Page 125 - Hrobat Virloget, Katja, et al., eds. (2015). Stone narratives: heritage, mobility, performance. University of Primorska Press, Koper.
P. 125
“wanna walk under the rock?”: land art, time, and tourist passages
vilion, showing the bottom from bellow or pointing towards the sky, involved with the ob-
serves, the light, the wind, the passage.
In her analysis of walking and sensing urban space in everyday life, Wunderlich (2008,
p. 131) uses three modes of walking: the purposive, the discursive and the conceptual, each
of which may be applied to tourists walking under the rock. Those engaged in purposive
walk, use the passage as a shortcut, their pace is set, the rhythm constant. Some appear to
be employees of the museum, others local inhabitants that stroll on museum grounds every
day according to the guards of the sculpture (Figure 6). They walk quickly, when in pairs,
often engaged in conversation. The second group of purposive walkers are tourists who en-
gage in ticking off the walk, going through the passage and back, much as we have done on
the first visit. Some enter and return maintaining a precise same pose like a father and son
I observed walking through the passage. Going in father had his arms crossed, walking at a
steady pace, while his son was a few steps behind engrossed in a video game. They returned
in exactly same pose, not changing their respective body positions.
The second group of walkers, the discursive ones engage in pace and rhythm that va-
ries according to their own inner rhythms (Figure 7) and are the closest to the Benjamin’s
flâneur which he depicted in his monumental and unfinished work on the Arcades Pro-
ject (1999). The flâneur, an epitomised figure of modernity in search of the new imagi-
nary is a person who walks in the rhythm of his own perceiving the space both as a lan-
dscape and a room at the same time. Flâneur may not walk through the passage at the
same pace, he stops, turns, continues according to inner and outer rhythms, the rhythms
of place.
The third group of conceptual walkers represent those tourists who think about their
walk in advance, contemplate the entering, engage in »a creative response to the place«
(Wunderlich, ibid.), draw as it were a mental walking map. Most of them not only walk
through the passage, but at both sides of the sculpture, performing the place. When in a
group, they may get involved in a lively debate.
Different groups of walkers intermingle during the day in cacophony of rhythms, yet
may fall, for a short while, into a similar rhythm at sunset, when all movement appear to
slow down, and more attention is paid to the fellow walkers.
In the evening before the closing time, the rock is surprisingly soft to the touch, warm
from the sun. After spending some time with it, it emphatically does not remind me of the
pyramids, nor the sun alignment at Stonehenge, it does not remind me of ancient structu-
res I saw in Mexico. It remains site specific, making LA more likable among other things.
It does make me want to visit City one day, though that seems unlikely and it did take me
on an interesting journey. If I had to describe it with one adjective only I would say: gentle.
When asked how long he expects the rock to remain at the LACMA, Heizer answe-
red: »For the next 3,500 years«. This then is not a sculpture intended to be subject to en-
tropy, if not forever, then at least for a longue durée. There are several intertwined notions of
time integrated in the sculpture. A geological time of the rock, a historical time of the con-
cept, the personal time of the artist – decades of waiting for the rock to appear »Decades
… that’s not even a decrement of time for me« (Pray, 2014) – a kairic potential, Benjamin’s
jeztzeit.
123
vilion, showing the bottom from bellow or pointing towards the sky, involved with the ob-
serves, the light, the wind, the passage.
In her analysis of walking and sensing urban space in everyday life, Wunderlich (2008,
p. 131) uses three modes of walking: the purposive, the discursive and the conceptual, each
of which may be applied to tourists walking under the rock. Those engaged in purposive
walk, use the passage as a shortcut, their pace is set, the rhythm constant. Some appear to
be employees of the museum, others local inhabitants that stroll on museum grounds every
day according to the guards of the sculpture (Figure 6). They walk quickly, when in pairs,
often engaged in conversation. The second group of purposive walkers are tourists who en-
gage in ticking off the walk, going through the passage and back, much as we have done on
the first visit. Some enter and return maintaining a precise same pose like a father and son
I observed walking through the passage. Going in father had his arms crossed, walking at a
steady pace, while his son was a few steps behind engrossed in a video game. They returned
in exactly same pose, not changing their respective body positions.
The second group of walkers, the discursive ones engage in pace and rhythm that va-
ries according to their own inner rhythms (Figure 7) and are the closest to the Benjamin’s
flâneur which he depicted in his monumental and unfinished work on the Arcades Pro-
ject (1999). The flâneur, an epitomised figure of modernity in search of the new imagi-
nary is a person who walks in the rhythm of his own perceiving the space both as a lan-
dscape and a room at the same time. Flâneur may not walk through the passage at the
same pace, he stops, turns, continues according to inner and outer rhythms, the rhythms
of place.
The third group of conceptual walkers represent those tourists who think about their
walk in advance, contemplate the entering, engage in »a creative response to the place«
(Wunderlich, ibid.), draw as it were a mental walking map. Most of them not only walk
through the passage, but at both sides of the sculpture, performing the place. When in a
group, they may get involved in a lively debate.
Different groups of walkers intermingle during the day in cacophony of rhythms, yet
may fall, for a short while, into a similar rhythm at sunset, when all movement appear to
slow down, and more attention is paid to the fellow walkers.
In the evening before the closing time, the rock is surprisingly soft to the touch, warm
from the sun. After spending some time with it, it emphatically does not remind me of the
pyramids, nor the sun alignment at Stonehenge, it does not remind me of ancient structu-
res I saw in Mexico. It remains site specific, making LA more likable among other things.
It does make me want to visit City one day, though that seems unlikely and it did take me
on an interesting journey. If I had to describe it with one adjective only I would say: gentle.
When asked how long he expects the rock to remain at the LACMA, Heizer answe-
red: »For the next 3,500 years«. This then is not a sculpture intended to be subject to en-
tropy, if not forever, then at least for a longue durée. There are several intertwined notions of
time integrated in the sculpture. A geological time of the rock, a historical time of the con-
cept, the personal time of the artist – decades of waiting for the rock to appear »Decades
… that’s not even a decrement of time for me« (Pray, 2014) – a kairic potential, Benjamin’s
jeztzeit.
123
