I can only begin to discuss public art by admitting to a bias and because of that I have to ask you to be indulgent of my use of the first person and a little bragging. My hometown, Des Moines, Iowa, is not known for much. Des Moines generally comes to the forefront of America’s collective brain when national political caucuses become the only newsworthy item. The city usually leaves the country’s consciousness approximately two minutes after the results are announced. Des Moines likes it that way, but what most of America misses about Des Moines is the art located in the city. The Des Moines art museum was designed by the architect, I.M. Pei, who also designed the entrance to the Louvre in Paris. Public art, especially in the downtown area, is ubiquitous. The sculpture garden includes pieces by Louise Bourgeois and William de Koonig. John Pappajohn, a local financier and art collector, who has funded a great deal of the city’s art expansion, is known for having sculptures in his front yard, which change at his whim. The city is consistently acknowledged as a smaller scale metropolis with an enviable art scene. With all that said, I would not suggest that Chicago’s public art is pitiable (although I could be tempted to), but I would say that for a city of its size it lags behind in one aspect of culture, per capita anyway, when compared to my supposed miniscule hamlet of a hometown.
The Calder ‘Flamingo’ sculpture in the Federal Plaza of downtown Chicago has always reminded me of a sculpture in Des Moines that is similar in scale. The ‘Flamingo,’ which was unveiled in 1974, is less intimidating in its size than one would imagine. It only reaches to the seventh story of its neighbor, the Federal Building. The sculpture is industrial and sharp, jagging out in unexpected places and depending on one’s view, possibly unseen places. Still, it is warm in spite of its streamlined look and surroundings.
There isn’t much about the piece that initially calls to mind a flamingo. The shade is too vivid and the shape doesn’t speak of it literally. Observing the piece, ‘Insect’ seems to be a more fitting name, but the contours and lines are so flamingoesque. All at once blunt and rounded, and despite it’s shade of fantasy it never inspires flight, firmly grounded, like the bird.
The Calder ‘Flamingo’ sculpture in the Federal Plaza of downtown Chicago has always reminded me of a sculpture in Des Moines that is similar in scale. The ‘Flamingo,’ which was unveiled in 1974, is less intimidating in its size than one would imagine. It only reaches to the seventh story of its neighbor, the Federal Building. The sculpture is industrial and sharp, jagging out in unexpected places and depending on one’s view, possibly unseen places. Still, it is warm in spite of its streamlined look and surroundings.
There isn’t much about the piece that initially calls to mind a flamingo. The shade is too vivid and the shape doesn’t speak of it literally. Observing the piece, ‘Insect’ seems to be a more fitting name, but the contours and lines are so flamingoesque. All at once blunt and rounded, and despite it’s shade of fantasy it never inspires flight, firmly grounded, like the bird.
One wonders how many people gave pause to take it all in in 1974 or even 1975. Did locals dismiss it so easily in 1980? People don’t really see the ‘Flamingo’ with purpose and those who observe it every day see it as part of the landscape. Perhaps that’s what Calder intended. With its location, one would assume, its most frequent viewers would be those who only see the sharp, scarlet edges out of the corner of their eye. At times, Chicago seems perpetually gray and this blast of coloring and structure is refreshing when noticed.
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