Page 116 - Hrobat Virloget, Katja, et al., eds. (2015). Stone narratives: heritage, mobility, performance. University of Primorska Press, Koper.
P. 116
stone narratives
king to people about their collections and focusing on potential travel stories attached to
the stones. There was no shortage of interested from the local people to participate, yet so-
mething was holding me back.
Being ever so partial to Berlin, though not overly fond of Los Angeles, I had decided
that seeing the rock at the LACMA was worth an effort before committing to the topic of
the article.
The first visit was a family one and it was, due to other planned activities, also the
shortest one. The access to Levitated Mass, designated a public sculpture, is free of charge,
so we skipped the box office, asked for directions and found ourselves on the North Lawn.
The first impression was very much in accordance to the cliché that celebrities tend to appe-
ar smaller/shorter in real life. The rock that I expected to be enormous, 340 tons after all su-
ggests substantial mass, appeared at the first site almost »small«. We walked under it both
ways, posed, (Figure 4) took pictures from all sides and left. We spent there but a moment,
a practice not unusual for tourists with full itinerary. Still, is there any precise amount of
time one is required to spend with a work of art? And what time are we referring to? Is it
real time when we stand, sit or walk in front of, around or inside a work of art? Is it time
inscribed, invested or interpreted in an artwork itself? Or perhaps time dedicated to kno-
wledge we hopefully acquire which opens kairic spaces of dialogue and potential transfor-
mation? When art editor Stephen Knudsen spent entire day at the LACMA to contem-
plate the possibility of the postmodern sublime in Heizer’s sculpture, his colleagues were
perplexed as to why he needed an entire day just to see the rock. I recall a certain painting
at the Musée d’Orsay that rooted me to the spot in a second and left me completely unawa-
re of the surroundings, though I would be quite at a loss to explain why, while it took me at
least twenty years to appreciate and enjoy some other painting.
That first time at the LACMA I was neither particularly moved let alone elated by
Levitated Mass. Had not experienced »the aeons rolling by« like Simon Schama (2015) in
front of Rothko’s Seagram paintings in the Tate Gallery. As a matter of fact neither did he,
when he first encountered the paintings in 1970. He only felt there was something there,
prompting him to go on an unpredictable journey that culminated in his unique, exciting,
utterly compelling and eloquent delivery on the power of art, decades later. Satisfied that
something was there worth looking into, I decided to return to the LACMA for the second,
and as it turned out, the third and the fourth visit.
The second visit, after some reading and watching the documentary, was again an add
on to other family activities, yet it allowed for a wider gaze that was not focused on the rock
alone, but the sculpture as a whole, the slot, the desert like floor around it made of crushed
rock, the Euclidean forms, typical in Heizer’s work from his large early paintings in New
York, through several land art projects and gallery exhibitions, to City,3 his lifework in pro-
gress. It was also an opportunity to observe how the visitors engage the rock in variety of
ways in a trickle or a flow which was intriguing enough to plan the next two visits.
The third and the fourth visit were dedicated entirely to Levitated Mass, from the
opening of the museum to the closing. The first time it was on Sunday, the 50th anniversary
of the LACMA with a myrad visitors, the second was on a Monday, a quiet day with ma-
inly school groups, local families with children, and individual tourists. During those two
3 No article, either definite or indefinite is attached to Heizer's City.
114
king to people about their collections and focusing on potential travel stories attached to
the stones. There was no shortage of interested from the local people to participate, yet so-
mething was holding me back.
Being ever so partial to Berlin, though not overly fond of Los Angeles, I had decided
that seeing the rock at the LACMA was worth an effort before committing to the topic of
the article.
The first visit was a family one and it was, due to other planned activities, also the
shortest one. The access to Levitated Mass, designated a public sculpture, is free of charge,
so we skipped the box office, asked for directions and found ourselves on the North Lawn.
The first impression was very much in accordance to the cliché that celebrities tend to appe-
ar smaller/shorter in real life. The rock that I expected to be enormous, 340 tons after all su-
ggests substantial mass, appeared at the first site almost »small«. We walked under it both
ways, posed, (Figure 4) took pictures from all sides and left. We spent there but a moment,
a practice not unusual for tourists with full itinerary. Still, is there any precise amount of
time one is required to spend with a work of art? And what time are we referring to? Is it
real time when we stand, sit or walk in front of, around or inside a work of art? Is it time
inscribed, invested or interpreted in an artwork itself? Or perhaps time dedicated to kno-
wledge we hopefully acquire which opens kairic spaces of dialogue and potential transfor-
mation? When art editor Stephen Knudsen spent entire day at the LACMA to contem-
plate the possibility of the postmodern sublime in Heizer’s sculpture, his colleagues were
perplexed as to why he needed an entire day just to see the rock. I recall a certain painting
at the Musée d’Orsay that rooted me to the spot in a second and left me completely unawa-
re of the surroundings, though I would be quite at a loss to explain why, while it took me at
least twenty years to appreciate and enjoy some other painting.
That first time at the LACMA I was neither particularly moved let alone elated by
Levitated Mass. Had not experienced »the aeons rolling by« like Simon Schama (2015) in
front of Rothko’s Seagram paintings in the Tate Gallery. As a matter of fact neither did he,
when he first encountered the paintings in 1970. He only felt there was something there,
prompting him to go on an unpredictable journey that culminated in his unique, exciting,
utterly compelling and eloquent delivery on the power of art, decades later. Satisfied that
something was there worth looking into, I decided to return to the LACMA for the second,
and as it turned out, the third and the fourth visit.
The second visit, after some reading and watching the documentary, was again an add
on to other family activities, yet it allowed for a wider gaze that was not focused on the rock
alone, but the sculpture as a whole, the slot, the desert like floor around it made of crushed
rock, the Euclidean forms, typical in Heizer’s work from his large early paintings in New
York, through several land art projects and gallery exhibitions, to City,3 his lifework in pro-
gress. It was also an opportunity to observe how the visitors engage the rock in variety of
ways in a trickle or a flow which was intriguing enough to plan the next two visits.
The third and the fourth visit were dedicated entirely to Levitated Mass, from the
opening of the museum to the closing. The first time it was on Sunday, the 50th anniversary
of the LACMA with a myrad visitors, the second was on a Monday, a quiet day with ma-
inly school groups, local families with children, and individual tourists. During those two
3 No article, either definite or indefinite is attached to Heizer's City.
114
