From Chicago’s pride, the Millenium Park, comes a cruel, yet fascinating, story of public art gone wrong.
BOTH of the public sculptures it opened recently, one by the Van Berkel atelier, and the other by Zaha Hadid, got damaged by the all-too-loving public.
Looks quite nice from above, doesn’t it? If you go to ground level, it’s even more inspiring. Here’s a look at Hadid’s work:
The entire structure, made of aluminum, is covered with cloth. Now let’s take a look inside this spaceship.
Get the picture?
One of the key statements of the manifesto of a group of artists presenting the exhibition Unusually Rare Events is that the artist does not need to think about the spectator when creating the work. Agreed. However, when creating a public work of art (mind you, to some extent any work of art is public), he might want to consider that his work will possibly not only be appreciated like this:
but also like this:
And those, of course, are the “nice” visitors.
The question arises: should we stay with “public-proof” solutions? Hire teams of guards to keep the aura going? Or maybe consider every mark and hole as part of the (pardon the pun) holistic concept of the work of art?
Now I wonder how these marvellously designed shoes by Zaha Hadid feel:
Not to mention the London Aquatics Centre, to be one of the main venues of the 2012 Summer Olympics.
(via)
As photographer of details of architecture, I am conditioned to observe my surroundings carefully. I notice buildings, but I hone in on the line of a corner; the angle of a gable; a fashioned decorative vine on a wrought iron gate and the stone carvings on a façade. Fine tuning a bit more, I visually thrive on the textures used for building: grainy granite, polished marble, satiny wood, rough brick, smooth cold iron. These elements create an environment that promotes creativity for me. And above all the light that permeates the scene sets the tone of my photography. Rembrandt ’s art and the light of his world are the reasons that I recently went to Amsterdam. To know and to understand an artist ’s work on an intimate level, it is essential to see the light with which the artist worked. I believe that the light of Amsterdam defined Rembrandt ’s paintings, drawings, etchings. The way that the master saw his subjects, gave him the framework for the art he created.
Amazingly, in a world that is evolving with split second timing, Amsterdam welcomes the future to blend smoothly with the past. It is quite possible to imagine that you are walking along the canals with Rembrandt in the 1600 ’s. The city is criss-crossed with canals that reflect the soft misty light back into the sky. In late May, when I visited the city, the huge puffy clouds of Rembrandt ’s landscapes were just as low to earth as in his paintings. It seemed as if I could pull off a piece of cloud like cotton candy if I stretched out my arm. The marvelous billows of grays, whites, ochres, yellows, blues and many other colors were dotted with openings, big and small, to the soft sky beyond. Through these portals light drifted in soft shafts. Rays that lit fragments of a building, a tree or a face. The delicate way that the light illuminates in Amsterdam creates a mood of fluidity: seamless values.
I told myself that I wouldn’t 
An important Pablo Picasso painting has been withdrawn from a Sotheby’s Impressionist and Modern art auction in New York. The 1909 work titled “Arlequin” was expected to make more than $30 million.
