Public Art In Grand Rapids Part II

 

The End Of Expression

The Philistines, the Philistines

Trashing everything without regret

Statues toppled, canvases rent

The vandals raging full on hellbent  

Words erased and truths debased

Creativity made to be a crime

Artists confined, Poets maligned

Destruction of beauty is the new paradigm

Public Art In Grand Rapids, Part I

   Public art in Grand Rapids, Michigan unapologetically begins with Alexander Calder's La Grand Vitesse (French for "The Great Swiftness"). Created expressly for the city over a nearly 2 year period spanning from 1967 to 1969 by the talented (and prolific) American sculptor.

   This monumental work (43' X 54' X 30', weighing in at 42 tons) sits in Calder plaza, which fronts Grand Rapids city hall and is surrounded by government administration buildings and courthouses.

   Calder's works can be seen in cities all over the world, from Chicago to Montreal to Hannover to Barcelona to Seattle (the Seattle one used to be in Fort Worth, but that's another story), and all of them are striking in scale and effect. Those cities are all proud of their Calder creations and have them prominently displayed, but none of those cities have taken to their particular Calder as Grand Rapids has - heck, it's incorporated into the city logo and as such has become the symbol of the city.

   All that being stated, the Grand Rapids public art collection is hardly limited to one big Calder Red sculpture (yeah, it looks orange but the color is known as Calder Red) - that's just the tip of the G.R. public art iceberg. To do this city proper, I'll feature the pieces I saw as I was out and about in a few posts - one post would be just too overwhelming.

                                        Jaume Plensa, the Four Elements, Stainless Steel, 2021 

 Faces, Bodies, Hands, Chroma Acrylic Paint on Brick (I think) -Not the actual name, but I could find no attribution, so I made it up.

Terrific Mural Featuring Musicians, no attribution found

The White Bull, unknown material, unknown sculptor

Dennis Oppenheim, Journey Home, Zinc-Coated Steel, Aluminum, Translucent Colored Plastic, 2009

Mosaic in front of the G.R. Children's Museum, no attribution found

Ed Dwight (yes, the Ed Dwight, former USAF test pilot and renowned sculptor who has a studio in Denver and became the oldest man in space last month at the age of 90), Rosa Louise Parks, bronze, 2010

                                        Clement Meadmore, Split Rings, Cor-Ten Steel, 1969

                  Robert Indiana, Love, Polychromed Aluminum. One of the over 75 Love sculptures (or alternate language variants, such as the Italian, Chinese, Hebrew and Spanish versions) installed in cities all over the world, from Armenia to Thailand

                      Four Story Mural, Chroma Acrylic Paint on Brick (I think), no attribution found

 

                  Abdoulaye Conde, Raining Wisdom, Chroma Acrylic Paint on Brick (I think) 2023

The Labor Movement / Furniture Strike Of 1911 Spirit Of Solidarity Memorial in Grand Rapids, Michigan

    At the turn of the 20th century, Grand Rapids, Michigan was one of the leading areas of furniture manufacturing in the United States. It was known throughout the country as Furniture City and accounted for approximately 30% of all furniture built in the U.S.

   Which made the owners and operators of the furniture companies very wealthy and very powerful. So much so that the owners of the factories in Grand Rapids pretty much controlled the entire economy of the city.

    Recognizing that their control of industry (and finance) gave them carte blanche to lord over the city, the owners of the factories colluded with one another to control the wages and work hours of the areas labor force, which was comprised primarily of immigrants from the Netherlands, Lithuania, Poland, Germany and a few other European countries (nearly the entirety of my ancestral roots).

    The factory owners were growing extremely wealthy off the skills and abilities of their employees, but were not sharing that wealth - there was no trickle down effect in effect, which did not sit well with the working men & women in the factories.

   After months of being stonewalled in their efforts to negotiate an increase in wages and a reduction in work hours, over 6000 workers from the 47 furniture factories in Grand Rapids at the time finally decided that a strike would be necessary, and on April 19th, 1911, that is exactly what they did.

   The strike lasted four long months, supported by city government (esp. the Mayor) and the Catholic Church, but opposed by the Christian Reformed Church and the Fountain Street Church (which a number of the factory owners attended).

   Ultimately the strike was broken by pressure from the Christian Reformed Church on it's predominantly Dutch congregation ( Dutch immigrants being the majority of the strikers).

   While a few factories did institute changes favorable to the workers, most did not, so the strike was initially considered a failure. The factory owners retaliated against employees who had participated in the strike, causing thousands of skilled workers to leave Grand Rapids for better paying jobs in other cities. 

   However, the short-sighted efforts of the factory owners to maintain ironfisted control of their labor force not only eventually resulted in a skill and brain drain, it  lead to the closing of several of the factories themselves. Five years before the great depression of 1929 devastated the economy of the United States and the world, the economy of Grand Rapids, dependent as it was on furniture production,  began to tank.

   One lasting change that was directly attributable to the strike was in the Grand Rapids city government - the factory owners had been upset the popular mayor had supported the striking workers, and worked hard for the next five years to get him (and other office holders who had sided against them) out of office and their hand-picked people elected to replace them by engaging in gerrymandering to insure they would have enough votes to control the entire city.

   Grand Rapids is stil home to a few furniture manufacturers, but their presence is minuscule compared to the factories of the early twentieth century that earned the city the nickname "Furniture City".

   In 2007 a sculpture created by Robert Chenlo was unveiled to commemorate the strikers and the labor movement. It is located in Ah-Nab-Awen park on the west  bank of the Grand river, not too far from the Gerald R. Ford Presidential museum.

    

The Weathered Protest Decals

When You Wish, Wish Well

   In the early morning hours, just before the sun broke free of the horizon, it was cool and quiet on the long, desolate stretch of beach. 

   The feeling of isolation was as welcome as it was overwhelming for the young man who stood facing the ocean. Air pressure was high that day, which made for smaller waves that didn't so much as crash along the rocky shore as slap and tickle a few of the more prominent boulders while seeming to gently caress the smaller, flatter rocks.

   Turning away from the water as it lapped at his feet, he continued his early morning hike parallel to the blue-green water of the shore, stepping around beach wrack as he encountered it.

   Suddenly, he stopped as if his next step might have been off a precipice. He had caught sight of what appeared to be a small, barnacle encrusted cask entangled in a clump of seaweed. Bending over he brushed aside several layers of the long strands of yellow-brown kelp and picked up the jetsam. At least it looked like jetsam to him, as there was no line attached anywhere that might indicate it was once floatsam and therefore have a possible ownership claim he'd have to deal with if it turned out to be something valuable. 

   Picking and pulling off several large pieces of encrustation he spied what appeared to be a golden amber metal, possibly brass, and slowly the true shape of the object began to reveal itself. It looked like an old fashioned onion-shaped wine bottle with a long, tapering neck. 

   He continued to pull and pick at what had to be years of accumulated scale and crusted growth. He tugged hard at what he thought was a large barnacle that had cemented itself to the end of the tapered neck. With a small popping sound the barnacle gave away, and along with it came what had to be the cap to the bottle.

   Smoke started to pour forth from the now open bottle and it fell from his hands as he stumbled backwards, nearly falling onto the hard-packed sand of the beach.

   With eyes wider than quarters he stared as the pale gray smoke began to form a thick plume. He took a few more awkward steps away from the nearly twelve foot tall column of solidifying vapor when he began to see the shape of a large man in the haze.

   Abruptly the smoke dissipated and he realized that there had been a sharp hissing sound associated with what he had just witnessed, as the sharp hissing sound had come to an end as soon as the smoke cleared. 

   Now looming over him, with the old wine bottle shaped object at it's feet, was a giant humanoid...thing. While it resembled an extremely large human male, there were some pronounced differences. For starters, it's eyes looked for all the world like a pair of dark purple grapes.

   Silence. Dead silence. Even the whispered lapping of the small waves seemed to have had the volume shut off.

   Then the large creature moved one of it's long arms toward its mouth and coughed into its catcher's mitt of a hand.

   "Ka-rrroougghhh!" It hacked loudly, turning his head toward the ocean. Twisting back towards the stupefied beachcomber, he smiled.

    "Yes, I am exactly what you think I am," the large being said in a quiet, even tone. "I am the proverbial genie in a bottle, and you have proverbially released me from nearly twenty years of imprisonment."

   "Only twenty years?" The wide-eyed well-tanned young man stammered. "That's, well, that's a lot less time than I've ever heard of a genie being trapped in a bottle."

   "The genie stared down at the man. "Have you ever been confined in a small space for twenty years? Let me tell you a few things about that. Everyday feels like a hundred when you're limited to your own company, no telephone, a small television, and a computer with no email access and unreliable internet reception. But yes, twenty years - that seems to be the cycle. I get imprisoned in that cask and then every twenty years or so one of you humans stumbles across my private little hoosegow and releases me."

   "You have a computer in there? And a television? Okay, this is really beginning to weird me out."

   "The fact that a genie just coalesced from a plume of smoke right in front of you didn't?"

   The young man looked up at the genie almost apologetically. "Yeah, yeah, that did of course, but everything you just said makes it a whole lot weirder. In fact, I'm really beginning to think I'm hallucinating. Maybe someone roofied one of my drinks last night with a time-release hallucinogenic."

   "No, the graped-eyed genie answered in a stern though also somehow pleasant voice. You are not under the influence of any mind-altering substances. You actually are standing on a beach on the southern coast of the land you call Florida, and 8 minutes ago you released me, a genie who has been imprisoned for the past twenty years in a small though well-appointed space - and to answer your next question, you do get three wishes for performing that specific action.

   "You keep saying you were imprisoned - is that a semantics thing? I thought genies were always trapped in bottles, conned by nefariously clever people because they wanted to control the powers you possessed? Something like that, anyway."

   The genie looked bemused at the man and after a moments hesitation replied, "No, never been trapped, but it's possible some other genies have been - some of my relations are of a gullible stripe, get tricked by humans into doing some regrettable things. That's never happened to me though - I've always simply been imprisoned."

   "But how? How can you get imprisoned in a bottle if you are an all powerful genie? That makes absolutely no sense."

   "For starters, I never stated I was all powerful. I'm powerful, that much is true, but with limitations. And every being has weaknesses and vulnerabilities that can lead them astray, and every being is accountable to powers greater than themselves."

   Rubbing his chin the beachcomber mused, "So, you're saying there's some sort of genie police that tracks you down after you're released and puts you back in the bottle? Why? What did you do?"

   "Those are great questions, and the short answers are yes and no, because, and let me explain."

   After a long 7 seconds of sorting it's thoughts, the genie continued. "There is what can be labeled a genie police force, but it's not a collection of a group of people that go around rousting genies and stuffing us back into bottles - it's more of a universal balance correcting mechanism - no individual will show up to physically put me back in my little hacienda, but in approximately two of your weeks, that is what will happen. As for what I did to deserve such a fate, well, there is where it gets complicated." 

  

   The beachcomber looked about the beach they were standing on. It was still empty for what had to be miles in every direction. "So, what was it, what offense against nature or the universe or whatever did you do that resulted in your imprisoned-for-a-lifetime predicament?"

   "To clarify, it wasn't what I did, it's what we did."

   

   "We? How many genies are there?"

   "Last time I was able to get a head count there were forty three hundred and fifty two of us left. Of course, that was twenty years ago, so that number has most likely dropped below four thousand, natural attrition being what it is."

    "You're not immortal? Could've sworn genies were supposed to be immortal. Wow."

    The genie had lost the benign tone in it's voice when it spoke again. "Nothing animate, no matter what the substance the body is composed of, is immortal. Everything decays, everything returns to nothing. It's the way of all life. The lifespan of a genie is very long by your standards, which is probably how the immortality myth got traction, but no, we are not immortal. In a few more centuries, the last of us will be gone."

   An uncomfortable silence fell between the two figures on the beach.

   "Uhm, sorry," The beachcomber apologised quietly. "Didn't mean to bring up such a touchy subject."

   "Oh no, no, definitely not on you," The genie stated with a hint of contrition. "Just me getting sentimental. Now, about what happened. Pride's the short answer to that. We genies had been peacefully sharing this plane of existence and this particular planet with you humans and a few other humanoid species that have long since disappeared, for millennia. Then one day one of our own decided that we did not need to share anything, inasmuch as we were the most powerful beings on the planet, and so we enslaved all the other creatures and proceeded to lord over them, which of course meant that some of my kind started to abuse the humanoids in their charge - absolute power does indeed corrupt absolutely, that is one of the more accurate axioms. The thing is, eventually far more powerful and far more benevolent beings than anyone ever dreamed existed got wind of what we had done, stepped in and decided that what we genies had done was wrong and sentenced us, all of us, even those who treated their charges kindly, to a lifetime of solitary confinement in small containers, with a short release every twenty years or so that was contingent on two conditions - being released by a human and granting whichever human releases us three wishes."

    The beachcomber stared blankly at the genie then sputtered out, "That, that is unbelievable. I can't really wrap my brain around this."

    "Nobody ever does," the genie replied, "but here I am."

     "So you grant me three wishes and then just take off for two weeks to enjoy earthly pleasures, something like that?"

   "Yes," the genie said with a slight nod, "something like that. What I will do is seek out others of my kind that are also experiencing release and we will spend time together, as much as we can, before one by one we are returned to our imprisoned states."

   Once again silence prevailed for a few long seconds, until the beachcomber spoke up. "I suppose there are limitations as to what I can wish for?"

    "Most decidedly. You can't wish for more wishes of course, and you cannot wish for absolute power. Nor can you wish to make someone fall in love with you or for super powers or for eternal life or for any of the other cliched wishes that you humans have been trying to make for as long as genies have been popping out of bottles. You can wish for most any material thing, but there are even limitations with those wishes - you can wish for wealth but that's capped at 20 times what the average human possesses, you can wish for a large home but the dwelling cannot exceed 4,500 square feet and it cannot be on more that five acres. You get the gist?'

    "Huh. I guess I do."

   The beachcomber pondered for awhile. He walked in small circles on the warm sand, alternating between looking at the broad expanse of the ocean and the looming genine.

 

    Finally he stopped pacing and stood directly in front of the genie. "Can I wish to be a better person?"

   "What?" The genie appeared to be genuinely surprised. "No one has ever asked that before. Hmmm...I don't really know if I can do that or not. Let me check."

   With that the genie disappeared. The beachcomber looked all around him, momentarily thinking he had somehow lost his three wishes. Then, just as suddenly as it disappeared the genie reappeared.

   "I have learned that I can indeed make that wish come true. However, being as how 'better' is a subjective term, I need to establish a baseline from which to make the improvements in your character that would be necessary. In order to create the baseline I must place my hand on your head and read, for lack of a better way to make this process comprehensible to you, the nature of your character as it exists now. Are you ready?"

   "Uhm, yeah, sure."

   With permission granted the genie placed it's large right hand on the beachcombers head and gently cupped it over the entirety of the man's skull. A low hum filled the air and a pale though brilliant blue light seemed to envelope them both.

   A few minutes passed before the genie lifted it's hand from the man's head. With a smile the genie looked down at the beachcomber and asked, "Well, how do you feel?"

  "Uhm...calm. I fell very, very calm. As if all is at peace inside and outside of me. And I feel...understanding? That's the only word I can think of to describe it. Does that make sense? Yes, yes it does make sense, because part of becoming a better person means being more understanding, less judgemental, more in kinship with everyone regardless of differences, inherent or otherwise. I see that now."

   The genie looked amused. "This is interesting for me. I have never experienced this from a human before, though I was told when I went to check on it's possibility that it has been a wish requested and granted on a few occasions in the past. Very few. Remarkable."

   "Okay, that's what I wanted for my first wish. As for my second wish, can I wish for this self-betterment be granted to every person on earth?'

   "No, that is not possible, for the same reason I cannot make someone fall in love with you or impose world peace. Self determination is not just a political principal, it's pretty much a law of nature, though there are millions who contend that cannot be true, it is. Those who do not believe it to be true are simply those who do not either want to be responsible for their own choices, or are afraid to be responsible for them. You can only make wishes for things that change you or your circumstances, not that change other people or their circumstances."

   "So I cannot wish to end world hunger either?"

   "No, you cannot. However, you can wish to become a highly efficient farmer, and you can wish to become a highly efficient teacher in order to be able to teach others to be efficient farmers. That would be two separate wishes however. Your last two remaining wishes."

   The beachcomber once again pondered for a few minutes. 

   "Okay, I like your suggestions, let's do it, I wish to become a highly efficient farmer and a highly efficient teacher."

    With permission once again granted the genie repeated the process of placing it's hand on the man's head and cupping his skull. The same humming and pale brilliant blue light both filled the air.

   The beachcomber remained motionless after the genie removed it's hand. Slowly he looked up into the dark grapes of the genie's eyes. "Thank you for this. I now have a purpose for my life, something of substance that will benefit more than just myself. I need to go now, and begin my life anew. Thank you again.

  With a wink the genie smiled. "This has been the most satisfying and rewarding wish granting I have ever performed, and all I had to do was release something that was already in you. Go forth and pursue your path. I thank you for this most singular experience."

   Turning back towards the way he had come, the beachcomber looked at the clump of seaweed where he first spotted the encrusted bottle. He turned back for one last look at the genie, but it was gone, as was the cask that was it's prison.

  "No one." he said to himself, "will ever believe this, which is well and good. But they will believe how good the fruits and vegetables I will grow will be, and they will learn how to grow the same.

   He started to whistle a happy tune as he walked back up the beach, a tune he knew would be in his heart forever.

 

   

Public Art Seen At The Gerald R. Ford International Airport In Grand Rapids, Michigan, Part II

Public Art Seen At The Gerald R. Ford International Airport In Grand Rapids, Michigan, Part I

   The Gerald R. Ford International Airport located 13 miles southeast of Grand Rapids, Michigan is a modest sized complex (it occupies an area a little larger than 4.5 square miles, which makes it less than a tenth the size of the western hemisphere's largest airport, Denver International).

   Being modest in size has not, however, placed any limitations on the capacity of the airport to display a large and varied selection of public art, and most of the art on display is readily accessible, and by that I mean one does not need a working knowledge of 20th century postmodern deconstructivism to understand or appreciate what is on display.

   For your enjoyment, here (and on a second post) are a few of the pieces in the Airport's collection. 

Cast Resin Model of a Boeing 727 hand painted by Alexander Calder and named Flying Colors of the United States. This was then duplicated on a Braniff Airlines Boeing 727 in commemoration of the American bicentennial in 1976

Model of Alexander Calder's La Grande Vitesse (the large finished sculpture is in the plaza in front of Grand Rapids city hall)