Elevators

"Elevator" by Mike Baur is a public sculpture commission awarded by the Lincoln Park Community Art Initiative in 2005, with sponsorship from General Iron. General Iron has a large scrap-iron processing facility less than one block away from the site of this piece at the corner of Marcey and Clifton, between the swank of the Lincoln Park stretch of Clybourn St. shopping district and the stank of the North River industrial corridor (no river walks here, folks). There is a steady stream of trucks, both semi- and stake-side, in and out of the scrap facility, bringing a strange and eclectic procession of objects, all bound for a giant shredder. The various metal objects, from cyclone fences and bedsprings to old cars and I-beams, are lifted onto conveyor belts and moved around the facility by big yellow crane-arms that resemble the arm on the sculpture. However, the dynamic power of the working machinery inside the yard is far more interesting than the stagnant stuff called art sitting on a low, shimmied pedestal on the corner. The energy inside the iron facility is both destructive and creative, breaking down once manufactured objects into a reconfigurable substance, which will in its turn be made into something useful, like, say cyclone fences and bedsprings, new cars and I-beams...Somehow, standing there witnessing part of that cycle of steel I came to imagine how a 1960 viewer of Jean Tinguely's "Homage to New York," the metamatic sculpture that self-destructed in front of the MOMA, must have felt. Awed and critical: Awed at the enormity, the audacity, the expectable spectacle; Critical of the flaws--flaws in the actual process/performance of the thing you are witnessing, and, more importantly, the flaws in the beings who created the system that kills itself. The longer I stood there, the more the scene became a strangely unreal, digitally animated, post-apocalyptic scene from Pixar's Wall-E. But the people in the trucks and cranes were not. They were alive, now, today, Chicagoans at work. Finally, I walked back over to "Elevator." Now I see it for what it is: a prediction. It's one artist's formal play with metal and concrete parts resembling machinery, yes, but it's also a prediction that someday, the strong yellow crane arms will all seize up and rust. The energy that runs the cycle of steel today will cease its machinations, kill itself, and by its very existence, commemorate its own death...
I wondered where the people in the trucks and cranes will be.

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.