the ridges ofthe wavelets on
the surface becomes Ihe visual means by which liquid flow
and drop agitation are observed. Th is resul15 in a kind of
loose network of reflections, seemingly random bul
statistically determinale. A secondary webbing oflight
lines is brought lo focus on the pedestal surface beneath
the water box i15elf This is the result of convergent light
rays through the lens.si mulaling contours oflhe waves
aboye. With exquisite precision the water-drop and i15
sheath, repealed countless times over the entire surface of
the partitions, become a field of repeating miniature
founlains in conjunction with the body of water below.
Seen from outside the box, these layers of activity
superimpose and assume an interwoven complexity. To
the casual observer Ihis description may belabour the
actual occurrence - with so much happening so quickly.
But Haacke's intention is nol lo catch each action
discretely and pre<:isely asl have describe<! it, it is geared
instead lowards a mode of relaxed observation. Th is is a
kind ofletting-go process in which phenomena become
secondary lo an intuition about the nature of sequential
even15.
Actually, after watching one ofthe water boKes, or
'drippers' as Haacke calls them, on a mal, stark white
plastic tabletop, I thought I had Ihe answer to what he was
aiming at: an extremely old and visceral form ofbeauty,
something, perhaps, fading from contemporary
conSClousness.
I could picture Thoreau Iying on his stomach on the
• '"
western slopes aboye Walden Pond watching the surface
disturbances on the water: birds, fish, grass, breezes,
water bugs - almost like a fireworks display. Here, I
remember, was aman who harboured no wishful iIIusions
about the deadening effects oftechnology, who knew what
he was afler. At that, a passage from Thoreau'sjoutno/
ca me lo mind, 'A long soaking rain, the drops trickling
down the stubble ... To watch this crystal globe just sent
from heaven lo associate with me (a raindropl, white these
clouds and this sombre drizzting weather shut all in, we
two draw nearer and know one another.'
There is a kind of pantheistic union between living and
non·living matter in which both assume an organic
rapport. I asked Haacke about this in a letter and his
answerwas something of a shock.
'Cood old Thoreau', was his reply, 'romanticism is not
really my cup oftea, although 1don't denythat there's
some ofit in me. However, 1hate the nineteenlh.century
idyllic nature.loving act.l 'm for what the 'arge cities have
to offer, the possibilities ofte<:hnology and the urban
mentality. Plexiglas, on the other hand, is artificial and
strongly resis15 eitherlactile sensuality or the
touch n. Plexiglas, mass-production - Thoreau - they don't
really fit together.'
For sorne, ineluding myself, there seems lo be a tug.of-
war, a tremendous ambiguity in Haacke's efforts. It is as if
he is willing to accept the phenomenal forces of nature,
but only as long as they are hermetically sealed in a kind of
artificiallaboratory - not lake water, but the chemist's
distilled H,O [ ... ]
During the spring of 1966 Haacke felt that a prime
opportunity for a monumental undertaking was at hand. A
'Zero on the Sea' festival, all expenses paid, was to be
sponsored at Scheveningen, Holland, by Ihe local tourist
agency. In a letter from just befare the trip Haacke wrole in
great excitement ofsome ofhis proposed undertakings
out on Ihe Scheveningen pier:
' 1plan to have 6o·foot nylon strips, white, being blown out
over the sea from flagpoles on the pier - which are closely
grouped together so Ihat a constant flicker can be created.
And a 150-foot plastic hose, tightly inAated with helium,
will fly high aboye the beach or sea ... And also, I would like
to lure 1,000 seagulls to a certain spot (in the air) by sorne
delicious food so as to construct an air sculpture from their
combined mass.'
Haacke felt that the entire undertaking was too good to be
true, and rightly enough, two weeks before it was to
commence, the sponsors called it offfor rack offunds.
Nevertheless, he feels Ihat with the elements ofhis
work -wind and water-Iarge scale is an inevitability,
although a self.perpetuating source offrustration. Survival
in art, as in aH other realms oflife, is contingent on material
adjustment. One begins to embrace, if nol see as a
positive advantage, those limitations that currently define
saleable gallery arto In a letter Haacke wrote, ' ... in spite of
all my environmental and monumental thinking I 3m still
fascinated by the nearly magie, self-contained quality of
objects. My water levels, waves and condensation boxes
are unth inkable without th is physical separation from
their surroundings.'
DOCUMENTS
". Mechanization is anolher problem for an artist in
Haacke's pasillon. With all ofhis espousal ofthe cily and
Ihe values of mechanization, there is a deep underlying
suspicion ofthe active effect of machines on his arto This is
nol a rejection of machines pe, se, bul oftheir tendency lo
dominate in any relationship with man or the elements. Ir
he has an aversion lo the use of motors lO pump liquids or
to keep one ofhis systems in motion, il has much lo do
with the proportional size ofthe molor lo the construction
and ofthe quality ofthe motian generaled. In a 5m311
construction mas! motors would be disproportionately
large, and electric wiring would deprive the piece ofi1$
autonorny and power as a self·sufficient abjert. There is
¡¡Iso the visual irrationality of power apparatus and the
lifeless motion that it usually generates. 'Forced' motlon
has none oflhe give-and-take and inevitability that
characterizes Haacke's method. No such inhibitions exist
for a work installed in a large architectural setting. Here
the scale 'naluralizes' motor-driven motion. Being
incorporated into Ihe architecture, there is no need for
isolation as in a small, freestanding work. Of course, with
Ihe smaller constructions, Ihe observer is the prime
source of power- pushing, shaking and turning the box
overo Haacke considers this role ofthe observer as a
motive force to be of prime importance, no casual push-
button affair. He has also commented that because this
relationship is a physically sensitive one, there are 'good'
and 'bad' generators among spectators.
510wly the line between slable objects Ihal sil passil/ely
wailing lo be wrapped up and shipped offto some
customer's home and Ihe new projects demanding
participation and unlimited space seems lo be forming.
The sense of ownership seems lo I/aporize from such
conceptions as Haacke presents, instead they present the
urge lo mOl/e out into space like so much smoke. What
Haacke is doing implies both great economic and material
disruptions in the handling of arto But as Takis, the Greek
kineticist, has said about the economic fallibillties of
artists, '50, unconsciously perhaps, they establish one of
their discoveries, and then become known. Now that they
are known, they are afraid to continue Iheir search into the
unknown for fear of dis-establishing their known work - all
this perhaps unconsciously.'
50 far, Haacke has al/oided Ihis pitfall and his creations
hal/e been el/ent-oriented, nol object-directed. Whatever
direction he now chooses to travel, his momentum has not
abated. He seems to be entering more dangerous altitudes
as he flies straighl for the douds, but perhaps, more lucky
Ihan lcarus, he will al/oid the sun.
• perlod ofheavy glaciation then within the nex! 10,000
••
,.
..'
• will disappear, Ihe ocean level will rise up to 300 feet, all
IMPL EM ENTA TlON
Helen Mayer HARRISON
and Newton HARRISON
IfThis Then That (The First
Four): San Diego as the
Centre ofthe World [1974]
UF
we are in an interglacial epoch and we are going into a
period ofheavy glaciation then within the nex! 10,000
years the mean annual temperalures will drop, the polar
caps will enlarge, new glacial mas ses will form on
mountain ranges that do not presently have snow cover
and the lel/el of permanent snow cover will expand
downward, the oceans will recede to the continental shelf
and the habitable zones will be reduced lo the land
between the tropies ofCancer and Capricorn.
Then the land mass available will be x, the populations
it can support will be X, the salinity ofthe oceans will be X,
the mean temperature ofthe oceans will be X, the mean
lemperature ofthe air will be X, the resulting ecologieal
transformations will be X, the resulting human social and
political syslem will be X.
11. IF
accordingto Bryce, the increase in the atmosphere of
particulate malter from volcanic actil/ity and smog screens
out more ofthe heat from the sun,
Then within the nex! several hundred years the mean
annual temperatures will drop, the polar caps will enlarge,
new glaciation will begin on mountain ranges that do not
presently hal/e snow COl/er, the level of permanent snow
cover will expand downward. The oceans will begin to
recede, the continental shelf will begín lo be exposed and
the habitable zones will decrease.
Then the land mass al/ailable will be X, the populations
it can support will be X, the salinity ofthe oceans will be X,
the mean temperature ofthe oceans will be X, the mean
temperature ofthe air will be X, etc.
If only proposition I is true, begin long·range planning.
If only proposition 1I is true, begin short-range
planning.
III.IF
we are in an intergtacial epoch and we are emerging from a
years the mean annual temperatures will increase, the
ocean ice will melt, the polar caps will melt, all glaciation
the low-Iying coastal cilies and some ofthe inland ones
will be submerged, vast parts of continental U5, 50ulh
America, India, Asia, Australia and China will again be the
sile of shallow inland seas.
Then the land mass available will be X, etc.
IV. IF
according to Plass , Ihe burning ofthe currently known
supplies of coal and oi! over the nex! hundred years
multiplies the ca. lonnage oflhe air 18 times increasing
Ihe speed oflhe greenhouse effect,
Then by the lime the ocean-atmosphere ca. cycle
returns to equilibrium , the ca, contenl oflhe air will be 10
times greater than it is today. The mean temperature ofthe
earth will be 22° higher, ice pack and glacial melt will raise
the ocean levels twenty to Ihirty feet, many coastal areas
•
and Ihe tropics will be uninhabitable.
Then the land mass al/ailable will be X, Ihe populations
it can support, etc.
If only proposition 111 is true, begín long-range planning.
If only proposition IV is true, begin short.range planning.
Ifit cannol be determined whieh ofthese proposilions is
true or it cannot be determined which combinalion of
these propositions is true or it cannot be determined
which ofthese propositions is false either singly or in
combination then begin short· and long-range planning.
, .
Robert MORRIS
Notes on Art as/and Land
Reclamation [1980]
[ ... ] '11 was rel/ealed to me that those things are good
which yet are corrupted which neither ifthey were
supremely good nor unless Ihey were good could be
corrupted.'
james ¡oyce, Ulysses
The production of art works in Ihis late industrial age has
for Ihe mosl part been circumscribed and slructured by Ihe
commodity markel. Beyond this, most artistic careers
follow the contours of a consumer-oriented market: a style
is eslablished within which yearly variations occur. These
variations do not threaten the style's identity bul change
subsequenl production enough to make il identifiably
new. 5uch a pallern then comes to De seen as natural and
value·free ralherlhan a condilion of art distribution and
sales. 5trictures for change underdifferent social
conditions mighl emphasize disjunctive change, or no
change at all. The modes for all change, or non-change, in
production, ¡nduding art, may be limited lo three: stalic,
incremental and disjunctive. But that one or more do in
(act exisl in every culture seems apparent. A given rate
change for art production prol/ides a contex! and
coherence beyond a strictly economic rereren!: it prol/ides
the infrastructure for Ihe culture's art hislory. Beyond this,
Ihe mode of art paralleling commodily production with ils
basic slyle/yearly variation yields good as well as bad arto
While this has proven obviously more economically sound
for artisls than either Ihe static or disjunctive modes, it is
probably safe to say that the disjunctive, when effectil/e,
forwhatever reasons, has been granted greater cultural
value, either in terms ofindividuals or mOl/ements. (It has
been suggested that there may be something genetic in
both risk.uking and i15 approval.) Tne disjunctive
condition i15elf ofien ushers in tne mode of commodity
production in wnich incremental variations are practiced
by 'second.generation ' artists. Today the descr iption of
tnis phenomenon often polarizes 'innovators' into one
camp and those wno produce 'quality' items into tne otner.
It is interesting to examine site-speeific works in the
light oftnese modes. As they have been produeed for the
last ten to fifteen years, wnatever disjunctive thresnold
tney might once nave had has long s;nee been passed. On
tne other hand, site-specific works can nardly be described
as commodity production items. Tney to assume the
role of a service function rather tnan tnat of object
production . Yet the majority ofthose a rt ists showing a
sustained ¡nterest in site.spedfic work - in eitner realized
or proposed projects - eonform to tne 'established
stylelvariation ' mode characteristic of commodity object
production. This is not surprising: the eonstra ining
parameter for change mediates cultural production in
general.
While s ite-specifie works have been produced now for
over a decade, their sponsorship has erratic and the
budge15 generally below what is required fOr tru ly
ambitio us works. There has certainly been no one source
of sponsorship: various museums, private individua ls,
international exhibitions, loca l communities - these and
others have from time to time made site works possible,
but often just barely. The works sponsored have more
olten than not been temporary. But now on the horizon
there is potenti¡¡¡J for widespread sponsorship of outdoor
earth and site.specifie works. local, state, federal and
industrial funding is on tapoThe key thal fi15 the 'ock to the
bank is 'Iand reclamation'. Art functioning as land
reclamation has a potential sponsorship in millions of
dollars and a possible location over hundreds of
thousands of acres throughout the eountry.
A number ofissues, or perhaps pseudo· o r non·;ssues,
.¡re raised by this possible ménage Q trois art,
government and industry. One ofthese is not an issue, and
that is the objection to art's 'serving' as land reclamation,
that it would somehow lose i15 'freedom ' in so doing. Art
has always serve<!. Sometimes the serviee has been mOre
visible- service to a palron, or to a governmental
propaganda eampaign. Sometlmes the service is less
visible, as when art meshes with and reinforces
commodity consumption or remains 'abstract' while
fu lfilling a government eommission. Context can a lso be
read as service; it binds the politicalload of any work of arto
In a deeper way, however, context is contentoThe issue of
art as land reclamation is of course blurred by appeals by
industry to the ' pubtic need ' for more natural resources,
and thus more mines and environmental entropy whieh
need deaning up. While minerals have been mined and
used sinee the end ofthe Stone Age, the present.day
esealation of mineral requirements and the energy needed
for accelerating production is not so much an index of
public need as of corporate administration. In a complex
society, where everything is interconnected, it is not
possible to decide which commodity, therefore whieh
technology, therefore which resource, therefore which
mine is essentia' and therefore worthy of reelamation. It
might then seem that to practice art as land reclamation is
to promote the continuing acceleration ofthe resouree·
energy-commodity.eonsumption cycle, since reclamation
- defined aesthetically, economica"y, geophysically -
functions to make aeeeptable original acts of resouree
extraction.
In so fa, as site works participate in art as land
reclamation, they would seem to have no choice but to
serve a publ;c relations function for mining ;nterests;n
particu la r a nd the acceleratin g teeh nologieaJ.consu merist
programme in general. Participation , however, would
seem to be no d ifferent from exhibition in any art gallery,
which ¡pso facto participates in the commodity structure.
None ofthe historieal monumental works known today
would have been made ifthe artists had refused to work
(many, of course, had no option to refuse) because of
either question able sponsors hip or disagreement with the
ends to which the art was used. It is an illusion that artists
have ever had anything to say about the functions ofthe;,
works.
While my project at Johnson Pit no. 30 in King County,
Washington is to my knowledge the first instance ofthe
hiring of an artist to produce art billed as land reclamation,
the idea is far from new. • The coal induslry has in fact
given the aesthetics of reelamation some attention , 'While
aestheties is a frequent subject of discussion among
reclamation officials, regulatory agencies and
environmentalists, aesthetie quality and the criteria and
standards by which it is evalualed seem to be one ofthe
least understood facets of surface min ing. '. The Coa/ Age
Operoting Handbook ofSurfo,e Mining notes a research
effort (so urce offunding not given) centred at Ihe
Un iversity ofMassaehusetts involving the engi neering
firm ofSkelly and loy and two faculty members, Robert
MaUary, a designer and sculptor, and Ervin Zube, who
deals with the ' psyehology oflandscape assessment'.'
While the overwhelming local feeling regarding
reelamation, according to this research effort, is to ' return
it lo the previous contour', in Appalachia one ofthe
prevaili ng surface mining techniques involves the removal
ofthe tops of mountains. The major thrust ofthe group's
'systems approach' is aimed at dealing with rec lamation
which retains the f1attened mountains ofsuch sites. The
researeh group notes with no trace ofirony that 'operators
at mountain top removal mine sites are tending to favour
this f1at.top approach '.' (Why wouldn't they, since it woutd
be virtually impossible to rebui ld the tops of mountains?)
The group has proposed such striking aesthetic
formulations as ( ... 1: ' leav(ingl a few strategically located
portions ofthe site untouched and unmined'" Such
approaches are obviously nothing but coal.mining public
relations.
What would na! function as public relations, since any
aesthetie effort mOlde during or afier mining operations
functions to make the operalions more aceeptable to the
pubtie? Such aesthetic efforts are incapable of signalling
any protest against the esealating use of non·renewable
minerals and energy sources. What, one wonders, could
be done fOr the Kenne<:ott Bingham site, the ultimate site·
specific work of such raging, ambiguous energy, so
redolent with form:¡1 power and social threat, that no 255
•
e)(isting earthwork should even be compared to it? It
should stand unregenerate as a powerful monument to a
one.day nonexistent resource. Other sites come to mind
as well: those in Butte, Montana; the abandoned quarry at
Marble, Colorado; some ofthe Vermon t granite quarries;
and a few ofthe deep·shafi eoal and diamond mines
qualify as significant monuments ofthe twentieth eentury.
Are their implications any less sinister than those ofthe
Creat Pyramids? AU great monuments celebrate the
leading failh ofthe age- or, in retroSpect, the prevailing
idiocy. In one fOrm or another teehnology has produced
the monuments ofthe twentieth century: the mines, the
rocket assembly buildings so vast Ihat weather forms
inside, the Four Corners Power Comptex, the dams ofthe
'930s, the linear and circular accelerators ofthe '9505 and
'960s, the rad iotelescope arrays oflhe '960s and 1970s,
and soon, the tunne t complex for the new MX missile. AU
these structures are testimony to faith in scienee and
technology, the practiee of whieh has brought the world to
a point of crisis which nobody knows how to resolve. Art's
greatest efforts are by comparison very definitely
epiphenomena. Until now there could be no comparison.
But the terms change when the US Bureau ofMines
contributes lo an artist's re<:laiming the land. ' Art mus!
then stand accused of contributing i15 energy to forces
which are patently, cumulatively destructive.
Or is art beyond good and evil? It can and does f10urish
in the worst moral climates. Perhaps beca use it is amoral it
can deal with aU mannerof social extremes. 1I is an
enterprise whose nature invites the investigation of
extremes. Art erodes whatever seeks to eontain and use jt
and inevitably seeps into the most contrary recesses ,
touches the mosl repressed nerve, finds and suslains the
contradictory without effort. Art has always been a very
destructive force, the best example being its capacity
constanlly to self·destruct, as in the sinking ofModernism
once it beca me a set of established rules that rationalized a
procedure, a life.style. Art has always been dependent
upon and serve<! one set offorces or anotherwith little
regard for the mora lit y ofthose forces (pharaoh , pope,
nob ility, capitalism). 1I makes little differenee what forces
make use of arto Art is always propaganda - for someone.
History, which is always someone's history, invariably
attempts to neutral ize art (according to someone's history,
Speer was a better artist than Gericault). Artists who
deeply believe in social causes most ofien make the wOrst
.rt.
Ifthe only rule is that art must use what uses il, then
one should not be put offby the generally high level of
idiocy. politics and propaganda attached lo public
monuments - espeeia"y if one is in the business of
erecting them. Should the government/industry
sponsorship of art as land reclamation be enthusiastically
welcomed by artists? Every large strip mine could support
an artist in residence . • Flattened mountain tops await the
aesthetic touch. oank and nox ious acres of spoil piles cry
out fOr some redeeming sculptural shape. Bottomless
industrial pits yawn for creative fill ing - or deepening.
There must be crews out there, straining and lense in the
seats oftheir 0 ·8 caterpillars, waiting for that confident
OOCUMENTS
". artist to stride over the ravaged ground and give the and instant forms ofknowledge; rejection of mediating
command, 'Gentlemen, start yotlr erlgines, and let us institutions, rejection of any tendency to allow habit to
definitivelyconclude the twentieth century'. provide the basis for a new symbolic system. In its extreme
forms anti·ritualism is an attempt to abolish
'le ... )". 1/9. P. S9 communieation by means of complex symbolic systems."
One ofthe truisms of ecolo81 is that the only test of N atu re
is the ability to remain. Two hundred years oftechnological
domination has given us an illusionary sense of our own
" ve" '1 P,., lor< .• 979. PI> 220-1 permanence. One ofthe basic principies ofNature is
concerned with asymmetries that develop between
bordering ecological subsystems. Given two bordering
subsystems (either natural orcultural or a mixture of
4 I j. both), the less-organized sub-system releases energy to
5 the more-organized, and in the process the less.organized
6 lb d . p. 281 sub-system loses information while the more-organized
gains some.' Over a period oftime this produces
imbalances between neighbouring ecosystems
precipitating crises within the more-organized system. As
a culture builds up its urban areas, mechanizes and
simplifies its foed chains, cuts down its diversity of
relations with Nature, it assumes the form of a more
organized ecosystem drawing on the surpluses of energy
from the simpler ecosystems around it [ ... J
It is not surprising that a very few artists are beginning
to become involved with growth and harvest cydes of
nature. Newton Harrison is one ofthe most intuitive and
'" perceptive artists to move beyond the concerns of recent
ecological art. His career in this respect is revealing. In the
" '9505 Harrison began as a sculptor, turned to painting in
the 1960s and by the late '9605 moved into technological
91 JO? art with a series of glow discharge tubes. These provoked
several proposa!s d irected towards creating atmospheric
effects at high altitudes. Two years ago Harrison produced
Jack BURNHAM a compost-earth pasture for the Boston Museum's
' Elements of Art' exhibition and a Brine Shrimp Farm for
Contemporary Ritual: the Los Angeles County Museum's 'Art and Technolo81'
project.
ASearch for Meaning in The notion ofecologieal art was well established before
these projects. What distinguishes Harrison's attempts is
Post-Historical Terms [1973] a desire to question and record his own interactions and to
construet systems involving complex hierarchies of
( ... ] We tend to think of seriou$ ritual as being terribly organisms. While Harrison, aeting out ofthe long tradition
primitive and embarrassingly sensual. Quite possibly it ¡s, of gallery art, has made strenuous efforts to place his
at least in i15 purerforms. On its m ast integral level ritual 'Survival Ecosystems' in gallery and museum contexts, he
is the interface between Nature and Culture. To pursue has been forced to rethink the direction and meaning of
this comparison further, one could say that ir ecology is the such large-scale programmes. It seems dear that the
Sr"tax ofNature, then ritual is its daity, procedural relationship between a painter or sculptor and his work is
counterpart in Culture. While ecology is simply the way of fundamentally different from that of an artist making
Nature, ritual has to be learned and adhered to. Given the sophisticated ecosystems. The psychological growth of a
non·connectedness ofthe institutions ofWestern Culture, studio artist rarely depends upon the success or failure of
and with anti-ritual as a way oflife, it is probably difficult to his arto Though according to Harrison, one cannot work
envision any fundamental connection between ritual and successfully with natural systems without undergoing
Nature.ln ways rarely understood by social scientists fundamental personality changes - as slow as these may
'magical' and organic are synonymous.' Yet as we be. The more a synthesized ecological system depends
withdraw from the acausal essence ofthe organic, we upon the interaetion ofits human provider, the more that
progressively diminish the syntax ofliving interactions person must attune himselfto its rhythms. Being drawn
and replace it with property and abstraet values. In the into an integral, on.going, natural system gradually alters
anthropologist Mary Douglas' words this constitutes 'a the artist's anitude towards self and the world.
denunciation not only ofirrelevant rituals, but of ritualism In the fall of '97', Harrison set up a fish-farm at an
as such; exaltation ofthe inner experience and denigration American exhibition under the sponsorship ofthe British
onts standardized expressions; preference for intuitive Arts Council in London. Fish were grown in tanks for
l loolP l EMENl AH ON
several weeks in preparation for a series of ritual mea!s.
The fish were harvested and prepared for frying and stews.
The faet that this was done at a publie opening of an art
exhibition caused enormous controversy. Harrison was
anacked as a publicity-seeking sadist and the Arts Council
was accused ofwasting publk funds. Though obviously,
as a few critics insisted, not only does the killing of animal
life go on as a daily aspect of modern survival, but
Harrison took pains to kili his fish as humanely as
possible. The real focus should hal/e been on the faet that
humans feeding on lesser-developed life forms remains a
fundamental aspect of ritual arto Ratherthan suppressing
the faet in the unconscious mind - as modern mechanized
existence allows us to do - the artist wanted to rel/eal the
most critical aspects ofthe tife-chain.
Harrison believes that effeetil/e ritual stems from
homage to our life-support systems, which in turn give
sustenYlce and coherence to each social group that
•
participates. Ritual behaviour aHaches itselfto specific
and visible outputs ofthe system. This homage becomes
ritual as people invotve themsell/es with compulsil/e
regularity, and their behaviour assumes the
complementary qualities of a natural event. In the artist's
eyes, it is this mOl/ement towards ornamentation and
formalization that makes the whole aetivity creatil/e and
lends the group a sense of oneness, identifying it with a
unity greater than itself.
This is true ofthe simplest task. For instance, there is
an enormous difference between 'making earth' and
simply composting manure to enrieh the soi!. Harrison
associates all ofhis mixing with an earlier- yet still
important - mixing of paint, day and plaster, which he
now sees as a surrogate for mixing earth and water.
Harrison goes on to state thai;
'Our most important pre-ritual aetil/íties so far are making
earth and water, where, in an alchemical fashion we mix
sterile and separately hostile elements, wherethe mixture
combines with time and our touch, becoming lite rally a
living element, a medium for growth. Sorne ofthis is
prívate and dces not bear publicity as yet. For instance,
el/ery morning I turn earth for one-halfhour. I spend ten
minutes of my time with a shovel, ten with a hce, ten with
my hands - and one minute with a hose. Two weeks ago
this mixture smelled I/ile since 30 per cent ont was sewage
waste. This morning it smelled neutral- by next week it
will smell fresh and go into one ofthe indoor pastures and
I will start the process over again. In the abstraet I
understand that I make the condition for life and that my
aetivity is homage to that life and feeds back into my body
both the food that will come from it and the physical
strength that comes from slow rhythmk work.1 notice that
I breathe in when I pick up a shovel full ofearth and
breathe out when emptying it.1 noticethat I make three
hoe strokes on inward breathing and three strokes on
outward breathing.ln the beginning when the mixture
smells I/ile I take very deep breaths, drawing in air slowly,
but lening it out quickly. At that point my behaviour is
almost gluttonous. t become very possessil/e, running my
hands through the earth to break up smalllumps. This
behal/iour seems compulsive to me. Yet it is I/ery necessary
that I touch the soil all over, as a form of ornamentation."
 Harrison's wife Helen has been an instrumental force
in many ofthese projects. She takes over the planting and
nurturing ofthe pastures. Harrison speaks of walching her
wash and inspect every leaf of some plan15 attacked by
cabbage worms. The female-male division oftasks
between Helen and Newton seems lo be a natural detail
oftheirwork together. Each has his strengths. Helen
commen15, '1 talk to plan15, lell them what 1expect ofthem
and what 1will give them - warmth, attention , food , water
and companionship. They respond well. It's not thall'm
urging or pushing, it's that this behaviour is in some deep
sense right and usually works. I treal the f10wers and
ptan15 as 1would an imals or children, the words are there
bul ofien the relationship occun; wilhout them."
Logoon is one ofHarrison's more recent projects. This
is an indoor micro-system, a lank 8 x 10 X 3 feet (244 x 305
x 91.5 cm) deep containing 1,500 gallons (6,825Itr) of
water. Logoon is a body ofwalerorganized to simulate an
estuariat pool on or near the equator. H igh.intensity lamps
run in twelve hour cydes like the sun. The entire bottom
forms a gravel filter, and the water temperature varies
Ihree degrees day and night. While Pacific Ocean water is
used, weekly evaporation and the necessary addition of
fresh water sets up a condition in part similar to rain , in
part like estuarial flow. Within Ihe animal hierarchy, crabs
are the end produet oflhis lagoon. Harriso n concedes that
ifhe were creating Logoon in the southern Cal ifornia
desert, as he eventuaUy hopes to do, he would introduce a
natural foed-cha in to support the crabs. Thus organic life
could and would take care ofi15elf. As it is, human energy
and processed foed complete the ecosystem . Harrison
and his wife feed the crabs because their natural foeds are
not availabte. Thus the human transaetion substitutes and
becomes a metaphorfor nature.
The feeding procedures simulate conditions, in part,
both like estuarial and tida! input. As the crabs are
introduced lo the tank, their faeces activate the bottom
filter. They kili, attack and eat each olher untit the
population is reduced to a reasonable number for the
space - about eight square feet per crab; in such a way
territories are established for each animal. Afier territories
are recognized , cannibalism ceases, pecking orders are
arranged , and mating and moulting proceed . Harrison and
his wife have been particularly successful in getting their
crabs to mate and produce larvae. Crabs almost never
produce ofF'spring under artificial conditions.
Part ofHarrison's time is spent in minutely observing
the crabs and mimicking Iheir behaviour. This may not be
proper zoological procedure, but this little piece of ritual is
one ofthe best ways to learn the crab's ha bits. At times
crabs swim overone another with no signal of recognition,
sometimes they approach each olher wilh claws out·
strelched and open, circling like wary boKers waiting for an
opening. Harrison feels that when he is taking care ofthe
crabs on their terms, he is substituling for nature.
Eventually Harrison and his wife want lo reintroduce the
utilitarian into art al an extremely refined level. And in Ihe
process they hope lo provide an ant idote for the prevailing
cynicism ofthe art world by making art the non-verbal
teaching syslem it once was.
As sociallife funetions are quantífied and mechanized ,
art is progressively Irivialized inlo Ihe shape of consumer
goeds. Tentative as it is, Harrison's art poses a most
compleK but fundamental queslion: namely, can we really
sever ourselves from our food and material resources so
that there is no tonger a magical interface (ritual·art)
between the two? In Harrison's mind, such institutio ns
as the supermarket represent mass cultural defocusing
mechanisms, the means of disintegrating the bonds
between natural micro.syslems and human micro·
syslems (read home or family uni!). And in closing
Harrison writes, '11 is nol the supermarket as a centre
oflrade, which is i15 legitimate cultural function, that
disrup15 man's inluitive contaet wilh his biological
sources, but the supermarket as a utopían simplifier and
developer of artificial needs that eventually erodes our
inner sense of discrimination and our ability to relate
magically lo the environment." During the laler phases of
historical art, the role ofthe artíst, historian and critic was
to indoctrinate the public into the aesthetic mystique, thus
facilitating 'art appreciation'. Presently, in this post-
historical period, we can begin by rediscovering art's
quintessential roo15. By understanding our lives we can
begin to restore art to i15 rightful funetion.
•• t dt 'tUd' r Burnndm.
"- ¡y
• '; r l er. l/e. Yor'. 1914
Mdq Sy"'b . , 81
, ,
• I propose lo create a 'Time Landscape"", a restoration
. \1 (1 a<¡¡ Pr,
I the Metropolitan Museum in the north-easl corner ofthe
p' er y the .tl ,t ,at, Oc
"
•
.,
,, , 1 PrIO
' P s ! r r .. 1".
; 16
Alan SONFIST
Natural Phenomena as
Public Monuments [1968]
Public monuments tradilionally have celebraled events in
human history - acts ofheroism important to the human
community. Increasingly, as we come to understand our
dependence on nature, the concept of community
eKpands to inelude non· huma n e lements. Gvíc
monuments, then, should honour and celebrate the life
and aets ofthe total community, the human ecosystem,
induding natural phenomena. Especíally within the city,
public monuments should recaplure and revitalize the
history ofthe natural environment at thallocation. As in
war monuments that record the life and death ofsoldíers,
the life and death of natural phenomena such as rivers,
springs and natural outcroppings need to be remembered.
H istorical documen15 preserve observations ofNew
York City's nalural pasto \T.!hen the first European settlers
arrived they saw the natural paradise ofthe Native
'"
Americans:
'( ... 1The region in which they lived, which has now
become Ihe area ofthe greater City, was a paradise of
nature, teeming with i15 products, and rich in natural
beauty of woods and waters. 115 varied d imate, as o ne old·
time writer described ¡t, was a Sweet and Wholesome
i15 "u plands covered with berries, rOO15,
cheslnuts and walnu15, beach and oak Birds sang
in the branches, the deer and elk roamed the grassy
meadows, the waters swarmed with fish , the woods were
redolent with the scent ofthe wild grape and of many
flowers. Oak trees grew 70 feet (2,135 cm) h igh.'
- Reginald Bolton , ¡ndions ofLong Ago
In a city, public art can be a reminder Ihat Ihecity was once
a forest or a marsh. Just as some stree15 are named afier
trees, street names could be extended lo olher ptan15,
animals and birds. Meas ofthe city could be renamed afier
the p red ominant natural phenomena that eKisled there.
For eKample, Manhattan's Lower East Side could be
,rea[ 111,' ,ter, It renamed by its previous marsh charaeterislics lo create
'Art. another symbolic identity and unification within the urban
area. An educational force wilhin the community, it would
,He" Yor\.. enable the community to gel an overallview ofthe ecology
that once eKisted.
nd 1J ofthe natural environment before Colonialsettlement, for
ber lU. 19/ grounds. I have a broad plan that could afF'ect the whole
city, for which the sculpture at the Metropolitan would be a
model: the museum would be a neKUS for the art of
historical ecology. Throughout the compteK urban city I
propose to create a series ofhistoricaJ 'Time
Landscapes"". I plan lo reintroduce a beech grove, oak
OH. and maple Irees that no tonger eKist in the city. Each
landscape will roll back the dock and show the layers of
time before the concrete ofthe city. On Canal Street I
propose to create a marshland and a stream; on Spring
Slreet I propose to restore the natural spring¡ in fronl of
City Hall I propose to restore the historicat lake. There are a
series offifty proposals I have made for Ihe City ofNew
York.
The public art in urban centres throughout the world
could indude the history oftheir natural environment.
' Time Landscapes"" renew the city's nalural environment
just as architects renew i15 architecture. This is a pilot
project for reconslruetion and documenlation Ihat can
coincide with new building in the city. Instead of planting
trees in concrete bOKes for public plazas, public
landscaping can be given meaning by being planled with
' Time landscape"" nature indigenous to that site.
Obvious eKamples are marsh pools, grassland flowers,
rock ledge moss and ferns, Thus as the city renews itself
architecturally, il will re-identiry i15 own unique
characteristic natural origins and ils own natural
tradilions,
Since the city is becoming more and more polluled, we
could build monumen15 to Ihe historic airo Museums could
OOCUMENTS
>S. be buitt Ihal would re-capture the smells of earth, trees ilnd
vegetalion in different seasons and al different historical
times, so Ihal people would be able lo experience what has
been lest. A museum of air sponsored by Ihe UN can show
different air of different countries.
Olher projects can rel/eal the historical geology or
lerrain. Submerged outcroppings Ihal sllU exist in the city
can be exposed. Clacial rocks can be SilVed as monuments
to a drama!i, natural pasL Ir an area has been filled in or a
h¡lllel/elled out to build buildings, an indicator can be
placed lo create an ilwareness ofthe original terrain. Earth
cores thal indicate the deep geology ofthe land can be
displayed on the site or within the buitding.
Because ofhuman development, the island of
Manhattan has lolally lost its natural contour. By creating
markings throughoullhe streets, Ihe natural outline could
be observed again. Indian traas could al so be followed
wilh an explanation of why the Irail went over certain
terrain that no longer exists. The natural past can be
monumentalized al so by sounds. Continuous loops of
natural sounds at the nalurallevel of volume can be placed
on historic sites. Streets named aRer birds can have
sounds ofthose birds or animals played on occasions such
as when animals come out ofhibernation or al mating
time. The sounds, controlled by Ihe local communilY,
change according to the natural pattern oflhe animals and
the rhythmic sounds return to Ihe city. Natural scenls can
evoke the past as well. At the awakening of a plant at its
first blooming, the natural essence can be emitted inlo Ihe
stree!.
The sun is such a remote but essential part of our tife.
lIs conlinual presence can be emphasized by building
monuments. Sides ofbuildings in prime locations can be
marked with various sun shadow marks at different hours.
As the angle ofthe sun changes during the year, buildings
marked in various parts oflhe city can indicate Ihe time of
year. Another example of public monuments to the sun
allows people lo see the reaction of natural substances lo
thesun.
Public monumenls embody shared values. These
values can emerge actively in our public life; Ihere can be
public celebrations of natural events. Our definition of
what is news is due for a re-evaluation 01150 to inelude
nolice of, and explanation of, the natural events Ihal our
lives depend on. The migrations ofbirds and animals
should be reported as public events: this information
should be broadcast internationally. Re-occuring natural
evenls can be marked by public observational cetebrations
the longesl day, Ihe longesl night, the day of equal night
and day, the day oflowesl tide and so on, nol in primilive
mythical worship but with Ihe use oftechnology lo predict
exact time. Technology can visualize aspects of nature
outside Ihe range oflhe human eye, such as public
outdoor projections oftelescopic observatiorlS - public
monuments ofthe sky. Many aspects oftechnology that
now allow individuals to gain understanding of nature can
be adjusted to a public scale. Public monuments can be
monuments of observation -siles from which to best
observe natural phenomena. The ocean floor at low lide
affords re-occuring means of observalion. Such monu-
ments are created for certain times ofthe day oflhe year.
IM?LE MENTAT IO N
The concept of whal is public monument, then, is
subject to and redefinition in Ihe lightofour
greatly expanded perception ofwhat constitUles the
community. Nalural phenomena, natural evenls and the
livingcreatures on the planet should be honoured and
celebraled alongwith human beings andevenls.
T. 11. '1
Puc[ha, • y " . 197
LucyR. L1PPARD
Overlay: Contemporary Art
and the Art of Prehistory
[1983]
¡ ... J Robert Smithson focused on the 'duplicity' ofgardens.
'The sinister in a primitive sense seems lo have ils origin in
what could be called wq uality gardens" (Paradise)', he
mused. ' Oreadful Ihings seem lo have happened in those
half.forgotten Edens. Why does the Carden ofOelight
suggest something perverse? ... Too much thinking about
"gardens" leads lo perplexity and agitation. Cardens ...
bring me to the brink of chOlOS. This footnote is turning into
a dizzying maze, full oftenuous palhs and innumerable
riddles. The abysmal problems of gardens someHow
involved a fall from somewhere or something. The
certainty ofthe absolute garden will never be regained.' He
sardonically called the idealized 'vista' and 'beautiful
scenery', ' Nature with dass."
The garden was, indeed, the first bit of nature to be
'owned' .like woman, it became property. Many socialist
writers have equated the evolution oflhe domination of
nature with that of oppression ofthe underelasses.
William leiss points oul Ihat as increased maslery of
nature provides increased productivity, there is a qualit-
ative leap in social conflicto ' Mastery of nature without
apparent limit becomes the servant ofinsaliable demands
mOlde upon the resources ofthe natural environment'.'
In the eighteenlh century, the ' English Carden' 'Ieapt
the fence', as Horace Walpole put it, and 0111 of nature was
perceived as a garden. The task of dominalion had been
accomplished and, like the African antelopes running
'free' in the Bronx Zoo, nature could now have her
'freedom'. (Not fortuilously, that eighteenth.century 'Ieap'
or 'escape' coincided with the beginning ofthe struggle for
women's rights and with the Chartist movement in
England.) Shepard sees the English Carden as a rebellion
against the upper-elass taste foropulenl formalism thal
was the antithesis of democratic ideals.' It didn't last long.
With the Industrial Revolution, allland became potentially
exploitable, and the alienation from nature began in
earnest. Economically necessitated moves away from the
countryside also cut ties between family, place and
individual. Today few of us even have a 'home town'.
Annette Kolodny has traced through literature a parallel
development in colonial America , where land was seen
firsl as a virgin, then as a mOlher, and then as a mistress,
who was finally just plain raped for profit.'
Shepard shows how the nolion ofland as mother was
eventually replaced by the cow, also paralleling woman's
loss of status when industrialization replaced her functions
as grower and makerof aU domestic necessities. The
Native Americans' protestations tnat the land/mother
could not be owned, bought or sold, led to their culture's
downfaU, as well as to the 1055 oftneir land. Similarly, they
perceive an objects as art because oftheir organic and
useful relationship to the rest oflife. The sacred societies
'view the unnecessary proliferalion of artefacts, utensils
and goods as a form ofblaspnemy, provoking a loss of
meaning"- an 0111 too perfect description of our consumer
society.
Frands Huxley shows how the use ofstanding stones
as property markers indicated the process by which 'ritual
thoughtgave birtn lo Ihe principie ofland tenure'." With
•
increased urbanizalion, even the garden became a luxury
accessible only lo the upper elasses. A late nineteenln-
century English gardening book declaimed naughtily that
only among 'Ihe elasses for whom tnis work is intended'
was there an appreciation for 'whal is tasleful and elegant
ingardening'.'
In recognition ofthis phenomenon, the 'park' was
offered as a democratic use of nature, as a public amenily
- ofien ralher patronizingly. Nevertneless, the park in the
city is a potent metaphor for a public art, an overlay of
cydical stability on growth and variety, wiln memory
(nostalgia, some would say) as compos!. like tne garden,
it has a double meaning (especially in present-day New
York City) in its aura of safety and danger, privacy and
controlled freedom. Just as a city is overlaid on nature as
an escape from ils wnims, a park or garden in the city
reasserts the earth beneatn the concrete and serves to
remind city dweUers Ihat 0111 the world's not a city. The park
is probably the most effective public art form Inere is, as an
interface between nature and society. Thus Charles Eliot
Norton could say ofFrederick law Olmsted , designer of
Central Park and Prospect Park, that he stood 'firsl in Ihe
production of greal works which answer the needs and
give expression to the life of our immense and miscel-
laneous democracy'.'
In 1928 Walter Benjamin recommended the 'mastery
not of nature itselfbul ofthe relalionship belween nature
and humanity'.' lan McHarg has imagined an ideal sodety
called 'The Naturalists', who make no division between
tne natural and Ihe social sciences.'" Rather than
dominating nature, they are dominated by a quesl lo
understand nature - by definition ineluding humankind.
In a sense this returns to the notion of natural order as a
social model proposed by early socialists, from Saínt-
Simon to Feuerbach. Even Marx and Engels briefly flirted
with theories based on Francis Morgan 's data on the
malriarchal structures ofthe Iroquois.
The way in which the modern world perceives nature
as a neutral material , whose use is 'value.free', parallels
tne rejection of content in tne modernisl notion of'art for
art's sake', where only the material nalure ofthe medium
is significan!. McHarg's Naturalists, on the other hand,
understand meaningful form , but they prefer the term
'fitness' to 'art' beca use it embraces natural as well as Robert Morris has noted Ihe contradictions involved in
artificial crealivity. the large-scale earth-moving to which he and others are
Art is, or should be, like seeding, and Ihis is Ihe cenlral committed,
Iheme of several artists working as contemporary
gardeners. Dames says Ihe Neolithic peoples made 'filrm 'The act of digging and piling carried out in an organized
art'. In 1970 Car! Andre wrote an ironic stalemenl oppo- way and at an intensified scale has produced sunken
sing Ihe Vietnam war called 'Art is a Branch of Agricuhure', gardens and ziggurats on one hand and giganlic geograp·
in which, among olher things, he noted Ihat artists must hical scars and ore tailings on the other. The forms are
be 'fighting farmers and farming fighters'. " At the same basically the same. The purposes and details vary, labelling
time, Alan Sonfist had been literally developing the notion one construction sublime, another abysmal ... What marks
of art as a mean s of propagation with his internalional [art] offfrom all other organized human activity, is thal it
Seed Dist,¡but;on project and a subsequent work al does not seek control through explanation, that it offers
Artpark in which , sensing the localion of a past forest, he the freedom to experience and question'."
made a circular pool of virgin soil lo catch blowing seeds
and begin the forest's rebirth. Poppy Johnson's Eorth Dal' Herbert Marcuse said that ' man's slruggle wilh nature
piece, planted in a vacant 101 near her New York 10ft in 1969 is increasingly a struggle with society'.'· Nowhere is this so
and celebrated in 1970, resulted in an art harvesl of 2..4 overt as in Ihe area of'reclamation art', in which artists
marigolds, 8 sunflowers, 2 rows of dil!, 3 ears of COrn, 18 attempt to intervene in social interaction with nature.
cosmos, 3lceland poppies, 22zinnias, 12 cornflowers and Manipulation ofconsciousness is Ihe major weapon of
19 summer squash. Also in 1969, Hans Haacke, whose both the powerful and the powerless. Art is supposed to
work was concerned with nalural and social syslems, affect consciousness oflife, but today's reclamalion artist
made an indoor museum piece by seeding a cone.shaped is fighling [or being boughl out by) multinational giants
mound ofsoil wilh quick.growing winter rye, wh ich was which have the mass media and whole governments at
sprouling by the time the show opened. He wasn't their disposal. An art resisting commodity slatus also
interested in the history or the sculptural shape but in resists the abuse of natural resources to provide these
'growth as a phenomenon , with Ihe interaction oHorces commodities ( ... ]
and energies and information'. His catalogue statement ,,,
was initially going lo be 'Crass Crows'." It .... , • 19905, the essence of an ecological art is not Ihe preser·
Smithson quipped that art degenerates as it p.lI!; e"'d1
approaches gardening. when Haacke was asked how his r ,. . e<l.
mound d iffered from gardening he replied, by intent.t, for thaca.
one, quite enjoy the notion that il did nol differ from w' am 1 vistas, although it does not make the transition from
gardening. In a system like ours, where art is separaled J'I'4, pp.
from He, and art is simply supposed lo be about art, only Paul , , ,
•
Hm , so inured to garbage on the streets Ihat it only shocks
the separation validates the making of arto Ifthere is no H, S' • Doub eday.
separation , whal have we losl? Or gained? lawrence 4 Anne e K, 1 I J. 1M! dJ'
Alloway has pointed out that, 'the notion ofinterdepen·
dence spectator and work of art is of course
profoundly anti.formalisl, as it weakens the absoluleness 8rH er
•
H.... Yoe < . 1 '7l. P
oflhe subject.abject relationsh ip'." Sm ithson also recog'
nized the importance of providing a ' needed d ialectic' Yon.. 1974. p. 1>1
between ecology and induslry,
nlne ,! I t ri he
' Nature for the d ialectician is indifferent to any formal Anth
ideal ... A lesson can be learned from the Indian cliff
dwellings and earthworks mounds. Here we see nature
and necessity in consort ... It is possible to have a direct
" Z6.
e
m'th
Ji lt,d
organic manipulation ofthe land devoid of violence and IP . Off""., i"'d9'lldt ve m
aggression ... The filrmer's, miner's Or artist's e... " pu<
treatment ofthe land depends on how aware he is ofhim- W,jlt 8 lam,n. ouo'.ed 11 Le
selfas nature. Afier all , sex isn't all a series of rapes. If strip
miners were less alienated from the nature in themselves
and of sexual aggression cultivation could take place. lo,
" to scrubbing a museum floor, lo following (and praising)
H, '''1 ro • ..
11 C•• Andr, n Anf, um. He .. Yor ' .
Ecological art - with its emphasis on social concern,
low profile and more sensitive attitudes towards the
ecosystem - differs from the earthworks ofthe mid 196os.
lain Baxler in Vancouver, Ihrough his N.E. Th ing Co.
(then consisting ofhimself, his wife Ingrid and theirtwo 14 ,mith< n. Jp.' l.• p, 113
children), pioneered this direction, though his interest in Roben Morrl . quoted Ir, Ar' . Ne ", lor' , July 1979. p. 4
archaeological and anlhropological sources was minimal. 16 Herller'. Marcuse. Quote d ,n
ucy l ¡¡pde ,. ,.yAn f ".
, H t .. Y r' 983,
",
LucyR. LlPPARD
The Garbage Girls (1991)
' Ifit had been the purpose ofhuman activityon earth to bring
the planet to the edge of ruin, no more efficient mechanism
could have been invented than the marketeconomy.'
- Jeremy Seabrook
In the late 19605, Conceptual Artists raised the problem of
the surfeit of objects in the world, ineluding 'precious' or
art objects. Various 'dematerialized' forms weredeveloped
that aimed to make art part ofthe solution ratherthan part
ofthe problem. Because ofthe overwhelming power ofthe
market·oriented art world, and the failure to create a new
contexl and new audience for a Ihird·stream art, that
particular impetus faded ; the dematerialization concept
was eventuall y re-embodied into commodities.
With the growth of a more sophisticated art/political
awareness during the 1970S and 19805, however, this urge
lowards the conversion of objects inlo energy has
., persisted, especially in the environmental domain.ln the
vation of natural beauty, nor the building of evocative site
JI) et HOI)I) )f, 11 art, but Ihe disposal of unnatural waste. Garbage is now of
l. p. greater concern to many progressive artists Ihan glorious
studio lo streets very easily. New Yorkers, for instance, are
.. ';1 80 al them lO in museums.
f '''. 'i)f A disproportionate number ofthe artisls dealing with
waste are women , for obvious reasons pointed out long
< <' ago by the pre-eminent 'garbage girl' - Mierle Laderman
, •
Ukeles. In the early 1970s, having defined women's social
. .. role as 'unification ... the perpetuation and maintenance of
the species, survival systems, equilibrium', Ukeles asked
the question thal conlinues to resonate today, 'Afierthe
'" tone - 'dt. 'n revolution, who's going to take out the garbage on Mon-
day morning?' IfbY1991 many seem lo have given up on
Ihat particular revolulion and replaced il with 'paradigm
shifis', the trash remains.
n m\h' •• c'.P
Ukeles began her 'maintenance art' when her children
,rn ,t started to a"ive and she found her art time slinking out the
kitchen door. To get it back, she simply turned around and
renamed her domestic duties 'art', initiating an ongoing
series ofexplorations that have ranged from donning and
doffing snowsuits, changing diapers and picking up toys,
. PP. 11
¡Q/O. P the workers who maintain a large city building and finally
to becoming the 'official artist·in·residence ofthe New
York City Department ofSanitation', where she found her
niche. Since the late 19705 Ukeles has used the depart-
ment as a base for her now inlernational investigations of
social mainlenance and waste management. Herwork
consists of real·life performances of workers' days,
le'5 •• ¡P, ,t . p. research about environmental effectiveness and instal-
DOCUMENTS

'" latioos constructed from the products and t ool5 oftheir
labour. Qne ofher many functions is to humanize 3nd
beautify (even beatifyl those who, like women, do the dirty
work, to endow them with grace and nebilit)'. (Once s he
choreograp hed a 'street ballet' of garbage truc ks.)
LandfiUs have long been among her prime conceros. In
the summer of 1990, Ukeles curated an exhibition for New
York's Municipal Art Society called 'Carbage Out Froot: A
New Era ofPublic Desig n'. 1t focu sed on imaginative
documentation and a simulated cross-section ofthe Fresh
Kills landfill in Staten Istand, where she is c urrentl )'
working. ' Is garbage ehaos, di ssolution, decay?' s he
asked. 'Can the same in ve ntiveness that we use for
production and accumulation o( goods be applied to its
d isposal?' Suggest ing that the problem of citizens'
unw iUi ngness to take responsibi lity for the gOl rbage we
produce reAects our inability to vis ualize our relationship
10 sociely as a whole, s he aims lo make every part ofthe
process of waSle and waste managemenl visible to
everyone participating in it (that is, everyone) so that the
redesign ofthe degraded becomes a symbol of
transformation.
Christy Rupp credits Ukeles as the ' mother ont 0111' in
the garbage field, but she has been one ofits most popular
exponents s ince the late '9705, when s he began placi ng
images of rats around garbage·strewn New York
I neighbourhoods as part ofher 'City Wildlife Project'. She
went on to caU attention to the existence ofother urban
an imals, consumerist waste and city neglect wit h
installations under the Williamsburg Bridge, in Palisades
Park, at a 42nd Street storefront, and in the lobby ofthe
Commodities Exchange. ln San Francisco she conslructed
Po/y· Tox Park , a simulated toxic·waste s ite offered as 'a
monument to our legislators and the people who gel to
determine the safe levels oftoxins in our environment'.
Her Social Progress, a giant earof corn pulled by a snail and
attacked by ants, was installed in front ofthe Flatiron
Building for s everal months and appeared on the front
page ofThe New York Times.
Rupp's gallery art consists of a marvellous menagerie
of cardboard and metal that comments on the destruction
offamily farms, th e fate of rus t·belt workers during the
Reagan era, imports and exports, pesticides and politics in
Central America, a mo ng other issues. Most recently s he
has mOlde a series oflethall y graceful animal forms
o utlined in metal and filled with the instruments o ftheir
own destruction: a leaping dolphin form stuffed with cat·
food cans, a s nail shell filled with 'designer water' bottles,
a tree stump s tuffed with newspapers, sea turtles stuffed
with Tide bottles. (S he cites the increasing number of
harmful products named after natural forces, as in Surf,
New Dawn, Bright Water and so on.)
Since the mid '980s, Rupp has been particularly
concerned with fish, water po llution and wetla nds. At the
moment she is working o n the Coney Island Water
Pollution Control Plant (sewage, that ¡s) in Sheepshead
Bay, Brooklyn, where she has inspired the Departme nt of
Envi ronmental Protection to try lo re·create wetlands in a
degraded creek near the neighbourhood·access
promenade s he is building. Purs uing olher public
commissions dealing with water pollution around the
1M PLEMENT A TION
counlry ('They're hiring artists to convince Ihe public the
waler is potable; you'd drink Ihis purified sewage ifthe art
was good?'), she h as discovered that with the increased
awareness of water scarcity, fountains are out, so she is
making images ofthe absence of water, such as a parched .
earth pavemenl. Forthe University ofWashington, Rup p is
ma king a ' rollback dam' bench ('You park your butt and
feel guilty'), which comment s not only on water
management but points out that the endangered species
act, which was made la w al Ihe same time as Roe v. Wade,
is also endangered by rollback on its near· twentieth
birthday.
Many con cerned artists make paintings (such as Janet
culbertson's horrifying billboards of a blooming past set in
lunar landscapes of destructionj or preferthe indirect
referentialism of pretty, natural materials, such as
branches, s tones, s hells and woven grasses, to the ugly
and virtually untransformable junk we cast off with such
abandono But the garbage girls (and occasional boys) tend
to target the grander environmental horrors. Particularly
valuable, therefore, ifless visible, are those rare works that
name na mes, calling s pecific attention to the corporations
and the capitalist system o n which so mucn planetary
disaster can be blamed. The Alaskan 011spill inspired a
greal aesthetic spill of art decrying the desecration of
nature and a nimallife, and the blame was so obvious that,
for once, Exxo n got named again and again. But too often
environmental artists fudge and generalize, perhaps with
an eye to making it easierto get grants and exhi bit in
mu seums often controlled by the very people who are
destroying the envi ron ment.
One exception is theecological feminist Betty
Beaumont, who has mOlde installation art on toxic wastes
us ing government s urplus materials since the '970s. Her
'978-80 Ocean Landmark Project forty miles offNew York
Harbor was a collaboration with a team of marine
scient ists, material scientists and industry to study the
stabilization of waste materials in land and water
environments. lt transformed 5ootons (510 tonnes ) of an
industrial waste product inlo an underwater sculpture,
which has si nce become a thriving reef environment and
fishing grounds. Beaumont's Windows on Mu/tinationa/s
and Bonned Pesricides of1984 pointed an aesthetic finger
at the First World's toxic dump ing and export ofbanned
chemicals in the Third World, citing the pesticide giants
Mo nsanto, Ciba Geigy, Un ion Carbid e and FMC in a
scri pted audiotape. She is now working o n Fish Ta/es, a
flash ·card set showing some twenty species of unknown
fi s h that have evolved si nce atomic waste was dumped off
the continental s hel[
One ofthe first garbage pieces that mOlde a n
im press ion on me was a mid 1970S work called LUlfojLixo
(luxury/Garbage) by Ihe Brazilian artist Regina Va ter, in
which she photographically documented the trash
discarded in neighbourhoods occupied by different social
classes. It would be interesting to see someone pursue
these lines in the United States, perhaps in collaboration
with the homeless people who are probably our greates t
experts in the field of garbage analysis and th e
una cknowledged leaders oflhe recycl ing movement. ln
the ,g8os, a number of olherwomen around the United
States ha ve independently chosen garbage and wasle as
Iheir medium. A sampling:
Jo Hanso n 's Publk Disdosure: Secrets [rom the Srreet
(1980) evolved from collecting the sweepings from her San
Francisco doorstep into a citywide piece about litter as
cultural artefacts and the quality ofthe visual
environment.
•
Cecilia Vicuña, a Chilean livi ng in New York, poetically
commenls on the scale ofthe solid waste problem by
sett ing adrift in the city's gutters and rivers the liniest,
subtlesl rearrangements offound rubbis h. A bit of paper
and a dead leaf may become a liny raft, noticed by only an
incredulous few amongthe used condoms and oil s licks of
the Hudson River near her house. Vicuña also adds
magical reminders oflhe power ofthe microcosm to
wilderness landscapes and makes little sculptures and
indoor mstallations out of social discards.
In Sanla Barbara, in 1987, (jel Bergman and Nancy
Merrill made Sea Full o[Clouds, Whot Con I Do?, a room·
sized installation of non.biodegradable trash they
collected along Ihe beaches. Centred on a n altar,
accompanied by messages from viewers about their hopes
for the health ofthe world, the piece's 'beauty' belied its
numble and dangerous sources.
Also in 1987, in Santa Fe, the French ·born artist
Dominique Mazeaud began The Creor Cleans;ng o[the Rio
Crande Riller, organizing spiritually attuned trash brigades
in an ongoing and randomly undertaken task that is
primarily symbolic. Mazeaud keeps a ,iver journal (her
' riveries') and performs renewal rituals along the Sante Fe
River and the Rio Grande. The one I participated in
consisted of sowing corn seeds from different locales
along the river banks.
In Los Angeles, Ihe 'LA River Project' by Wilson High
School teacher Susan Boyle and video artist Cheri Gaulke
culmi nated in a '990 student installation centred on a
' rive" of video monitors offering an array ofimages of
trash·fi lled water, surrounded by photographs, a
chemically analyzed water sample, river artefacts,
evidence of wildlife - human and otherwise - and
interviews with residents, politicians and poets. The
project has now been adopted by the Smithsonian.
Manuel Ortega, a student who worked on it, says, '1don 't
think 1'11 ever not be involved in the river. It's part of my life
now'.
In Boulder, Colorado, sculptor Kristine Smock
organized 'The Forest forlhe Trees' in '99'. A citywide
project with some two hundred schoolchildren and poets,
il began with collecting trash and ended with a striking,
community exhibition of gianl sculplures made from the
findings - many delightful trees, but 01150 a wacky male
figure whose shoes are made entirely of cigarette butts
(eat your heart out, Red Crooms) and a huge fish stuffed
with that farm·ubiquitous blue plastic. Embraced by
satellite evenls, the project was an important community
consciousness raiser, but the sculptures - mOlde primarily
by children - were among the most rob ustly imaginative
'assemblages' (as we say in the busi ness) I've seen in or
out ofthe high.art contexto
Since the late 19605, a few earthworks artists,
beginning with Robert Smithson, have also tackled
rehabilita¡ion ofland devastated by mining, erosion and
industrial waste; among these works are Helen Mayer
Harrison and Newton Harrison's va$l re-
conceptualizations ofland use, Hamet Feigenbaum's re-
forestation project and Alan Sonfi$l's patch of pre-colonial
'forest' in downtown New York City. As the site of some
eleven thousand in active mines, Colorado has paid special
attention 10 the possibilities of reclamation art. In 1985
Denver sculptor Paul Kleit (now producer ofthe eerily
innovative independent radio programme Te"o ¡nfirmo)
wrote an important report for the state Council on the Arts
and Humanities andthe Colorado Mined Land
RecJamation Oivision, in which four ripe-for.reclamation
sites were deuiled and solutions recommended. Typically,
few if any actual projects seem to have come ofthis. Some
artlsts who have managed to fight the power and hang in
through years ofbureaucratic idiocies are:
Nancy Holt, whose mostrecent work is StyMound,
whic.h will transform an entire 57·acre landfill in the so.
called meadowlands ofNew Jersey into an a$lronomical
observatory. The site is 100 feet (30.5 m) high and contains
some ten mimon tons of g<lrbage. As well as adding earth
mounds, methane flares , spinning windforms and $leel
posts that are aligned to specific lunar, solar and $lellar
evenlS, Holt is incorporating the technological
spec:ifications oflandfill closure, including methane
recovery wells and a water drainage sy$lem, into her
sculpturaJ landscape. Cirdes and rays oflight will be
captured by a steel ring, arenes and poles, with the most
spectacular manifestation taking place at noon on the
summer soJ$lice. A flat.topped pyramid covered with
grassy hills and gravel paths, Sky Mound will provide a
wildflower and wildlife habitat (for marsh hawks, racoons
and rabbits). It will bring another, cosmic, level to the
cydes of dec.ay within the landfill. 'I'm not trying to pretend
this isn't a dump', Holt has said. 'I' m working with the
vernacular oflandfill.'
Agnes Denes, who once planted and harve$led a
wheattieki on an urban landfill, is now working with MO
landscape architects on Ihe 97·acre North 'Naterfront park
in Berkeley. The accepted master plan has seventeen
elements tha! incorporate soil engineering, methane
harvesting, leachate, created wetlands and beaches,
wildlife habitats and bird rests, as well as a gho$l ship (to
recall that Ihe planel is a ship), sunflower/windmills to
bring water up 10 a field of natural sunflowers, invented
'rock art', and a sculpture Ihat changes form and sound as
the tide ebbs and flows.
Patricia Johanson has designed sculpture inlo nature
since Ihe 1960s, and is best known for her Fa;, Po,k
Logoon in Dalias, where the sculpted ¡etties echo the
plants and organisms that inhabit the marshes. Her mo$l
recent large-scale environmental work - now under
con$lruction - is Endongered Carden in Candlestick Cove
in San Francisco Bay. By sinking an eyesore (a sewage
holding tank for storm overload that is a Ihird of a mile (53
mJ long and 40 feet (12 m) wide, she has crealed a bay
walk, a series oftransitions, links and accesses, Ihat is also
a last stronghold forthe butterflies, snakes and birds Ihat
have been pushed out ofthe city. 'They say this park won't
smell,' she says wryly, 'but when Ihey say thal al public
meetings, people who are velerans of environmental
protests laugh'.
In 1990, a bi<ultural, bilingual group ofseventeen
Vermont and Quebec artirts collaborated on
'Dead/ineslt;a presse', a two.part show on acid rain that
travelled to schools and olner sites in bolh counlries. The
project was partially inspired by the Canadian
inlerdisciplinary artlsts' group Boréal Multi Media, from
rural la Macaza in Ihe Laurentians. There are 30,000 dead
lakes in ea$lern canada, thanks in part to the aerial
garbage from midwestern US smokestacks. Boreal
organizer Wanda campbell says she thinks artists can
make a difference by creating 'cultural myths', or what
might be called 'Wakeup Art'. However, anolher Vermont
show makes me wonderwhat the audiences wake up lo. A
Women 's caucus exhibition about environmental distress
and exploitative development c.alled ' Mowing the
Mountain' at the Burtington Airport was certainly
controversial. The New York Times quoted one of many
baffled and annoyed airport employees as saying, '1guess
we've learned a lot aOOut art from this experience'.
Presumably, the artists would nave preferred Ihat he learn
a lot aOOut the environment.
And, finally, a project by a token garbage OOy:
Yugoslavian emigre Milenko Matanovic is encouraging
the rest of us lo share Ihe public burdens with a media·
aimed project called 'Trash·Hold' - an 'eco.robic exercise
to "trim OUt waste"'. It opened successfully ta$l March in
Chattanooga, Tennessee, but is designed lo travel and
adapt to any community. The average American,
Matanovic points out, discards 51bs (2 kg) of garbage a
day. In an attempt 'to change bad habits before a crisis
point is reached' (I'd argue Ihat Ihat point has already been
reached), participants, the higher their profile the better,
drag spedally designed bags ofthe;r garbage around with
themall week. asit accumulates, to publidze the extent of
the problem. In a dosing ceremony, they gather to recyde.
In Chattanooga, out of 260 lbs (118 kgJ of collected trash,
only 20 lbs (9 kg) were not recyclable.
Powerlessness, cynicism and greed alllead to passivity
rather Ihan cnange. Perhaps the greatest question for
ecological artists is, how do we generate hope? Recent
exhibitions of art aOOut nature in the art wortd nave been
decidedly pessimistic. Entitled 'Again$l Nature', ' The
Demoralized Landscape', 'The Unmaking of Nature' and
' Unnaturat causes,' for exampte, they acknowledge
impending catastrophes bul provide few visions for a
happierfuture.1 know real visions are hard lo come by, and
we've had a plethora offake ones. But art should nOI ju$l
be the dark mirror ofsociety any more than it should ju$l
be the saccharine in the cup ofhemlock.
We're in trouble if all artists can do is activate our fears.
As Chrirty Rupp said with her clipOOard Datafish in Central
Park, the emphasis on information is positive unt il we get
fat on info rmation for informalion's sake and fail to ael on
what we know about who's doing it lo uso Individually, we
can recyde unt;t we're green in the face, but until the
corporations, the governmenl, and the ruling dass gel the
message, nol much is going to change. For all the talk
•
aOOut the healing power oflne arts, offeminism, oftlle
19905 - powers I too would love lo believe in
wholeheartedly-I see no evidence Ihal these crucial
changes are immanenl. Art can never be more than a
Band·Aid or a shot in the arm unlit it is part ofthe broader
grass·roots movements thal gces beyond private
responses (individuals account for only about one·third of
the world's pollutants) lo fundamental social
recon$lruction.
"
• /le ' , , ,•
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Agnes DENES
Wheatfield - A Confrontation
[1982]
THEPHILOSOPHY
My decision to plant a wheatfield in Manhattan in$lead of
designing ju$l anolner public sculpture grew out of a long.
standing concern and need to caH attention to our
misplaced priorilies and deteriorating human values.
Manhattan is the richest, mos! professional, mo$l
congested and without a doubt mo$l fascinating island in
the world. To attempt lo plant, su$lain and harve$l two
acres of wheal here, wasting valuable real estate,
ob$lructing the machinery by going again$l Ihe sy$lem,
was an effrontery that made jt lile powerful paradox I had
sought for the calling to account ( ... J
Wheatfie/d was a symOOI, a universal concept. It
represenled foocl, energy, commerce, wortd trade,
economics. It referred to mismanagemenl, waste, world
hunger and ecological concerns. It was an intrusion into
the Citadel, a confrontation ofHigh Civilization. Then
again, it was also Shangri·La, a small paradise, one's
childhoocl, a nol summer afternoon in tlle country, peace,
forgotten values, simple pleasures.
The idea of a wheattield is quite simple. One
penetrales the soil, places one's seed of concept and
allows it to grow, expand and bear fruit. Tnat is whal
creation and life is all about.lt's all so simple, yet we tend
to forget basic processes. Whal was different about this
wheattield was Ihal the soil was nol tich loam but dirty
landfill filled with rurty met.als, boulders, old tyres, and
overcoats. It was not farmland but an extension oflne
conge$led downlown of a metropolis where dangerous
crosswinds blew, traffic snarled and every inch was
precious realty. The absurdity ofit all, the risks we took and
Ihe hardships we endured were all part ofthe basic
concept. Oigging deep is what art is all about ( ... J
Wheatfie/d affected many lives, and the ripples are
extending. Some suggested that 1 put my wheat up on Ihe
wheat exchange and sell it lO the nignest bidder, others
Ihat 1apply to the government for farmers' subsidy.
React ions ranged from disbeliefto astonishment to being
moved to tears. A lot of people wrote to thank me for
creating Wheotfie/d and asked thal I keep il going.
DOCUMENTS
 After my hilrvesl, Ihe four-acre areil facing New York
harbourwas relurned lO conslruction lo make room for a
billion-dollar luxury complex. Manhattan closed ilselfonce
again lo become a fortress, corrupl yel vulnerable. Bul I
Ihink this magnificenl metropolis will remember a
majeslic, amber field. Vulnerabilily and staying power, Ihe
power oflhe paradox.
THEACT
Early in Ihe morning on the first ofMay 1982 we began lo
planl a two-acre wheatfield in lower Manhattan, Iwo
blocks from Wall Street and the World Trade Cenler, facing
the Slatue ofLiberty.
The planting consisted of digging 285 furrows by hand,
clearing off rocks and garbage, Ihen placing the seed by
hand and covering the furrows with soil. Each furrow look
two lo three hours.
Since March over two hundred truckloads of dirty
landfill had been dumped on the site, consisling of rubble,
dirt, ruSty pipes, automobile tyres, old clothing and olher
garbage. Tractors flattened the area and eighly more
truckloads of dirt were dumped and spreild lo conslitule
one inch oftopsoil needed for planting.
We mainlained Ihe field for four months, set up an
irrigation system, weeded, cleared out wheal smut (a
disease Ihat had affected Ihe entire field and wheat
everywhere in the country). We put down fertilizers,
cleared off roch, boulders and wires by hand, and sprayed
againsl mildew fungus [ ... 1
We harvested the crop on August 16 on a hot, muggy
Sunday. The air was stifling and the city stood still. AII
those Manhattaniles who had been walching the field
grow from green to golden amber, and gotten attached to
jI, Ihe stockbrokers and Ihe economists, office workers,
tourisls and others attracted by the media coverage slood
around in sad silence. Sorne cried. TV crews were every-
where, bul Ihey loo spoke little and then in a hushed voice.
We harvesled almosl 1,000 pounds ofhealthy, golden
wheal.
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Agnes DENES
Tree Mounlain - A Living
Time Capsule -1 0.000 Trees.
10,000 People. 400 Years
[1982- 95]
Tree Mountoin, conceived in 1982, is a collaborative,
environmental artwork Ihat louches on global, ecological,
social and cultural issues. It is a massive earthwork and
land reclamalion project Ihat tests our finitude and
Iranscendence, individuality versus teamwork, and
measures the value and evolution of a work of art after il
has entered the environment. Tree Mounto;n is designed
IMP l EMEN TATlO N
lO unite Ihe human inte"ect with Ihe majesty of nature.
Ten thousand trees are planted by Ihe same number of
people according to an intricate mathematical formula, a
combination ofthe golden section and sunAowerl
pineapple patterns Ihal meel nol only aeslhetic criteria,
but remain inlact after the forest is thinned a few decades
from now. The mathematical expansion changes with
one's view and movement around and aboye the
mountain, revealing hidden curves and spirals in its
syrnmetrical designo IfTree Mounto;n is seen from space,
the human intellect at work over natural formation
becomes evidenl, yel Ihey blend harmoniously.
Tree Mounto;n is site-spec.ific. 80th shape and size
can be adapted lo areas ofland reclamation and Ihe
preservation offorestS.ln Finland, Tree Mounto;n is 420 m
long, 270 m wide, 26 m high and elliptical in shape. Height
depends on the restrictions ofthe sile and the availability
of malerials. The site is a gravel pit being rec.laimed. The
process ofbioremedialion restores the land from resource
e){traction use to one in harmony with nature, in this case,
the re·creation of a virgin foresto The planting oftrees
holds the land from erosion, enhances oxygen production
and provides home for wildlife. This lakes time and it is
one ofthe reasons why Tree Mountoin will remain
undislurbed for centuries.
Forthe original modell selected silver fir, beca use
Ihese trees are dying oul, and jI is important Ihat we
preserve them. For the Finnish Tree Mounto;n, pine trees
were chosen beca use they are more typical for this
environment. Otherwise, any Iree can make up the forest
as long as il can live threeto four hundred years. The trees
musl outlive Ihe presenl era and, by surviving, carry our
concepls into an unknown lime in the future. If our
civilization as we know it ends, or as changes occur, there
will be a rerninder in the form of a unique and majestic
forest for OUt descendants to pondero They may reRoo on
an undertaking that did nol serve personal needs bul Ihe
common good, and the highest ideals ofhumanily and ils
environmenl, while benefiling future generations.
Tree Mounto;n is a co"aborative work in all its aspects,
from its inlricale landscaping and forestry to Ihe funding
and contractual agreements fOr ils strange, unheard·of
land·use ofthree lO four cenlurles. The collaboration
e){pands as ten thousand people come together lo planl
the trees thal will beartheir names and remain their
property Ihrough succeeding generalions. The trees can
change ownership - people can leave their tree lo their
heirs, or transfer il by other means, even be buried under
il - bul Tree Mounto;n itself can never be owned or sold,
nor can the trees be moved from the foresto Ownership
signifies custodianship. rree Mounto;n represents the
concept, Ihe soul ofthe art, while the trees are a manifes-
tation ofit. Though Ihey may be collooible works of art,
inheritable commodities - gaining stalure, fame and value
as Ihey grow and age as Irees - ultimately neither can
be truly owned. One can only become a custodian and
assume the moral obligalions il implies. Bul meanwhile
Ihey remain part of a larger whole, Ihe forest. The Irees are
individual segments of a single, limited edition - unique
patterns in the design oftheir universe.
And Ihe trees live on Ihrough the cenluries - stable and
majestic, outliving thei r owners or custodians who created
the patterns and the philosophy, but nol Ihe tree. There is a
strange paradox in this.
Tree Mounto;n begins its existence when il is
compleled as a work of arto As the Irees grow and wildlife
takes over, as decades and centuries pass, Tree Mounto;n
becomes a most interesling e){ample ofhow the passing of
time affects a work of art.U can become the inslrument
thal measures the evolution of arto Through changing
fashions and beliefs, Tree Mountoin can pass from being a
curiosity to being a shrine, from being Ihe possible
remnants of a decadent era lo being one oflhe
monumenls of a great civilization -a monument nol built
to the human ego bul lo benefit future generations wilh a
meaningfullegacy. Tree Moun!o;n is a living lime capsule.
Iree pi .41 YE"dr ' Irt ;t '
•
Michael FEHR
herman's Meadow.
AMuseum [1992]
herman's meadow is discernible even from a distance-
not as a meadow, bul as a peculiar, differenl moment, as a
wild, unrestrained piece ofland in the midst of a cleared
landscape accessible to machines - by Ihe hedges
surrounding il. II drives like a wedge oul oflhe foresl into
the open field ofinduslrialised agricullure, radiating more
than formal unrest. for il is bursting with life.
herma n de vries began his project 'wiese' (meadow)
together wilh his wife Susanne as a consequence ofhis
work as an artist. They bought a piec.e ofland,
appro){imalely 400 m ', more than six years ago. As a
border, they planted a hedge composed of a variety of
shrubs: hazel, hawthorn, blackthorn, dogrose, euonymus,
viburnum, rowanberry and privet; as well as a row of
cultivaled and semi-cultivaled trees: hazelnut, rowan,
cornelian cherry, mediar, older varielies of apple, pear and
plum - and let it take its natural course. late in Ihe year,
afier seeding, half oflhe area was cut and Ihe cuttings
removed, so Ihat the fodder meadow -overfertilised up liU
Ihen with artificial ferlilisers and liquid manure three times
yearly - would lose sorne ofits richness. In Ihe following
year, herma n and Susanne collooed seeds along
embankments, paths and the edge ofthe forest from
plants thal had been resistant to Ihe farmers' machines
and liquid manure sprays and planted them in their
meadow: in molehills and earth which had been dug up by
wild boars. Consequenlly, columbine, naked lady,
alchemilla, scabious, pincushion flower, agrimony,
angelica, avens, meadow salvia, primrose, valerian,
mugwort, leonorus, yellow iris, comfrey, carnalions, hops,
byrony, rhinanthus and belladonna had a chance to
spread. These were joined spontaneously by spiraea,
saxifrage, red clover, wood anemone and blue cranesbill;
and runners from the aspen at Ihe end ofthe forest
developed shoots in the upper part ofthe meadow.
 After only two years, the me¡¡,dow h¡¡,d dearly altere<! its
appe¡¡'r.irlfe: beca use the grass was nol fertilised , it
remained shorter and grew in bushy tufts; instead, herbs
and clover shot up high. A large number of moles
burrowed in theearth and therewere more and more
insects: beetles, butterfl ies, grasshoppers and d ifferent
kinds of arachn ids made the meadow the ir habiu1. They
were fullowed by birds and sma!! an imals forwh ich
herman and Susanne had created the ideal living
conditions in the hedges. Then, after fixing up a watering
placewhich was dry in summer, dr.igonflies, salamanders
and frogs , and ultimately, last year, large numbers of wild
boar, wh ich had d iscovered the abund¡¡,nt supply oflarvae
in the earth, moved in.
Now, after s ix years ofintensive work, the meadow
differs quite vis ib!y from the agricultural acreage around it:
a wood ofsmall aspens creates a natural barrier to the
forest road, and the hedges, now man.h igh, sh ie ld the
meadow from the surround ing manure and pesticide
culture. One enters the me¡¡,dow through an opening in the
hedge at one ofthe upper corners and finds oneselfin an
a lmost paradisiacal field in which it hums and buzzes, in
which bi,ds tw itter, grasshoppers chirp and countless
other animals creep through the vegetation. Cuided by
herman who - strictly watching that o nly cerbin paths are
Uken, explaining the grounds, sharpening the vis itors
attention by making reference to ceruin p lants and
¡¡,n im¡¡,ls , a smetr here, a Uste there, recommending a view
or that one SUy a while in one place - hands over the book
ofNature in a very gentle, but reso lute manner to an
ignor.int, na ive city person li ke me, who can hardly
recogn ise in th is wilderness the caring hand that has given
it order. It is a confusing experience trying to see this
Central European and highly varied biotope of not even
half a hectare as a landscape wh ich has been cu ltivated by
miln. Neatly weeded beds, regulated Slreams and tracts of
land that have been freed from trees and shrubs have
inftuenced OUT notion ofNature to such a degree that here,
in this meadow, the mOre obvious arrangements become
!he mainstay of perception. The cirde of roses which
herman ¡¡,nd Sus¡¡,nne planted with d ifferent Centra l
European varieties at one edge ofthe meadow constitutes
a biotope which may not be entered, and the small ring of
hornbeams which was laid out three years ago on another
site is des igned to protect the couple and their guests from
unexpected changes in weather.
hermiln 's me¡¡,dow is iI museum in the best sense of
the word, a place which, due to intensive and competent
collecting, is the i1ctual reconstruction , the living image of
a former, generally prevailing manner oftreating Nilture, iI
striking, not·to-be-overlooked place of reflection where the
history and future ofthe reg ion, culture i1nd Nature
emerge.
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Mierle Laderman UKELES
Flow City [1995]
when the department ofsaniUtion began redesigning the
waste d isposal system fur the city ofNew York in the early
198os, they invited meto sit in on the meetings . Ouring my
Toue" Sanitarion work, 1 had fa llen in love with one ofthe
locations they now wanted to redevelop. It was a location
i1t the base of59th Street, on the Hudson River. ln 1983 , 1
proposed to the department a permanent public
environment that would become an organic part of an
operating garbilge facil ity. I designed F/ow City with the
des ign engineers from Creeley Hanson.
The site is one ofthe most be¡¡,utiful s ites on the
Hudson River, m idway between the Ceorge Washington
Bridge ¡¡,nd the SUtue ofLiberty. It is iI marine transfer
station tha! handles a waste ftow equ ivalent to that of a city
the s ize ofSan Francisco. C¡¡,rbage trucks transfer their
payloads into barges that wait in the finger ofthe Hudson
River that ftows through the sution. The barges are then
switched out in iI beautiful n¡¡,ut icill manoeuvre, and taken
by tug to the Fresh Kills landfill on Staten Istand .
Flow City is a rad icill penetration of art into the
workplace. The penetration begins w ith a Passage Ramp
that leads to a eloss Bridge . From the bridge, visitors will
observe the operation ofthe sUtion . The end ofthe bridge
is called Medio Flow Wa/l.
It took ¡¡,bout two years in the construction ofthe
faci lity to build in public access for everybody. when we
fjrst proposed F/ow City, the Oepartment ofPol'ts and
Terminills Sil id , 'You CiJn 't do that because it 's never been
do ne befo re. ' The sanitation department replied, 'Yes we
can. It is time to lift the veil on the subject, ¡¡,nd th is is the
waytodo it.'
Possoge Romp will be a 248·foot.long (7.564 cm)
procession made often to twelve recyclable materi¡¡,ls ,
includ ing 20 feet (610 cm) of crushed glass and 20 feet
(610 cm) of shredded rubber. I want visitors to feel the
extreme d iversity in d ifferent materials, because if you can
appreciate th is , then you can 't watch them al! getting
dumped together in the barge without th inking, 'How
stupid '. 1want visitors to see the materiills In a kind of
hovering sUte offlux: thrown out, not yet back. 1want the
visitors to pass through ¡¡, sute of potentiality.
1 have des igned the recycl ing panels in the shilpe ofiI
running spiral. A runn ing spiral can be found in every
culture, and is universally seen as a symbol of regeneration
and continuity - the essence of recycl ing. This work is
about a paradigm shift in how we relate lo materials in the
world. We need to grow beyond the self·destructive cycle
of acquiring materials, owning them, using them and then
leaving them as ifthey don 't exist anymore.
At the top ofthe rilmp visitors will enter a e/an Bridge
thal is 40 feet (1 ,220 cm) long and 1& feet (549 cm) wide.
On one side ofthe bridge is the formal city with the leons
ofNew York: the Empire Sute Building and the World
Trade Center. On the other side is the city in flux. The
trucks, in fourteen dump ing bays, lift their hoppers, and
dump their payloads into waiting buges. As the barges are
loaded, the vis itors will see them passing beneath their
-
very feet, under the e/oss Bridg e. They wiU be ableto watch
'"
all ofthe th ings they worked so hard to buy go to waste. 1
c¡¡,1I it the ' Vio lent Theatre ofOumping'.
At the end o fthe bridge is the Medio F/ow WolI, iI 10 x
18 foot (305 x 549 cm) crushed gtass wa tl with twenty.four
monitors set into i1. The video wall will be programmed
with live cameras, located on and off s ite, and prepared
disc and tape sources. It is an electronic permeable
membrane that witl enable vis itors to pilSS 'thro ugh' th is
physiCiJI point in order to get a broader understanding how
this kind of place links up w ith the systems ofthe p lanet.
The watl will transmit three kinds offlow.imagery; river,
landfill and recycling.
Six live cameras, 350 feet (1 0 ,675 cm) awayfrom the
filcil ity, will focus continuillly on the mighty Hudson River.
The fact that the garbage is collected and transferred in
th is particular place prompts a great loss, bec.ause the
facility bars access to our primal source; the river. Th is
river makes the city live. It will flow back in rea l time across
the Medio Flow WoU, as cameras focus downriver, upr iver,
m idway, close-up on the face ofthe water and even
beneath the surface, where thirty species offish presently
liveln midtown Manhattan.
The WilU will i1lso document the accumulation of our
garbage al the Fresh Kills landfill, that will eventually be
the highest point on the eastern seacoast, rising almost
500 feet (150250 cm).
"
"
'" -
PeterFEND
A Post-Facto Statement
[1994]
BRIEF HISTORY OFOCEAN EARTH FOUNDED198o
The Oceiln Eilrth Construction and Development
Corporation arose from efforts of artists to develop
projects larger thiln possible for any one i1rtist i1nd of
publle rilther thiln art·world service.
The company arose from the ferment ofthe 1960s i1nd
1970S, during which artists moved into video and film as
d isplay media, and into earthworks and ecosystems as
sculptural and architectural material. Numerous concepts
emerged then : that lelevision had become like the
cathedrals of priorcenturies, and that artists should
produce television news as they had produced sculpture
and friezes for the cathedrals befo re; that Earth Art implied
i1n entirely new way of dealing with terra in and regional
planning; that artists should funct ion chiefly to investigate
and report visually.apprehensible facts of public import,
and nol lo produce decorative objects for adornment; thilt
mass media and not art gallerles or museums are the
primary fietd of action.
The company was founded through the efforts of an
attorney, Richard Cole, now a partner at le Boeuf, lamb,
leiby &. MilcRae. Much ofthe intellectuill foundat ion for
OOCU Io4EN TS

'" the company, and i1$ ded ication to large-scale earth
monitoring and engineering, comes (rom lectures by
Vincent SeuUy, architecture historian al Yale. ScuUy argues
that recent Earth Art and Conceptual Art contai" lhe germs
of a radically new approach to gardens (or landl, fortresses
(or military defense systems) and, extendibly, regional
planning. Herefrom, lhe campany proceeds into the public
arena.
. -
.
" " " Latin na me forlhese plants. I follow a philosophy of
" minimum to no interference. I serve ol'1ly as a cheerleader.
Viet NGO
Lemna Systems [1995]
My work is a (usían of engineering, architectural planning
and arto I design and build wastewater trealment plants for
dties and industries. Having a strong ¡nterest in hOrizontal
architecture, Ilike things that stay on the ground. People
have asked me ir my work is public arto That is my
¡ntention, but I do not like to use these words because Ihey
segregate me from Ihe working people.l recognized early
on Ihal lo be successful in infrastructure work, one needs
to be in touch with and lo have the support ofthe general
public. Thework I do is utilitarian in Ihe most basic
l manner - it is trealing waste, and it is user-friendly and
fairly simple lo understand, but it is no ordinary task.
As a trained professional engineer,l sought to develop
a new technology lo Ireal waste walers using natural
biological means instead of mechanical and chemical
processes.
The technology lhal I helped develop is called Ihe
Lemna System. It relies to a large extenl on the use of small
Hoaling aqua!ic plants grown in specially designed ponds
to Ireat wasle to a very fine degree. These Lemna facilities
are designed as green conidors or punctuation marks in
the general urban landscape. They are nice green parks in
an odour·free atmosphere, and sometimes they carry
inleresling design features lo lell people aboul our
environment, our soils and our waters.
In general, the isolation Ihal is associated with art
concerns me since Ilike lo be accepted by Ihe
communities I work in.ln a way, one can lookat a
community as an organic body with many interrelaled
parts. These parts fulfil certain functions that can be
broken down and eKamined from various angles.
Wastewater treatmenl is certainly a big part and a big
function of any community (eKcept in poorer countries
Ihat cannot afford tre¡tment) . Yet modern designing lends
lo place wastewater Ire¡tment in the background and
forget about it. This is evident by the odour problems
common lo many eKisting treatment facililies and Ihe fact
Ihat international competition for treatment plant designs
is rather rareo
I Ihink it is all right to keep treatment planls in the
background, but we must not forget about them. They
should be designed and maintained wilh care, in the same
manner as other parts of our infrastructure. (Incidentally,
only Hollywood movie sets for Western tlicks have all
infrastructures in the foreground .)
I t.4 PlE t.4 ENTATIO N
LEMNASY$TEMS
In tune with the twentieth-century capitalist free market
syslem, Lemna'" is a trademark name, and the concept is
palented. Lemna plants are very small f10ating plants
ubiquilous throughout the world. They thrive anywhere
from cold climates lo Ihe tropics, even in the deserts. In
S¡rdinia, which is rather dry and rocky, it took us less Ihan
an hour lo find two beautiful species ofLemnaceae, the
I lake what already eKists in a bioregion and encourage Ihe
plants to grow. (In conlrast, only immigrants like me are
supposed to emigrate to America, but no fruit and
vegeta bies, please.)
Back to the Lemna plants: they grow very fast, and wiU
cover the surface of a pond if undisturbed by winds and
waves. They act as a filter to absorb and neutralize
pollutants in Ihe water. In addition, they help stabilize Ihe
biological reactions in the pond, optimizing natural
treatmenl processes by bacteria, micro- and macro-
organisms and by olher physical processes.
Lemna planls absorb and control odours by using
sulfides, melhanes and other gases as food sources; they
also shield the pond lo prevenl odours from escaping to
the airo
Lemna plants have very high prolein concentrations,
making them a potential alternative food source for many
parts ofthe world. (When I started working with Lemna, I
dreamt offeeding the world.)
To harvest these plants, we use mechanized pontoon
boats equipped wilh simple hydraulic gears to manage
huge quantities ofbiomass. The harvested plants, which
represent the eKcess growth, are either composed lo form
a rich fertilizer for organic farming, or with proper testing
and analyses, used as a high·protein animal feed.
The clear water produced by this process can be used
for irrigation orfor other beneficial purposes. In MeKico we
use it at one site to inigate city parks and golf courses. In
Egypt we plan to recharge the ground water table and
irrigate crops with Ihe effluent.
The design ofLemna Syslems is thus based on a
resource recovery concept: waSle water being Ireated in a
natural way will produce clean water which can be re-used
for i"igation and for ground waterfstreamflake recharge.
At the same time, valuable biomass can be harvested for
organic fertilizer or a feed source. The sun is the main
source ofenergy, and the earth is reclaimed as fertile
ground.
LEMNA DESIGN
To control the growth ofthe f10ating plants, a network of
f10ating baffiers that form a grid-like pallern is placed on
the Lemna pond surface. These barriers can be compared
to the facade of a building - they are necessary to support
the system, and they carry aesthelic considerations that go
beyond the practica!. The ponds can also be designed into
meandering channels that control the hydraulic flow of
incoming water. Togetherthey form a specific landscape
that vitalizes an urban designo The facilities may occupy a
vast acreage ofland and yet appear unobtrusive from Ihe
ground. Only from the air can one decipher the Irue size
and meaning ofthe works. The design stresses respect for
nature and natu ral things.
Of course, Ihe vis ion incorporates a very practical side,
for the treatment resulls must be impeccable. The facilities
accomplish the routine yet awesome task of cleaning our
wasles. They must be allractive for Ihe visitors,
comfortable forthe workers and satisfactory 10 the
government regulators.
-
DEVIL'S LAKE, NORTH DAKOTA, OR SNAKEON THE
PLAINS
The citizens ofDevils Lake care deeply about their water
resources. The City Elders, especially the visionary leam of
one commissioner and Ihe city engineer, wanted a natural
syslem. So, after lOO public meetings and 1001 late nights
of design, we came up with a fifty.acre stylized snake that
would meander across a former wetland. This Lemna
facility c2nsists of nine serpentinechannels to removethe
-
harmful phosphorus, n¡trogen and algae before releasing
the treated water into one bay ofDevils Lake.
Funded by the US Environmental Protection Agency
and the city ofDevils Lake, the five millton dollar project
was compleled in 1990. The harvested biomass has been
used as an organic fertilizer, and schoolchildren are
rrequently invited on guided tours to learn about biology,
the environment and what people can do to aid
preservation.
. Sculp¡,ng ... ,¡n ¡he fnvlronOlent .
'"
Mel CHIN
Revival Field [1995]
I had an eKhibition at the Hirshhorn in 1989 that
represented the culmination of a long period ofintense
and strenuous labour.1 showed large·scale political pieces
and a compleK installation called The Operation ofthe Sun
Ihraugh the Cult ofthe Hand. Following that show, I began
lo pursue a process set offby the completion ofthese
sculptures. This process was an attempt to create
situations of provocation and mutation that would
challenge my personal artistic stage of development. First
I asked myself what my particular passion was at the time.
I realized it was a love for making things by hand, and I felt
I could continue to make competent work by maintaining
Ihis direction for quite a while. Afier coming to this
understanding, I decided to force a mutation in myselfby
removing the method I had come lo rely on from my nelCt
work. I decided to propel an evolutionary situation - a
condition of elCtinction and of not-knowing.
I was immersed in a period of re-education which
allowed a free associationffree-ranging type of research to
begin. Afier reading an article suggesting the use of plants
as remediation tools, I immediately saw the possibility for
a new project. The i,ony was that it would require some of
the most hand·intensive work I had ever done (sod
busting, tilling, seeding, weeding, fence mending, ground
hog chasing and so on).
 Revivol Field was to be a sculpture in the most
traditior¡,al sense. My primal')' concern was with the poetic
potentia l ofthework, besides the obvious ecological and
polítical aspects. My des ire to rea lize the aesthetic product
of Revivol Fie/d- decontaminated earth -Ied me to a
respons ible search forthe necessary scientific
understanding and method.
I spent severa l months on a datura dragnet, tl')'ing to
ascertain all the properties ofjimson weed (D0111'0
stromonillm) , beyond its well· known psychedelic and
mystical properties. 1was unable to verify cla ims that the
plant could be used to remed iate s oil in the way I
envisioned. 1continued my research in many directio ns
untill fina lly found Dr. Rufus Chaney, a sen ior research
scientist at the US Department of Agriculture. He
specialized in soil and m icrobia l systems, sludge
composting and the transfer ofheavy metals from plan15
to an imals to humans. Chaney's proposal in 1983 to use
plants as remed íation agents for polluted soil had been
shelved by the conservative polit ies ofthe times. He was
one ofthe few people in the wo rld who had knowledge of
and beliefin th is untested process. My desire to create a
sculptural work rekindled Dr. Chaney's hope ofbringing
this biotechnology into fruition, and we in it iated a n
earnest co-operation that eventually led to the first Rellillol
Fie/d.
Together we envisioned Rellillol Field as an
experimental project us ing p lants to cleanse industria l
contaminatíon from soil. These p la nts, wh ich have
ev01ved the capacity to selectively absorb and co ntain
large amounts of metal or m ineral, are called
hyperaccumulators. Historically used a s a method of
prospecting, the plan15 were tested and proven to be
viable toxic sponges by Dr. Chaney and Dr. R. R. Brooks.
We felt that th is approach to leaching heavy meta ls out of
ta inted soil bysafely trapp ing the tox ins in the vascu lar
structure of plan15 and min ing the ash (after proper
incineration) could be not only beneficial but practical and
economiul ¡s well.
We conceived ofthe project as an ongoing operation
unti1 tests could verify sign ificant improvement of a site's
quality. The forma l configuration ofthe wOrk consists of
two fenced areas - a circle within a square. The fences are
standard chain links. The circular area , p lanted with the
detoxify ing weeds, serves as the test s ite, whereas the
square, unplanted and of equal area, serves as the control.
Paths that intersect in the centre provide access to the site
and form a crosshair target when viewed from aboye. In
this c;ne the p1ants, guided by a natural process, aim at a
malignant presence in the ground.
Conceptually, the work is sculpture that involves a
reduction process, a trad itional method used when
carving wood or stonei here, the material is unseen , and
the tools consist ofbiochemistry and agriculture. The
work, in its complete ¡ncamation, after the fences are
removed and the toxin·laden weeds harvested, will offer
mínimal visual and formal effects. For a time, an intended
invisible aesthetic will be measured scientifically by the
quality of a revita1ized earth. Eventually the aesthetic will
be revealed in the return of growth to the soil.
Unfortunately, my efforts to realize the project were
just beginning when controversy over funding led me into
an entirely different series of negotiations. I had applied to
the National Endowment for the Arts for a grant for Rellillol
Fie/d from the Inter·Arts New Forms category. I soon
learned th is was the first time that a grant had been vetoed
by the chairman ofthe N EA alter being approvecl by both
the panel and the counci!. I felt a responsibility to question
the nature ofthe rejection and to expose the flaws of a
system that allow autocratic control over the use of public
funds. With these goals in mind, and with much support
from the arts community, l arranged a fOrmal meeting with
N EA Chairman John Frohnmayer in Washington. Our
constructive d iscussion set a precedent an artist may now
directJy address an N EA chairman regarding such
exercises of authority.
The meeting also resulted in re-appropriating funds for
the project, and 1was able to begin the equally d ifficult a nd
perhaps even more frustrat ing task ofsecuring a site. Afier
six months of negotiations for sites all over the countl')', we
were finaJly able to begin planting the first Rellivol Field in
June 1991 on a portion ofPig's Eye Landfill, a state
Superfund s ite in StoPaul , Minnesota. The area contained
elel/ated levels of cadmium, a heavy metal that can be
harmfulto human health.
The Minnesota Rev;l/ol Fieldwas designed as a
repl icated field teSt of green remediation - the first such
on·site experiment in the Un ited States, and one of only
two in the world. Three zinc and cadmium
hyperaccumulators were chosen by Dr. Chaney to match
the local ecotype: S j/ene cucubolus, a hybrid zea mays, and
Tnlospi coerulescens. Merl in red fescue and romaine
lettuce were also included to test for metal tolerance and
food chain influence. The circular test area was divided
into ninety.s ix separate plots to assess different soil and
pH treatments as well as management techn iques.
We harvested tne Pig's Eye field for the final time in
October '993, end ing the first three-yeartest. Its formal
configuration has already been erased with the remova! of
lhe fencing . Th lospi samples taken from th is site showed
significant uptake in the leal/es and stems of cadmium and
zinc, verify ing the potential of green remed iation. A second
field ;s already in place at a nalional priority Superfund site
in Palmerton , Pennsyll/ania. We are plann ing an
intemationa! Revivol Field effort, sponsored by the
Ministry ofCulture ofthe Netherlands, at sel/erely
contaminated sites in that countl')' and neighbouring
Belgium. These add it ional field tests will offer m Ore
I/aluab!e data regarding soil treatments and plant
hardiness, and w ill extend biomarker research.
With positive results from Minnesota and additional
sites secured , the Rellivol Field project is at a critica! stage
in its development. At this point, its focus must shift from
implementing more fie!d tests to conducting further
scientific research. Thus, my most recent work on Rev;lIo!
F;e/d has taken place in an editing studio. This indoor
1abour has produced a short video tape that describes the
progress of Rev;lIo/ Fíe/dto date.
When 1originally conceil/ed of Rev;lIo/ F;eld, 1was
aware that it might not be fully realized in my lifetime. The
project is in its infancy, and continues to progress.
Whether it is viewed as an alchemic, metallurgic, social,
scientific or aesthetic expe,iment,;15 goal is to realize the
•
full remed iation of a contaminated area. The Revillol Field
'"
project is dril/en by a des ire to find s oJ ut io ns for problems,
rather than express problems me taphorica ll y. It w ill reac h
i15 final form , completing an evo!utio nary aesthetic, when
the burden ofheavy metal contaminatio n is s hed, when
Rellillol F;e/d is fo rgotten and the mechanics of nature ca n
resume their course.
• •
PLATFORM
Seeing is Believing [1992]
Would you like to open yourdoor each morn ing t o be
greeted by the s ight of gently flowing waters? Imagine
windsurfing down Brixton Road, fish ing by the Oval or
paddting through West Norwood.
Could you see your neighbourhood lIIith the River Effro
runn írrg through it?
The Effra once ran through South london, its springs
on the hills ofNorwood, and its mouth at Vauxhall on the
Thames. Queen Elizabeth the First sailed up it to Brixton in
the sixteenth century. John Rusk in wrote odes to its beauty
in the nineteenth centul')'. Now it lies buried under the
streets you walk through evel')' day, an untapped source of
great natural beauty and future prosperity.
ERA have a vision of new South Landon with its river
restored: a healthier London - with plants and animals
returned to their original habita15; a proper place for YOUt
children to plaYi a wealthier London - w;th property values
increasing, business prospects booming and tourism
growing. ERA sees a london where the city and nature live
in harmony: a water city - a city ofthe twenty.first centul')'.
The unearthing ofthe Effra w ill be Europe's most
important and exciting urban renewal programme, ond it
is happening on your doorstep.
"
• " . •
Patricia JOHANSON
Fair Park Lagoon [1981-86].
and Endangered Garden
[1987-97]
A major theme in my work from the beginning has been
to reconnect city dwellers with Nature and ensure the
survival of plant and an imal populations. 1envision a new
kind of public landscape that balances the neecls ofhuman
beings with those ofthe living world. My des igns often
combine restored ecologies with public access, and
transform our trad itional image of parks into 'ecology
gardens'.
In '960 I began writ ing about des igning the world as a
DDCU MENTS
". work of artoMy drawings transformed bolh (un ctianal
infrastructu re and living natufe into artoI devise<! s pecific
propo5i1ls Ihat would restore (ertile land, natu ral water-
ways, swamps and wildlife corridors lo major urban
centres. Otherdrawings combined aesthetic images with
parks ¡lnd habital, or use<! art lo address environmenlal
concerns such a s eros ion , sedimenlalion, fload ing, water
conservation, sewage trea tmenl and garbage mound s.
Design strategies such as Une Cardens envisioned the
continuity necessary for Ihe survival oflarge populations,
while Van;shing-Point Cardens proposed networks of
related forms e ssential lo migrati"g animills. My art p ro-
jects became incorporated int o dai ly life, and were inter·
wove n with natu ral ecosystems . The hallmark of my work
became lo incorporale everything and to harm not hing.
FAIR PARK LACOON
( ... ] On myfirst visit lo Fair Park it was apparent Ihat the
lagoon was envi ronmenlally degraded. The shoreline was
eroded and the water was m urky. Fertilizer from t he lawn
washed into the lagoon every lime il rained, causing algal
bloom. There were few birds, no waterfow l and hardly any
p lants, animal s orfis h .
1 began by develop ing my own list of concerns wh ic h
¡neluded creating a functioning ecosystem , providing
living exhibits for the Oallas Museu m of Natu ral History,
controlling bank erosion and creati ng paths over water so
peo p le could become immersed in the life oflhe lagoon. 1
¡Iso began lo research what d ifferent a nim¡ls eat, because
food plants and nes ling materials ¡ttrae! wildlife.
Eventually two Teus plants were c hosen as models for
the sculplures beca use Iheir forms coincided wi t h the
s lrategy ofthe designo The delta duck,polato, Soggitor;a
platyphyUa, had a mass oftwisted roots that 1arranged lo
prevenl water from eroding the s horeline. The s paces
between the roots became microhabitats for plants, fish,
turtles and birds. The roots were buill ¡S five·foot wide
paths for visitors, whi le thinner stems rose aboye the
water to serve as perc hes for birds. Leafforms further out
in the lagoon became islands for animals, while other
leaves along Ihe shore formed step seating and overlooks.
AII the sculptural ele m ents were deployed as lines of
defence to break up wave aclion and prevent further
eros ion ofthe s horeline, which was being eaten away at
the rale of e ight inches ayear.
A seco nd sculplure was based on a Texas fern , Pteris
multifido. The spine and leaflets oflhe plant were tw isted
to create bridges, causeways and islands, while cut·out
shapes between Ihe walkways became small·scale water
landscapes - flower basins and fish ponds . Pond cypress
!rees will provide a shady canopy over the entire sculptu re
when they reach maturity.
Bio logica l restoration was a key element in the design
ofFai r Park lagoon. Snails, clams, freshwater s ponges and
shrimp, fi s h, reptiles and waterfowl are both visu¡lIy
attractive and serve as m embers ofthe food·chain .
Landsc¡ping was chos en not o nly as a des ign element, bu!
also for its food and habitat value. A littoral zone of plants
Ihat root in shaUow wal er was created around the edge of
Ihe lagoon lo stabilize the banks, red uce turbidity, a nd
provide nesting si tes fo r insects , birds and small
IMPLEMENTATION
mammals. The ¡ m ounl of n ut rie nls ava ilab le to algae was
reduced ; water quali ty was improved; a nd va riou s s pecies
offish were introduced into t he food ·chai n.
Flocks of wild birds sl arted to arr ive, and toda y t he
lagoon teems wi lh life. Few woul d sus ped Ihat th e
landscape is a functional flood basin and recreated swa m p
with a n educalional agend a. The sc ulplure provides
aceess lo a function ing ecosyste m ( ... ]
ENDANCE RED CAROEN
In 19871 received a catl from Jill Manton oflhe San
Francisco Arts Commission. JiU had see n an ex hibitio n of
my drawings for ndal Londs,o pes in 1984 , and thou gh t the
concepl of a sculplure t hat transfor med wi th risi ng a nd
fa ll ing water would be perfee! for a projed alo ng tbe Sa n
Francisco Bay. Specificatly, t he project involved a new
thirty·million.dolla r sewer that was mandated by the
Environmental Protection Agency beca use the ci ty was
dumping raw sewage into t he bay. The Oepart me nt of
Public works had suggested a standard sewage fa cility for
the site, an d was immediately attacked by local ci tizen
groups protesting t he vis ual degradalion ofth is sensi tive
bay front property ( ... ]
After mon t hs of resea rc h on Ihe si te, 1discovered th at
the environs hosted a large n u mber of enda nge red
species, and t hat form erly it had bee n a n environme nt ric h
in native plants, butterflies, bird s, waterfowl, in tert idal life,
fish and s he llfis h . By providi ng app rop riate food a nd
hab ital it mighl be possible lo ai d species th al were
struggling for survival, and involve people in Ihe issue of
extinction . Since Ihe si te was adjace nt to a new California
State Recrealion Area, it seemed logica l to make th e sewer
slrue!ure an eKtensio n ofthe p ark ( ... ]
The image selected for the project was the end angered
San Francisco garter snake, wit h its colours an d patterns
t ranslat ed into a series of gardens which wou ld provide
sustenance for locatly Ih realened species. The head oft he
serpe nt , an undulating scul pt ural e arth mound , rises up to
20 feel (610 cm) high out of a meadow of n¡ live food
planls. The mound is covered wilh flowers Ihat provide
nee!ar for adult bu tt erfl ies and hos t plants for their larvae,
and is sculpled inlo microhabil als : win d breaks, sun ning
plalfo rms and shelter from predators.
As ¡he snake curves around a small beach, Ribbon
Worm ndal Steps prollide aceess lo the bay. The Worm
01 150 serves as a ramp for the handicapped, and at high tide
ils lower loops fill wilh water, crealing habit at for vertically.
zoned inle rtidal communities. The sCl1lptu re will become
encrusled wit h barnaeles a nd marine growt h, and popo
ulated by shrimp, worm s , crabs, hyd rozoa, s ponges an d
algae. Thus the Ribbon Worm becomes a livi ng sculpt u re -
simultaneously aesthelic, funcliona l and nu rt u ring ( . .. ]
The projee! lost much ofits habitat value beca u se o nce
th e construe!ion permit s for the sewer were issued 1was
not in a strong position lo defend all oflhe original
features . Public artist s a re always vulnerable, an d many
projeds don ' l even get b uilt. Endongered Gorden is a beg.
in ning, bul we still have a long way lO go towards rea lizing
thal public works can make a major co ntr ibution to bot h
ecology and public recreational space.
'" le ",
Harriet FEIGENBAUM
Reclamation Art [1986]
( ... ] In t he fall of 1984 1began th e qu est fo r another projed
si te, thi s li me armed wi th a gra nl from the NEA. Among
the new possi bilit ies was a silt pond shown to me by Ihe
Lacka wa nn a Co un ty d islricl forester. Fo rmerly part oflhe
Creenwood Co ll iery, t he pond is the property ofth e
Creater Scra nto n Ch amber ofComm erce. 11 is dramal ically
situated below a main ¡ cces s road and is framed on one
sid e by a se m ici rcula r 9 5 foot (30 m) hig h wall. 1decided lo
ma ke a proposal to the Cha m be r ofComme rce fo r
reclam at io n ofth e s ilt po nd. 1I turned oul Ihat th is sile
•
adjoi ned th at oflh e Chambe r's new offi ce park just gett ing
un derw ay. The pond was to beco me a wetlands area and
they were very muc h interested in a pro pos al fo r it. My
pro ject Erasion Control Plan for Red Ash and Cool Si/I Areo
- Wi/low Rings, ca lled fo r a double ring of willows for the
pond a rea and a n aceent a rc of willows above Ihe
se mici rcula r wall (sca r). This tim e 1would slart with ten 12
fool (366 cm) trees. The Chamber e nthus ias t ic¡lIy
su p ported the id ea a nd late r asked in wo u ld design the
grad ing ofth e sear. The t rees in the basi n w ill be planted in
the fa ll of 1985 and t he e nti re p roject is to be mainta ined as
a perma nenl wet lands for wi ld life.
As a resull oflhe Willow p rojed, th e Cham be r of
Com merce has asked me for proposals for other si tes,
ineludi ng seve ral fo r t he offi ce pa rk itsetf. The Storrs Pit
p rojeds ha ve also ins p ired new o ppo rtu nitie s for s iles o n
sca rred p ublic la nd.
", ,
Joseph BEUYS
Interview with Richard
Demarco [1982]
Richard Demarco You r ex t-lIbltlon al t he Antho ny d 'Offa y
Gallery strike s a sombre note underllned by Ihe t lt le ,
Dernitre Espote ave, In frospecfe¡,¡r. lt was co nceilled in 1964
around Ihe time o f your first eKh lbl t lo n at t he age o f 43 wlth
which It shares, an d I'm quoll ng here, 'a p red llec t lo n fo r
ce rt a ln angles and Images' . This Lo ndo n ex hibltlon was
firsl presented in Pafls In 1982 lf1 january. Thetltle could be
mlsu nderslood, bulln Carohne TIsd all'5 catalogue she
makes Ihe pOlfl t that 'It has no t to be inle rp re ted as a
personal slatement abou t the artl51' s demise, It has rather
more to do wlt h refl ecllng a feeh ng abou l the wo rld '. 1
know th al fro m the co nversatlon we had he re to n lght in
London Ihal your feelings abo ut the wo rld have led yo u lo
co nside r maklng a scul pt ure on a gigantlc sca le , a nd co uld
be In volvlng you In personal exp ress ion of po s ill ve and
o ptlmlsllC energy at Doc u me nt a t hls summe r, a nd wdl be

entitled appropnately for th l5, the seventh Documenta,
7000 Oo.ks. It wlll be a celebratlon of many t hmgs,
meludlng the life of Jean Clono, the fre ncn wrlter who told
the sloryofElzeard Bouffier, the french shepherd who, like
you, believed in Ihe importance of plantlng oak trees [. 1
Joseph Beuys II is right, and you see already, in thi5 title,
the words 'Iast space' appear5, in relation to time, This is
nol as a demise for my doings, It puts a kind ofline under
my so-called spatial doings in so-called environments. I
want il principaUy to mark the finish ofthis kind of work. 1
wish to go more and more outside, to be among the
problems of nature and problems ofhuman beings in Iheir
working places. Tnis will be a regenerative activity; it will
be a therapy for aH ofthe problems we are standing before
... Tnat i5 my general aim. I proposed tnis to Rudi Fuchs
when he invited me to participate in the Documenta. Isaid
that I would not like to go again inside the buildings to
participale in the setting up of so-called artworks. I wished
to go complelely outside and lo make a symbolic slart for
my enterprise of regenerating the life ofnumankind within
the body of society and lo prepare a posilive fulure in Ihis
conten.
1think the tree is an element of regeneration which in
itselfis a concept oftime. The oak is especially so because
it is a slowly growing tree with a kind of really solid
heartwood. II has always been a form ofsculpture, a
5ymbol for Inis planet ever since the druids, who are called
after the oak. Druid means oak. They used the ir oaks to
define their holy places. I can see sucn a use fortne future
as representing the really progressive character ofthe idea
of understanding art wnen it is related to the life of
humankind within tne social body in the future. Tne tree
planting enterprise provides a very simple but radical
possibility for tnis wnen we start with the seven thousand
oaks.
Demarco Why seven thousand. Joseph)
Beuys I think tnat is a kind of proportion and dimension ,
firstly because seven represents a very old rule for planting
Irees. You know Ihat from already existing places and
towns. In America tnere is a very big town called Seven
Oaks, also in England al Sevenoaks . Vou see that seven as
a number is organically, in a way, related to such an
enterprise and it matcnes also the sevenlh Documenta. I
said that seven trees is a very small ornament. Seventy is
not bringing us lo the idea of what I call in Cerman
Verwa/duni' It suggests making the world a big forest,
making towns and environments forest·like . Seventy
would not signify the idea. Seven hundred again was still
nol enough. So I felt seven thousand was something I
could do in the presenl lime for whicn I could take the
responsibility lo fulfil as a first step. So seven thousand
oaks will be a very strong visible result in three hundred
years. So you can see the dimension oftime.
Demarco It 15 beyond yourhfetlme and beyond Ihe
dlmension of the twentletn century.
Beuys Surely ...
Demarco . or even the contemporary art world and you
will see th l5 as a flrst step ...
Beuys I see it as a first step because this enterprise will
stay forever and I think I see comingthe need for such
enterprises: tree planting enterprises and tree planling
organizations, and for this tne Free International
University is a very goad body.
Demarco Vou can see young people aH Oller the world
becomlng an army ofhelpers.
Beuys Right.
Demarco Al! oller the world)
Beuys Surely.
Demarco Vou can see oak planlmg on the hill5 ofScolland
or Wales
Beuys ... and Sicily and Corsica and Sardinia .
Demarco You can see tne hillsides around Belfas!
beglnnlng 10 be covered.
Beuys Everywhere, everywhere in the world ... also in
Russia ... Ihere are loo few trees ... Let us not speak ahout
Ihe United States which is a completely destroyed country.
Demarco It 15 a sadness Isn' t It in ourllme that It is the
Umled States whlch is growing rockets, and nuclear
weaponry, rather than trees. Now you will make this
slalemenl to counterbalance Ih is, in the middle ofKassel.
Can you describe Ih ls enlerprise more precisely)
Beuys 1will start in very difficult places in Ihe centre ofthe
lown. There Ihe places are very difficult because tnere is
already coatings of asphalt and stone slabs with
infrastructures of electrical Ihings and the Cerman post
office. In the centre ofthe town the planting oftrees is
most necessary for the people that live there within an
urban contexto Tnere the planting ofthe trees will also be
most expensive. The whole thing I guess will cost ahout
three mi1lion Cerman marks.
Demarca And wno wllI provide th is money? You will have
to work wltn Ihe clly fathers.
Beuys Yes, but they will not gille money ... Ihe city will co-
operale in so far as they will support our activities with
tools.
Demarco and gardeners.
Beuys ... and vehicles sometimes, but principally I took
the responsibility for all ofthe money problems. 1will fulfil
this th ing and ask many different people for support. I
halle received already nelp for the start ofthis th ing, so for
this year I halle enough money to buy the slones - because
everytree is marked with a basalt stone.II's a natural form
which need nol beworked on as a sculptureor by
stonemasons. The stone is similar to what you will find in
the basalt columns oflhe Ciant's Causeway, but more
triangular in shape with filie, six or seven angles or
irregular angled stones which come from the volcanoes ...
Demarco wdl they come from Ihe volcanoes around
Kassel)
Beuys It is lIery organic because the nearest volcano to
Kassel is only thirty kilometres from the centre ofthe town.
1I is very natural lo lake the stone to the place wnere I will
plant tne trees.
Demarco What will be the date o flhe fi rsl plantlng)
Beuys It is already done.
ncmarco It is alreadydone ..
Beuys 1 planted the first symbolic tree in the centre ofthe
Friedrichsplatz. This is on the axis ofthe main building for
the Documenta exhibitions and on the right side ofthis
tree there is one stone already deposited. When the last of
the seven tnousand stones will disappear from tnis place it
will say thal the last ofthe seven thousand oaks is planted.
That will be maybe in three years ...
Demarco
• three years and 50 Iha! willla51
That wllI be for
'"
un!11 the next Documenta.
Beuys That's true ...
Demarco Can you lell me, J05eph, Jusi beforewe finish,
how this uee prOJect will allow you 10 conl1nue your work
on a new and wlderdlmenslon IhlS 15 a newdlmen510n
. II is a new step for you.
Beuys II is a new slep in th is working with Irees. It is nol a
real new d imension in the whole concept ofthe
metamorphosis of ellerytning on Ihis earth and ofthe
metamorphosis ofthe underslanding of arto It is about the
metamorpnosis oftne social body in itselfto bring it to a
new social order for the future in comparison witn the
elCisting private capitalistic system and state-cenlralized
communistic system. It has a 101 to do with a new quality of
time. There is another dimension oftime involved, 50 il
has a lot to do with the new understanding ofthe human
being in itself.
II has lo make elear a reasonable, practical
anthropology, lt is also a spiritual necessity which we have
to lIiew in relation to Ihis permanent performance. This
will enable it lo reach to the heart oflne existing systems-
especially lo the heart of economics - since the wider
underslanding of art is related lO ellerybody's creatille
ability.lt makes it very elear and understandable to
ellerybody that the capilal ofthe world is nol the money as
we understand it, but the capital is the human ability for
creativity, freedom and self·determination in all their I
working places, This idea would lead lo a neutralization of
Ihe capital and would mean Inat money is no fo nger a
commadity in the economy. Money is a bill for law, for
rights and duties you know ... it will be as real and willlead
to a democratic bank system ...
Demarco II wllI, In fact, bnng employment.
Beuys In fact it will organically prohibit every kind of
unemployment, and organically it will stop inflation and
deflation . This is beca use it dea ls with the rules of organic
money-f1ow. This makes elear that all these interpretations
ofthe future , especially the inlerpretations oftime, have a
lot to do wilh a new understanding oftne human being as
a spiritual being, Ifyou havethe spirit in focus , you nave
also another concepl oftime ... you see time on eartn is a
pnysical rea li ty. It takes place in space so it is the
space/time relation which Einstein is speaking about. This
already gives a kind of allusion to another dimension , but I
Ihink this other dimension is somelhing we have still to
detect ... Wnen I say we have stiU 10 delect it, il has already
been detected. It is there as one d imension in my work
which t show in the Anlhony d 'Offay Callery. This is the
warmth quatity ...
Demarco The quallly of warmth.
Beuys The qual ity of warmth . This dimension is, in fact,
anotner dimension tnat has noth ing to do with the space
and t ime relalion. It is anotner dimension wh ich comes to
exist in a place and which goes away aga in. This is a lIery
interesting aspect of physics, since until now most
physicists are not prepared to deal with the theory of
warmlh. Thermodynamics was always very complicated
stuff.
Love is Ihe most creatille and matter-transforming
DOCUMENTS

'" power. You see in th;s context it is very s imply expressed.
Now il ¡s nol s hown in very interesting diagrams which
one (ould also bring to th;s discussion o" But to promote
this ¡nte rest for all these necessities 10 the real
an thropology and nol this fa shio nable way of speaking
about anthropology ." in this relationship I start with the
most simple.looking activi ty, bul il ¡s a most powerful
activity; it is planting trees.
• 'Jnt ... ' " ' ' th
, possibilities for fluid interchange [ ... J
f "O 11 ght Hh Yon. 1990, pp 109-16
Bonnie SH ERK
Crossroads Community
[The Farm] [1977]
[ .. . ] As an art;st, I have tried 10 expand the concept of art to
¡nelude and even be life, and to make visible, (onnections
among different aesthetics, styles and systems of
knowledge. The mas1 recen1 and devotional vehide for
this coming together is a multicultural, agricultural
collaDorative art work called Ctossroads Commun ity (The
Farm ), or more simply, The Farm . This life-scale
environmental, performance sc u lpture, which is also a
non-profit public trust, and a co llage oflocal, State and
Federal sources, exists on a multitude oflevels induding
cartoon, metaphor, contradiction and action.
Physically, The Hum is a series of simultaneous
community gathering spaces, a farmhouse with earthy,
funky and elegant environments; a theatre and rehearsal
space for different art forms; a school without walls; a
library; a darkroom, unusual gardens; an indoor¡outdoor
environment for humans and other animals; and a future
cafe tea roo m , and nutrition/healing centre. Within these
places many people of different ages, backgrounds and
colours come a nd go, participating in and crealing a
variety of programmes which richly m ix with the life
processes of plants and animals_ AII ofthese life elements
are integrated and relate holistically with fascinating
interfaces. It is these interfaces which may indeed be the
sources o f emerging new art forms.
The Farm , as al ife frame, is particularly un usual,
howe ve r, because it juxtaposes, symbolically and actually,
a technological monolith with an art¡farm¡life complex.
Crossroads Community sits adjacent to a major freeway
interehange o n its southern side where four high-need
ne ighbo urhoods and three creeks converge. On its
northern boundaries, The Farm edges on a S.s·acre open
space ofland which the City ofSan Francisco has just
acquired for a neighbou rhood park. (The Farm was
instru mental in calling allention to the availability ofthis
land and convincing the City to buy it_)
Part ofThe Farm's dream is t o uncover the natural
resources ofthe earth, like the water which f10ws
und erneath, and to recycle the concrete which currently
covers the land to create rolling hillsides, meadows,
gardens, windmills, po nds, play and performing spaces,
IMPLEMENTATION
etc. This lush, green environment would connect The
Farm with the public elementary school that borders the
future park on the north.
The potential for this project which involves the
creative integrity ofits surrounding neighbours and sc hool
children is astoun d ing- as a model for other places and as
a possible series of solulions for the many urban errors
specific to this site. Another aspect for the future is to blur
the boundaries between land parcels and act on new
, t cal lnQu,ry Po 't Paper. ln InternH onal
,an Fran IS, Art lnstltute. IQ1
BusterSIMPSON
Hudson Headwater Purge
[1996]
The installation Hudson Headwaters Purge (1991 , New
York) is part of a conlinuing series, dating back to 1983.
The limestone sculpture is a populist environmental
agitprop, working both metaphorically and
pharmaceutically. As metaphor, it dramatizes the crisis of
person and planet as one, acid indigestion, acid rain - a
connection the media picked up on when they coined the
titles 'River Rolaids ' and ' Tums for Mother Nature'. The
numero us disks used in the Hudson Headwaters Purge
are of soft chalk limestone measuring 24 inches diameter
(61 cm) by 3 inches (8 cm) thick (formerly exhibited in the
Hirs hh orn Museum Fountain, Washington OC, 1989).
Pharmaceutically, limestone neutralizes or ' sweetens' pH
acid ic waters. The process of adding limestone to acidic
rivers is now a standard practice with environmental
agencies. Yet the source ofthe problem persists; power
and combustion. We remain resigned to the st op gap
solution, 'the bigger the problem, the bigger the pill'.
p' n. 'lIud
tate'" nt
Betty BEAUMONT
Script from the film The
JourneY[19so]
[ ... JAt the end ofthe 1970S, 1was working on a project al
Gateway Natio nal Park in the New York area and heard of a
group of scientists doing research on potential uses for
coal-waste from hydro-electric plants. It seemed that for
every 100 ra il ro ad cars of coal that go into these plants,
thirty carloads become waste material. At this time, there
was al so a n interest in converting oil power plants to coal
because oflhe supposed ' oil shortage' . Ifthis were t o
happen there would be a tremendous proliferation of coal·
waste material. The scientists working on the research
project were investigatin g the stabilization of coal-waste
so that it would not poll ute.
I was inlerested in doing an underwater project that
combined metaphor with underwater farming . While
investigating the use ofthe Atlantic continental shelf, a
dream emerged: to build an underwater 'oasis' thal would
be a productive, flourishing site in the midst of an area of
urban blight caused by ocean dumping. For the neKt year I
followed the s cientists' researeh and watched a test site
before 1 proposed using their coal-waste materials to build
the Ocean landmork Project in the Atlantic Ocean. The
project then developed through Ihe participation and co·
operation ofbiologists, chemists, oceanographers,
engineers, scuba divers, industry and rnyself. We dove for
a season and found asile just offFire Island National
Seashore about 40 miles (64.3 km) from New York City's
harbour. This site was selected beca use it was dose
enough t o shore that it could be fished . An importanl part
ofthis reef project is its ability to help feed people.
The wanted to find a way ofeliminating Ihe
•
wastes fro m a coal burning factory. A considerable amount
oftime and energy wenl into the shape and form ofthe
blocks and how to handle the materia1. Initially we built
metre by metre blocks which were much too large and
heavy. Then we built foot by foot blocks which, being hand-
mOlde, were very time-consuming and not at 0111 workable.
Finally we decided on a standard, available process and
utilized a block.making factory in Pennsylvania. From 500
tons (510 tonnes) of material, we made 17,000 blocks for
Ihis project [ ... J
The Ocean landmark Project establishes the co-
evolution oftechnology, humanity and nature.
I see my work as an are between nature and industry. I
view nature as a circular system, industry as a linear
system and my work as a curved element that overlaps
industry and nature. It comes from an eco-consciousness
and a concern for future generations. The Ocean
Landmork Project can theoretically last forever and never
be completed.
Setty 'SCrlpt f rom tllE Film 1M Journey ·.
Smadar GOLAN
To Raise the World [19S7]
' 1don 't care what they call it - art, or anti-art. The problem
is the society we live in.' He says, ' We've got to a point of
such contamination, s uch deterioration , that we have to
stop, and to start again, in a different way'. He was in a
quandary whether to see Arik Sharon as Ihe chief enemy of
the State oflsrael, orto concentrate on struggle within his
own movement - inc1uding the KibbulZ m ovement-
which too had become petrified and contaminated bodies.
More power, impressiveness, effectiveness had become
the product everyone was interested in. '1 felt that the
problem was becoming more and more internaL That I had
to conduct the struggle in my own home, my own quarter·
acre.'
Creenhouses in the heart ofEin·Shemer. The idea was
born ten years ago, at the KibbulZ's fiftieth anniversary
celebralions. Avi!al Geva, 'We asked ourselves if we are

'" capable of going back and learning how lo grow tomalees.
lhe tomato 15 a symbol. We estimated tha! growing
!omaloes and cucumbers for ourown kilchen was a kind
of actor return, return lo Ihe soil, lo simple work. And il
satisfies very many ¡nterests of co.operation,
experimentation and renewal.'
Renewal , in his view, begins in Ihe smanes! cell, Ihe
home. He defines Ihe e)(perimental area he would occupy
himself wilh in Ihe following rears as a socio-agricultural
domain. This project involves Ihe youngsters ofthe
Kibbutz. Each team is responsible for a crop, an
experimento 'Kibbutz Ein·Shemer', 5ays Ceva, 'has often
faced Ihe question of where lo place Ihe greenhouses - al
Ihe outskirts orlhe Kibbutz or in Ihe centre. Ifyou v¡¡lue
experiments, give them an appropriale place, give Ihem a
power! A social experiment in the centre ofthe Kibbutz,
Ihal's like a synagogue. A synagogue is buil! in the centre
of a settlement. 1I is close l o Ihe heart, where Ihe f,iction is.
Al Ihe Faculty of Agriculture and the Vulcani Inslitule, out
ofhundreds of researchers, we found several people who
were willing to try out ideas which perhaps could nol be
tried out in any olher place. We set up a grouping, we
found a planl in Tel Aviv Ihat produces industrial control
systems. This plant, adopted our youngslers,
I Ihey went to work there, and it su ppl ied us with industrial
I conlrol syslems for free. Once every two weeks someone
from the plant comes lo Ihe KibbulZ, and leaches Ihe
youngsters. Ifthere were more companies who would
devole a tenlh or a hundredth oftheir budget lo a school in
Iheir vicinity, we would become a lapan here wilhin five
years. We would surpass Ihe lapanese!'
Avital Ceva's model is co.operalion. A person alone, he
says, will nOI get anywhere. There is only one hope,
grouping. We must make changes from the base up, in
every social cell and in every plan!. Co-operation between
different people from different spheres. To open
everything up, and lo Iry everything. And withoul
pretensions. Without expecting quick results. To
investiga te, lo examine, lo observe and lo relate lo every
single thing as a work of art o
'Art too has a chance', says Avilal Ceva, 'iflhe
museums open Ihemselves lo Ihe electrician who makes
the fuse-board and the metalworker who makes the screw.
Wonderful things happen oulside art, and Ihe galleries
should be opened to these things.'
' My question, about what goes in the museums today,
is: are we touch ing upon Ihe painful queslions [ ... [? Or are
we going on sleeping wetl at nights and putting o n shows
and Conceptual Art did nol learn lo adapt ¡tself
lo life. Like any social or polilical movement that does nol
ren ew ilself, a rt is wilti ng.'
The focus, he claims, has moved from work in the
actual field, lo sorne field Ihat no one sees, lO perpetuation
in catalogues. Many artists have become dazzled and gone
commercial. 'What is the Iragedy? Thal everybody produces
in his own little hui and wants his painting lo reach Tel
Aviv. The people who co nduct Ihe art schools are arti51s
who have dedicated themselves lo small factories Ihat
produce small artisls. They leach Ihe pupils to produce art
th at can be hung on the wall. The great dream is lo gel lo
so me gallery, at Ihe most lo an exh¡bilion al the Tel Aviv
IMP LEt.lENT A TlON
Museum. The great dream is a catalogue.lfit says in the
catalogue - "has participated in Ihis or that number of
exhibitions" - the artist's s tocks rise. He gets more points.
'Thal game is over.lt's boring, stupid, a waste of
energy. NOlhing new or interesting happens lo raise
questions for Tel Aviv's bohemians. Nothing. It's sitly to
waste tim e in museums. They're cemeteries of arto What's
a museum? A factory for the preservation offis h or pickled
cucumbers .. .'
• " ,
q,
AvitalGEVA
Vital PrincipIes for the
Greenhouse [1993]
1. 1I is vital for the greenhouse lo be in an aulonomous and
sociallearning environment. The greenhouse must be an
autonomous body - a. y;s·¡j-y;sthe institution (the
'Mevo'ot Eiron' high school); b. in terms ofhow Ihe pupils
see themselves and their project.
The firsteducational goal: t o educate lowards self·
directedness, and hen ce Ihe framework has lO make Ihis
possible. If our framework does nol make possible a sense
of autonomy, it witllose ils most important source of
attraction.
z . In the greenhouse there must always be an element of
perpelual development, and each yearto start from the
beginning [ ... ]Ifthere is development, there is a
momentum. This is not a place just for final theses. The
ma in thing: this is a place where people build, and create.
3. The pupils and the crew will slrive to base the project
upon an economic balance ( ... [
4 . The institution's directors will decide ifthe instilution
will cover the additional expenses accruing lo the
greenhouse's special educalional melhods ( ... 1
o" 1. n even Ihe most radical model yields an earth far cooler Ihan
tepren Jay
'le Golden Rule: A Proper
rdle for Our Envlronmenta
r. ___ ,
THE COLDEN RULE
[ ... [ The issue of scale underlies the main contribution Ihat
my profession of paleonlology might make lo our larger
search for an environmental ethic. This decade, a prelude
lo Ihe millennium, is widely and correctly viewed as a
turning point that willlead either to environmenlal
perdition or stabilization. We have fouled local nests
before and driven regional faunas lo extinction, but we
were never able to unleash planetary effects before this
century's concern with nuclear fallout, ozone holes and
pUlative global warming. In Ihis conlext, we are searching
fo, proper themes and language lo express our
environmental worries.
I don 't know Ihat paleontology has a great de",1 to offer,
but t would advance one geological insight lo combat a
well-meaning, but se,iously tlawed (a nd alt too common),
position and lo focus allenlion on the right issue al the
•
proper scale. Two linked arguments are oft.en promoted as
a basis for an environmental ethic:
1. We live on a fragile planel now subject to permanent
derailment and disruption by human interventionj
z. Humans must lea,n to act as stewards for this
threatened world.
Such views, however well intentioned, are rooted in the
old sin of pride and exaggerated self-importance. We ",re
one among millions ofspecies, stewards of nothing. By
what co41d we, arising just a geological
microsecond ago, become responsible for the affain of a
world 4.5 billion years old, leeming with life Ihal has been
evolving and diversifying for al least three-quarters ofthis
immense span. Nature does not exist for us, had no idea
we were coming and doesn't give a damn aboul uso Omar
Khayyam was right in aH but his crimped view ofthe earth
as battered, when he made his b,iUianl comparison ofour
world lo an eastern hotel:
'Think, in this battered caravanserai
Whose portals are alternate night and day,
How sultan after sultan with his pomp
Abode his destined hour, and went his way. '
This assertion of ullimate impotence could be counlered if
we, despile our late arrival, now held power over Ihe
planet's future. Bul we don't, despite popular
misperception of our might. We are virtually powerless
overthe earth at our planet's own geological times cale. AII
the megalonnage in all our nuclear arsenals yields but one
len·lhousandlh the power ofthe ten kilomelre asleroid
th at might have triggered the Cretaceous mass extinction.
Vet Ihe earth survived thal larger shock and, in wiping out
dinosaurs, paved a road for the evolution oflarge
mammals, including humans. We fear global warming, yet
many happy and prosperous times of a prehuman pasto
We can surely destroy ourselves, and take many other
species wilh us, but we can barely dent bacterial diversity
and will surely not remove many mili ion species ofinsecls
and miles. On geological scales, our planel will take good
care ofitsetf and let time dear the impact of any human
malfeasance.
People who do nol appreciate Ihe fundament",1
principie of app,opriate scales often misread such an
argument as a claim Ihat we may therefore cease lO worry
about environmenlal deterioralion, just as Copeland
argued falsely that we need not frel about extinction. But I
ra ise the same counter.argument. We cannol Ihreaten at
geological scales, bul such vastness has no impact upon
us oWe have a legilimately parochial interest in our own
lives, the happiness ",nd prosperity of our children, the
suffering of our fellows. The planet will recover from
nuclear holocaust, but we will be killed and maimed by
billions, and ourcultures will perish. The earth will prosper
if polar icecaps melt under a global greenhouse, but most
•
of our major cilles, built at sea level as ports and harbours,
will founder, and changing agricultural patterns will
uproot our populations.
We must squarefy face an unpleasant historieal fact.
The eonservation movement was born, in large parto as an
e:litest attempt by wealthy socialleaders to preserve
wilderness as a domain for patrician leisure and
contemplation (against the image, so to speak, of poor
immigrants traipsing in hordes through thewoods with
thelr Sunday picnic basketsl . We have never entirely
shaken this legaC)' of environmenulism as something
opposed to immediate human needs, particularlyofthe
impoverished and unfortunate. 8ut the Third Workf
expands and contains most ofthe pristine habitat that we
yearn to preserve. Environmental movements eannot
prevail until they convinee people Ihal elean air and water,
solar power, recycJing and reforestation are best solutions
(as they are) for human needs at human sales -and not
ro, impossibly distant planeury futures .
I have a decidedly unradical suggestion to make about
an appropriate environmental ethic -one rooted , with this
entire e5say, in the issue of appropriate human seale vs.
the majesty, but irrelevanee, of geological time. I have
never been much attracted to the Kantian eategorieal
imperative in searehing for an ethic - to morallaws thal
are absolute and uncond itio nal, and do nol involve any
ulterior motive or end. The WOf"ld is loo complex and
sloppy fOf such uncompromising attitudes (and Cod help
us ir we embrace Ihe wrong principie and then fight wars,
kili and maim in our absolute eert.ainty). I prefer the
messier 'hypothetical imperatives' that invoke desire,
negotiation and rec:iprocity. Ofthese 'les ser', but
altogether wiser and deeper principies, one has stood out
for its independent derivation, with different words but to
the same effect, in culture after culture. I imagine thal our
various societies grope towards this principie because
structural stability (and basic dec:enC)' necesSilry for any
tolerable life) demand sueh a maxim. Christians call this
principie the 'golden rule'; Plato, Hille:I and Confucius
knew the same maxim by other names.1 cannol think of a
better principie based on enlightened self-interest.lf we all
lreated others as we wish lo be trealed ourselves, then
decenC)' and stability would have to prevait
I suggest that we execute sueh a pact with our planet.
She holds all the cards, and has immense power over us-
so such a compact, which we desperately need but she
does not al herown timeseale, would be a blessing for us
and an indulgence for her. We had better sign the papers
while she is still willing to malee a dea!.lf we lreat her
nicely, she will keep us going fOr a while. If we seraleh her,
she will bleed , kiek us out, bandage up and go about her
business at her own scale. Poor Richard told us that
' nec:e5sity never made a good bargain', but the earth is
kinder than human agents in Ihe 'art oHhe deal'. She will
uphold herend; we must now go and do likewise.

... •

••

DOCUMENTS
 m

For all its involvement with the physical aspects of the landscape.

Land Art is also a conceptual movement. This group of excerpts highlights aspects

of art making which. while touching on a wide array of issues involved with natural
•

settings and actualised artworks. stress landscape as idea ratherthan material.lf

the artists created actual ·things· at all. they tended to be peripheral to the land.

addressing aspects of space. time. distance. geography. astronomy. migration or

meteorology through gallery artefacts in written. photographic or diagrammatic

• •
formats. Such speculative endeavours were an important part ofthe Land Art

programme. expanding its theoretical context while carrying on the conceptual

tradition from which it was born. Another strand included here is that which

draws on the metaphoric and symbolic aspects of the land as framed bythe
I conventions ofthe garden .

this statement will join altogether to constitute the form of L. 3-6 miles (2 km) from Newcastle on California 193-
Douglas HUEBLER this piece. Materials: telephone pole and faked shadow.
"" The owner ofthis work will assume the responsibility 1. 5 miles (8 km) from San Andreason Highway 49. (near
Location Piece no . 14. Global
Proposal' [1969]
for fulfilling every aspect ofits physical execution .

During a given twenty four·hour period twenty four
photographs will be made of an imagined point in space
that i5 directly over each oftwenty four geographic
locations that exist as a series of points 15 longitudinal
degrees apart along the 45' Parallel North ofthe Equator.
The first photograph will be made at 12:00 Noon at o'
longitude nearCoutras, France. The neid, and each
succeeding photograph, will be made at 12:00 Noon as the
series continues on to 15' Longitude East ofGreenwich
(near Senj, Yugoslavia) ... on to 30', 45",60' , etc., until
completed at ls' longitude West ofGreenwich. 'Time' is
defined in relationship to the rotatlon afine Earth around
its aKis and as that rotation takes twenty four ·hours to be
completed each 'charge' oflime occurs at each 'S· of
longitude (Meridian); the same virtual space wilt exist at
' Noon' over each location described by the series set for
this piece. The twenty four photographs will document Ihe
same natural phenomenon but the poi nts from which they
will be made graphically describe 8,800 miles (14,159 km)
oflinear distance and 'fix' twenly four hours ofsequential
time al one instant in real time.
The twenty four photographs, a map ofthe world and
, '.
•
, ,.
•
"
• .. \ c'.
, . . Angel's Camp). Materials: non·toxic colour in creek.
F. Ben Hur Road. Soulh ofMariposa. 3.4 miles (5-5 km)
from California 49. Materials: scattered bits of red cloth.
, 0.3.4 miles (5.5 km) on Reed Road from junction 180 (near
Minkler). Materials: red yarn.
R. 14 miles (22.5 km) north ofKernville in Sequoia Nalional
John BALDESSARI Forest.l n Kern River. Materials: found rocks.
N. 4.10 miles (7 km) from Highway 395 on Death Valley
CALIFORNIA Map Project Road. 6 miles (10 km) on south side of road. Malerials:
rocks and dry colour.
[ 1969] l. Oulside lucerne. 11 .8 miles (19 km) from lucerne tire
station. 2 miles (3 km) offOld Womans Spring Road. Turn
Part 1: CAlIFORN lA al sign reading ' Partin limestone Products'. Malerials:
The following are photographs ofletters that spell white dry cotour. fThe letter is nearly invisible.}
CAlI FORN1A and ofthe map used for locating the site for A. ln Joshua Tree Nalional Monument. 15 miles (24 km)
each letter. The letters vary in scale from 1 inch (2.5 cm) lo from Twenty-nine Palms Visitors Centeron road lo
approximalely 100 ¡nches (250 cm), and in materials used. Coltonwood. Materials: dry cotour, rocks , desert
The letters are located as nearly as possible within the area wildflowerseed.
occupied by the letters on the map.
The idea was to see the landscape as a map and to actually
C. Off)ones' Valley Road. 9 miles (14.5 km) from Highway execule each letter and symbol ofthe map employed on
299leading from Redding. On bank offinger ofShasla the corresponding part oflhe earth. It was an attempt to
Lake. Materials: found logs. make the real woTld match a map, lo impose language on
A. On road to Paradise. 7 miles (11 km) from intersection of natu Te and vice versa.
Paradise Road and Highway 99 (near Chico). Malerials:
paint on rock.

IMAGINING

Gordon MATIA- CLARK
Interviewwith Ava/anche
[1974)
i - .I AYa1a ",;'e ¡¡ 'wa ys thought ofyol.l as Vvork,ng w. th,n
a o iHm lectura l context.
Gordon MortQ·CJor/¡; Not ilrchitectural in the ruict sens!!.
Most ofthe things "ve done that have 'architectural'
implic.ations are really about non.architecture, about
something that's an alternative to what's normalty
considered ilrchitecture. The Anarchitecture show at 112
Greene Street last year - which never got ver)' strongly
6:pressed -was about something cther than the
esbblished architectural vocabular)', witnout getting fixed
into anythlng too formal.
A.;c¡ 'onche Ooyou see che Humphrey Street buil d Ing as a
p e<:e ofil narch, tecture)
Motto-CIQrlc No. Our thinking about anarchitecture was
mOfe eJusive than doing pieces that would demonstrate an
alternate attitude to buildings, or, riltner to theattitudes
that detennine containerization of usable space. Those
attitudes arevery deep-set •.. Architecture is environment
too. When you ' re living in a city the whole f.!.bric is
architectur.al in some sense. We were thinking more about
metaphoric voids, gaps, left-over spaces, places thilt were
not developed.
Ao,toio"dle Whilt s iI m etapho rlc vOld>
Motto-Clork Metaphoric in the sense that their interest or
value wasn't in their possible use ...
AVQiorlcne You m eil n you were ,nterested ,n these spilces
on so rne non·funct ,onal Je\ie l
Matla-Cla,k er on a functionallevel that was so ab'Surd
as to ridicule the idea offunction ... For example, the places
where yau stop tatie your shoe-Iaces, places that ilre just
in terruptions in yOU( own daily movements. These places
are also perceptually significant be ' ause they make a
reference to movement space.
When I bought those properties at the New York City
Auction the description ofthem that always excited methe
most was ' inaccessible'. They were a group offifteen
m ia().panels ofland in Queens, left-over properties from
an architect' s dr.awing. ene or two ofthe prize ones were a
foot strip down somebody' s driveway and a square foot of
s idewa lk. And the others were kerbstone and gutterspace.
What I basicaltywanted to do was to designate spaces that
wouldn't be seen and ceruinly not occupied. Buyingthem
was m)' own take on the stnr.ngeness of existing property
demarcation lines. Property is so all.pervasive. Everyone's
notion ofownership is determined by the use factor ( ... 1
- - -.
- -
George BAKER
Christian Philipp Müller. A
Balancing Act (1997)
THE RETRePERSPECTIVE
One ofthe more melancholic, at times devastating, laws of
history Hes in the fact that it is only with the decay of a
given object - with the ruination of an institution, the
break.up of a cultural formation , the obsolescence of a
concept -that its history becomes visible for the first time,
thilt it recomes available for historial contemplation .
What then are we to make of a Documenta exhibition
defined by its curator as a ' retroperspective', as an
exhibition that willlook back upon its predecessors to
more c1earl)' define the cultur.al situation ofthe present?
ETERNITY
Following a suggestion by c.atherine David, Múller' s
project for Documenta X began with a simple question,
what physical traces have been left in the city ofKassel
after nine Documentas? Noticing during the course of
1996 that the Friedrichsplatz had been disfigured forthe
construction of an underground ar park, Múller bec.ame
interested in the two site-specific sculptures still to be
seen there: Walter De Maria' s The Vertical Eortn KilomeUr
and the first and last trees from Joseph Beuys ' 7,000 Oob
project. Before the opening ofDocumenta 6, on May 6 ,
'9n,construction began on De Maria' s work, a sculpture
that involved the drilling of a hole one kilometre into the
earth; a solid br.ass circular rod, two inches in diameter
and one kilometre long, was dropped into the hole. The
sculpture' s placement originally marked the centre
uossing ofthe pathways th ilt bisect the Friedrichsplatz.
Joseph Beuys' Documenta 7 proposal was to plant 7.000
oak trees throughout the city ofKassel¡ Beuys planted the
first ofthe oak trees with a basalt stone marker in the
Friedrichsplatz on Match 16, 1982. After Beuys' death in
1986, the last ofthe 7,000 trees was finally planted nex! to
the first by Beuys' widow and his son to mark the opening
ofthenex! Documenta in 1987.
In their different ways, both projects had evidently left
the physical frame ofthe museum , opting for placement in
the urban space ofKassel. But had they truly escaped their
institutional frame? On the Friedrichsplatz, De Maria's
e.arthwork and the first and last ofBeuys' trees seem lo act
as little more than logos for the museum building standing
directJy behif'd them.
while participating in the permanence implicit in many
site-specific projects, these worlu push that definition
onto a qualitatively differenl level: they aim to be eternal
both in their material embodiment and artistic
implications. The sovereign desire upon the part ofboth
Beuys and De Maria to mark the face ofthe city
permanently was a desire eventually deflated by the city of
Kassel itself. Wrth its construction of a ar park completed
during 1996, the city liter.ally pulled the rug out from
beneath both worlu by redesigning the very face ofthe
Friedrichsplatz. De Maria's Vertical Earth Kilomete, no
lo rlger marks the centre ofthe place todar; it has been
shunted offto one side, almost forgotten in Ihe grand
sweep and new symmetries ofthe plaza. Beuys' trees and
basalt stones are also now placed in a completely iIIogical
proportion to the path system.
A split between the site and the art - a split that echces
Ihe long emerging one between Documenta and Kassel-
now registers physkally on the skewed face ofthe m
Friedrichsplatt.
A DIALECTICAL IMACE
With the Vertical Eartn Ki/ameUr and the key trees from
7,000 Oob squarely facing each other upon the
Fried richsplatz, it is as ifthe internal history ofthe
Documenta exhibitions had concretized what Walter
Benjamin has called a ' dialectical image' , an idea he
darified as 'dialectics al a standstill'. Far the projects of
Beuys and De Maria seem to represent the two peles
between which art in the twentieth century has always
oscillated, the irreconcilable 'torn halves' that the entire
avant·garde project ofthe twentieth century has not yet
been able to bridge: the aesthetic and the social spheres,
art that defines itself as apure aesthetic construct and
avant.garde projects that aim at pure social effectivity.
A CIRCUS ACT
And what ofthe contemporary artist today, presented to an
in ternational audience at Documenta X in 1997? One
could see Ch ristian Philipp Muller's ' exhibition within an
exhibition' as a retreat Moller chooses to withdr.aw into
the museum itself, occupying a space within it that frames
a vista bad onto the Friedrichsplatz. A space is thus
provided for contemplation ofthe current sUte ofthe
urban space, the skewed Vertical Earth Kilamner, and
Beuys' oak trees - a space resolutely within the frame of
the museum, one tnat attempts to provide a
contemplative distance within which to regard the recent
and seemingly irreconcilable difficulties that plague the
attempt to create a truly public art. In this space, a brief
history ofthe Friedrichsplatz is presented; documents
relevant to the funding ofthe two sculptures are displayed.
Finally, Múller places a six·metre long balancing red upon
a sculptural base, a bar conslructed hillfin brass, halfin
oak (Ioosely pastiching De Maria' s rhe Beginning ond Erld
oflnfinity (1g87]). The placement ofthis sculpture
punctuates the visU's continuation into the room within
the museum.
- •
- • •
-,
,
,
• • •
•
TerryATKINSON and
Michael BALDWIN
Sorne Notes (1967)
' Other maps are such shapes, with ther, islands and
capes!
But we've gol our brave Captarn to thank '
(So the crew would protest) 'that ne' s bought us the best-
A perfect and absolute blank!'
DOCU t.4EN TS
In contrast, a map in Carroll's Sylvie and Bruna Conduded,
Chapter 11, has everything on it. The German Professor
explains how his country's cartographers experimented
with larger and larger maps until they finally made one
with a scale of a mile to the mile. 'It has never been spread
out, yet', he says. 'The farmers objected; they said it would
coverthe whole country, and shut out the sunlight! 50 now
we use the country itse!f, as its own map, and I assure you
it does nearly as well.'
- Martin Gardiner, 'The Annotated Snork'
1.MAPTO NOT INDICATE ...
The map is designed to indicate 'not indicating'. lowa and
Kentucky are indicated in one mode - delineated sub·
areas labelled 'Iowa ' and 'Kentucky' within the whole map
area, the size of which, obviously, is dependent upon the
scale used, and the shape of which, obviously, is
dependent upon which area is mapped. The second mode
is a list of proper names succeeding the phrase 'map to not
indica te' . Thislist of names indica tes the relevant areas
not indicated on the map aboye it. Thus these two modes
might be summarized as follows:
(1) The afea where indication is indicated (the map area).
(a) The area where 'non·indication' is indicated (the list
area).
Mode (1) uses mode (a), Le., there is an act ofnaming in
both modes, but mode (a) derives its signiticance through
its relationship to mode (1), whereas mode (1) could
function simply as a 'map to indicate lowa and Kentucky'.
Ifthere were no delineated area distinct from the
delineated sub·afeas, there would be no 'map lO not
indicate'.
There are other possibllities here. Consider, for
example, a map ofthe same geographical area, this time
with alllhe 5lates, areas, etc., delineated upon Ihe map·
area, again the areas normally named Arizona, New
Hampshire, Tennessee, etc., are la belled ' Not Arizona',
' Not New Hampshire', ' Not Tennessee', etc. This would be
a map to indicate 'Not Arizona' etc. Such a map would be
'nonsense' of a kind because the negative particle is either
false, or it invites the production of another name. 'fet such
a scheme would be correct if, for example, the delineated
area normally named Arizona was labelled 'Not New York'
and so on throughout the whole map synopsis. Only this
time the map would be a map to indicate what was not
where rather than the conventional what is where. Where
there is no road in a certain place we do not convenlionally
indicate Ihis fact upon the relevant map by labelling it
'There is no road at this point'.
2. MAPOF A THIRTY·SIXSQUARE MllE 5URFACE AREA
OFTHE PACIFIC OCEAN WESTOFOAHU
The map is one where there is nothing to indicate within
the contex1 of a normalland and sea contiguration map. By
mapping the surface one eliminates questions relating to
Ihe depth oflhe ocean, and as there is no land within the
area chosen , there is nothing to indicate within the frame
of reference of a conventiona' map. But strictly speaking
IMAGI NING
the map cannol achieve what it says it does because the
surface ofthe Pacific Ocean is not completely flat - the
waves ' have height' and are constantly in motion. (The
only technique we can tentatively suggest as onewhich
might prove an adequate one for mapping an area such as
the surface of an ocean is a laser three·dimensional kinetic
projection involving temporal correlation as opposed to
our normal map·making convention ofspatial
correlation.)
3- MAPOF ITSELF
This map maps the area it is and consequently ceases to be
a map. A map by definition is a representation where the
spatial organization is such that each point on the
'drawing' corresponds to a geographical, celestial, etc.,
position according to a definite scale or projection. This
'map' has no correspondence with anything else but itself
in terms ofthe spatial indices. It is 'the country itselr.
, ned not
Anne-Marie SAUZEAU
BOETII
Introduction to Classifying
the Thousand Longest
Rivers in the World [1977]
Classifying in order ofsize is the most common melhod of
organizing information within a given category. In the case
of rivers, size can be expressed in the first, second orlhird
power, that is in km, km' or m ' (Iength, drainage area or run
off). The criterion oflength is the most arbitrary and
ingenuous but slill Ihe most usually applied. 'fet it is
impossible to measure the length of a river, because ofthe
thousand perplexities raised by its flowing existence
(because ofits meandering and going through lakes,
beca use ofits branching around isla nds and shifting in its
delta area, because of man's interference along its course,
beca use ofthe elusive boundary between fresh and salty
waters). Many rivers have never been measured because
their banks ortheir waters cannot be reached, even water
spirits sometimes join the flora and fauna to keep men
away. As a result, some rivers flow wilhout a name, either
unnamed on account oftheir untouched reality or
unnamable on account of some superstitious prohibition.
(A few months ago, a pilot who was flying low aboye the
Brazilian forest discovered a ' new' tributary to the
Amazon.) Other rivers cannot be measured because they
do havea name, a casual namegiven by men (a single
name along the whole course whenever the navigable river
is a carrier ofhuman communication, different names
whenever the awe·inspiring river merely visits isolated
groups): now, the entity of a river can be established either
in relalion to its name (a trace ofhuman adventure) or to
its hydrographic entirety (the adventure ofthe water from
its most remote head spring down to the sea, without any
record ofthe names given lO the various segments). The
problem is that the two adventures rarely coincide. Usually
the explorer's adventure goes against the stream, starting
from the sea; on the contrary the river's adventure ends in
it. The explorer who proceeds upstream has to toss his
way at each branching since aboye each confluence
everything becomes rarefied; the water, at times the air,
bul always his OWfl certainty; whereas the river Ihat flows
down towards the sea gradually condenses its waters and
the certainty ofits ineluctable way. Who can say whether il
is betterto follow the man orlhe water? The water, say
modern geographers, objective and humble. And they
start lo recombine Ihe identity ofthe rivers. An example:
the Mississippi ofNew Orleans is not properly the
edension ofthe Mississippi which rises from Lake Itasca
in Minnesota, as you may learn at school, but of a brook
that rises in Western Montana under the name ofJefferson
Red Rack River and becomes the Missouri lower down .
•
This is so beca use, at the Mississippi.Missouri confluence
in St. l ouis, the number ofkilometres aboye the junction is
greater on the Misso uri side. But it is a fact that this
'scientific method' is actually applied only to the large
prestigious rivers, those liable to compete for records of
length. Such methodological readjustment is not wasted
on minor rivers (Iess than800 km in length). Theywill
continue to be called (and measured) according to thelr
only baptismal na me, though when they have two
headstreams (corresponding to two other names) the
major might rightly be included within the course ofthe
mainslream. The present classification mirrors Ihis
double method, it follows both the law ofthe waler and the
law of men , since such is the state ofinformation at
disposal. In a word it mirrors the partial game of
information ratherthat the fluid life of water. This
classification was started in 1970 and concluded in 1973.
Some data were transcribe<:! from famous publications,
many un·edited data were elaborated from
communications with non.European geographical
institutes and study centres, governments, universities
and single scholars .111 over the world. This convergence of
documentation is bolh the substance and the meaning of
the work. The innumerable asterisks conlained in these
thousand files raise innumerable doubts and work as a
counterpoint to the stiff classifying method. The partial
information available regarding rivers, the linguistic
problems connected lo their idenlity, and the very elusive
nature ofthe waters, mean thal the present classificalion-
like .111 preceding or following ones -will always be
provisional and iUusory.
Anne·".JrleSiYlPiU Jett·. 'In1e<au(t )n·. fyinqthe
Ht It' book'. A' 1, P, tuly. 19;-
lan Hamilton FI NLAY
More Detatched Sentences
on Gardening in the Manner
of Shenstone [1985]
Cardening activity is offive kinds, namely, sowing,
planting, fiJdng, placing, maintaining. In so far as
gardening is an Art, all these may be taken under the one
head, composing.
Take a small grove of pine trees and dry.pave Ihe ground
wilh common brick. Now sweep the fallen pine-needles
around Ihe base ofeach tree.
Where Ihe viewer is solitary, imagination is the scale.
In ourdimate, why should we not provide some of our
garden features at least with shadow - formed , say, of
brick- in lieu ofthe sun?
Et in Arcadia ego: the cool rool ofstone, pleasing to the
earthworm, renders the dassical (as opposed to the
plant) garden very vulnerable to the mole.
Strawberries grown in hollow logs stood uprighl are nol
inferior lo small orchuds in the pleasure given by the
bark, and leaves, and fruit.
Formal gardens are (as il wereJ statues of Nature.
It is permissible, in theArt of gardening, to substitute a
mooring·post for a boat.
What an extraordinary apparition is a tree in leaf!
People who say that there are three dimensions have
never practised the art ofbricklaying. They should read
Duns Scotus: 'Every quanlity has extension in three
dimensions: length , width and depth. These three
dimensions in turn are extended lo Ihe number si., for
length extends upward and downward, width to the r¡ght
and lO Ihe left, and depth frontward and backward. ' -
And that is only the beginning.
The small caves formed by Meadowsweet should now
and then be inhabited by a comprehensible fragmenl of
light·coloured stone.
Prefabricaled - that is, reconstituted stone - columns
elc. have a low standing wilh present tasle, but a
justification in Plato.
Better than trulh lo materials is Iruth lo inlelligence.
The dull necessity of weeding arises, hecause every
healthy plant is a racist and an imperialist; every daisy
leven) wishes lo establish fo, itself an Empire on which
Ihe sun never sets.
The most singular aspect of old formal gardens is Ihal
one cannot put a name to the rtuff- sand, gravel, pine
needles, last year's leaves? - which forms the body ofthe
paths.
When the Shepherdperson came in, surely Pan was out.
The opinions oflhe angry gardeners, Robinson,
Blomfield, Payne Knight, etc. are always the most
diverting, if no! the most practica!.
Nut. n. an Arcadian alom: an emblem ofunostentatious
coun!ry integrity: Ihe shephe,d 's snack; Ihe squirrel's
dict; a thought of autumn in May.
Weather is the chief content of gardens; ye! it is the one
Ihing in Ihem overwhich Ihe gardener has no control.
If war.galleys were a main subject of sculpture in Roman
gardens, why should nol stone aircraft carriers -
representations of our modern Imperial Navies - be
thought proper in ours?
... Yet, harmony is a content ... And yet, what is the
content ofharmony?
The inscription seems out of place in the modern garden.
It jars on our secularism by suggesting the hierorchies of
the ward.
The sundial's true cantent is Time, the clock's is thelime.
The pagan sundial tells the hour by a beam, the Christian
by a shadow.
In the proper categorising ofthings, the sundial is lo be
found wilh the sta!ue and Ihe urn, rather than with the
clock.
Sundials only appear to tell the time; rather, they tel! old
cottages, silence, cumulus clouds, elm trees, steeples
and moss. likewise, weathercocks lel1 forests , bird flocks ,
scare<:rows, seaport.s and ships.
Bird.dropping. n. (ifbefore The Berry Season), an antique
highlight.
The presence ofthe straight line is dominant in the
serpentine, whose undulations are so many departures
from Ihe idea ofthe straighl. One cannot see an
undulating line without forming the thought of a straight
I¡ne, whereas Ihe straighl line does nol produce the
thought oflhe serpentine, but appears complete in itself.
This applies to the conceptualline, as well as to the line
of a lawn, flowerbed or trees.
A lawn is by no means mere short grass.
Oetached lawn: a very small area of clipped grass, the
size of a napkin or a tableclolh, occurring outwith the
bounds ofthe formal garden.
The obelisk is a very self·convinced formal element.
Brown made water and lawns (etc.) Palladian elements,
as much as lord Burlington did, his columns and
porticos.
Brown made water ap pear as Water, and lawn as uwn.
'"
1I is the case wilh gardens as with societies: some Ihings
require 10 be fixed so tnat others may be ploced.
The Weed Carden has elevated the stinging nettJe from
an emblem of sloth - i.e. human sloth - to one ofh igh
moral inlegrity.
It is a fact, al present overlooked , that the disorder of
weed Cardens stops short in the weeds themselves.
The weed Carden, or, Indolence Justified .
A dark proverb: The more compost heaps, the fewer
teaspoons.
Artificial gardens - as lamb describes them - now strike
1,15 as not at all artificial, since they have been made
' natural ' by time.
One visilor will abbreviale the garden, anolher enlarge it.
To one, il is the entertainment often minutes, to anolher
Ihe meditalion of a day.
Wind benefits a lake, a pond or pool is entirely spoiled by
it.
The garden pool leaches what the Presocralics knew, that
land wishes to be water and water, land.
Composition is a forgotten Art.
Bark is to boat as panzer is to tank.
As public seK was embarrassing to the Victorians, public
dassicism is to uso
In this age, a frog in Ihe garden pond is of more interest
Ihan a budding water.lily. And a water.lily is of much
more interest than an inscription or a sculpture.
The mOSI s ingular and pleasing aspect of water - strange
to say - is its flatness .
Both the garden style called 'sentimental', and the French
Revolution , grew from Rousseau. The garden trellis, and
Ihe guillotine, are alike entwined with the honeysuckle of
the new 'sensibility'.
The main div ision ofgardens is into art gardens and
botanical gardens. Compared to this division all the
others - 'The Carden as Music', 'The Carden as a Poem'
- etc. - are superficial .
The gardens of Kent and Brown were mistakenly referred
to the Chinese aesthetic, just as today's thoughtful
gardens are considered 10 be Japanese. 'Japanese garden '
has come to s ignify no more than 'art garden'. The
contemporary 'sculpture park' is not - and is nol
considered to be - an art garden , but an art gallery out-of·
DOCU M ENT S
d oors. It is a parod y ofthe dassical garde n native to the
West.
Seeing the first wild flower in s pring is not as me m orable
as picking Ihe last goose berry in au tu mn.
Us ed tools mo ralise.
In Sritain, ideallandscape is coloured silver, in Italy, gold.
¡ aM Ha", I f 1MI ay. 'l1ore Detached Sentences cn Ga rden! og
lO M.Moer 01 ,henstone', priMted 1M YVB Idn
IIdm,lton A V/5u.l Pr1mer, Reaktlon B, ,ks, londo/!,
p. 38
William FURLONG
Time Garden [1993]
Time Carden is a new site-specific work fo r outdoor
installation at KiUerton Pa rk, Devo n.lts co ncerns extend
those ofthe Radio Carden made in 1988 for the Tyne
International, Cateshead.
Time Carden is structu red accord ing to twelve ofthe
world's time zones and co mprises twe lve trays , each 8 feet
x 2 feet (244 x 61 cm), planted with grass seeds from one
ofthe zones. The composition ofthe growi ng medi um in
each ofthe trays also relates to that found in one o fthe
zones.
At the end of each tray, a d ock is s et t o a one hou r time
difference thus creating a chro nological atla s.
The trays were installed as low tables o n the wind·
swept approach to Killerton Ho use, du ri ng the months
lune to October.
In some trays the grasses will t hrive, whereas in others
seed will fight for germination and surviva l. The growth
will also be affected and determ ined by the Srit is h dimate
and weather conditions.
like the Radio Carden, the work ex plores the p rocess
of'remapping' the world not bas ed o n political borders
and boundaries or geographicalland mass, but in the Time
Carden through vertical divisions, d issecti ng the earth 's
latitude.
Other themes in the work refer to the practice ofearlier
occupants ofKillerton house who collected seeds and
plants from far-f1ung o utposts ofth e Srit is h Empire during
Irading visits. The results can be dearly observed in the
artificially constructed landsca peofKiUerto n Park.
The work could also bedesc ri bed as a serie s o f 'time·
tables' which embody the indexing of t ime, both
chronolo gically as well as th rough the time sules of
natural growth.
' Timeles s ', ' time wa rp', 'ti me sea le', 't ime frame' and
't ime running out' come to mind at Kille rton as do the
inesca pable re lationsh ips between the fertile and
productive environment ofthe park and s urrounding
afeas, and other locations around the world where human
s urv ival and existe nce depend on fragile and often host ile
socio-ecological balances.
.. , 1a Furlong, 'Time Garden·. Ha·//a: Contemporar, 8rll,5/!
Mt in 1M! 18th Centur)', UnlVer$lty of Ply,"oulh. Devon. 1993
IM AGI NING
GuyTORTOSA
A Seasoned Ga rden [1995]
Lothar Baumgarten eICplains that the name ofthe garden
he has conceived for the Fondation Cartier refers to the
medieval compendia in which the monks, with legendary
patience, inventoried and dassified all the species known
to them at the time: primarily medicinal plants but also
aromatic ones intended for the kitchen. This was a time
when the West was rebuilding itself. People were reading
Aristotle, Theophrastes, Dioscurides and of course the
Bible. like Noah, the monks were counting living
creatures in orderto lay the foundations of a new world.
Despite the fact that it looks like an untamed meadow,
Baumgarten's garden is thus quite cultivated. lts roots go
back to a distant European past in which France as a
nation-state with its present borders, whether artificial or
natural, did not yet eICist, but where there was already a
whole vegetation offlowers (columbines, daisies, poppies,
lilies, cornflowers) and trees, those ofthe plains and the
mountains, the South and the North (pines, chestnuts,
birches, poplars, alders, oaks, olives). AII that was already
there, like new, singular and yet similar to the vegetation of
other countries where learned monks - those of5t. Gall ,
Canterbury or Reichenau, for example - were working in
theircommon language, latin, to give names to both the
most sophisticated offlowers, such as the mandrake or
the orehid , a nd the most modest of plants, the rue, the
cloveror the dandylion.
like the gardens ofthe Middle Ages, those ofthe
fortified castles and abbeys, Theotrum Botanicum is
enclosed. By glass on the boulevard Raspail side, by stone
on the so uth, and by the walls and fences that hem it in
and protect its most remote section ( .. . 1
The plan ofthe garden is based at once on the
rectangle, the cirele, the oval and the triangle. Each of
these geometric figures is embedded in another. The
ellipse ofthe fountain is the smallest_An immense
isosceles triangle appears to contain all the others, and
particularly the rectangle that No uvel's building traces on
the ground. At the far end ofthe garden, a chestnut tree
and a walnut tree occupy a right angle. At certain points,
their rruits reac h over the wall to tou ch those of an old fig
tree on the neighbouring property thus offering passers.by
the possibility of a go urmet snack. In May, the ground is
covered with the ¡ittle white and pink blossoms that fall
from the chestnut Iree. ln its shadow, there is also an elder,
fallen branches and lilies-of-the-valley, lungworts and
different varieties ofhellebore. Going back down towards
the boulevard, in the no rthern part but with full southern
expo sure, there are the herbs ofthe South , thyme, sage,
balm and mint, and farther on, strawberry plants, Aaron's
rods and red campion swaying over a carpet of moist
grass, horsetails, fritillaries , gunneras and cow parsnips
whose s tems and f10wers can be nine feet long by the time
the gardener's shears make them disappear in autumn.
This Is an urban garden, an art garden , a garden of
memory, a sensual garden. There is no end to the
definitions that can be applied. lndeed, gardens are
difficult to categorize. Nature contains everything - space,
time, life, movement, sight, smell - to such an extent tnat
we can never understand it in its entirety. For this reason,
the artof gardens 15 probably the most complete and the
least abbrevialed of all arts. Aesthetic theory cannot
eIChaust ¡t. To such an extent that the theories of sensation,
ofthe total artwork, ofthe work in progress, ofthe 'well
done, badly done' that was so dear to Robert Filliou, or of
•
tne 'social sculpture' dear to Joseph Beuys can all find in it
a form of realization that the so·called visual arts,
seemingly more lasting, often attain only imperfectly.
Theotrum Botonicum is urban in the same sense as the
great public parks which have constituted indispensable
breaths of greenery and calm in Ihe heart of polluted cities
since tne nineteenth century. Its environment is hardly
friendly. Soulevards and buildings surround it on all sides.
Which makes it easy to understand why this is a garden
tnal prlvileges tbe..vegetal and the animal and not, as
might be the case in certain less urban environments, the
mineral. This conception is radically different from that of
the French garden, which advanced in an organic,
omnipresent nature, while Theotrum Botanicum attempts
to house nature once again in the centre of a
geometricized form from which it has gradually been
excluded. André Le Notre, gardener to louis XIV, was
commissioned to open vistas; he created highways before
their time. The avenue that was to connect the Tuilleries to
the height of5aint-Germain.en.laye was to have
measured over nine miles. In the inorganic city, the
contemporary garden gives nature a place once again. It is
endosed like the medieval garden because what
surrounds it is voracious, and the inhabitants are afraid
Ihat they cannot protect themselves. The dassic garden
confounds inside and outside; through its design, humans
e:w:press the feelingthat they can nave power over what
surrounds it. The other garden cultivates the inside
against an outside pereeived as confused or hostile.
But the urban character ofthis garden depends also on
its urbanity, its 'social' composition . lts guests are
numerous. Saumgarten has inventoried some 150
indigenous or immigrant varieties of vegetation. Some of
Ihem, especially a few tall trees with their majestic bearing,
have been there for a long time; others had disappeared
and were reintroduced. A certain number were brought by
the artist and his assistants in the form ofseeds or young
shoots, while others, impossible to count with any
precision, will be carried by the wind, insects, animals or
visiton and move in without warning. The list that
Baumgarten has made ofthe inhabitants ofhis garden
indudes the bedbug, the dragonfly, the bumblebee that
settles between the stones ofthe walls, the blue titmouse,
the ladybird that devours aphids, the prattling magpie, the
nocturnal owl, the peacock butterfly, the pied woodpecker,
the blackbird, the moth, the oak jay, the mole with its 50ft,
mottled fur, the nuthatch that makes ils way head first
down the tree trunks, the cricket, the ringdove that is tne
most urban of all the animals in this garden, the thrush,
the fly, the sparrow, the wasp, the mouse that is not just
found in laboratories, the wagtail, the robin , the warbler,
the anl. More open-ended than a register ofbirths,
marriages and deaths, thislist is like the credits of an
infinite film in which the actors who are the inhabitants
and passing guests oflhis botanical theatre are going to
•
offer each stroller curious enough lo perceive it the
spectacJe of nalure's fortunes and misfortunes. This
garden is Ihus urban not only because it lies in the heart of
Ihe city bul also because it constitutes a city.
If, as Plato, Aristotle and many authors after them have
written, it is Irue Ihal there can be no happy republic
wilhoul a greal diversity of staluses, genders, inteUigences
and origins (cenain trees Ihal are perfectly assimilaled
here nonetheless lay elaim to remote origins: Japan for the
sephora, America forthe plane tree and the locust j,
Theolrllm Bolonicllm has every chance ofbeing a happy
city. People will doubtless argue Ihere, love each other
there, work there, exchange friendly and unfriendly
services. The tiger molh 's caterpillar will settle on the
lea ves oflhe comfrey; the mayflower, alias cardamine
protensis, will welcome Ihe orange tip butterfly underthe
na me of onlhocoris cordimines; Ihe nettte will take care of
Ihe peacock butterfly's caterpillar whether he likes it or
not, while under Ihe bark ofthe tree, the typographer bark
beetle will make drawings, and maybe one day soon , when
the pied woodpecker will have done his job, an owl will
make his home in the trunk of a walnut or chestnut tree.
Theotrllm Botonicum is also an art garden.
Baumgarten has not conceivecJ it differently. The trees, the
flowers , the fountain , Ihe animals, the strollers and even
the sky wiU serve as sculptures here. The ereation of a
garden always begins with the composilion ofthe ground.
Poar and dry in one place, moist and rich in another, the
ground, lib the background of a painting, determ ines the
garden 's outside appearance. Similariy, in Ihe slrict sense
ofthe word, thework ofthe artíst is invis ible here. As is the
garden itself. Theolfum Botanicum is invisible because it
is new, bec.ause itdoes not resemble any ofthe most
common models of a garden. Indeed, il is neither a
dassical French garden (Iike Versailles) nor an English
landscape garden (Iike the park at the old Fondation
Cartier in Jouy-en.Josas). 1I is a contemporary garden. We
will loak at il with our bod ies as we stroll through, we will
discover it overthe course oftime and the seasons, and as
is Ihe case in front of some ofMonet's canvases which
have laughl us to look at snow differenUy than through the
filter of our preconceptions (which is lO say, a snow that is
alternately blue, pink, yellow or green), we willlearn to
appreciate the beauty of what we do not usually see. The
weeds, for example.
Robert SM ITHSON
An Interview with Bruce
Ku rtz [1972]
¡ ... I Bruce Kuftz 0 0 you see the whole moon thing as
another kmd of ownershlp, anolher klnd of currency __
Roben Smithson I described the moan shot once as a very
expensive Non-site. It keeps people working, you know. To
an enent 1thought that afier Ihey gol lo the moan there
was a strange demoralization that set in thal they didn't
discover little green men, or something. It's on that leve!. I
was watching Ihe one last night, and there was kind of a
forced exuberance. There was this attempt to try to confer
sorne meaning onto il, and to me it's quite banal.
Kuftz One thing that amazed me about the fi rsl moon
shot was thal you saw Mlssion Controllfl Houston wlth all
those IfIcredlble computer statlons, tha t IfIcredlble
te<hnology, wlth hundreds of people facing loward a kind
of altar,llke al Ihe movies, and aboye the altar was a
plcture ofSnoopy, There had lo be sorne way In thelr
mlnds of attachlng a mascol lo Ihe whole experience, in
olher words to symbolize the expenence to make 11 more
comprehenslble, and the Image was so regressive Ihal il
denalured Ihe expeflence. There was no awa re ness oft he
meanlflg.
Smithson That's what 1 was saying before abaut the
computer thing, it's sort oflike they're so abstracted Ihal
they ... Ihe;r imagery would draw from Snoopy, or Porlcy
Pig, or something.
Kuftz The Idea Ihal we can completely control the
enVlfonment, nature, IS, 1Ihmk, whal creales Ihe mleresl
in ¡he moon shot, and it's something like Olsneyland . You
can make your env!ronmenl however you want lo make It,
hui Ihe way it's made is another kind of cultural control.
Smithson Actualty, I think Oisney World is more of a
Dream World Ihan Documenta. In olher words, ¡t's more
aggressive. And its also a big money.making operalion. So
these dream worlds start proliferating 1.. ·1
• "ten e" ""th lr " Th
" ,
, The goal ofThe Tosting Corden is lo produce a
J. G. BALLARD
Robert Smithson as Cargo
Cultist [1997]
Whal cargo might have berthed at the Spiral Jetty? And
what strange caravel could have emerged from the saline
mists ofthis remote lake and chosen lo dock at this
mysterious harbour? One can only imagine the craft
captained by a rare navigator, a minotaurobsessed by
inexplicable geometries, who had commissioned
Smilhson to serve as his architect and devise this labyrinth
in the guise of a cargo terminal.
Bul what was Ihe Time appears lo have stopped
in Utah, during a geological eUipsis thal has lasted for
hundreds of millions of years. 1assume Ihat the cargo was
a clock, though one of a very special kind. So many of
Smithson's monuments seem lo be a polenl amalgam of
clock, labyrinth and cargo terminaL What time was about
to be told by Broken Cire/e, and what even slranger cargo
would have landed here?
The Amorillo Romp 1take to be bolh jetty and tunway, a
proto·labyrinth thal Smithson hoped would launch him
from the cramping limits oftime and space inlo a richer
and more complex realm.
Fifty thousand years from naw our descendants will be m
mystified by the empty sWimming.pools of an abandoned
southern California and Cote d 'Azur, Iying in the dust like
primit¡ve time machines or the altars of sorne geometry.
obsessed religion. 1see Smithson's monuments
belonging in the same category, artefa.cts ¡ntended to serve
as machines Ihat will suddenly swilch themselves on and
begin to generate a more complex time and space. AtI his
structures seem to be analogues of advanced neurological
processes thal have yet to articulale themselves.
Reading Smithson 's vivid writings, 1feel he sensed all
this. As he stands on the Spiro/jetly he resembles
Daedalus inspecting the ground plan ofthe labyrinlh,
working out Ihe freight capacity ofhis cargo terminal, to be
measured in the units of a neurologial deep time. He
seems unsure whelher the cargo has been delivered.
His last flight fits inlo tne myth, though for reasons of
his own he chose the wrong runway, meeting Ihe fale
inlended for his son. But his monuments endure in our
minds, the ground·plans ofheroic psychological edifices
thal wiU one day erect themselves and whose shadows we
can already see from the corners of our eyes.
.r;. lard. on arg< l' ,
"
20 • Pierog G' ery. York 199?
Mark DION
The Tasting Garden [1997]
complementary addition lo the Harewood Estate, which
would take into consideralion nol only the historical
purpose ofthe wafled garden, but would also embody one
ofthe most powerful principies ofthe contemporary ethos
- that oflhe conservation ofbiological diversity. The
Tosting Corden would harmoniously blend Harewood's
commitment to both historical preservation, as
represented by Ihe house and grounds, with that of
biological prolection, as exemplified by Ihe bird garden.
However, the solutions featured in this new project would
not be characterized by a historical reconstruction, bul
rather a bold contemporary design based on the
contributions ofthe artfulsdence of arbaurculture.
The Ta:sting Carden is lo occupy the vast and
abandoned western half ofthe walled garden. The archway
in the dividing wall ofthe two derelict grounds would
suffice as an entrance and link to the conceptually
supportive arrangemenl ofChristian Philipp Müller.
From the slightly elevatecl position ofthe entrance, the
vieweroverlooks an enormous branching pathway:
essentiallya network of palhs forming a tree-like slructure.
The main path constitutes the tree trunk and Ihe side
paths its branches. These also deviale into smatler palhs
which terminate in sem i-circular areas.ln this area one
encounters a rectangle of slone set inlo the ground and
inscribed wilh the na me of a fruit tree variety, followed
with an odd and anachronistic deseriplion ofthe qualities
ofthe fruit, particulariy the taste. Beh ind this inlaid tablet
DOCU MEN TS
'" stands a short (4 (oot, 122 cm) concretecotumn bearing a
bronze plate, upon which sils an oversized bronze fruil.
Immediately behind the column and a short distance off
the pathway is the tree ¡tself. These trees come in three
forms: a newly planted sapling, an adult tree or a withered
and bare bronze Irunk.
lhe tree forms thecenlral metaphor oflhe work: Ihe
tree oflife, the tree ofknowledge, the family tree, the
phylogenetic tree ofevolulionary development. The main
branches orlhe tree pathway represent the major northern
(ruit cro p trees: apples, quinces, pears, plums, peaches
ilnd cherries. The terminal nodes are distinct varieties.
Eaeh ofthese varieties is marked by Ihe status o( rare,
threatened, endangered or extinct. These are agricultural
plants which have become extirpated or endangered b), the
general shift to monoculture agricultural production or
other trends which result in the production ofhigher )'ields
of marketable fruit but less diversity of species. Large scale
agri.business privileges onl)' a handful of plants which
exhi bit desirable tra its, such as long shelf.life, large )'ields,
sweeter taste, and pest·resistance. Long neglected have
been a number ofbreeds which not onl)' demonslrate a
more expansive and challenging taste spectrum, bul also
make up an important reservoir of genelic material.
When coming lo the end of one ofthe palhwa)'
branches, the visitor encounlers a descriplion ofthe taste
of one ofthese rare fruits. Humans, being crealures which
favour sight over aJl other senses, have merel)' a few
impoverished adjectives for taste. Oescriptions
all but a handful of expertcultivators. It demonstrates t he
loss of genetic diversit)' succinctl)' through the activation of
one ofthe most under·ulilized senses in arto Whatever fruit
remains uneaten due lO over·abundance oftate maturit)'
could be pullO the service ofHarewood's livestock
farmers.
Completing the composition ofThe Tasting Carden is
an elemen! best described as a foil)'. The ArborcuJturist's
Work Shed is a diminutive monument acknowledging t he •
grand achievements and skills ofthe men and women who
Jaboured in the waJled garden to feed the estate, as weJl as
those toda)' who maintain the grounds and gardens.
Highlighted in this tribute are the tools ofthe trade:
spades, books, watering cans, chemicals, horticulturalist
shears etc.lndeed, it is nol as much the alchemist's studio
as it is a functioning work shed. Not obvious to the visitor
is the fact that this structure is a carefuJl)' conceived and
composed inslaJlation. While each inch ofthe inlerior can
be viewed through the man)' windows, the building can nol • •
be entered. The arrangement ofobjects within the
structure constructs an elaborate narrative, foregrounding
the romance ofhorticulture as a profession bridging art
and science. The work emphasizes the human aspect ofan
endeavour as monumental and seemingl)' timeless as the
construction ofthe Harewood landscape. Induded within
The Arborculturist's Wo,k Shed are drawings, photographs
and other artefacts ofthe garden staff, pasl and presenl.
991. PD 14: 43

confronting the viewer ofthe stones are derived from

mostl)' eighteenth and nineteenlh century sources and
the)' seem to strain acrobaticall)' in an attempl lo translate
objectivel)' the sense oflaste. The next elemen! evokes the
notion ofthe monumenl, or even the grave marker. The
scale ofthe ridicu lousl)' oversized fru it exem plifies ils I,
status as the representative ofthe entire breed or variety. I
The shapes ofthe fruil will of course speak ofthe variet)' of
trad ition. Finall)', there is the Iree itself, standing a short I,
distance offthe path. Where possible, adult trees
Iransplanted from olher parts ofthe grounds should be
used. Young nursery trees fill in where mature trees are nol
available. II ma)' take a decade before the garden can be
optimall)' viewed. The extinct breeds shall be represented
b), dark macabre casts of dead trunks. These grim
surrogates will most powerfull)' speak when the living trees
bare fruit or blossoms.
Be)'ond Ihe massivediagonal waJl which bisects the
western half ofthe garden a separate but equaJl)' important
feature ofThe Tafting Carden is located. An orchard
maintained ta propagate and preserve those agricultural
varieties most threatened with extinction will function as
an agricultural equivalent to the aims ofthe endangered
species breeding programme ofthe bird garden. Visitors
can stroll through the orchard unguided.
A critical aspect ofboth the !ree walkwa)' and the
orchard enjo)'ed b), guests is the abilit)' to pick and eat fruit.
The public will be encouraged to sample ripe fruit directl)'
from the trees, or fruit could be made available through the
reslpred kitchen or other airead)' established outlels at
Harewood. Th e Tasting Carden makes available rare and
challenging Aavours and tenures, normalJ)' inaccessible to

lMAG1NING
 Whetherworking in the Western deserts or the Ma ine

woods. along country paths or deep in the wilderness. with metaphorica l or

utilitarian ambitions. all Land and Environmental Artists eventually contend with

the complex issues surrounding the presentation and dissemination of what are

fundamentally non-portable artworks. Few admirers of works such as the Spiral

Jettyor The Lightning Fieldhave actually visited these sites. Furthermore.

temporary actions or incursions are durational and subject to natural forces of

degradation. What are the roles ofthe artefacts and media through which they are

presented? The excerpts in this final section explore issues of mediation and

representation. of the contributions of text and image to our understanding and

apprehension of Land Art projects. As Susan Sontag notes of photography. that

most complex of mediative vehicles and the primary means of displaying the

evidence of Land Art projects. 'Reality has always been interpreted through the

reports given by images. Our irrepressible feeling that the photographic process is

something magical has a genuine basis. No one takes an easel painting to be in any

sense co-substantial with its subject: it only represents or refers . But a photograph

is not only like its subject. a homage to the subject. lt is part of. an extension ofthat

subject: and a potent means of acquiring it. of gaining control over it.'

John BEARDSLEY
Art and Authoritarianism:
Walter De Maria's Lightning
Field[1981]
It is perh¡ps an outmoded (onviction of mine that art
criticism should t ake as its point of dep arture t he s pecific
characte ristics of a work of art or a gro u p ofworks. In t he
case: ofWalter De Maria's The Lightning Fíe/d, however,
t his is vi rtu all)' impos si ble. The m eas ure of conl rol
exercised by Ihe a rt ist il nd h is s po nsor, Ihe Oia Ce nte r for
Ine Ans, ove r t he viewer's a pp roac h lo Ine work, his
physical experience afit, his access lo information and
documentatio n about it, (orecloses an ¡ndependent
ap p raisal ohhe work. 1I thereby renders problematic an)'
disc ussion oflne work as suen, for its ¡"hibits an effective
dissociation between what one sees and what one is
expected to see, between what one believes and what one
is led to believe.
Although it is an open question to what extent the rhe
Ligh t ning Field would ever involve a n experience of
light ning for t he average viewe r, it is nevertheless a
seriously conceived work, and it is t herefore regretta ble
that it cannot be disc ussed o n its own m erits. But t he
di rective posture ass umed toward s the viewer by De Ma ria
and Dia suggests tha t both artist a nd pat ron lack
confide nce in eithe r t he qua lity ofthe wo rk o r t he
d iscernment of the viewe r. They are t he refo re being
defensive o r condescending, nei t her posture positively
predisposing the viewer to the work. Unwilli ng to have The
Light ning Field or even photographs ofit seen in
circu mstances othert han those absolutely dictated and
cont rolled by them, t hey are respo nsi ble for obscuring the
work with extra-art issues, and ul t imately for eliciting a
criticism t hat is bound to be distasteful to them.
Although it is a long way from almost an)'Where to
Quemado, New Mexico, the town is neither economically
disenfranchised nor culturally remote. Rl!presentative of a
region now politicaUy and economically on the ascendant,
Quemado is the scene of continuing, if not quite
f1ourishing, cattle ranching, and it is not far from t he
massive open-pit copper mines ofSanta Rita and CliRon·
Morenci.ln addition, uranium deposits are thought to
un derlie t he region. Quemado is served by the federal

DDCUMENTS
", highway system , making il about (our hours away from
Albuquerque, six from Phoenix. And naw, Quemado even
has contemporary arto
The coi ncidente o f a relatively nigh number of
lightning days per year with the ilvailability of purchasable,
f1at, semi.arid, sparsely populated range land brought De
Maria and the Oia (enter for the Arts to Quemado in the
mid seventies. De Maria had already tested his ideas for
The Ligh tning F;eld in a pilot project constructed near
FlagstatT, Afizona, in 1974. Now he wanted a final project
which would be considerable larger, whose permanence
would be guaranteed by ownership ofthe land. The Oia
(enter rorlhe Arts, which is principally supported by
Philippa Pellizzi, heiress to the De Me"il oil fortune, carne
to De Maria's assistance. On his behalf, the foundation
acquired five or more sections (a section is a square mile,
or 640 acres) north-east ofQuemado. Here De Maria
erected his grid of 400 stainless steel poles with pointed
tips. lhe grid measures a mile east lo west and slightly
over a kilometre north to south; the east-west rows contain
twenty.five poles, the north.south, sixteen. lhey are
spaced 220 feet (67 m) apart, 331 feel (101 mI on the
diagonal. Despite f1uctu ations of ground level, they are
installed in such a way that theirtips form a continuous
plane at an average heighl of 20 feel 7.5 inches (6 m 19 cm)
aboye ground.
In the lown ofQuemado, Dia meanwhile bought and
renovated a bu ilding forthe local administrative oRice of
The Ughtning Fie/d. 1I also houses what they call a mini·
museum ofDe Maria 's work, where a selection oflhe
Si/ver Meten and Ihe cirele and square Equíva/ent s are on
view. This, then, is a counterpart lo the permanently
installed, Dia-supported Earth Room and 8roken
Kilometer at locations in New York Cily.
11 is to Ihis oRice in Quemado thal a prospective viewer
must write for an appointmenl to see The Ughtning Fie/d.
The appoinlment procedure insures that no more than a
few people are on the Field at any given time, since it is
believed thal the work is besl experienced in these
uncrowded conditionS. lfthe appointment is granted, the
viewer reports for his visit to the Quemado oRice,
surrenders his unaulhorized pholographic equipmenl ,
and signs a release freeing De Maria and Día ofliability
should injury or death occur while visiting the work. Next,
a 'contribUlion' oflhirty dollars is made lo Dia to help
them defray expenses for Ihe visitor's food and lodging.
Then, like a neophyte in a new order, the visitor is driven off
for a minimum twenly·four-hour initiation into Ihe
mysteries of The Ughtning Fie/d . The lodging on the
localion is a renovaled homesteader's cabin. Food is
poinled out and canteens are issued. The visitor is then left
alone unlil the same lime the following day, when he is
returned to Quemado, his camera and hi s caro
Given the complexities ofthis procedure, one might
,
rightfully expect some revelation during residence at The
Ughtning Fíe/d. Instead, there ¡s an unprepossessing array
of poles in what is admittedly a very beautifullandscape. In
the bright light of midday, Ihe poles ofth e Field are barely
visible. They are seen to good advantage only at dawn and
dusk, when fully iUuminated by raking lighl. And , of
course, since lightning slorms pass over the Field
ILLUM INATIO N
approximately three days a month during the lightning
season, from lale May Ihrough early September, the
likelihood ofseeing dramatle lightning strikes is remole.
There is, then , an enormous disparity between Ihe
actual sculpture, which is a minimalist understatement,
and the promotion il receives, which is anything but. The
necessity of making an appoinlment, signing a release
against a danger which seems more imagined Ihan real,
and ofbe ing delivered to the FieJd rather than allowed to
drive, all conspire lo induce a feeling of awe, to insure that
one will fully expect lo see God at The Ughtning Fie/d.
Needless to say, He doesn't appea r. No artwork could live
up to this hype, least of all one thal involves the
dematerializing effects ofsunlighl and Ihe subtle
interrelationship ofsculpture and landscape.
There is no question but that those who administer The
Ughtning Field have carefully considered the manner in
which they control access to and, indirectly, perception of
the work. Aconversation with a representative ofDia
elicited severa! reasons for such extreme control,
ineluding Ihe insurance that the v;ewer is alone, or nearly
so, with the work, and protection ofthe fragile semi·arid
environment in which it is situated. These concerns may
be legitimale, but certainly many other works - Nancy
Holt's Sun Tunnels, Smithson's Spira/jetty, Heizer's
Doub/e Negative, nol to mention such urban works as
Robert Morris' Crand Rapids Proje't - all stand
unprolected in the landscape and are in no worse
condition than The Ughtning Fíe/d. In my various visits to
other artworks in relatively remote areas, I have never
encountered other visitors, so it seems doubtful that the
number of potential visitors to Th e Ughtning Fie/d, were
access unimpeded, would ever be great enough to
endanger the work or the surrounding environment.
Restrictions, in this case, seem more an expression oflhe
willful cultivation of myslery.
De Maria's and Dia's efforts to control the viewer's
response lo the work extend even beyond the
circumstances ofthe visit to inelude manipulation of
informalion about Ihe work, especially photographs. I
have been obliged for several years to play an elaborate
game ofcat and mousewith De Maria looblain
photographs: photographs for publication were repeatedly
going to be available 'sometime soon'. When asked about
the possibility of obtaining photographs for this particular
essay, the Dia representative ¡nquired about its point of
view. When told, she explained that it was 'doubtful that
De Maria would want lo put his stamp of approval' on it by
supplying photographs. While it is true that an artist has
fun discretion over a work that is not in Ihe public domain ,
such a demonstration of insecurity about an independent
poinl of view suggests a complete misunderstanding of
the nature of criticism, which is never simply intended to
parrot the opinions ofthe artist. Are De Maria and his
sponsors so uncertain oflhe qualily ofThe Lightning Field
Ihat they cannot let il stand on its own merits? Is it so
vulnerable that ;t cannot withsland the independent
opinions of writers?
When De Maria did release photographs for
publication in Artforum, he exerted considerable control
over the way Ihey were used. Working elosely wilh Ihe
magazine's slaff and photographer John Cliett, De Maria
produced whatArtforum publisher Amy Baker describes
as 'an artisl's work' - Le., pages designed specially by the
artist. Acknowledging that it was 'a generous, expensive
lay-out', Baker explained that the stafffelt that the work
was ofsuRicient interesl to warranl an un usual amount of
space and expense, and that the publicalion ofthe work on
the artist's terms seemed essential to Ihe dissemination of
thework. •
The number of photographs, the exculsive use of
colour, the number of editorial pages - De Maria was given
the cover plus five pages at the centrefold - is un usual, to
say the leasl, for Artforum's artists' pages. But particularly
offensive was the use ofblank grey pages separating De
Maria's pholographs from the thereby implied dross ofthe
remainder ofthe issue. Evidenlly caught belween their
desire lo see the work published and the artist's excessive
demands, Artforum's staffwas complicit in the
•
mystification ofThi Lightning Field and the exaggerated
claims madefor it.
Matters of control and access to The Lightning Field
would be oflittle concern ifthey remained limited to this
one instance. However, they are of consequence to all
artworks in the landscape, for which this work could
conceivably become a model. The Dia Center forthe Arts,
which is, of course, tax exempt and therefore indirectly
supported by every taxpayer, has recently received
financial support for two projects from the National
Endowment for the Arts. A condition ofthese grants,
awarded through the Art in Public Places programme, is
that the public have 'free and unimpeded access' to the
artwork. One oflhese projects is Jim Turrell's Sun and
Moon Spa,e, to be instaJled in Arizona. Civen the
stipulations ofEndowment support, one hopes that
access to Ihe work will not be established on the model of
The Lightning Fie/d. From a critical perspective, as well,
the management ofLightning Field is no trivial matter. Not
only do Ihe machinations ofthe artist and his sponsors in
this case reveal contempt for the enterprise of criticism,
but, more importantl y, they call ¡nto question Ihe very
possibility of a criticism Ihat seeks independence h-om the
control1ing factors of any artwork's contexto
for tMe Art . a f ederd' agency. "1,, h
,dry tQ resedrrh tn, essay through tlle Cr U,eS '
re 1 prQgrdmme
.", 6e6rd,ley. 'Ar t and Aythor'tar,an';ro: Wdller Oe
Md . 5pr1ng ¡gSl . pp i 3B
LawrenceALLOWAY
Site Inspection [1976]
This is an article based on visils to Ihe sites of earthworks
in Arizona, Novada, Texas and Ulah. I am nol an enemy of
the culture of reproductions, but the documentation of
large outdoor sculplure, intimately bound to the
landscape, presenls exceptional diRiculty lo photographs.
They have their own convenlions, for one thing, and for
 ilInother, some ofthe works I suspected were being
embalmed in s ingle images. This turned out to be the case.
The pholographs ofRobert Smithson's Amarillo Ramp
that are usually reproduced were taken when the creek it
stands in was dammed up. ln fact it belongs halfin the
water, for Smithson allowed for seasonal varialio ns in the
state ofhis sculplures. He assumed multiple states, not
just one. The sculplures by Walter De Maria , Michael
__ Heizer and Smithson that I visited are all s ite-spe<ific, in
that they have been located by the artists in p laces that are
unique lo each work. The form ofthe sculpture cannot be
separated from the lerrain it occupies (it has zero
mobility), and the distances that have to be travelled are a
part ofthe content also. In what followsl shall have to
indicate the lopography as part ofthe system ofthe
sculpture.
The d iscrepancy between s ite and documentation is
inherent in Ihe medium , but it can be used purposefully.
- For example, lo compare Sm ithson 's film the Sp irafJetty
wilh the Sp irafJetty as it lies in the Creat Salt Lake is to
experience a startling divergence. Part I ofthe film deals
with Ihe construction ofthe jetty, but of course what we
see in Utah is the end·state ofthe work. Part II
concentra tes on vertical views ofthe jetty, shot from a
helicopter which, taken w ith cues on the soundtrack,
emphasize the spiral as a solar form expanding o ut to
spiral nebu lae. The movement ofthe camera is frequently
vertiginous, and as the helicopter goes higher and the
spiral shrinks , its crystalline structure becomes evident
Thus the film presents us w ith a disqu is it ion on the
morphology ofthe spira l.
What is it li ke al Rozel Point? The l S fool (4.5 m ) wide
jetty w inds its two-and·ilI· halfturns out into the lake fo r
1,500 feet (450 m ), and when yo u stumble a long il on
ankle-wrenching lcose rock, you feel very clo se lo the
water. The ridge behind is low and as the s p iral stretches
oul from the beach , il echoes the far·offl ine of mounta ins
across the lake. On s ite, the prevaili ng impression is of a
vast JatefOll p lane expanding fro m the jetty, embracing
m iles of water and rock. Thus Ihe film and the object exist
in a complementary not an explanatory relalio ns hip. (Stil!
photographs ofho, izo ntal views are misleading too,
beca use they tend to exaggerale the rock iness ofthe
foreground .)
And there is anolher factor, nol g iven in Ihe
documentation. There have been attempts to dr ill o il in the
area and nol far from the jetty are ru ined oil rigs, which led
Smithson lo comment, ' This s ite gave evidence of a
succession of man·made systems mired in abandoned
hopes'. On the way lo Rozel Point you pass the Golden
Spike Monument where, out in a lonely landscape, two
locomotives confront one anolher, face-to.face , on a single
track. Th is stand-off, as it appears to be, actually
commemorates the meeting ofthe rails, built from fast
and West, oflhe first transcontinental railroad l ... )
The full development of earthworks is inseparable from
monumentality, and it is only on Ihis basis that the core
works ofthe movement can be understood. Smithson,
Heizer and De Maria have al1 crealed large works oflong
duration and slow use which are the opposite ofbrief or
expendable works.
The problem of monumental art is Ihat in cities il is
never big enough. when Barnett Newman's Sro/(rn
Obelisk was set in front ofthe Seagram Building on Park
Avenue il became a twenty.six.foot (793 cm) high s mal1
sculpture. Thi5 despite the fact that Newman was using
well-rehearsed public forms , the pyramid and the obelis k.
farthworks , even at their present scale, would not work in
cities either; there is just too much interference from a
lively and complex environment. Hence Ihe only p lace to
realize large works is nol in the country, exactly, bul in
Continental America, which is to say in places where there
is no prior cultivalion, or very little. What is needed is
th inly populated $lates wilh low real·estale values. Hence
the placing of earthworks in Nevada, Utah , Atizona and
Texas where, incidentally, the land is usuaUy of no value
and can be leased from the governmenl.
Of Course, convenience is never the dec isive factor,
and the fact thal the fro ntier was more recently in the
Southwest Ihan in Ihe Northeast is importan!. To make art
o n a large scale out of doors it is necessary to command
survey procedures and conslruction techniques. The artist
experiences the development ofthe work as practical
control and social co.operation in contrast lo the
supposed isolatio n ofthe city·based ' Iine' a rtist. The
earthworks artists preserve Ihe purity oftheir inspiration
no less than the ir specialized peerS, but they realize it in
terms of engineering. The romanticism ofthe frontier
finds expression in an ethic of physicallabour. (Heizer and
Smithso n have both ta lked ofthe satisfactio ns of work in
these terms. Apart from present geological and
to pograph ical problems, there is the sanction ofthe
American past, such as the Indian burial mounds; one, the
Serpent Mound in Adams County, Ohio, is 1.254 feet
138 cm] long, 20 feet (610 cm) wide on an average, and
between 4 and 5feet (122 and 152.5 cml high. These long·
running, low, indigenous works are certainly a part oflhe
background ofideas that made earthworks possible.)
Heizer, in making Doubfe Negot ille , removed rock and
earth , bul d id not introduce materials from off-site as part
ofthe structure. Sm ithson , in the Spiro/jeHy ilInd Amorillo
Romp , created finely articulated forms ; but he d id 50 with
what was at hand, material collected on the sho re and
carried out into the water. De MilIria's Los Vegos Piece
disturbs the landscape scarcely at all and though the poles
ofhis First Lightning Fiefd are imported to Ihe s ite, they
form a fine screen , nol a bulky object. Smithson 's interest
in containing and inlersecting form s, Heizer's in Ihe
displacement oflarge masses, and De Maria's in iIIusive
space are each absolulely d ifferent , bul all are highly
responsive lo the given lerrain . This is because oftheir
realization on that durat ion and scale are in themselves
expressive, and that they are best achieved by works of art
Ihal do not compete materially with the landscape. The
clear air, the arid ity, the absence oftrees, the erosional
ccmtours, all convey a geological sense ofthe uncovered
landscape, the wilderness to which the sculpture is
attuned.
Solitude characterizes the Sp i,ofjetty and the Double
Negotille and Las Vegas Piece. Although the works are big,
they are in no sense social. They are best elCperienced
singly by spectators; only in that way can there be a proper
acknowledgement ofthe sense ofbeing alone that these
wo rks induce. The remo\ eness ofthe s ites as well as the
'"
scale o fthe landscape conlribute to th is effect. Earthworks
commun icate a cisatlantlc sense of t he resonantly empty.
It is possible thal the Iheme ofthe American Su blime,
associated with Clyfford Still, Newman an d Mar k Rothk o,
which certainly has no des ce ndants in c urrent abstract
paint ing, ma y be present in the tie of earthwo rks to the
land. Though the landscape re ferences offi eld paint ing
can be over-stressed, the Sublime was a ssuredly linked lo
landscape painting in the eighteenth a nd n ineteenth
cenluries. And it was associated precise ly w ilh Ihe kind of
sites - mountain, desert, lake - where the earthworks are,
and w ith such $lates offeeling as solitu de ( ... 1
"
Craig OWENS
Ea rthwords [1979]
(... I What I am proposing, is thal the eruptio n oflanguage
into the aesthetic field - an en.lption s ignalled by, but by no
means lim ited to, the writings ofSm ilhson , Morris , Andre,
Judd , Flavin, Ra iner, leWitt - is coincident with, if not the
definilive index of, the emergence ofPostmodern ism. Th is
'catastrophe' disrupted the stability of a modern ist
partitioning ofthe aesthetic field into discrete areas of
specific competence; one ofits most deep ly felt shocks
dis lodged literary activity from the enclaves into which it
had settled only to stagnate - poetry, Ihe novel, the essay-
and dispersed it across the entire spectrum of aesthetic
activity. Visual artists thus acqu ired a m ine of new
material, and Ihe responses ranged from Morris ' language
File and the linguistic conceits of Art & language and
Conceptual Art, to Ihe autobiographical pe rambulations of
narrative or 'story' art and Ihe fu ndamentally li nguistic
concerns of performance art, such as that ofLaurie
Anders on (also an artist who writes). And it is within this
massive return oflanguage that Smilhson 's writ ings - and
his art - are to be located.
II might be o bjected that artists , and modernist artisls
in particular, have always written, produced tex1s which
explain the ir wo rk, expound theoretical positions , e ngage
in discussion or debate with olher artisls. And that,
especially wilhin modern ist quarantine, these tex1s are
indeed secondary, appended to and dependenl upon
visual production. The texts of modern ist artists d o read
more often that not as responses t o what had been
elim inated from vis ual practice. They testify to a mounling
sense ofloss; as paint ing became m ore ' pure', the des ire
for a s u pplement ¡ncreased. Fo r the modern ist artist,
however, w,iting was not an alter nat ive med ium fOr
aesthetic practicej through it, work m ight be ex pla ined,
but never produced . So that even if we mainta in thal these
complements lo work are essentia l lo its unde rstanding,
Malevich's The Non·Obj ectille World, Mo ndrian's P/astic
Art ond Pure plost ic Art, Kand insley's Concerning the
Spiritua l in Art ... rema in statements a nd not texts: 'a tex!
is not a line of words releasing a s ingle
DOCU MENTS

'" meaning (Ihe oflhe Author-God), bul a mullí·
dimensional space in which a variety of writings, none of
them original, blend and clash'.'
Smithson's writings, on Ihe other hand, are indeed
lexts, dazzling orchestrations of multiple, overlapping
voiees; as such, they participate in tha! displacement of
literature by Ihe activity of wr¡ting which .. Iso occurs with
Barthes, Derrida, lacan ... This is nOI, however, Ihe only
value ofthese tens, for they also reveal Ihe degree lo
which strategies which mus! be described as !utual have
infiltrated every aspect of cOntemporary aesthelic
production . In his 1973 review of a Frederick law olmsted
ell'hibilion al Ihe Whitney M useum, Smithson observes
tha! 'the maps, photographs, and documents in catalogue
form ... are as much a part ofOlmsted's art as the art itself'
- which might be applied with equal validily to Smithson's
art. I have already mentioned that the Non.site, a 'course
ofhazards, a double path made up ofsigns, photographs
and maps', is a ted. Not only does this comple" web of
heterogenous information - part visual, part verba l -
challenge the purity and self.sufficiency ofthe work of art;
it also upsets Ihe hierarchy between object and
represenlation, ' Is the Site a reflection ofthe Non·site
(mirror), or is it the other way around?'
, Significantly, these remarks, which reveal the teduality
ofthe Non-site, occur in a footnote appended to
I
Smithson's len on the Spira/jetty, ilself a graphic
document inscribed on Ihe surface oflhe Creat Salt Lake.
Like the Non-sile, IheJetty is not a diserete work, but one
link in a chain of signifiers which summon and refer lo one
another in a dizzying spiraL For where else does theJetty
e)(isl e)(cept in the film whieh Smilhson made, the
narrative he published, Ihe photographs which
aceompany that narrative, and the various maps,
diagrams, drawings, etc., he made about it?' Unintelligible
at close range, the spiral form oftheJetty is complelely
intuitable only from a distance, and Ihat distanee is most
often achieved by imposing a ten between viewer and
work. Smithson thus aecomplishes a radical dislocation of
the nolion of point·of-view, which is no longer a function of
physical position, but ofthe mode (photographic,
einematie, te)(lual) of confrontation with the work of art.
The work is henceforth defined by the positlon it occupies
in a potentially infinile chain edending from the sile ilself
and Ihe associations it provokes - 'in the end I would let
the site determine what I would build' - lo quolations of
the work in olher works.
That Smithson thus transformed the visual field into a
te)(tual one represenls one ofthe most significa ni
aesthelic ' evenls' of our decade; and the publication ofhis
eollected writings constitutes a challenge to criticism lo
come to terms with the tedual nature ofhis work, and of
Poslmodernism in general. That challenge is formidable,
sinee it requires the jettisoning of mosl of our received
•
notions about art i it can only be acknowledged here. I
•
would however in conclusion like to sketch briefly the
eritical significance of one issue ra¡sed by Smithson's
teds , and his work, and Ihat is the allegorical impulse
whieh shapes both. Smithson was not unaware ofthis
impulse. His allegorical reading ofthe suburban New
Jersey industriallandscape begins wilh a visual epigraph,
IlLU MI N ATlO N
Samuel Morse's Allegorica/ Landscape. In a previously
unpublished le)(t, 'From Ivan Ihe Terrible lo Roger Corman,
or Parado)(es ofConduct in Mannerism as Reflected in the
Cinema', Smithson acknowledged this impulse, as well as
its heretic;¡[ nature:
'The very word allegory is enough to strike terror into the
hearts oflhe e)(pressive artist; there is perhaps no device
as exhausled as allegory. But strangely enough Alan
Kaprow has shown interes! in that worn-oul device. Jorge
Luis Borges begins his From Allegories lO Novels by sayi ng,
"For all of us, the allegory is an aeslhetic error ft
.'
II was, however, from its e)(haustion, its 'erroneous'
status, Ihat allegory, for Smithson, derived its aesthetic
potential.
I have already described the way in which allegory
motivales Smithson's perceplion oflanguage as material.
But il is also manifest in his involvement with entropy and
entropic syslems; his attraction to both prehistoric and
post-industrial ruins; his recognition ofthe forces which
erode and eventually reclaim Ihe work of art, for whieh the
rust on Smith's and Caro's steel sculpture and Ihe disorder
ofCentral Park were taken as emblems. As Benjamin
writes:
'The allegorical physiognomy ofthe nature·history ... is
present in reality in the form oflhe ruin. In the ruin history
has physically merged into the setting. And in this guise
history does not assume the form ofthe process of an
elernallife so much as Ihal ofirresislible decay. Allegory
thereby declares itselflo be beyond beauly. Allegories are,
in the realm ofthoughts, what ruins are in the realm of
things ... In the process of decay, and in it alone, lhe events
ofhistory shrivel up and become absorbed in Ihe setting."
Thus Smithson's desire lo lodge his work in a spe<:ific
site, to make il appear to be rooted there, is an allegorical
desire, the desire for allegory. AII ofSmilh son's work
acknowledges as part ofthe work Ihe natural forces
through which it is reabsorbed inlo ils setting. When Ihe
Creat Salt Lake rose and submerged the Spi,alJetty, Ihe
salt deposits left on its surface became yet another link in
the chain of crystaltine forms which makes possible the
description oftheJetty as a telrl.
This desire to embed a work in its contert eharacterizes
Poslmodernism in general and is not only a response to
the 'homelessness' of modernisl sculpture;' it also
represents and e"plains the strategic importance of
allegory at this moment in history. For in the arts allegory
has always been acknowledged as 'a crossing ofthe
borders of a different mode', an advance ofthe plastic arts
into the territory ofthe rhelorica l arts ... lis intrusion eould
therefore be described as a harsh disturbance ofthe peace
and a disruption oflaw and order in Ihe am'.' Thus
allegory marks the dissolution ofthe boundaries belween
the artsi by proposing Ihe interchangeability ofthe verbal
and the visual, Ihe integrity ofboth is compromised. This
is why it is an aesthetic 'error' , but also why it appears, at
presenl, as the organizing principie of advanced aesthetic
practiee.
This is nol simply a claim that may be made for
aHegory, but a structural fact. Allegory is Iradilionally
defined, following Quintillian, as a symbol introduced in
continuous series, the temporal extension of metaphor. It
is useful lo recast this definition in structuralist terms, for
then allegory is revealed as Ihe project¡on ofthe
metaphoric, or stalic, a)(is oflanguage onto its metonymic,
or temporal, dimension. Although Roman Jakobson
defi ned Ihis projection of metaphor (the synchronic
system of differenees Ihat defines the slructure of a
language) onlo melonymy (the activity ofcombination in
which slructure is actualized in time), as the poelie
principie: •
' ... and while Jakobson goes on to associate melaphorwilh
verse and romanticism, as opposed to metonymy whieh
he idenlifies with realism and prose, allegory would cut
across and subtend all sueh stylislie categorizalions, being
equally possible in eilher verse or prose, and quile capable
oftransforming the most objective naturalism ¡nto the
most subjective e"pressionism, orlhe most determined
realism into the most surrealistically ornamental
baroque'.'
•
Vet this eapacity to 'cut across and sublend' all aesthetic
categories is due lO the fact that allegory implica tes the
two poles, spatial and temporal, aecording lo which the
arts were distinguished al the advent ofModernism.
FoUowing the logic of allegory, then, Smithson's work
stands as an inves t igati on inlo what occurs when
structure is actualized in time: the SpiralJetty, for
e)(ample, takes a particular mythic structure - the fiction of
an enormous whirlpool al Ihe lake's centre- and projects
it as a temporal experience. This aspect ofhis practice
coincides with the techniques of post-structuralisl theory
- Oerrida's deconstructive reading, for e)(ample, or
Foucault's archaeology. This correspondence is not simply
the result ofconlemporaneily, for Smilhson's activity was
a thoroughly critical one, engaged in the deconslruction of
an inherited metaphysical tradition, which he perceived as
more or less ruined. And the success ofhis enterprise may
be measured by the critical rigour with which his relation
to inheriled concepts is thought in theseteds. Vet the
failure of contemporary theory, which too often operates in
a vacuum, to see its own realizalion in Smilhson's practice
is, and remains, a sca ndaL
19'1. p, 146
ee y d\SCUH O" )f ,mnhS 's
'd _umentot !l' JI M , 'Pnotogrdpny en dbY"'f ·.
lu/¡u. U_H 1978, pp. 86-88
tran' lnn OSborn".
4 R .' jn Expdnded field·.
(O/¡U. n 8. prlng \9/9. PP. B-]6
lt·.P 08
e '¡he ,fAllegor col OeSlre' ,
Throughout.\ dme.tremely
lndeHed ti f
d egorv
Fal 1979. DP 126-30

GerrySCHUM
Inlroduclion lo Ihe
Television-Exhibilion: Land
Art (1969)
More and more artists toda y are exploring the possibilities
ofthe relatively new media offilm, television and photag-
raphy. These artists are not concerned primarily with
exploiting the possibilities of communication offered by
the mass media. A more important consideriltion, I th ink,
is that the greater pan of our visual experience is induced
by way of reproduct ion, with cinematic i1nd photographic
representations.
Walter BENJAMIN
The Work of Art In Ihe Age of
Mechanical Reproducliol"
r ... .,,..
¡... I Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is
lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its
unique existence at the place where it happens to be. This
unique existence ofthe work of art determined the history
to whieh il was subject throughout the time ofits
existence. This ineludes the changes which it may h3ve
suffered in physical condition over the years as well as the
various changes in its ownership.' The traces ofthe first
And what is really jeopa,dized when the historieal '"
•
testimony is affected is the authority ofthe object.
'
One might subsume the elim inated element in Ihe
term 'aura' and go on to say: that which withers in the age
of mechanical reproduction is the aura ofthe worlc of art.
This is a symptomatic process who se s ignificance points
beyond the realm of artoOne m ight generalize by saying:
the technique of reproduction detaches the reproduced
object from the doma in oftraditio n. By making many
reproductions it substitutes a plurality o f copies for a
unique existen ce. And in permitting the reproduct ion to
meet the beholder o r listener in his own particular
s ituation , il re·activates the object reproduced ¡ ... J
,e ,
C'

Take lan Dibbets ' Perspective Correaien, il can on ly be can be revealed only by chemical or physical analyses C

seen and understood as a photograph. Oibbets drew the which it is impossible to perform on a reproduction;
outline of a trapezium in the landscape; the shape was changes of ownership 3re subject to a tradition which , , e

,
constructed according to the taws of phetographic per-
spective, so that on the photograph the trapezium looks
like a perfect square. Here the work of art has transferred
must be traced from the situation ofthe original.
The presence ofthe original is the prerequisite to the
concept of authenticity. Chemical analyses ofthe patina of
. ,..
•
its existence &cm a real object as point of departure to the a bronze can help to establish this, as does the proofthat a e

photogl'3phic representation. The photograph becomes given manuscript ofthe Middle Ages stems from an ,
the actual art object. The object.s ofM ike Heizer and Wa lter arch ive ofthe fifteenth century. The whole sphere of ce

De Maria, to name just two artists, can only be observed in authenticily is outside technical - and , of course, not only , • e

their entirety, in other words by seeing the film from

beginn ing to end.
techn ical - reproducibility.' Confronted with ils manual
reproduction, whieh was usual1y branded as a forgery, the
, " ... '
e
,- .-
The land Art artists are looking for expressive pos· original preserved all its aulhority; not so vis-Q·vis , ,
sibilities wh ich go f.1r beyond the tradilionalli m its of technieal reproduction. The reason is twofold. First, •
painting. It is no longer the painted view of a landscape process reproduction is more independent ofthe original , ,e , -
but the landsc.pe itself, i.e . the landscape marked by the than manual reproduction. for example, in photography, e
• "
.rtist himself, thal be<:omes the art object. The landscape process reproduction can bring out Ihose aspects oflhe
isn 't just a decorative background for trad itio nal original that are unattainable to the naked eye yet e
"
,
sculptures any more (the term landscape is broadly
interpreted): it h.s come to mean , here, cityscapes and
accessible lo the lens , which is adjustable and chooses its
angle at will. And photographic reproduction, with the aid
.-. , ,
•
industrial views as well as nature landscapes . Dr. H. of certain processes , such as enlargement or slow motion, , • -
,

Szeemann , who mounted the ' Uve in Your Head ' show in
the Bern Kunsthalle, refers to a 'consciousness art'.
We live at a time in wh ich the world , i.e. our environ·
ment. C3n be e.xperienced from new dimensions. Satellites
enable us to observe the earth from an extra·terrestial
viewpoint directly or indirectly via a photographic
reproduction . A highway seen from a height of 3,000
metres loses its purely functional character, it becomes a
human intervention in the 13ndscape. It is now time that
we realize that every grave that is dug, every road thal is
constructed , every field th3t is converted inlo 3 building·
site, represents a formal change in our environment,
whose implications transcend by far their purely practical,
functional meaning [ ... )
can capture images whieh escape natural vision oSecondly,
" • •
technical reproduction can put the copy ofthe original into " , •
s ituations whieh would be out of reach for the original
itself. Above al1, it enables the original to meet the
beholder halfway. be it in the form of a photograph or a Joseph MASHECK
phonograph record. The cathedralleaves its locale to be
received in the studio of a lover of art; the choral The SpiralJetty Movie (1984)
production , performed in an auditorium or in the open air,
resounds in the drawing room. Robert Smithson's film about the making ofhis Sp ;ro/ -•
The siluations into which the product of mechanical Jetty, '970, in the Creat Salt Lake, informatively conveys a
reproduction can be brought may not touch the actual sense of what that magnificent sculpture, difficult of
work of art, yet the quality ofits presence is always access , is like.' But it is also, in itself, a beautiful th ing.
depreciated. This holds not only for the artwork but also, Smithson's geo-poetic commentary accompanies images
for instance, for a landscapewhieh passes in review before of a road, d inosaur skeletons , maps of Atlantis , crusty

.
e the spectator in a movie. In the case ofthe art object, a
C e , , most sensitive nueleus - namely, its authenticity - is
• e, int:erfered with whereas no natural object is vulnerable on
that score. The authenticity of a thing is the essence of al1
that is transmissible from ils beginning, ranging from its
substantive duration to its testimony to the history which
it has experienced. Since the historieal testimony rests on
the authenticity, the former, too, is jeopardized by
reproduction when substantive duration ceases to matter.
landscapes and construction equipment, especially dump
trucks dumping their loads, in such a natural rhythm that
the sculpture seems gradually to grow forth , almost by
some developmentaf necessity on the earth 's parto
As a film the movie belongs to the iII·defined category
ofthe 'artístic' documentary, meaning that it
demonstrates something and conveys information, but
that it does thís with a fictive , poetic concreteness, and
beautifully. Iconographically, it relates to that

OOCUMENTS
contemporary version ofthe theme ofSisyphus, the
dump.truck movie, C. Raker Endfield 's practicalty Greek·
tragic Hell Orillen; (1957; 1961) as well as Clouzot's more
famous Tne Woges ofFeor (1953), about trucking dynamite,
being the memorable examples. ln fact, the Sisyphus
theme sumces in a shot where, aRer the jetty is finished,
we follow Smithson from behind (this is the only time we
see a person in the film) as he runs its fulllength , stops,
turns around, and jogs back; meanwhile, of course the
whole enterprise oflaying the heavy stone rubble, load
aRer load, seems Sisyphean, at least until it is seen that
Smithson's labours are not in vain afier all, that what
might have been a massive delusion is really only a 'folly'
in the technical sense oflandscape-architectural history,
with even thot monumentalized.1 saythis not to
circumscribe the film or limit its meaning, only to provide a
mode ofentrance into its ¡ndependent significance.
Towards the beginning ofthe film Smithson says ofthe
site, ' nothing has changed since I have been here'. The
point is not that that surprises him - he was familiarwith
the geomorphology ofthe locale, and with geomorphology
in general long before - but that it surprises uso Today,
when it seems that you cannot be certain that yourtrain
will arrive, when the telephone may very well not work,
when even the trivial mechanics oflife become occasions
of chronic anxiety, Smithson stands back calmly and
snows us the puny anthill thal we are. Even his fascination
with the interchangeability ofsule in space (as well as in
time) only serves to reveal the pacific fact that whether the
jetty is as 'big' as a diatom or as 'small' as sorne nebula
might be ultimately incidental, though not because it is
only matter of'pure' form (hardly). And what tough little
optimists crystals are - they seem just to grow, pop, and
then to stay and stay and stay. Perhaps what the superficial
landscape is to sentiment, Sm ithson's geologic landscape
is to the intelligence.
It is particularly appropriate that Smithson's great
Sp iro/Jetty, the sculpture iuelf, I mean , is confronted this
way, on film , because one particular film , Antonioni's The
Red Destrf. (1964) has had probably more than any otner
single work of art the effect ofawakening an appreciation
ofthe unnoticed decadent beauty ofa kind of raw and drab
landscape that is reatly more characteristic ofthe earth ,
whether 'virgin' or abused , than we tend, romantically, to
imagine. But Antonioni's attitude is quite different from
Smithson's: his landscape was made so raw, if not so drab,
by the decadent irresponsibility ofindustrialism, and to
share his fascination with the possible picturesqueness of
wrecked nature is problematic in a moratly different way
(finding aesthetic charm in the dilapidation ofthe human
setting, a possibility that haunts Jacob Riis's slum photo.
graphs, traces back at least to Whistler's print The Unsafe
Tenement). Smithson 's landscape may look similarly raw
and drab, but in iu vast geo.historical calm, it lea ves
Anton ioni's Norf.h ltalian slag.heap world with an aspect
ofhectic absurdity, of a frantic human scramble that leads
back, whatever else we think, to 'square one', whereas
Smithson is always subtimely conscious of square one.
The film is inescapably good qua film . There is a
particularly skillful handling ofvisual form and structure,
especially ofvisuaherbal analogy. The formal strength
shows in vivid and sustained analogies between the long
takes of roadway, early in the film , as the camera charges
straight ahead towards what one feels as a real and urgent
goal, namely the site, then, aRer a long time, takes a
welcome and thrilling bend - between such initial
experiences ofthe Toad and the subsequent experience of
the jetty, with iu long, straight approach and the
commencement ofits curve. AII along, and on several
planes oftime, a counterpoint between the gradually
emerging spiral ofthe jetty and Smithson 's verbal
commentary manifests the coming.into.being ofthe
sculpture and the film alike, the sculpture being the film 's
emerging motif, and the film , as it were, the sculpture's
'consciousness'. So much so that even what is not tfue-
for instance, a persistent folk myth that there is a whirlpool
in the lake at the mouth ofthe subterranean river linking it
to the Pacific - becomes indispensably significant to the
narration. 1find these cinematographic strengths
significant also in a circumstantial way, to the extent that
photography and film are extensions of'graphic art'. Since
the relatton between scutpture and printmaking was
atready discussed by Alberti , in the Renaissance, it is all
the more interestingto find Smithson, the sculptor,
making a film with true cinematographic strength
(meanwhile, sorne doubt that theJetty itselfis sculpture) .
It is possible, even likely, that we were not ready forthe
art ofRobert Smithson ul1til we had seen how the earth
looks from outer space. This new slant on the earth's
puniness and grandeur necessitated adaptations
incredibly more severe than the starling aspect ofthe
landscape when first seen from the airplane in the time of
Cubism - which the heticopter sequence in this film can be
said to recapitulate. As yet only Smithson's art has
sufficient sweep and yet also enough contemplative calm
to deal with matters of such immensity as they enter the
sphere of OUT real, earthly p.xperience for the first time.
,t 'th
.'
C'
, tty'. Ar'
< 'l. 1'1 ; rep' n l/r,(
,. yHOIl. Ne"V r. ver
, ", 1 '. pp 'J 1Ó
eDil .. ., " P <.1 r, rdI",".
tc.y ro"" e . . A'
.. " ... 314 . . vl d fr '" 1"
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Pnsent: l >,$ f tne l!l ResearCh
H, qan.¡<l!j4.p !3 39
éln BAUDRI ARD
Hyperrealism of
Si la 'or r·_- R,
[ ... ] Reality iuelffounders in hyperrealism, the meticulous
reduplication ofthe real , preferably through another,
reproductive medium, such as photography. From
medium to medium, the real is volatilized, becoming an
allegory of death. But it is also, in a sen se, reinforced
through iu own destruction. tt becomes rea/ity for its own
soke, the fetishism ofthe lost object: no longerthe object
of representation, but the ecstasy of denial and ofiu own 28S
•
ritual extermination: the hyperreal.
"" f
·f '1 , "
t n 5 ed. 101. "<:er
,.,-itjn •
•
•
KateSOPER
Natu re/"nature' [1996]
tn consideTing the future of nature, it is difficult not to be
struck by the conjuncture at the present time oftwo
influential critiques of modernity whose political
prescriptions and agendas are in sorne ways
complementary and overlapping, but which are talking to
us about nature in very different ways. 1am speaking here
ofecology on the one hand and what might broadly be
termed 'postmodernist' cultural theory and criticism on
the other. Both have denounced the technocratic
Prometheanism ofthe Enlightenment project, and
inveighed agatnst its 'humanist' conceptions: ecology on
the grounds that this has encouraged an 'anthropocentric'
privileging of our own species which has been distorting of
the truth of our relations with nature and resulted in cruel
and destructive forms of dominion over it; postmodernist
theory on the grounds that it has been the vehicle of an
ethnocentric and 'imperializing' suppression ofcultural
difference. Both, moreover, have emphasized the links
between the dominion of'instrumentat rationality' and the
protraction of various forms of gender and racial
discrimination.
Yet while the ecologists tend to invoke 'nature' as an
independent domain ofintrinsic value, truth or
authenticity, postmodernist cultural theory and criticism
'm. emphasizes tU discursive status, inviting us to vtew the
lo.
f f" order of'nature' as existing only in the chain ofthe
g5 (;f RO/;Jat signifier. Nature is here conceptualized only in terms ofthe
t1 Pre s. .. effects of denaturalization or naturalization, and this
deconstructivist perspective has prompted numerous
cultural readings which emphasize the instability ofthe
.,er j concept of'nature', and iu lack of any fixed reference ( ... ]
,n In su m, while the ecologist refers to a pre·discursive
An, , nature which is being wasted and polluted, postmodernist
theory directs us lo the ways in which relations to the non·
human world are always historically mediated, and indeed
'constructed', through specific conceptions ofhuman
identity and difference. Wherethe focus ofthe one is on
human abuse ofan external nature with which we have
failed to appreciate our affinities and ties ofdependency,
the other is targeted on the cultural policing functions of
the appeal to ' nature' and its oppressive use to legitimate
social and sexual hierarchies and norms ofhuman
conductoWhere the one calls on us to respect nature and
the limits it imposes on cultural activity, the other invites
us to viewthe nature-cullure opposition as iuelf a
politically instituted and mutable construct [ ... J
Let us begin by noting some ofthe problematic aspects
oftwo prescriptive positions on natufe that are oRen
present in the argument ofecological critics.
OOCUMENTS

The first is that which invites us to think of'nature' as a
wholly autonomous doma in whose so-called 'intrinsic'
value has been necessarily and progressively depreciated
as a consequence ofthe intrusive and corrupting activities
ofthe human species. One problem with this rhetoric is
that it tends to obscurethe fact that much ofthe 'nature'
which we are called upon to preserve or conserve (most
obviously the so-caUed 'natural' landscape) takes the form
it does only in virtue of centuries ofhuman activity, and is
in an important material sense a product ofcultivation or
'cultural construct'. rndeed some would question whether
there are any parts ofthe earth - even its remoter arctic
regions and wildernesses - which are entirely free ofthe
impact ofits human occupation. If nature is too glibly
conceptualized as that which is entirely free ofhuman
'contamination', then in the absence of anything much on
the planet which might be said to be strictly 'natural' in
this sense ofthe term, the injunction to 'preserve' it begins
to look vacuous and self-defeating [ ... ]
Much that the preservationist and heritage impulse
speaks of as ' natural' landscape or seeks to conserve as
the encapsulation of a more harmonious order in time - as
a more natural past way ofliving - is the product of class,
gender and racial relations whose social origins and
sources of discord are disregarded in these
retrospections. It is easy, moreover, to be sceptical of such
nostalgia for the supposedly more organic and 'natural'
order ofthe past, given how regularly it has figured in the
laments ofthe critics of' progress'. When, alter all, it might
be asked, has historical reflection on the present 110t
sought to contrast this to a more fortunate moment in
time - to a prelapsarian time.space of' nature' whether
conceived directly in mythical-theological terms as an
absolute origin in Eden or Arcadia, or more mundanely
and relatively as the utopia ofthe erstwhile rural stability
which has been displaced by And when has
the appeal to 'nature' in this sense not tended to legitimate
social hierarchies which needed to be ( ... ]
There is elitism and phony organicism associated with
the urge to environmental and heritage preservation, and
one cannot deny the extent to which it is caught up in the
same mythologies about 'our' heritage and the
'common 'and' which have helpe<! to sustain the power
and property ofthose most directly responsible for
ecological destructioll . Yet, no serious analysis ofthe
contemporary environmentalist impulse can stop s hort at
exposillg the ideological dimensions ofthis response,
which is clearly witness to insecurities and
dissatisfactions which cannot be dismissed as ecologically
irrelevant l ... ]
Certainly there is no beauty to be had in that blind
forgetting ofthe past which would simply celebrate the
incursion of a new motorway as another instance of
' progress', man 's mastery over nature, and so on. My
point is only that the historical remembr3nce ¡nvolved
here 3150 requires us not to expunge the record ofthe
human relations which went into the making ofthe
countryside which we now seek to preserve from the
destruction ofthe motorway. Nor should we forget the
extent to which our conceptions ofthe aesthetic
attractions and va lue ofthe natural world have themselves
ILLU t.4 INATlO N
been shaped in the course of our interaction with it and
must be viewed, at least in part, as reactive responses to
its effects. To offer but one very obvious example here, the
shift from the aesthetic ofthe cultivated to that ofthe
sublime landscape, and the Romantic movement into
which it subsequently fed, have clearl y to be related to the
impact ofEnlightenment science and industry in knowing
and subduing a 'chaotic' nature. Untamed nature begins
to figure as a positive and redemptive power only at the
point where human mastery over its forces is extensive
enough to be experienced as itself a source of danger and
alienation. It is only a culture which has begun to register
the negative consequences ofits industrial achievements
that will be inclined to return to the wilderness, or to
aestheticize its terrors as a form offoreboding against
further advallces upon its territory. The romanticization of
nature in its sublimer reaches has been in this sense a
manifestation ofthose same human powers over nature
whose destructive effects it laments.
Our conceptions, then, ofthe value and pleasures of
the natural world have clearly changed in response to
actual human transformations ofthe environment. They
have also been continuously mediated through artistic
depictions and cultural representations whose perception
of nature has often been partial and politically inflected.'
We should note, therefore, that the relationship between
the aesthetic experience oflandscape and its portrayal in
art or literature is not one way but mutuaUy determining;
and that the political meanings embedded in the latter are
both reflective ofthe actual inscription of social relations
within the environment and refracted back into the
aesthetic responses to it. Those who refer us to the
unmediated aesthetic value of nature should bear in mind
how far preferences in nature have, in these senses, been
the 'construct' of cultural activity and ofits particular
modes of artistic representation ( ... ]
If we are to give full due both to the actual history ofthe
making ofthe environmellt, and to the contemporary
tailoring of'nature' to modern needs and perceptions, we
must illevitably recognize the conceptual difficulty of
simply counterposing nature and culture as ifthey were
two clearly distinguishable and exclusive domains. Much
which ecologists loosery referto as ' natural' is indeed a
product ofculture, both in a physical sense and in the
sense that perceptions ofits beauties and varue are
•
culturally shaped [ ... 1
Ecological argument also needs t o be cautious in
accepting the classic genderization of nature as feminine,
as it does whenever it simply inverts an Enlightenment
devaluation ofboth women and nature as, by association,
the exploitable objects of a masculine instrumental
rationality in favour of a celebration ofthe 'maternal'
and/or ' virginal' nature which has been rejected and/or
violated by her rapacious human son or suitor. This is in
part because it reproduces the woman-nature coding
which has served as legitimation for the domestication of
women and their confinement to the nurturing role (and
may overlook the extent to which iconic associations of
'woman' with the land and earth·bound values have
served as the prop for national cultures whose actual
policies towards women, land ownership and the division
1
oflabour are deeply conservativej.lt is in part because in
the process ofsymbolic identification it tends to repeat the
exclusion of women from ' humanity' and 'culture'. Any
eco-politics, in short, which simply reasserts the claims of
a feminized space/being of nature against its human
dominion is at risk of reproducing the implicit
identification ofthe human species with its mOlle
members in its very denunciations of'human' abuse of
•
' nature' ( ... ]
We have 01150, however, to question the coherence of
the 'constructivist' rheto,;c associated with much
postmodernist theory of gender and sexuality- that which
refuses, for example, to recognize any extra·discursive
naturar determinations and seeks to present 0111
supposably natural aspects ofhuman subjectivity as the
artefact ofculture. This rhetoric infor ms a good deal of
rather glib reference to the 'culturality' of nature, but is
perhaps (1Iost evide,:,t in the argument ofthose who insist
that there is no ' natural' bodyj that even needs, instincts
and basic pleasures must be viewed as the worked.up
effects of discourse; and that everything which is
presented as 'natural' must be theorized as an imposed-
and inherently revisable - norm ofculture>( ... ]
Constructivists clearly dislike any reference to ' nature'
for fear oflending themselves to biological determinism
and its political ideologies. But to take 0111 the conditioning
away from nature and hand it to culture is to risk
entrapping ourselves again in a new form of determillism
in which we are denied any objective ground for
challenging the edict of culture on what is or is not
'natural' ( ... ]
Just as some forms of ecological rhetoric about nature
can be charged with being too ready to abstract from the
politica! effects ofits cultural representation, so the
constructivist rhetonc can be accused ofbeing too ready to
deny the nature which is not the creation but the prior
condition of culture. This is what might betermed nature
in the realist sense: the nature whose structures and
processes are independent ofhuman activity (in the sense
that they are not a humanly created product) and whose
forces and causal powers are the condition of and
constraint upon any human practice or technological
activity, however Promethean in ambitioll (whether, for
example, it be genetic engineering, the creation of new
energy sources, attempted manipulations of climatic
conditions or gargantuan schemes to readjust to the
effects of earlier ecological manipulations). This is the
'nature' to whose laws we are always subject, even as we
harness it to human purposes, and whose processes we
can neither escape nor destroy ( ... ]
It is an error to suppose that in defending the
possibility of an objective knowledge of natural process
one is committed to an uncritical acceptance ofthe
'authority' ofscience or bound to endorse the rationality of
the modes in which its knowledge has been put to use. It
is, on the contrary, to seek to further the rational
disencha ntment with those forms ofscientific wisdom
and technological expertise which have proved so
catastrophic in their impact on the environmen\. Likewise
to pit a religious or mystical conception of nature against
these forms oftechnological abuse is less to undermine
than to colll.lde in the myth ofthe omnipotence ofscience;
•• • '"
it is to pe¡yetuate the very supposition which needs to be
challenged -that beca use science can achieve results •
which magical interactions with nature cannot, it is always •
put to work lo good efrect [ ... J
What is really needed, one mighl argue, is not so much ,
new forms of awe and reverence of nature, but rather lo
extend to it sorne ofthe more painful forms of concern we
have for ourselves. The sense of tupture and disUnce
which has been encoutaged by secular rationality may be
.'. "
better overcome, nol by worshipping this nature that is
•
'other' t o humanity, but through a process of re-
sensitizalion lO OUt combined sepatation from it and
dependence upon it. We need, in other words, lo feel
something ofthe anxiety and paín we expetience in OUt
relations with othet human beings in virtue ofthe
necessity of dealh, 1055 and separation. We are ineviubly
compromised in OUt dealings with natute in the sense that
we cannol hope to live in the wOtld without distraining on
its resoutces, without bringing prefetences to it whích are
shaped by OUtown concerns and conceptions of worth,
and hence withoul establishing a celtain sttucture of
priorities in tegatd to its use. Not c<ln we even begín to
recons idet the ways in which we have been too nonchalanl
and c.allous in OUt attitudes lo olher life-forms, except in
lhe light of a certain privileging of OUt own sense of
identity <lnd value. AII the same, we can cettainly be more
Ot less awate ofthe compromise, more Ot less pained by it,
and more or less sensitive lo the patterning ofthe bonds
and separations which it imposes ( ... ]

•
• •
•

•
•
,
•
• •

•
•

,
• , •

• • •
,
• •
•
• • .-. ,
• 993 ,

• •
• - •
• •• •

, •
•
"
• • • · •
•• • • •
• .' .. •

• o.,. .
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OOCU"'ENTS
ARTISTS' BIOGRAPHIES
,
. ' & LANGUAGE 1Io!. John BALOESSARI b onal e ty . llerben BAY ER [b. 19( l . d,
,,
" o ," ", _.0' ce, "!, a p "te' Dut turned
,., ,, -, t on

, ,
"
,
'"me pateArr,
,
prH' , ., d,
D,"t'mal9bO tYI

Dr .. f per a a.
and

and th,
foe a

," or i, pd

" a1 r bou" . •• 6a 1 .. n dnd Ro", den, ,,' ,npul

"' , a a Im"erc al _"'SI '" 8erlln ,
, lh name 1 ·"'gr.II, to Vnc k ,n 1938 , Bayer ... H

d .. " , ", no l' luded 1n a "u,"l.r f lO'porunt

• • n v ,tr y,n 960. ,,"

( n t' lr n e a fIn r 91 He I r m , r' and pI em,"e Vor l, • .,ongS l the .. 'f.nUstl Art , Dadd ana

r aaare e H r fO' h, >urrea '1'1' and 'An

, hegdl 'ya, ,by.1 ", Hune • n'rnH O.or gar,',h w"r. ",lu Ing' [194J] A DI and
T In en. ,.. ." ,ue"! 1 to 1 t ,¡ y

, -" an'trtt
" •
d ",t the an!. dv 1 al r fle-¡ he
" I ti T
", • "
)f lO h eth In 19' he created t .. "

... '" I xr b,fed ,o, ?h ' uH. h 'ti W

1 ' • , ¡n Sur n den. A o

y n

"
.,
L M '.ongst
I
the ma, y

not d
p h ... " qr up b 96 J. ,c placed around a pool and fountain ,

rm /0\, '" u pture'. TI , 99lndh

Ar' 1 lnvr1t,ArtM m 992 .. "n"es, dt th Museum f tem, ,raty Art,

" d

na a group 01
" OllplHed ln 19a1o
.,.. h 1t n ude M '101

, 1• he , Par' " ,o
• , )o ¡¡ the i'!
" "
• ;/9 J.

ANTFARM , , qr "O
,
, .
Al,e.. AYCOCK

, ,
" LOlhar BAUMGARTEN

- , ulp\
'"
Beny BEAUMONT
.rt It,
[D, 1946, Torontol i an

,
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"
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"

ARTISTS SIOGRAPHIES
Joseph BEUYS o of lUSlfl ottlcn and ,n group U tn ..... ,e4r. d , 28.
0_ 1986. Dys loorl ,enunyl .. a HQuao y ano 'frag;le (colog'e!' , ,f Arl. .. at tM funstm ... ......

t 'ntla 'n art_ ti net"S arder ana dl$Crder. G, up York 19921 dnd 'f Ill> 8Jen' 1.1 Of (197 tM M derna MU$ett"t '-' 'lO

"S 'n' 'Arte Povera 1m NH of f,ne Arl'. '1 B9 J

,pu, , eHlesra gallery, Genoa 1967 ano
fe, prac! e f· on dn lnsul at'Jn ,,'110 Bryly 'Oegrel'S of ,torefront for .rl
ooet-¡,nq, ano 0\5 n at Ola enter lo' .IY9S anO Are, tE 10r' 1991]. Nether land\ [s

pr. aM taq nq f perl <!I&nce. B"elt nao nymerou\ •

Beuy' useo h"n'an CHRISTO 'b. [10(1 I Javacl>eff, 19J • ,
as tr.oe .. a'. ¡elt ano
Ste,nQaIIHI. ¡"r,n. A ,"aJor relrOlpect_.e
.. , .. , Bulgirla
[o, Jeann! 'lauoe
and JEANNE - CLAU DE
Gu, ebon, '935,
-· 1

'n U'e 196

abstract, .. " te and

," • eSldbl hea

pl1r:,ngl anoora",nQ\ are l'aractu'lI'o by a'Arte e ntempCfanea, Turln :asab1 anca 1 been Msed n n s .SSO dI n •• tl! 'Zero in. I s
'Braun .. reutl' a.,.turtOf 1996] s 1 nce 1964, IIdve "'.)rked t 'nce of'en presenteO n the lo,,,, f

are's b r"n ,n.en!ed the 1%1, produ' tneor ect t!'le IdrQ 5t belfl9 Jlurdl

art. t en,,)f ,."n CA! Guo·Q¡aflS 'tale cutoo,r Hulptures, bu,ld,ng relu 'n5 19BQJ a
'fI,talla! [ "7000 " tuOleo ;tage hyndred herb p", ',a aro uno tn, .. or d or

'gn H >Mngna Dra,"a fro", 'dH 1969), Vdlle)'Curtdln 197( Qatherea n lhe cou"trys de the
1986 ne ved and In Japan. {19aO-a3J, rhe art st' home Ht ,.h, lt ln

ano \97, BeuI' "'o, "¡S95 He ha' used a lirdpoed 1975 8SJ, 1991
'"
lO Yo,"

S n Ousselaorl ana lIa,"b"rg, aflo;n range ,f Jnonvent,onal "'Herlal '" lirapp;;od Re' -I>Udg [1995 ga,nea p.rad"e' ka¡-I (rnst Museu",.
H"pt .. ,¡pC '1 cal ni m SI flotably gunp("drr ano 'rld"ide Adoress,ng the and 'oc :u",enl' )f a 'n am t 11, I •
, ,nese .eatc;ne. He ueites large ,cale ob$ess Jn ",th lile 19/0 19q?'. Royal BotdM Garden, [o,n ur;h
/1, .' Free Party "e.ents ano ndoor nHallat!ons .'f the 'no"n 'nu lhe 1992
for OHe.' 0e"'( 'del [19/IJJ Beu1' .. a H' .. " . I r :l\ly nforll1eo Dy 'h,nese Chrnt( and Jean-Chude are al
n • ... -e Be for",', recogn'leo for po) t1cal and o, 193a, Budapest.
'"'
.0

• ;1' l1e, 8... rn He ,n concerned ",!M .k,lI ,n b""9'n9 tneor grplo" YP 'o ,t 1m .fld "a educated 111 Ne ...
,,_enti 3 1961l.. 19681. 5 { 91S; ar f ,¡ ou' rcl@andplace noaH,vely '"ternatlonal pr<.jen' '. Yorl_ [xh,bll,n9 'nce lh" ¡<l61 s,
:19S< IIe O perfor,"a' -es ti tri S ... 'th,n tne ,f tne un'vene Ilght TM' r {then )n11 under Dene de.1 "nll ecol09'cal, al ana
(urooe ti A.,er .a, ana" ¡r. tn Cut a' y nl'!1 Chr'>lO'S nomeJ been jn 'n
Ge, ... any ,n tn" ee S,,,nnale 1 ,16 He rohtb!' ,)"S ln lude 'The "angha! ind e . hiO,t ons such n Dotu .. enu 4 (!96BJ and monumental n scale and "hi(h
• an Art Jo nt htnbl1 ln', ' .. onu .. enta: 8iennale II outdoor . te r'1] env, rMmen la I be nefi t lJene! 1

Rt t 81 n. Ber' • a.a O( 'etc spen 've F uC .eu"" na 19851 ao Rhode I$land 19/4]. Sol< pernaps Dest for

• .... ". o at 0"'0" JI exh'b1t onl includ lile IMJdern Confron!dt on 198<1. a two-aue d
QI9J B'en Ale 997]. Am q<l lo, , Art, .. York [1968] and tne j\ she olaoted dnd horVl"strd ,n
r ... al FHebal A""terda", IIQ71' Mnhattafl. 'l'1y dec ln to plant a "heH

Oons BLOOM C p, n inHead )f Oe '9n,nq just

"'ent, 1991 and 'Cullurdl b. 1935. another publlc sculpture gre .. lUt Ji

.. .na
.. r

.. , ' t ,
" for tn _.1 forn,.) I\a' oeen.' oe ated ... ltn onqstaM,ngcon, rnandneeat, .al

Jnceptual Min,ma' '", lana Art ano attention :': lur rn"placed pr,or,t>l"

[""')1!j' and Afrl ifl t pan 1997 Instal 'al on an s,nce 196( H,s OetHloraung human v.lues ' In rr",
'rH .1" IS' an!! e ar' lH .ulpturel .011 lDJect conlront lhe "".JUntd!": !(, IO,ooe Pelpl""

111 l'" e nHr" ! er.n;"s,ng t-teI CH IN m'H aHu,"Ptl lOS abo"t arl 19B, J. Ule, tlle He'" as d
,f the co",,,,un1ty a' ..el as a ",ean to

p ,\ •a ptyres presentea ,n
'"' 'MeqTa!", nature and cu1turr; Ji,

rat ln of the S,," the C¡¡lt )f fir tree$ pi anted by 1 , peop 1e. Her

tr&a tlt DJ lne tuture)' a\fferent at th Gal efy, New Vork r,elrJ (1911). ocateo lO a plain 'n enl iest exn'D,Uon "H al llumbl.
•• Url.ls.'f entql t her pa'ntln'ls '19Bg] H,sp l't ul coneerosoevelopeoto Unlvrrsll." Var" ¡96S], Group

en fI lude Nao nal t, luoe env1ro"mental i .. >r' defl'1ty)f 10 Nnrth exh'b't,ons 'n,lude Oo.u",enU 6 IQ17 ana
G.llery. B@j ,n9, [lH5J and t, "'dit"nlor A"'er,ea. $culptyre s l"'P, ed of 4()( the 8'enndle 1978, 198( 10

81 m' $ f scylptures """H' oned printed su,nlrss \teel rOdl , ;pread 12() on$ ,n, ·Per>pectiVe¡·.

• ,ale"a ot by tl1e NeO' York C t, )eport,"ent Of and feet dPart ano edendlng ,ne ,"e Coreoran Gallery .,' Art. lIash,nQtOfl, DC

0995 aM and ren Jn for tlle o, t 100 'Noan' I Art ' As.l,qlltnin9 Hriker., lhe rOO$ {197SJ. In 1992 the Herbert F Jahnson

(1989] r'eld, begun 1n 1991 'n 'gn1(r, 'reatlog a val' ,et -.f v' ,ble at ¡rnel UnherS1ty presentell a

,t M,MeSata, s )n-gO'"9 proJect electr'cal -hnges }tner _,1 her •. ork.

AIlgh>ero 8 0ml {o. 1940, Tu,!n, d_ 1994, )f lanll re, la"'H,on 00 tM '"eluoe V.. rt'cil [drth ¡el
110 J.as." 'n,U IHlon and ,"cepl"al :apa¡-,ty of ;ertaln p13nts l( heavy (19/ 1. l/e ... York !drth RC',m [191 lb. 1941, The
8rl" en .. e¡er, NP.York :lg71
'"'
De Netherlana' , eeptud 1 Art j S1
... rt 11 a' atea ,,'(11 lf Arte tlle'r
Po.era 'n !Uly. He"as ecolog'tal .nO destnetlc lncerns Maria' "a tne 196'. ha prnducedonalnlypnotO·baSed

oart cularl, ;nterested In collaboratl.e Mve becoml' 1015 on. .. ork. Hi expiares the rela! )nsn,p

prOJecH ana tne ruhatlcn 01 p'eces dre on flnll'ng t< Ne .. Yor\:. '1968]. He part c'pated beheen fye, thp S'ghl of -ampra and

ofan people. lIoenl proble .. Cnin's has in Oocumenu 6 (197JJ and lhe Venice na!url". Exploring ... hat and the

ARTISTS 810GRAPHIES
 , a, fu ery . lO' 'l , '9 IQmlsh FULTON 1 b . 1946,
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97' ar '[ rTh, _hern'lbyl

" • ••• , , " re h,¡s art, jPdt> ,n D ulllfnta lay t

1.,
..
anipulated, nHu'al , I al u , ' , lnH1tuteot

"r 1 t1 d 'he ·", .ned y

:¡roup I .. 'Wh '1 '''Ih Net, An f

• e. 1 cumenta Ha'nel FEIGENBAUM "', d fo," • 978] d' 'Ro 1 ,, 1t '

.onH , andsc.pe fer <o, .,1 (,992 or mo r ..

hl.t'he,',
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JI 'H :aI
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9 1 ". '9 w.• , 1t Y 1r I.. n Hilmlllon FINlAY -1 au, ,

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• r .. or" , ., ,," Jf the pnnclpal Ir ti

a' hlte(' un'. , ca' • r y amI ., "t, t

M.,k DION 1 a,lra,'t Culm1nated In 96

uch re to ft_. . Cdl ed ,'o' .. h :h Germany 19bq nd 'Informat on'

pr el 1 n, alp'named lttl Theref' lay

• ¡.r seum ,f M, dern Ar: Yo ," 197D]
'"
y";'.wVn, und bu,lta , '_.1" •
th fo'm 'f "" 11,' , , on ,t' ,wl\h 1"'1 ,1 Canada ,
, nn
I ero rOlan e r
" ar"ur I Ihe Fr '" i9pr t _,88
Arlpar> Wl q"

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19 umns, Ontar

o"
1199{]and

1996
ber ¡,al ry ,

, 'Fe amal \In F t r -.' 'or 1 ania' interdrr the

area r' , W.lham FURl ONG

, ,
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ilT

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d re XI
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, "h
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.
SO nve I 9dt ns nI tne nl't n erp<''' ' ne V" yd' I u8, 81. k lid] b ) .. scu p ure and 9H

-.' b gl fore 198 1 l' " ;hip obJe ,

"a "ere n dY' Hll

,u
1

1,
." re' e t}' 1M S ',w
ononrt pan HHl , '" .
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1 ondon

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ter bel,.een the natur.l f tur lplure

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enT al >1' I , W.. " , y ,f Amen ". [ 933] ",ade o' 1", ,the gr._

Oeen "
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O. 1944,
,. t the t me lone, '¡he wor. ' .. p'esen! a of
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_,,1'1" B 19B7), mad' '" I •

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'dtJfa toryaM Jth.>r F ,1 /'15 ""O , f r U 1 t .. po'ar Q, " sh Art In an

, ". ". • ., ",
ENDO ,
•

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r . .'" ' ;)f penan e al • '" ( 9'J

" 980 J ' l(,frthe ndon

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A•• taIGEVA 1941, t n ShemH I bbutl ,

• ,' " ,l< Fend ' 1 s ir' ate ot ur

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ff hore
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n,

[1969] hung
• qy bouM .Jry, m th 'ee mal a t, R I mal I dtt' Art
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.n TIIan', e and. v w' pre en e In e y" nment H tone for

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ART I STS BIQ GRAPH I ES

 , . , , " • " va' f •. '"
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Nancy HOLT
Jl,n ·'n
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1984
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ARTlSTS BIOGRAPHIES
m and VIdeo as ",el 1 dr ... ,ng ln attempt to re,anHoate ruins. but t o a110,.. Mary MISS [b. 1944. New York] lsa 1945-\975 · . S.,i l l1soni an Institution ,

lhe hndstape, On paper or lO tnem to functto n In a different "ay by sculptor. drauQhu,"an, and W3Shlnglon OC [1975] and lile

a concerned .... itn both pllys;(al lpenlng them up to the urban He,..as enviroomental arUst .. ho Ihes ond \<Iorks in 8ienn¿le [1980]. A sho ... a¡

geography and Ine geograpny a f ex"erie"ce not concerned ,.., t h turning the York . Since thr 1970s shr has pldyea a Gallery. San Fr ancisco [1951]"'H one of
loto monUll1enta 1 pture, but in revea 11 ng lead,ng role In publ fe sculptu r e "'orris' earliesl exh'bitions. Otner solo

upo!'!!cs,'!am ana tM possibil1l1H l or sculptures slted ha ve been neld regularl), a t Leo

,,,terHted in poli t lcal .r!. tllat ; S to say problems . In order to document his "ork. he 'n the landseape ,..or' e xplores the Castel!i Gal l ery.

an .r! of ambigu,ty. contradlction, beeame a highly iMo.ati.e photographer and relation of eonstrueled f orms to lanaseape,

uncompleted .. estures and uncertain experimental fih"maker Solo e . h,blt,ons in terms of botn the phySlCal and the Christ,anPt.,hpp MÜlL E R 1957.8'1'1.

endlng' . Group exnioi!10ns lntlude i ne lude 112 Greene St reet G. 11 ery. NI'''' Vor" cultural se tt in9s. In 19B1 sl1e completed Sw1tzerlandJ and ,..or " s in NI'''' York. He

Oocu'I1enta x [1997] and lhe Hhana Blennale [1972J ana Staaali sche Kunsthal le. Cove. an archHectural landscape ma kes both ana perfo"nance

(1997). Solo inelude Gaoaman OUHeldorf [1919J Group e x hibitlons design on a piece 01 hndfill at Banery Park .. or . s . using histor;cal references to

Ga 11 ery. Jonanhe,!!u' .. f 1994] and Suphen inelude S [1972J and l [1991] and eHy. He" York lne \oIork dra"s on natural Question the (ondltions af ",ti<tIC

fri ed"'an Ga 11 ery. Londan [1998] tl1e Venlce B,ennale [19BO). and aspects 01 ll1e cove. In 1996 produetton and reeeplion. In hls ... ork A

started on reno.ating the 14lh 8alaneing,tn [1997]. Muller commented on

RlchardLO NG [o 1942, 8,istol] La Citdo ME IR ElES [b 1948. Pio de Janelfo. Street Union SQuare StHion lO NI'''' tM transformat,on of tIJe ,riedrlChspla¡l

sculptor. pnotograpner and Conceptual BralilJ ereates 'nstallations using York, ana the La Brea lar Pit sile 10 Los in Kass .. l. the sQuare ,n of

ArtiSl Muen of his "0'1, consist, Jf lile variety of materuh. eOOlbining spectacle Angeles. AIso in 1996 Miss eonstructea a Docurnenta·s ma,n building, the
• •
actlVity of waHlng, these ",aHs often lan ,..ith 15Sues of morlality ana cultural co 11 a bO r al i ve proj ec t, Greea,..ooa Pond: FfledenCHnym. by the eonstrue ti on of an

",.ny dar s aM n,", to re .. ote paru of Ine differenee. H,s lnstallH,on lio..- to Bu' Id Double Slte. a demonstratlon ,..etland 'n Oes underground car park. TI1,s has permanently

cnhedrlls [l981]. consisted da floor Moines. I"wa. in lhe grounds of lhe Des al terea Beuy s 1,000 0#5 (1972J ano De

MiS map, and bhc:k and .. hite are eovered \<11th 60,000 coins, a column of Mo,nes Art Among>t her group Maria·s Ver(Jeal fdrth Kilometer [1967].

a ,.isual record of these \oIalks. In many of c',",munion \<Iafers ano a root of Solo ·S1\ingl·. ld Jolla Museum exh'b'tions .nelude ·lheatregarden

h,S urly oleees Lon9 left ephemerol inelude IVAH, Spdln of ConlemporuyArt, Cal"ornh (1986J and 8estiarium'. P.S. \ . Ne .. York [19B9] ana

on Ihe lanascape. makin9 sculptures \oIHI1 [1995] aod the JnHilute 01 Contemporary 'More than Minimal: ,emln'5m and Documenta X, Kassel (1997]. 5010

natural "ote".,ls founa ,n tne environment. Boston [1991]. His \<Ior' hH been seen AbHractloo in Rose Art Museum, e Xhib,tions ,nelude ·Kleiner 'unrer durch

A L ine Maae by [1961] 1 S a in numerous 9rouP e<hlbitions includ1n9 Brandeis Universi l j. Waltham. die Ehem·. KunSla"aaerniegebaude .

photograph of a line left in the grass by 'Magiciens de la Terre·. Centre GeorgB MasHcnusetts. Solo eXh'b'tions inelude the [1984J and 'Was nane liegt 1st

repeatedly back and forth in a Pompidou. Pa"s. and ·20 Anos de Arte MCh'tectural Assoeiat,on. London [1987] doeh so fem·. Hamburg [19971.

stralght I,ne. Dunng the 19/0s, 01' Arte I"oderna. ·MUy Miss: Pnoto Ora,..,09S·, Des Molnes

pieces such as Sldte C,rele [l979J. Long Paulo :1994J. Art Center. Oes Mo,nes. 10"'0 (1996]. Viet NGO [b 1952. VietnamJ came to lhe

startea to proauee sculptures ,n gallery Unlted SUtes In 1970 to sludy

sp.ces. Dr,nging h,s e.penence of nHure Ana MENDIETA lb. 194B. Hav.n •. CUbd. d. [b. 1931. KanHS Cl t y, engineer,n9 and s l udlO arts He be90n

oack 'nto tM rnuseum or gallery. He al So 1985, Ne\<l Yor_] \<las sent t, the Un1teO M'Houri]li.e< ano in Ne" large·scale seulptures ,n granite.

started to .. ake mud pa' nt, ngs ... , th h, S hands States ,n 1961 H part of the i 11· hted oeullfe eo"ers a .. 'de range of di fferenl marole and ,..ood in 1963. but subseQuen t l)'

direnly onto lhe gallery walh. Although Operaclon Peter Pan for This pract':es, ineluding performance, turnea to environmental art and arl in

hiS .. s stron91y 1 inked to the 6ritish forced Hparat ion Irom her homeland ano her paintlng. seulpture and eartn,..orks. ,rom publ ic spaces. H9<' founded a cOOlpany lo

lanaseape tradition. the "or'·s mean'ng fam'ly had a fundamental ,rnpatt)n ner "or" 1965 MOrris e.niblted large. conceptually promOle a '<jreen· "Hle ... ater treatment

Iles ,n the 1, ty of hl S actions rather Whlle Hill al the UnlVen'ty of insplred pleees such dS Unt!tled. wooden technOlogy. the Lemna 5ystern, whleh he

than representations of a lanascape. Long she .. al:ing performance pieces cubes lacea ... ith P1H'glas mirror. Moving helped develop: t nis system hi., to

aiSt,nguHhed hlmself from art,qs \<IhlCh comblned ritual. performance and a"ay from loe constra,nts of conventlon.1 pul ,nto pra(tice his ideas aMut

... orking In 1M laMseape by lhe spiritual references Mendieu·s SIlueta media. Morris created ,nfrastructure and arto ·The Lemna

h'S intervent10n in envlfonment. both an :arving5 and earthwor'S made ln for .. ,..orks uslng ephemeral mHenal, such faeil1l'H are designed as 9reen corridors.

ethical ana aesthetic principIe Long natural landscapes, developeo an ong'nal as hll. mirrors. and ... aHe or punduation mar"s. in the urbon

part' e I pate<l ,n . WorO:s·, VI r9' n'a lor,"al dnd SCulptural informeo OY sleam and d1ft also sluled to 1 aollscape.· Hi S best· "ork. De.' I s

O.. an Gallery. He ... York [1968] the art I Sl • S speCl cul tu re and .. airectly in tne landseape, creatlng lt'aHe,..ater Treatment Plant [1990J,

inc1uaed ln Oacumenta (1912J. Solo autobiogrdphy. but wnich transcended these hl$ first Obsuvdtory, in 1971. locatea In D..... ¡l· s lake, North Oakota. i S a

e.hib't'ons include Museum of Moaern Art. to express fundamental human ¡ncerns ,rom Morris· prlmary .. ere the physical function,ng treat .. ent faeilit)' Pu r ,fYlng

Odor<l [197\] ,n (ireles·, 1980 to 1985 she started to develop a three- and psyehological COM'l'ons of 3.5 mi 11, on ga 11 ons of ... astewater a doy

Hay ... ard Gallery. [1991] sculptural vocabulary us,ng lhe scale ¡I ha lana pieces provoke an through 'erpenl'''e eoverea w'th a

awareness of the experience as Coth brighl <jreen mat )f ... phnts. Ngo·S

Gordon MATTA-CLARK (b. 1942. Ne ... Hyliled "'0'< Mendieu·' ,..ork ,patlal and temporal. $culoture off the group i"elude 'Public

d.1978. He ... Yorq ... as the m of featured In 'Lat'" American ef the Pedestal. Belknap P¿rk. [1913· In5tHute Of ContemPOrar)'

SurrealHt palnter Roberto HOlta and gre .. XXtl1 Century' al lhe Museum of Modern Art. 74] continued MorrH' of arl ArIS, 80ston (1994] and '80th Sides'.
•
UD in the company 01 Mareel Quchamp. Max Hew Vúr' [1993] ana .. as al D ineluded ,n to landseape in"'"leh il Smithsonian Jnst'"ution, lIashinQton OC

Ernst and the group of Abstraer ·Feminin-mascul,n. le sexede l'Art'. H sited rather than sl,"ply set arC'lrarlly (1996] Solo e>hibitions inelude 'Sewage

Expressionists 'n Ne .. York A former Centre GeorgH Po",pidou. Parls [J993] i nto ; t. i nQ tne 1980s Morr i S returned t o and Sculpture: rile lemna ProJecl·.

of architecture al Cornell dra,..,ng ¿na palnling, .. ay frOml1is Steenslund Gallery. College of St Ola f .

MUHumol Contemporar)' Art. York (1981) concerns "itn the phenomeoology of the ,..or' Northfield. Mlnnesota [1990J and ·V'et Ngo:

n,s ·cutt'ngs·. lnterventions he earrle<l ana fOnda,.o Anlooi Barcelona Of art. Group incluoe Large Scale Seulptures · , Forum Gallery.

out On buila'ngs His ,..a<; nol an {\997]. ·Sculpture, American D"ections Minneapol,s. M,nnesou (19B9J.

ARTlSTS · BIOGRAPHIES
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re.' " , -" (195 ).M 'Gula Galler, of

• Rom", (1990

"OH • f.c' r u, •• h e ¡'IBe}. litad", of ""rrors and neon lignts, plays ,,"tn
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Char1ItSSIMONOS (b 19(5.
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ce'lan a se" es of
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19711s. d .. • lI"g p'aces for an

_<In t!,}' t a o' large- cale outdoor

prOJecs 50'ra; len}" on tlle shore of :ne

Gren Sal' la.e. litan [19701. is t he /leH
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AUTHORS 810GRAPHIES
 ROSoilhnd KRAUSS [o. 1940) t S Professor 01 Jann's KQunellls and A"ISIl Kapoor; • categor), not eontained ..-!thln the
Art dl Ihe ity UnlVerSH)' 01 Nelol tHt5 lnelude Arl polu'tiB 01 the and the 8eauttful
Pro.es or ji Ge' log)' York, and -edltor )f the October: Disronlent Theory theMiJlennoum [1991] by Burke earlier in the

lQY Ha .. Ud Un, "er' 't1, Art and Dtherness er>SJ5 Md century. In ISIO Pr'ce's ¡:olle¡:ted

:a,"oridg ,Ma' He J primar11)' a d,d much to Introduce Cle,.ent (,reenberg·s Jdentlty (1992]. were ished In three volumes,

pa 1 109; t dnd evel Jnar)' ,"oder"iH C"til ism to a more

bi teHnHge,logyandtne eMlronment. as wel! B aevelop,ng tlle Joseph MASHECK teaches at Hofstra Hirold ROSENSERG (l906-78J w_ s

se enCe preOlise$)f th_t erotle'sm, However, b)' the University, Ne..- York. He..-as an ed'tor of A,"erican critie aMd teacher_ A conteOlporary
€arly 191 ArUorum ,n tne late of Clement Gree "" erQ, tneory Of

/i'Hary [l980J and [''1nt t,tEle JI Ihe ,nab,\,ty )f Greenberglan Modern150l ",oderniH nn ,n OPPOS1t10n to the
Pr'lgre [1994 lO the a'vers't)' of has also .. ritten on the 5ubject af fiatness Greencerg i an I i ne. Rosenberg' s argument
:ulture_ '$ dutMr uf In art, partldor1)' in relatlon to the wor, th.t th€ aeHhetlc benme 5ubord,nate to

HAR KAYY an ,noependent uralor nuOlerou' rev,e..-s. artleles and cH410gue the e"ent in .ction palntlng coloured Ihe

bdsed rn Yor'. Am,ng5t lhe esH1s 'ncludi"g PJSHges In Modern reception o f bpressionism.

,Me eurated Jn Seu Ipture [1977], rhe Or, 9 ,nd /1 Iy of Ine fymlO NANJO (b. 1949 J i S an ,ndependent \y ,n (urape. .... s art c r itie for

Outs1de'. waaer Arl Center. H,nnew( H AVdnt }(her ModerniH My¡h5 curator and trltie and d leeturH the lie .. Yorker magdli ne, dnd ed, ted

19881. ,he MS conlnDuled regularly lO [1985] ¿na fheOplicdl Unconsclous [1993J. at Kelo UnlVers't)' , Tokyo. He hdS ser ved as LOCHion5 durinQ the 1960, and 1910$. He

Art' and Ila' .. ritten a Juror for the CHneg'e Internationdl, IoIrote numerOU$ catalogue on !hrnetl
•
for inc1uding 8nKe KURIZ IS art c"tic and Prole\ or PltBburgh [199IJ; the (;u!lQenhelm'S

an plants in A/an II:dtn: ,f ,'ne Arl at (ollege. He is Boss New Yor;, [l996J; and the Turner Dbject (1966] and Art on the [dge, CredtQrs

Animdl!, Peop/e, [1995J Prile at lM THe Gallery, Londen (1998) He dnd S,tu8f,ons [1976]_

the 1998 Conn'SSlonH o f tite h'pei

Alann¡o HEISS been ,f P.S. 1 publ, :at,ons such Art 'n A",erlCd and Ans Siennale. Nanjo's arlicles been Anne-Mine SAUZEAU soml Olarrl ed
Mu,eum, New York, ,nee 1976, and, al ,o (urtz Spots. Pybl'Sheo In numerou' art puDllCatlOnS Boettl in 1964 and collaborated

Pfe 'dent ,1 the yor, for Art of Americdn relevoslon lnclud1ng Le5 [Centre GeorgH w,th hUO for over twenty Jears. She is d

Contemporary puD 1 :H' ons ,nc 1 Directors [1977). Pompidoul. fldSh Ar¡ and Art ler ana who

the exh' b' tilO .ata logye De"n i Oppenhe im, contributed to dnd reviews

Selected k"r/¡s 196 -90 (1990]. KaleLJNK ER IS dn er'I'C bas€a Clies OLDENSURG lb. 1929] H one of Ihe n El and Ddld.

n Nelol Yon 51le frequently to pn nCl pa 1 art' SI s of Pop Arl and 1; V€S and
Dave HJCKEY (0.19)71 i anAs!OC'He and fldSh Ar¡ a' dS other wor1<.s in New Seglnnlng in 1961lolith S,mon SCHAMA lb. 1945] is a historian,

Profe" Ir )f Art :rlt ' ,m and lheor)'.t the nternlltlOnal arl journ,¡l . sne 15 author Store . he set up. ,n Home, ..-"ter Droadcaster. He 1$ Old DOIll1nl0n
Un'ver< ,ty ,f Nevada, la, Vegas. He na- ,1 L"ve for rile lIord5 P"ture5 of {lee/rlCaT Mechdn '"1 OIlJects .na the Professor of tlle at
edr; for ea¡:h 01 tnese theOles Oldenburg Columbia Universlty, York. He has

magazine n Nelol Yon, Stalf creHea dn in hlS studio o f pub\,shed ... his books
SongwrHer for Glaser PuDl catlons in LucyR LJP PARO [b. 1931] is a 91ant obJects and solt sculptures, has e, t [1989J ond Memory
W(lter, curator and aet1vist currently featured;n group such as 'New (1998]. Senama also

mOH maJor AmerIcan puDl cat, ,ns. based'nNe .. Mex,c( forOls/New Medu T'. MHth. dOc t ar 1es '
The In,,' ,/Jle DrI'1an: ·'s on lntemporary art, and Ga11ery, New York [1960] and Art

fS<dY' ¡n 8eduty [1993]; Prior the Twentieth Century', Martln·Gropius· GefrySC HUM [1938-13) was d critic and

Convl(t,ons [1989J. a volume of 111 short :atal )Que l'ppud :urated Sau, Ser[,n (1993). H]S solo uh'Dltions p'oneer in the re,lm of video art ln

f¡ctl0n; A" [·sa)' on Art & exh,blt,ons ,nlernatlOna 1)' arnon9 tMm ,nclude 'Claes OldenDurg, An Anthology·, H1> [Television

DemocrdCY [1991]; and a co' lect,on II :ial Strateglel by Women Ga llHY J ... , th art i sts to make wor kS

e' ,ay' >lmple IInr! [199IJ. Art,>t,', [nSllule of ,nternporary Arts, (1995 ). for tele.ision ano broadcHt the

)ndon [1980] m.ae p< hucal art ana television-Hhib't,on 'Land Arl'on 15 April

John Bnnckerhotl JACKSON (1909 -96] tdught pedormancel, dnd written m a voriety of Cr¡¡,g OWENS [1950·90) was an 1969, featurlng eight works Dy eiqht

at tn. JnlVer' 'ty 1 .al fJrma. 8erkele)' Includ,ng Art, 'em,nlH cntic "hose theones are crucial lO Ihe artists, this was the 'nhlbtt,on·

11 s teach'ng :entred;,n 'f Art, pUbl" art. land and cntlcal deDate Post .. odernism. t,tled·LandArl'

the AOlerlCdn in retal' m t¡ their pldCe, Through her L'ppard has From 1979-80 he was AHociate (dnor al ,on to TV Exhibi ti on 11,

env1rQnment. A ... " ter dnd sell! ar, ne brouQht "ttentlon particularl)' t( "',,"en Dno/Jer and dur;ng the 19BOs .... s [dHor of was Dy

artlH' wor'tnq w1th,n the a lunes ef Art in 'He Baden·Baden on 30 NoveOlber

geogrdphy, In Lana lIody Her bOO>.S , ne I S'- K Allegor1cal [mpul,e, a Tneory 0 1 19JO. An catalogue, Gerry Schum,

Yedr5. rhe / pnt pon of ¡he Art ..... s ori9,ndlly puDlnhed 'n was publ,shed by the Stedelijk

Jiek KEROUAC I 1922 M j wdS an Amer I can ODjed [1913] and ene ture of tne I OetoDer n 1980 A book of Iti S collened A.. sterd ... [l919J

M"el t. After hi fi"t no.e1, lhe lo .. n 1997]. w"t'ngs, Beyond Recogn,tion, was publishea
Ihe 'Iy 19, . he (urneo (rom ln 1992. Willoug hbVSHARP lb. 1938] was the co,

ThomasMCEV lll EY lb. 1939) aa,he, al and editor o f in the earl1

Un,ver,ny. He ls a Uvedale PRICE [1747-1829) was an [ngl15h 19/0s, and o f tlle se",'MI '[H t h

He j autublogrdptl1cal F I )",ng mtriouting editor of Artforum and and IoIriter He was lud1n9 Art' b, t ion at the Oi ckson Wlt, te

n Jf On tne 1I:0dd [1957]. exponent of tite Plcturesque, a quasl' Cornell New York

ernerged puDI reV'h$ in field 01 eontemporary are He aesthetic theor)' uf landscaped nature. (1969). one of tlle first e xllJblti ans t o

Sen GE 'rat,on. Ila' al . wrltten ln hes Kle,n, hice argueo thal the PlctureSQue descrlbed thls terlll, AVdldnche f eatured lntervielol s

AUTHORS BIOGRAPHIES
 ... , f thf 91

,"fllt •.
" " •
m

" " .' ,,' yH :er

.' ,
fuJJko SH IRAGA Ocuv.o lAYA
•
· "' "
, ,..
,"
. ,

.., •
• ."' '"
" . '"'
,

, , '" ,
..,
[ - ;,1' "'1 ,
r' ."d.
K.t, SOPER

•
.. '
••
1
'

·.
A· 11 _,
,
;
"" "
" •• ,
" ."
H.ncy SPERQ
; Iv cal

'" . ,
,,
""
.'
M .'
., ,,
• •

. " , ...
,

•
" . ..,, ,

..,
M9rvyDrl>d IHOREAU
· .
.. "
." "
, '"

• • • 1 •

StdMy DLUM

.' - ,
• k, le • bul nll
•. lIf

, •
,
..
un 11 • .-
fltr."n!.,"
"
• I 1 In
'"
r eues

hnoI TOMKINS ,
,

, ,
" , •

Guy IORIOSA

., '

'1 r. "e
,., , " , Hr .11 1ft

rfned .- ti H m; 't r '

• , , ,

WALDHAN . , . ,
,

, . r tlll '"

AUTHORS BIOGRAPH IES

n.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Adnan 'W 4 o lB, ndon, '1

, y ", O" o :J pr "91981, 9 • pp De Toc:c¡unolle , Aln'5 ,

el" _ _ _ _ • I'rob tlt tar!;' Carson Rachel. el t Spr' nª,

Ald,ss Broan . ,M •
ptu'e aroen, CasUeTed , 'Art lO lt' Pla • O,llard Annlf , C/t,laMorl, Plcador.
"
,
.,.
Alloway Lawrer.cl' . Yon. ,epte ber 1'J82 , pp , 64 75 1989
, 1<, b • ___ ' t OnscaU EllgarJ . 'h(' t Artne ... ,., n

,. o. p )3, V 1974, pp. 8 ·81

R be r ' th " ' "t . , e res_o 1989 Ea9lelon.Terry , frie, Jgy: Afl ¡fttrOrJu(¡ 01>,

rl' r , .' '1 ha r

'" oodo" , 1991

o and ape',Art Earlh Progre " ArChHecttlre, O 4S, Hew

Anderson Wayne A r d York, N, €mbel De ,_mber 1979. PP. 6 98J. DD 94 1 York, Aprj 196i, 1 ue
btena Q Causey Andrew , 'Soace Hne ,n Bnt sh
, o . , In ternd(' 19? • , Ber l e'ey
t)' •
• •
Andrew$ Malco!m . ' n. F Oruary 9, pp 14 19; ;4 ndon, Apr 191,pp.l Angeles, 196
,, ro
" T
"" d.
Hen'y

Yor" von, 1969

Arte Povero, PraeqH. Ne..-

.er ty PrB , BaltiMore

Asllton Dore . '"er( S Ant ,tyle , .968 Chlpp HerschelB , d .. Theorie ,( "aau" Art, and LoMe" 199,

t R gua dnd Ant 1 rm' • Berger.John , u( ',,,, ng. New , iJ"a "t

yor. 198

BergerMaurlce , 11 I'r! If rr s, M.geles, 1969 Yor" 197

'" er,
,. ,,' CliIrk Kennelh , ni An, rev. ed • Femsehgalene , Ger,y h"" tlndArl.
•• r' _, New Harper lo ·w, Yor., .976

" '
S,man , . )\lChlng the tan",

___ o '11 h.e ler- T H no d Agr

E
a
_.
,torn • . • u e .,
.. Ar!
q. : • p. ',

5t
BongirtZ. Ro)' . , ,
,981

€O '¡n' CQI1.ngwood. RG ,I!le

p

Oeij)f

'. 194'
Oxf rd Fineberv JOMt""n. 'Tneater

Tltougl1t oM
ADr'

,l, " 4rf ;n A"'efled, n 61 .

19'), DP 14·19
ftneReal

o • pp 1b Ccmplon . M,ehaeLOav,d SyI ..... Re ert" rr .. vork, DI .. mber 1979, pp. 9,-99
f Arr ti, 1'1 Borden.l,:z'l' .. ., Foote Nancy . 'Ora",ng line', Arrforum.

Bach"lard Gaston . •,., I.Neor., H: CQhen Arlhur , ,,' o 14, '1dy 1976, pp

8, B Ion. 1969 p, 68 ", "don, 464 _ _ _ ' '¡he Ant 1 Ph ! ;'4phen',

B.:okerEh2abe1h . d ' , A" .. ,o .t CoomaraswamyAnandaK . Tn Trd on Artfor""" no 15, lork. 1976,

..,
Barrell. John .
,n

,,
V

, c k,
New

Sorges. Jorge Lu,s ,

qB
Mar h 9i4,
,
44

, ... , 'W

Ramo', Artfor
Jt mltr 00: The Amar
PD 46

var'.
009

,,,,,me' ¡9S0, pp. 42·47

Arrforum, no le,

IB4( , Dr '9 Sourdleu P,erre , ,ne,r rfleory f FQwkes . Wilham. A H gel d" A, un¡ ,/

• rdge, 9' Crandell. G' ..... P tor 41'led: 'TIle nte "<lry JMI Preu, Ann

• rn ij n r ". Ho'o
"
Arbur. 98<
L!uttoo In Bourdon.Oav,d '\ld t r lhe Ba 199] Frankenstern . Alfred , 'e r • • .

Art: A , Anrh Oam,sch Huberl , ,a ty or ',Art 'n A..er el, n 64.

n, 968 Yon, • )6.pp94, ,," l"'dO,MIT r¡ >. .. VQrk. N"vemoer Nember 1916. pp 5S-61
o., ___ , Ffledman SruceJay . 'O,rty PlCtures',

von ¡"
.t t dnd ,
,. '"'
Oavos
"don, 1994

' ,<qu,r,. no 5, VO", Mal' 1971, pp.

Sateson Gregory , M,,, d t A

"
, In E rlh rne ,. •• , 142

f r, ' Fry.Edward 'RObert "'rr,s C'a1e(('c',

rlquefrhe • ! f qnt', .. s ..ee •. n 8l, An Mijgu'ne. 0< 49. New YO'""

, •
"
Bourgeo,s Jean Lou,s, ' M1m: A Yor., ,j" , D. ')2 ¡Q74, pp.
.,
,'. ", ArO ru," n Ga5set, Orlegay. "ev t ' f tne MdSSes, lo'.W .

tea." tlnq f" • , Norton, 19;

" ,>' 'r , , Bumham Jack , Gre Ang¡le_.1984

it foco, Bra¡ De M¡ma Waller . ':' u (emen t ' • M rn 1'"4 , Ar¡ A . Ne .. York. 1956

Bear L,u NancyHol1 '0 rt Marrl 'rit d Anth ,.

, -. .. Yor<, 1968 Be9,nnon9< ,Arch ¡ecture, Bo" \",

Bnrdsley John
• 'Art tnonUr ar sm
, '5
4b.
.• '(

Yan, May 19
Art'. Ar{< Mijgu'ne. n

,op.39·4'
Vork, 1964

G,lberl-Rolfe Jet1!my, Johnston . .J.ohn , 'Cr ay' ty , ,

w " '. ' , • ___ . 'The f eld', Arlfor m, o and tne Jelty'. Part 1,

SI8L IOG RAPHY

 •
S'
n ett
,
'." :' ' .. • .,

•
11/ ., , n. fe LucyR elal
,
OUl d

•
"
m
91).6
,
pp
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. ", ",
..., ... ..
o ! ,6 • Head"
'" ""
.
no
.• her ' " ua,. 1 •• • • LDng RICl'Iorrd
, • pO

-" , ,'o ,o ,,, , ," , ,

, , , , " '

•
• 6
Knabb Ken
, ,
..,
.a: Dnl

Knabb
•
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. , , .. •
, •
", • ,
. ,
'"
"nne 4rrf pp 4( 4
"

ftI Y 1< Apr , ,

" A n g¡

'h ",""
Krauss Rosalond

. " ,.. • ,
Rt hi' d
1 ,
" St . j

., Oo.
Howell Calhen ne
I t

...
P'e
, r •-.
• • ,
"
the b¡ ar

•• I
• Lopez B;;...y . 'n re.! a.
Al ... ,,' , 6

GrlInd Rop,ds Pn>¡Kl Rober1 M"""i ., "

,"
," Kubler.
, •
w. el

•
T. Art

..
• Hunl. John Dllon _
" Kur1z Brute. Rober1 Smtll'lson , '"
,
•
...
Jahn . ", tt R 971 ' Leo.
ti -.
• " ., •¡ P t

.,
Gunter Virg lnoa.
,
, . '. O
"
Huld"nson Peter . an
Kusp't. Donald . gh!

, ,'
,' Pn

oo.
Nf .. , k,

'"e':, fF neAr··
". A, ' "o T

"' "
Mashe<:k Joseph . •
,, ,
" ". Lands.:ape Sclllpture The New Leap
,
;t'
, ..
!l. ..
Gu\h". Woo6y
,
Jack50n John Broncbrhofl .

v, '
rer i nq
191,
" '
•
Mason. Pete,
, ,
, ,

.,
•• .'" Other Re '
,. "
,
••
, .. JoH1l\S01'1 ElLen H _
,
•
... '"
"
,
'"
jee Le,der PII,lop .
"
at
McConalhy. Oille .. 11 te on

,
" • , ", •• 1"". Berke JU' 1

, Johnslon. Je remy G,lbert-Rolfe ,

.. ,, , .. .nd Ilah'

,
"
ArU
·4',
,m, no 9,
McFadden Sarah .
, ,
s. Par 11' he

•
.
,
O,
"' O" , Jf
••
' , "
• •• 6 , Ne .. fe Oece .r , '. ,
, o., o.'
" • 6.
,
McLIII'Iorn Marsl'lorll. Harley Parker

"• " " • Lev,n K'mela l. 'je ¡fAr"

, ,
HNe, al •
• O
"
." , o
, Juss,m EsleUe Elozabeih L,ndqulsl-Cock .

,.
", "
McShlne Kynaslon L n' Nf n.

• "
pp 48 1 " v •. r< '. 're Merchanl Carolyn ,

...
Kant lmmanuel, rv t O·" Fee lfe R¡
, . , . • , L,nker. Kale , ].
" •
O',

,
1'110n'
" '" • 1 '
•
.
L , , t j 01 t oro m. no I 0''-, t-t esser Thamas . 1m

", ,' • ." ,

, .' .- ... . " '"
erke
Itudan

""
rl
4n l-·t.
n

"
• L,ppard L¡¡cy R

,",
" (dy;,4r!

MlChelson Annene . "r ., " t n

t r ,! •
, D. 1 , Kellrt JeII , ,' i 111

Henn Adnan . .: J .. r t, ..

" '"
, .' M,lman Grt'99 . [

.
" fnd TI Red I wor a', Artf,n,JI, n l., .. , ", 0' di TI

Hetnrll Hayoie'n •• Fehruarf 1974, po 36-'9 ••

, ,
o, 6. TI KepH G'f<>rgy
" ." .19;
, 1 4. pp. 9, 94. Morns Roben .. •• )n ,'_,ro Par' 1,

Herrer.t Haycien _ , ,• ,
., p' I .. Ar h'tectural 't r, ,o , , k, y _966,

"
abe' .,(" A,' I
" ,
42 44; ,r'_

•• Bri-9J OC ' ober JI n-J;artll

I- DI Kepes, Gyorgy . f, r ..Ir fe , ,

'. 96 J,

Hobtls Roben Pu b I An'. n "hled, •. n ¡¡l, N" iJ ¿9: a.' IY J¡··,',Ar:',r,"'.

.. "
ue Ar: KJngsley.A.pnl . • x W'"u .t WJr' in . "'1 9Bl B6· n07, '"lO 0' _ Al 50-54

co . "a,' , . '.'. ,01

:e :."y John Apri 19: l. P "9: • Mct • t,
Hobbs Robe!1 . .h" Al 1>\;,
" "
970,
", k. Aor

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Invented Tr.n¡formlng VI$lons 01 the York, June 1967 , pp. 36-40 VaM 8ru9gen , Coosje, John B. ¡ SSdr i , R1 z lO 1 t ,

1. Yor k , Fal1 1970, DD. 12-13 American ¡"eH, Yale Unhersity Pres.\. Ne .. ___ , 'Ultra- Hoderne ' , ArIS l1agdllne. no Ne " Yor t . 1990

___ , Morr! • el Hayen, 1992 42, He .. Yerl<. 1967, ' Holes I/ ithout

al, )f Ame" ;an Art, New Robb,n Anlllony . 'S .. , t h 50n Non· Si te Si 9 h t$ ' • pp,31-33 Artne ... s . no 70. Ne w Hay 1971.

Yor . , 1970 Anne ... s, oc 68, New Yor ' . 1969, pp. ___ ' 'So .. e V01a lhough t S ,n pp. 44_48: 66-68

SO- 53 Arts Magu,ne, no 4 2. .. Yor k , Nove¡nCer IVt"te.Jonn, 8/rth I?eblrth of Plctorj"

Yor'. fal 1971. 1111 30-35 Rorty. Ph' lvsO¡¡hy the /Ir rror oi 1967, p. 41 S04ce. Faber ana Faber, lonoon, 1959

" SOOle SDlashe5 1n lhe Enn Tide', Pnnceton ¡nl"enlty PrBS, ___ ' 'Tne HOnuments of PaS.\alc', W,U'ams.Raymond, Proole"'s In /liUri.liSII
•
Artforum, no ¡l, February 1973, 1979 Artforum, n( 7. Ne" York. Oecember 1961, ana verso, London , 19BO

pp. 42-49 Rosen Nancy , 'A Sen.\e vf Place: Fhe pp. 48-51 WiU,ams, Will,.mC;orl05, A I?ecogniuole lllage,

_ _ _ . I?ooert 110rrr flProject • I nst ltute American Ar t 1 t s'. no ___ ' ' A foIuseurn of in tne Victnity Ne w Oi rect i ons , Ne w 1978

)f ContempordrY Art. of 193, Harch April 1911, pp_ 11S·21 of Art', Art Inlern.t 10M/ o no 12, Ne .. Yor lt. . Worll. Mehnda , 'l/ a lter Oe Maria ' s

PhilaaelphU, 1974 RosfMberg Harold , rne of Arl: Harch 1968, PP. 21-27 Fiela· . Aru Hdgulne, no 54, Ne w Yor k . Ha y

'Al19nea lo"th NalCa'. Anforum, no IIn ion Art to Pop to ... orH, Horizon 1990. Pp. 170-73

14. He ... Yor k . Oetoner 1975. pp. 26·39 Press, Ne .. York. 1912 Crt/ledl IInthology, eC!. Gregory Butcocl<, Youngblood. Gene. 'l/orla Ga .. The ArtlH as

_ _ _ ' '1ne Pre<eflt Ten<e nf Space', Art _ _ _ , Arl on [dge: E.P. Dutton and Co . . .. Yor l< , 196B, Eco 1091 st . , no 27, loronto ,

Amulc!, no 66, Yor'. JanuHy-FebruHY pp. 402-6 AuguH 1970. pp. 42· 49

1978, pp. 70-81 1975 _ __ o 'Aerial Art', Studio !ntern¡tiondl,- •

_ __ , 'Note.\ on Art as/and lana Russell, John , 'Art; HeitH's no 177, London, Apri11969. pp. 180-18
Ree Hober, MO 1<, ,prlng 1990. World', rhe 'le .. York T""es, May 14, !976. ___ o 'InciClent, e l Mirror Travel in the

pp. 87-102 p. e16 Artforum, no 8. Ne" York,

___ o I?oben Morris 5elected WorH, Silndler, 1"",n9 , Amer 1 edn Ar t o f I he 1960s, Septe",ner 1969, pp. 28-13

1970·1981, ¡ntemporary Arts MUleum, & Row. Ne" Yor " 198B _ __ o 'Cultu r ol Confinement', IIrtforum.

1981 SchJe!dalll. Pe!er , 'RoCert Smi ths lO, He Hade no 11, Ne .. York. October 1912, p. 39

as Real Hountain,', rhe /fe" __ o 'The Spnal Jetty', ArlS of ene

a. Seulplure, Seattle Art York {,mes, 12.1913. p. 21 [nv;ronment , ea. Gyorgy Kepes, George

Scu!ty. V;ocenl. Tne [drth, Tne Temple aod Braz1 ler. New York, 1972, pp. 22(-32

SeHtle.1919 Yale Un1llen ty Pre< ,Ne .. Halteo,

Mueller. Grego,r , He" lssue, COMen I :ut. 1962 Oialectica1 Anforum, no 11,

ror the A,t cf 'es. Praege'. l/e ... Szeeman. Harald. llnen A t t 1 tude, Form. New YOrk. february 1913, pp_ 62-68

Vork.1972 KuoHhal1e. 8erne. 1969 Bnxe Kurlz . 'Con ve rs. t ; on wi th

Novak. 8arbara , 'TM Edgeo Axe', Art 'n Shabecotl, PM,p , A Freree Green (lre: Rocen S .. 00 April 22na, 1972', rne
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1976, pp. 44_50 lo'ang. FurH ,trau, Glrou>, Ne .. 1993 RoberlSmllhson . ArlS Hdguine, nO 52. Ne ..

Novak, Barbara . lIalure dnd Culture; Amedcl Sharp. Willoughby, e! al. , [a Arl. AOdre .. York, M"y 1978, specUl hsue, pp. 96-\44

/8?5-/875, Oxford )1ckson l/hite Museum. Cornell !n'ver<ity. Stegner. Wallace , American WeH dS L r .¡ng

Unhersity PreH, Ne w York. 1980 ltMca, 1971 Spdce, Ini,.enity ,fM1ChlganPress , Ann

Ooorato RonaldJ , 'The Maze', Art Shtffield. 'Nat U ra 1 S t ruc tu re S • Arbor.1981

Internatlondl. oc 20, New York. April·May foIichae' Singer's ind Ora"in9s ' , S)'Ivesler OaVld Mochael Compton, I?ooe rt Horr i s ,

1976, pp. 21 15 Artforum. no 1 ,New Yor'. 1979, Ine late Ga II ery, London, 1971

p...,ker. W,l('am , • Art 1 ; B Ove r a no' . St ud i ( pp. 48·51 Tiber9heon , G,!es . tand Art, transo Carolioe

InternHJOna/. ne 190, london. Nove .. her Shepard. Paul , l1an In Alfred A. Green,p.,nceton Archi t ectural Pre$s, Ne ..

1975, pp, 1S2-S3 Knopf. Nt" 196/ 1995

Paoolsky. Erw,o . Puspect dS Sym{JollC Form, Sttlnberg , Leo , Gtner [rlterlil: Tilhm ,S,aney , .. orks and the Ne ..

'anfrontdtions ... ,tl> r.. ent,eth Artforu ... 00 7, Ne-,¡ Yorl< .

York, 1992 Oxford !nivers,ty O, lord and He ... Dece¡nDer 1968, pp. 42-45

ParkerHarley MarshallMeLuhan , TnrDugn Ine Yor\;. 197? Tomk,ns. C;olv,n , 'Oo"ard aoa Jpward .. ah the

Vdn1s''IIng Pe lfIt: ,pa,e in PONry Sh,rleyOav'dl. , '[ .. pe ible [t I Art Running Fence', He., YONer, no 53 . Nf-'¡

P.,ntlng, Harper :01 lpnOn, York, 1968 Arl in A"'er, (d. m 57, Ne .. Yor'. Moren 28.1977, pp. 43-46

Perlmut1er.El,zabeth , 'Art iM Land' :ape', 1969, PP. 32·41 Tuan. '(j·fu, SIlJCe Jnd PI Per5lle, t i ve

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66 61 V' Ib1e', Dn te 4, fa 1973. PP. 26·30 Press, Mlnneapol11. 1977

Phel.:m . Peggy . "Jnmar'ed: Pe I,¡I(S '1 Slotk,n RIChard The fn_ironmenl roe 'Realismand Fantasy in Art,

Perform.nce, Roulledge, .:¡naon.1993 'fylh of Il>e Front, er , n Age 01 H1Hory,.na Anna/s Of tne

Pollao MIChael , Secona Ndlure. A G.rdener', InduI!ri"/'Ulion. 1800-1890. Harper 3 Ro". ASSOci.t,on of American Geogrdphers, no 90,

.. Yor ', 1986 1990, pp. 435-46

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BrunIW· .', Ne .. Jersey. 1991 Sm,thson, Roberl , • Towa ra the Oeve I op .. eot of

BJBL10GRAPHY
 JO,

INDEX •

" Bordo • -, ,. [
., , .",. r .. ti'l

&'M SttplMn

,,: .• ·· ".lte. ,, 1 ,

Brtn.Guy .E q

" , ., e99J211

• ,,,o. ,

• f Bn>uwn Stanley " Drild. Ciotl>9n,,¡ ..'" , " ,

"
AlcIiss. SNn W z, •• "t n • 1 Brown Juu. Di .....

BuchLoh HO Mc..l
AIlawri.U .. ,.ncl s..udnlLlrd )eiln
WiilUlr
• • • I
"
• -- Burrn [l,¡on..t
, '.
,
... '" ." .' ... -
Burh Edmund '

•
1':14

.,
e •

8J
,233-34, J•

, """'" •
" ,-
• •
•

'. ., • [ • • ,
Land An
Blyer Her1l«1 : 4 . l. 1
"
I
, • Bumh.iom. JKk l4 .] 7 n4 ürth An AndrewOIdr.IOl1WM,lootuuum

, [l!l68 .14 Com,tlUn ...rslty Ith«.i NIWYorl<

-, ,, ,
.,
t III·t r iI " 1

Anlhrm
,. • l'H3
• • 8

r' 9 Han H.U .· ",nd.M IIHer

" I Ehren:W"9 Anlon
"
•
• 1 ,
Ver!
. EótoIson J4. 9, "

,57 '[1
/040 ... [ :il8 8 ", I

f, _ •• ,
, •• .J, • -
16¡ 6
F,h.

..
D.l:>ord Guy

• • , .. .. ."
1,
, " 1" , •
• • •
"
,• "
a..n.eyOr Rufus '6' Demarca Rochlrd Beuys Joup"
", '" a,,,, 'rH on Plan

, ' , 4 1, 2 J e!'u.. Mel A_',

• 11 5 [:re , uf'" "C • • " ,
, , , ..
,,- :9:;1
H.
165
6
, ., 1\,

,,,
F.nd PIIlr

••
," ,
•
,9941
•

• ," •• "el"35.
,
.- , .,
87 chelM-d. G"ton • ." . ,. un" " H.
un {,¡rop, 991 4-

8oIk... Amy "O /(wnn,ng [9J HiJ ., , 1, Treu D. , 36, J

SikH Eltubeth J ,.
,
.
993]
a.orv-
. 195 8J] A , 11
&ok ...
, , • I 6
,, .,
KMu '4'
[ 863
" '\0- "e d l ConfronUt 011 TutBy 931l

8loom Donl 1964 91 l,Il4,8S \9;: ,. , Pr sea I"',guy

, OeUtscM ROU1.,.., ?8
J6,
,
, dGH , • 69 3631. •
"
, uare<>t'
99

19 - "
[ 170,

•• "Al 1190;9" 118, ,'9 lel KIlfllndge W,U<ilm ,8 81 •

eo.ru eh"" Kenneth 94, 44 1:;1 ero'! ng'
• J76
a , , I
." 11 :.. 8

..
" a..etlJohn " •

• '" ConuplWlI An • •• • •
aau.rd JG 8otogn¡n,. Martl'O 'O 2lCl,

ConllabL.. )ohn 14
• 9,264,
"' .. "1'

18/
1968 [ 915 ie3
, • 199. J8J
Border AlU WorI<shop 41

INOEX
/ ,
.,
¡g lel
J02
• O,ono Jun 8

Gollman E"',ng 38 19,

GoLon . Smadar
, , .. q,g, J '8 " 1' [199\

• , •
Etunor
'. 96

GoIdman Emma H"" Oppenhe,m Dennos Irwon Roben • 4 4' 79

"
• • " JiKkson )ohn Bonckemoll , 44,

• ., " • 'Tn •
• • •

• •

,
Ford John
GÓfMz-Peña GUillermo
Gould Slephen )IY

.. . '
6 9 Jameson. Frednc
, ng '"

,"
,
Fosdock Robel1

Hal
•t '•
9. • • I - 11 ,
9,
'"' ," In r 9881 [ 981] L

Gr;lham Oan oh.

• • l4. 280. '81, 9.54 ,

• ,
,
.' GranFury 4] I B " HJld'" [ 9181127

•
" GrMn RenH 9 ,
• ." ' ., " .
, , •

8 9 1, U8]'414l

" GrHnpelU ./ohns Juper 9 [.916] 79

GrOl.lp MilleNl! 4 • B • ., Jd

FMd MteNel , GroupolTen • ./ohnson Pappy , LOtlI Ch'p

• , , " s
./udd •
"
", 9
'" " Ant Fit<m

Fnedman KenMtl'l
" • l.'·and Kennedy
Lorfl"n o..ude
.,
"
, , 9 Kenlndge

• ",
.
'.,,9J H,lIe, So,¡Hn LoulI Morns
"
,
lo' • '" .. I/J"

'"
P r n , •
JO"' 4
9

f MiSO/l.John

."
Frohnmayer Jolln 16 Holl NlrIC)I 4, Bloom. Dons Mcc;.r1hy Mary 9.

Fyllon H¡¡mish /4.

,
4
"' 9, Kerouac. JKk McEvolley Thomas

9 ¡ rI ,
, . Ha ll , Corol

Hanson Jo 26
., 1
,. 8
'On Road' ",
" ..
t Wr ngness:

AlterEgo

•
8

"' , 9 • '8
Kleln Yves

KIM PauL
"
, ,
• , . •
• f
, " Konlnck Ph,Llps

KosuLII Joseph

Krauss Rowl,nd
Manton JllI

,
•
•• , .. ,'
• .. 9
... ,
,
" Mlrquez Hudson

St.nlrt '
AnLfarm

, . ,
, . ,' .. ,
, f r .,
• • , 104111", ./ohn

• ••
,
•
r

B.
A wt
, .. •• • Hopper Denn ls
Kur'b:. eNC.

Kusama Yayo'
," ',,. • e'

,"
, .. • Houll ThomlS Ford

Hueble!" Dougln
• yndAlt
,
6
M....on .lohn

Mat.inovlC M,lenko 61

11 1< H • • 1 • • '" )l, Matla-Cllrk GOfelon

• •
" ... 14. ¡; ba'
" ;4/.
, ,
,,'tn A.dl,Melle·

J
, , ."• • rv r vd ,
"
[ 9691

}e '. J
,
.....
Maysles 8,ollle'5
" ,
"ld'JI!
,
8• Comm'lln Repol1 on N;ltlon..l

trS'"-'''
8 , ., •
Hulme TE
Hulchlnson PttH LeWill Sol ,,
Gaulke Chen

, ,
· .",,, 8
,
•
, "
. • ... r J r

.. ,
• , 8 , , . "
L,pp.ard. Lucy R 34

,
,4,394 Bor t" [ 910] I

INDEX
 • N09uc;h, I...,mu ., Sm,ll'I. DaVId Summtrs.
, 1 RI,n..,. Vvonnt Smlth looy • Szeemann

• , ,
_"
.. , •
RlU$CMnberg Robert

ROM
Smllnson. Robert
"
" Thoruu
,
,
Rosenberg H.roId
•
KtfIneth • , • T,lIl m S'dney

,
, .
, ",. Rupp OInsly

Ru5dl& Ed 8,
,
• 6
, ... nte •• Tomk,ns Jan,

" , ,. , • ,
SjMf'O Nlncy OlIO Yoke. , 'S
,
an'Pre· • ••
MItITlIl N.ncy
• • • Tonou Gil)'
.J.ImlS

Ntehels Ooug Anl F•• m

8, •
. , " ,
5

• ,, , ,
99' J
., Trak,s George \4

• , • TurreU James
-. """ , ,
•
.. • u,
, Schum Gerry P Uf

",
..
,
•• roer
• 6 ," , ' •
Lmhr Kit. s " ,' 9W 94 , "
"",.lo
• "S
•
ScuU. Rober1

ScuUy Vineenl

SeITi RocMrd
.. 8 r d
Uecker Guntl'M!r 4 .

, , , " , , " lo

• ,
R cert
"s
,
• s.
," .
6

• ,
• ,
f

•
",
rB b
" t t)'

•
9

'. 6 " . .,
•
, , . ,
u, 1
" '
•
,
• • s

'" ,,
Sh,trUI . Tony

SlI.irkl'y Jonn
)ur · _
..., •

• • • .'
.
• SlIlrp W,Uoughby Valer Reg,n,
,
·, - , . ,
'
" 1" • .' r
• 01 • 41 Verm..r Jan 4

."
."
Ortn.r SMrT)' 14 Sh,rk Son ... " V,etnamwar
, OwtllS Cnlg
, S
•
8,

• - .. , ,'
,, •
, , .... d W.lpole HDfKe

• • Palt'ICUI e SI'I,. . FUI,ko Smock Knst,ne Wartlol 4ndy

• ,
,",Ult 101m

., PLA1FOFlM
Pete<
Webster Neg

•• • , 986 <)
'"
•
, S,monds Cl\¡rlu " .
" 8
• , •• , , WHAM
.' . ,
•• 6 , W,tsQn Nincy
,
Porter
Portm.n. Jonn
4
, . ,
" 1
0, $ontag Susiln W,nkler Helen 4
Poslmodem,sm 8 or41·r • ¡¡ r .

, •• ,, PP·'
, Pouss,n NlCOIas "94 Spero N.ncy YeominsPA
• Slmp$Qn 8",,1..,.
•
,
r u'\le' • "
Pnce lived.ile - . 51.u..
, , ." ,
..
,
Slonel'M!nge
,
• • ,
' • l' • , •.
" Stournead TheGroundsof 4 Zube Ervon

• 6 Stu.ort. Nw;l\eU,

INOEX
I '"' For Samuel and Audrey PU8l1SHER'S ACKNOWlEDGEMENTS
We _uld 10 tllank all those who "ilve
'" Ih"" k,nd perml5sIon 10 reproduce lile
l,sted matenal EveryeHon has OHn ma,",
lO SKUre all rep"nl ""rm,s"ons pnor 10
pubhcatlon 111 a small numberof
,nslinces 1111$ has nal ¡"'e" posslble Tlle
ed,tors and publlsher apGlog,ze lor a!ly
IlIadvertent errer. or oml$510115 1I not,fied.
th" w,1I endea""u, 10 corred
thes.. al lile oppor1unlty
We would [,ke lo thank lhe follow,ng
for Ihe" help In prov,dlng 'miges
American Fine Arto Ca . NewVork. Ant
Fa.m San Fr.lr>CISCG. Art &
Language t.ltddleton Cheney. Oxlordsh,r1'
Jahn Baldessan. San!i ManIta, Galtlom,a.
Bamaby S P,cture Library Landan , Fam,ly
(11 Herben Bay". O.n\l1>'. Color.ldo. Betty
s.aumonl. New Vor\< . Dons 91<>0'" .. nd
W,lI,am Kenlndge. Copenhagen and
Johannesburg. Boett,
Art l,br.ory. london, ca, Gua
Q,ang. New Yorlo.. Fond¡U,on Cart,er. Paros,
leo Galiery New Yorl<.
Cooper GaUery. New Yerk. Mel Ch,n , New
'1'0011.. and Jeanne-Ctaude. New
York. Wal1er De Mana
NewYerk, herman devroes. Knetlgau.
(ñrmany. Agnes Oenes. NewYerk. OlA
Center lor Arts. New York, Jan
Amsterdam Documenta Areh've Kassel.
Mary Beth Edelsen. New Yerk. Tesh,kalsu
Ende Japan .
Feogenbaum . New York . Ronatd Feldman
Fine Arts New York . Peler Fend. New Yo ... .
FRAC Po,teu W,lloa m Furleng.
london . Barbari Gladslone Gallery. New
York. Andy Goldsworlhy, Thomh,ll.
Oumlr,essh're . Manan Goodman Gatlery
New Yerk. Grunpeaee Inlemalton"l
Amslerdam Reberl MCfT1s Arch,ve
Salomon R Guggenheom Museum. New
Yorlo.. Hans Ha"eke NewYork , lan
Ounsyre . Lan"rkshire Helen and
Ne"""en Hamsen Del Mar. cal,fom,a
Morns Healy GaUery. NewVo .... M,chul
He,zer. H,ko Nevada. Susan H,Uer. Londen.
Nancy Hall. Galtsteo. New MulCo Estale el
Ocuglu Huebler Valenc,a caltlern'a. Pt.ter
Mus..c:husetts.
Hyogo PreIKlur.o¡ Museum of Modem Art .
Kebe Patrie,,, Johanscn . Busk,rk. New
York. Annely Juda Fine Art. London . can A.
Kroch O,v,s,on 01 Rare and Manu!i<:ropl
CollKl,ons. ComeU Umvers,ty L'brary.
l!haca . NewVork Galene Leleng New
Vork. Lemna Corperat,on SI. PauL
M,nnesota R,chard Leng Bros lol. Gorden
Matta-Ctark Trust. Weston . ConnKllCut.
Eslale el Ana Mend,ela and Galene Lelong
New York. Coldo M,oreln. R,e de Jane,ro,
Mary 104,55. New York. Chnsl,an PM,pp
MOller New Yorl< . N A S A . HOUSIOn , Te ... s
Oav,d Nash BLaenau Flesltn,cg. Gwynedd.
lsamu N09""'h' Feundal,en. Inc., New York.
Oenn,s Oppenhe,m. NewYork. PLATFORM
London, The Preserval,on Soo;"ty 01
Newport County. Rhede Island. fdW'ard
Ruscha . VenlC" . callfom,a Bennoe Sherk.
Franc'!i<:o: Bu.ter S,mpson . SeaMle
Wash'ngton MlChael S,nger. W,lmlngton.
Vermonl. Rebert Sm,tnson Estale. New
York. Holly Solomon Gallery New York .
Alan Senfisl. New Yerk. Ch"nn Simends.
New York , Sperone WeslWater Gallery.
New York. SledeliJk MUSfum, Amslerdam.
J"mes Turrell. Flag.lall, Amena.
Wadd,nglon Gallenes. London. John
Weber NewYork. Ocnald Yeung
Gallery. Seattle
COMPARA TIVE: ILLUSTRA TlONS
John The Haywam. 1821 .
Nat,onal Gallery. London p 24, K&nneth
Noland. G,ft. 1962. Tale GaUery. Lenden.
p 25 Casper DaVId Foednch. The Wred..
ol/he 1824. Kunslhalle. Hamburg .
p 191 . NlCelu Poun,n . wlth
Traveller Washmg HIs Feer. 1648.
Gallery, London. p 191: Lorra,n.
Landsc.. Wlth Sacnfia lo Apello. 1662.
Anglesey Abbey. Cambrodgeshire. P 191 .
Anlhony caro. úrly One Momirtg, 1962
TaleGatlery. London p 191.AlbertB,ersladl.
rloe Racky Mount.. ,n5. 1863. Melropcl,tan
MustumoIArt. NewYork. p In
PHOTOGRAPliERS
Hervé Ab.d,e p 186. Gunler Beer p 164.
John ehett pp 2-3. 108. 109. Peler
Oavenpcl1p 114. 0 JamesOupp 144.
146. 154. H,lmer Oeost p 165. Oanlel OUlka
pp 39 . 155. Virg,n,,, Ow"n p 31 Or G
Ge rsler p 58. G,anlr.onco Gorgen, pp 47.
5ó-5? 59 ba.:k eover. Martyn Greenhalgh
p 182, Wemer J Hannappel pp 1?5 183
Im,ddle bottoml Nancy Holl pp 4. 32. In,
C Jehnsen p 33, Yukoc Keyab.Jsh, p 129.
Gerard Martron pp 170. 171: Rebert
McEiroyp 111. Morganp 21 . Peler
Nilmlllhp 151 Nalhansonp 1lO· Oave
Patte rsen p 183 (Iopl: Paot. p,ll,on p 184.
frlC Polhlar p 1'1. Jon Re,s p 14SlboMoml.
JOhnR,ddyp 191 . WalterRusstllp 24
loghl), Oav,d Schneoder p 163llop)
Pnoloslud,o pp 162..¿3. Fred
Scrulonpp 128. 130 131. HuryShunk
PP 82 Oren Slor p 165. Soieh,
Sunam, P 45 NIC P 107,
carohne TIsoall p 35 (nghll . Tom Vinelz pp
29 Si. SS. Wollgang Velz pp 37. 72. 73. 83
84 85, Tadasu Yamamolo p 113 (nghU
AUTliOR'S ACKNOWLEDGfMENTS
I woulo I,ke to Ihank Ihose '"ends.
celleagues anO ,nst,lut,o.ns whose
guidane" and ass,stance helped m"k"
Ih,s projecl poss'ble
lhanks lo Ihe many galle"es .nd
museumswho cooperaledw,th p,cture
researeh re-quests . as we tl as Inese whoeh
allowed me personal aeeess the"
arch,ves. espe<:'ally Ronald Feldman
•
Gallery. John Weber G.Uery and ,Is dorKlor
John Weber. ano ¡he OlA Cenler lO!"
Art •. New York ,
To Ihe many publlC and univers,ry
l,brarianswho have put upw,lh my
repuled requesls. partlCuLal1y lhese
Pubhc L,brary
System at lhe Newton Free Líbrary. lhe
Brockl,ne PubllC Ubr.o'Y and !he Soslon
Copley Libr.o'Y. Sapsl L,brary.1 Beslo.n
College. Ihe Widlner and Loeb L,branes at
•
Harvard Un01lers,ty. lile New Yorl< Publie
Library. and Brocklyn Publtc lIbr.ory
l o mymends Mar¡ory Jaeobson.
Patrie", Fuller and fd Lev,ne. who
dlscU5sed Ihe proJecI w,lh me al Ihe oulsel
and regulariy lel me plunder Ihe" personal
lIbra"es lor orig,nal In15 . calalogues and
books anywhere else
The editonalleam.1 Pna ,dcn.
part,eularly lwona Btazw,ek. who he lped le
dr.ow Ihe book's me, and
G,lda W,II'ams. my k,nd and pal"nl edllor
And Ihe superb lum oled,torsand
restaren",s who held Ihe pro¡ed logelher
agaonsllhe odds ,"de/ahgable plClure
hunler aalr JO'I, Ctare Manchesler. Whe
cemp,led Ihe exlended capl,ens and
b,cgraph'es and sl .... red bock Ihrough
,IS mesl eompllcaled phase. proJecI edilors
Audrey Powell and John Leshe, JOh"
SIa.:k. reader Al,son Sleemann. Ctare
Slenl . wtlhoul ..mese expert,se .no
equan,mity th,s bock would nol n,st.
des'gner. Stuart Smilh. and produclion
eentroUer Veron,ca PrlCe
Olher ,nd,v,ou.ls .lso made
bolh targe and small to
process PatnCla Blekers. Pt.ler Boswell.
Rob,n Cembalesl. Mart,n Froedman, Erie
G,bson. Chanlaland M,ke Hasselme.
N,cola Kearten . Barbara and Alfred
MacAdam . Malcolm M,les. Susan and
Thomas Oav,d Wallers. and
N.ll.nd Jack Wendler Finally lor my w,fe.
Mona Marquarcll. who always sees the
al Ihe end 01 Ihe tunnel.
•
•
 •

. ,,'-I.lary
• •
.• ,Darton Circle
I mont, CA 94555

ANO e d VelODr1ent of rrodern and co.,temporelry elrt has been

1 - -""::"'_:":':"":';:'"
rl m rat d by fu.,damental movements and
rr I1g The Tl'emes nd Movements senes 15 tl'e flrst fully to
xamrn Dost-war ar1 by cOr1ornrnq expert .,elrrelt,ve Key works c..nd onginal
docume.,ts Fach boo 5 rtrodl..ced by el compreherslve Survey by a
d 5 ngu shed who prov des a thorot.gh dnellysls Of the tl'eme or
moverl1ent fhe seCOnd sectlon 15 dedlCelted to nUrl1e ot.s Images of the WorKs
themselv 5 E-very key artworK 5 Illustrdted d.,d dccompan ed by an extended
captlon descr bl.,q the pn.,clpalldeas and the protess behrnd It. as well as
exh b,' o., h story. F-rnally. wlth the ::Jocu'llents sect10., the seri 5 also offe"s
dlrect access to the vOlce of the artlst dnd to pr rndry texts Oy cntics. hlstonans
curators phllosophers a.,d theor sts A uniq.Je of the i.,novations.
dlscourses and controversles thelt hdve shdped art today. these Oooks are as
exhaustlve dS él full sCdle r1.Jseum overvlew. prcsentlrg every slgnlficant work
of art assoclelted w tI' d part cul r tendency
•
•
- •

• •