I have read about it, walked around it, considered it from up close and from far away, and I have come to one overwhelming conclusion: Our new "Habitat" statue expresses the artist's contempt for Anchorage. We have been set up, and the joke is on us.
If you were not told what this thing represents you would not be able to guess. However, after first-hand observation, I know what it is: It is a person going to the bathroom. Its "face" has that look of concentration associated with ... going to the bathroom. It presents its backside to the city and the passing traffic. By any cultural standard, this so-called piece of art expresses contempt for the viewer and the city, and is just patently offensive.
The artist is reportedly "controversial." No kidding. Apparently up until now he has mostly produced works that deteriorate pretty quickly, so their value (or damage) is temporary. This statue, however, will be permanent -- "centuries" according to the newspaper -- an object that may indeed rust out, but probably not in our lifetime. Meanwhile it will inspire generations of birds to do what birds do on statues. It will be a tempting canvas for graffiti artists to personalize and improve upon with their loopy gang logos.
From what I have read, the artist spent about two days in Anchorage. The first was when he scoped the project. Apparently it was a gray day with gray snow and gray mud. Apparently, too, he was struck by the fact that Anchorage's houses and buildings are rectangular, and Anchorage's streets are laid out in grid fashion.
These two impressions -- gray sky and geometric lines -- inspired and defined the statue. This is a perceptive, sensitive artist? I cannot imagine any other visitor (or any resident) who, if asked for the two signature qualities of Anchorage, would say "gray skies and geometric lines." Well, OK, gray skies, maybe. ...
His second visit was last week. Apparently he got here (slightly delayed by the volcano in Iceland), viewed his opus, popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, and got right back out of town. If his other works are anything like this piece, he has probably got that routine down pat: land, celebrate, and leave ... fast.
Now that the artist is gone his statue will have to stand on its own (or squat, actually), silently communicating whatever it communicates, without the benefit of the artist's explanations. Visitors will wonder what kind of city we are, to make this thing the frontispiece of our new museum. Maybe they'll think we're right up there with Florence, Italy, where a similar-sized replica of Michelangelo's "David" stands outside the Uffizi Gallery.
What are we to do? Maybe a newly-liberated Iraqi mob will take matters in their own hands, topple it as a symbol of oppression, and ecstatically dance on its rump while shooting rifles in the air.
Maybe -- hopefully -- it will turn out to be a violation of the long-awaited rewrite of the muni zoning code, which famously attempts to legislate good taste. If the new code ever gets adopted, the muni could red-tag the statue, and then every day it stays there will be deemed a separate offense.
We could pay the artist to create an outhouse for it.
I am sure that paying over a half-million dollars does not create a continuing obligation -- for "centuries" -- to display this thing in a beautiful, formal downtown public square. The muni owns it, and they could tear it down tomorrow and recycle the materials into a fleet of fine new Deshka River fishing boats. All we need is the political will.
How likely is that? Once I ran for the state Senate on the platform, among other things, of removing those illuminated rings on the PAC by the cheapest, quickest and funniest means possible. I lost, and 20 years later those rings are still there.
Kirk Wickersham is an Anchorage attorney and real estate broker. He has no credentials in the fine arts.
By KIRK WICKERSHAM