To Communicate

Here is another public sculpture by local artist Jerzy Kenar. "To Communicate" was installed in 2005 and dedicated by Mayor Daley. It is located at the Hans Christian Andersen Community Academy (elementary school) on Division St. between Honore and Wolcott. While the title, location, and basic form seem to speak to the technology of communication (the form evokes a telegraph or transistor contact) as it relates to education, there is a problem with the scale in this understanding of the piece. The large ceramic mound takes on a figural reference (a lump of clay to become a man?) with metal coils encircling where the nascent figure's head would be. The form at this size (about 8 feet tall) becomes a Frankenstein about to be shocked to life (or to death--it could be an electric chair). I'm left with the feeling that this sculpture monumentalizes a more torturous process than communication. Maybe some teachers feel like communication (and education, by site extension) must be forced into the lump-of-clay noggins of their students like electrons through a copper coil, but for the sake of Andersen students I hope this is not the educational philosophy ascribed to there. Do you think the artist meant to evoke a device of torture, death or revivification with this sculpture, or is it merely an electrical contact of communication made grossly large for the sake of being easily seen by people in passing cars?

Shit Fountain

The Shit Fountain was installed on private (but highly visible) property at Wolcott and Augusta in East Village in 2005 by artist Jerzy Kenar, who owns the building at 1001 N. Wolcott and the adjoining garage/studio. The neighborhood's many dog walkers (of whom I am now proudly one) are reminded to scoop up their dog's piles by this monumental pile of bronze shit with gently flowing water. A mainly drunk and stoned late-night crowd can often be seen mirthfully appreciating/cellphotographing the fountain on their way from bar to neighborhood bar and stumbling home. This simple but nicely executed garden fountain/sculpture is a neighborhood icon, and a topic of websites of all kinds, from giant to tiny, blogs and photo albums, from flickr, myspace and youtube to realfanshitonly, yelp and casadepunk. I can only say that it's my favorite neighborhood art (I live two blocks away) so I always take out-of-towners to see it, to mixed reactions. At least there's always a reaction, though, which is more than I can say about lots of blander art in public that I (and my visitors) see around.

Oz Park

This summer I stumbled on a northside Chicago park with several public sculptures made by John Kearney from 1995-2007. The sculptures in the park were paid for by a partnership of public (Lincoln Park Chamber of Commerce) and private ( Oz Park Advisory Council) founders. In 1995 the Oz Park Advisory Council commissioned the Yellow Brick Road installation of paths through the park, beginning to shape the theme that would crystallize over the next 12 years with the intermittent installation of four sculptures, all characters from the 1939 MGM masterpiece, The Wizard of Oz. The main entrance to Oz Park seems to be the yellow brick plaza on the intersection of Webster, Larrabee and Lincoln Ave. Passers-by see the Tin Man sculpture pictured here. Other entrances to the park sport sculptures of Dorothy with Toto and The Cowardly Lion, while the Scarecrow is on a interior path opening, aptly near the garden area of the park. The park also has a verdant playfield and state-of-the art children's playground. The residential areas around the park are patrolled by calm processions of mothers and nannies with modestly pimped-out carriages. The occasional young couple or single pedestrian walk right by the park, the local businesses rather than the wonderland of Oz having most probably attracted them to this corner. However, the mothers and nannies and children seem drawn to them. I see a few groups milling around the lion, meeting up with friends. Several strollers linger by the Dorothy with Toto sculpture, perhaps drawn in by the sparkling slippers. The sculptures take a very traditional figural monument form, but are monuments, as it were, to a fantasy, a cine-fied version of the world in which Dorothy (somewhere...) is a figure of historical importance. This displacement of the significant historical figure with one of cinematographic importance reinforces the dominant cultural paradigm. That is, what we see on television and in movies both reflects and dictates what we think is important. If the reproduction rights of contemporary children's movies weren't so heavily guarded, this could easily have been Finding Nemo Park. They would have needed a founding wizard to fund a gift store as well. Perhaps the bronze Wizard of Oz characters here serve to memorialize the way kids' movies (and lives) used to be...Before characters in Disney movies began to be sold in McDonald's Happy Meals before the movie is even released...Before Wicked's Original Broadway Cast Recording was released on itunes...Before children's leisure time was consumed by live virtual (oxymoron?) combat on PSP...a time when you as a child were content with a stroll in a quiet, simple, pristine green, neighborhood park with a view of bronze sculpture, trees, and your mother, nanny, or your Auntie Em. Remember? It was a long time ago.