PrintThree street performers stand motionless at the 60th Street entrance to Central Park, emulating bronze statues of a Roman legionnaire, Che Guevara, and a woman from a Salvador Dali painting. As viewers move closer, they realize these figures are not real people but statues. Then, with a sudden shift of sunlight, they seem to pulse with life again. This mystifying illusion, Christian Jankowski’s “Living Sculptures,” is one of New York’s newest public art exhibitions.
Public art is as much a part of our city’s landscape as delis or Starbucks’. Every neighborhood boasts its own catalogue of sculptures and monuments that decorate sidewalks, parks, and building lobbies. Some pieces have become iconic symbols of New York, embodying the essence of particular neighborhoods and serving as indelible landmarks. Keith Haring’s vibrant mural on Bowery and Houston immediately conveys the excitement and energy of the East Village with its neon green and orange colors and Haring’s signature dancing figures. Central Park’s charming Alice in Wonderland statue also serves as a mini-playground for young park-goers and reminds viewers of their own childhood fantasies. New York City comes alive in these monuments.
Works of public art are also intrinsic to urban development and city planning, which gives them a very different function than art made specifically to be displayed in a gallery or museum. The Public Art Fund, a not-for-profit organization and New York’s chief presenter of public art, states on its website that by “bringing artworks outside the traditional context, the Public Art Fund provides a unique platform for an unparalleled public encounter with the art of our time.” Public art allows viewers to experience their city not only as a place to live and work, but also as a medium for inspiration and intellectual discussion.
Aside from its aesthetic and cultural importance, public art can also be a profitable economic investment. In February of 2005, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, an eccentric duo famous for their colossal environmental art, commissioned a $20 million project to place 7,500 orange gates throughout Central Park. The Gates, which remained in the park for sixteen days, became a worldwide phenomenon, attracting thousands of foreign tourists and employing at least 600 workers. The artists financed the project themselves, allowing the city to fully reap the benefits of the nearly $250 million increase in New York’s economy. More importantly, The Gates created a strong sense of community, proving that public art on such a grand scale can reinforce the better values of urban life.
Yet without the publicity that surrounds projects like The Gates, public art can fall by the wayside. Gregory Smithsimon, assistant professor of urban studies at Barnard College, notes that many of the historical statues in Central Park, which include figures like Christopher Columbus and Símon Bolívar, are intended to represent specific ethnic communities that compose the city. While the park prohibits overt ethnic monuments, groups can still celebrate their heritage by commemorating a person who has had an impact both on their culture’s history and on the history of America. Yet this declaration of national identity is lost on many viewers. As Lauren Everett, a Barnard sophomore, says, “I noticed that the statues are of people who came from different countries, but I didn’t know their true reason for being in the park.” Without a clear social context, these statues seem like random acts of educational adornment to the general public.
Pieces of public art placed in front of businesses and on university campuses are similarly undervalued, as they are strictly defined by their setting. Once associated with large urban institutions, the art becomes a symbol of status, almost taking on the role of a brand logo. “Public art in front of office plazas shows panache and increases rents,” Professor Smithsimon says, while “in front of universities it shows prestige.”
But public art also needs to put on more of a show than art in a museum would to get attention—it has to shock. The highbrow art on Columbia’s campus rarely achieves this goal. A cast of Auguste Rodin’s The Thinker stands near Philosophy Hall, yet many students barely notice the statue as they rush past it. Other campus art includes Curl by Clement Meadmore in front of the business school, Henry Moore’s Three Way Piece by St. Paul’s Chapel, and statues of notable figures like Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. While Columbia’s public monuments are certainly prestigious, their uniform bronze structure and conservative design make for a less than eye-catching display.
An interest in public art is definitely tangible, especially on a college campus bustling with creative and open minds. Katie Stricker, a Barnard sophomore, says, “I like it [the art]. It makes my day interesting.” Yet Stricker, and many others, express a strong desire for student-made public art that would give the campus a more progressive and edgy atmosphere. “Students should be able to display their art more openly,” she says.
COLAB, a provocative campus dance group , seems to be moving in that direction—recently, members performed a site-specific piece in Lerner in the middle of the day by doing tediously slow movements and forcing people to walk around or step over them. COLAB’s guerilla approach may have made many students angry, but it certainly got their attention. Perhaps for public art to be successful, it must ultimately do what COLAB did—jolt people out of the monotony of the everyday and truly make them notice the world around them.