Experiential Art & Architecture
The idea of art in public spaces goes back at least 3,000 years, to the statue of the Egyptian pharaoh Ramesses II, immortalized in Shelley’s poem Ozymandias. But as Shelley points out, the original intent of such art was not so much to entertain as to commemorate, to impress and often to intimidate: “look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.” The use of public art as a means of memorializing, impressing, and perhaps stirring up national pride, has continued throughout history, to the present day – think of the Emperor Hadrian, Admiral Nelson, Chairman Mao, Vladimir Lenin, Darth Vader.1
In ancient times, as now, public art had other important objectives. First, it had to be part of a story that would engage the users of the space, whether it was a chronicle of a famous battle, or a well-known fairy tale. Second, it had to somehow authenticate the space by providing elements that were native to the location and would help to recall its history, culture or mythology. Third, it had to stimulate observers by helping to create a mood, generate an activity or otherwise amplify the experience of the space.
Public art is a particularly important topic of discussion for modern city dwellers because, like architecture, it forms part of the everyday urban space that we all occupy. And, like architecture, but unlike most works of art, we have to engage with it, whether we want to or not. It can’t be – and shouldn’t be – avoided or ignored. And even more important, it gives all of us the opportunity to experience the work of creative artists, and ready access to this work.
There’s another reason that applies to me in particular, but may also apply to you, sooner or later: a piece of public art may have been installed in your neighbourhood or at the corner of your street, and you’re struggling for ways to understand and appreciate it.
With my three objectives for public art in mind – story, authenticity and experience – I’ve selected two public art installations to compare. These two works have striking and unusual similarities, but equally striking differences.
Both of the works of art deal with mermaid/water nymph myths and are, appropriately, located in or near water. Neither is monumental; they have been constructed, generally at human scale, out of bronze or bronze-like material, and each of them attempts to link the story that it represents to its location, thereby engaging users in the space, even though the use of the space is restricted. One is in Copenhagen, the other is in Toronto.
By now, you may have guessed that the first piece of art is the Little Mermaid Statue in Copenhagen Harbour. But you may not have guessed that the second work, featuring female swimming figures, is part of the Two Old Mill condominium complex in Toronto – unless, that is, you live around the corner, as I do. The point of the comparison is to show that two works of public art that are almost identical in subject, size and material can be so different in their impact. Keep in mind that one of the works (Copenhagen) is 105 years old, and the other (Toronto) has barely celebrated its first birthday.
STORY
Since its publication in 1837, the well-known and much loved Hans Christian Andersen story The Little Mermaid has been widely translated and regenerated many times on screen and on stage, most notably through Disney Studios (1989, 2000, 2008). It’s possible that anyone under the age of 25 would have trouble recognizing the Copenhagen statue because of its lack of resemblance to Disney’s Ariel.
The Bloor Street statues (three in all) are based loosely on stories that are not familiar to everyone – the Rhine Maidens from Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen, Undine, the mythical water nymph and Ophelia, a character in Hamlet, whose floating corpse is described as “mermaid-like.” In fact, coincidentally, the sculptured figures bear striking similarities to the Little Mermaid, as depicted in early editions of Andersen’s book.
On a cheery note, it might also be noted that all of these stories deal with seanymphs, love, betrayal and death.
AUTHENTICITY
The Little Mermaid, Copenhagen.
PHOTO: WILSON HUI WWW.WILSONHUI.COM
Edvard Eriksen, the sculptor of The Little Mermaid, had the advantage of representing a strong story in the very location that it (mythically) took place. The connection between the statue, the site and Denmark in general is unbreakable and is the main reason that the tiny statue is to Copenhagen what the Statue of Liberty is to New York and the Eiffel Tower is to Paris.
Alexander Moyle, who crafted the Toronto sculptures, had no such advantage, expectations nor literary head start. There is a river nearby (the Humber) and the sound of passing traffic is reminiscent of the sounds of a flowing river.
EXPERIENCE
Photo: Gordon S. Grice
Like an old-fashioned commemorative statue, the Little Mermaid instantly evokes a sense of national pride and achievement. For many, there is a sense of nostalgia, for bedtime stories of youth (or early movie experiences). The statue’s human scale makes it both personal and universal at the same time. It conveys a sense of magic, continuing cultural relevance, history and mythology. It also has a sense of indestructible permanence.2
But, for me, the most compelling argument for public art, and one that helps with my personal dilemma, is best demonstrated by the Bloor Street statues. Without being handed a timeless story on a world-famous site, as Eriksen was, Moyle was asked to create an experience from scratch, to occupy a restricted out-of-the-way site that most people will never visit. In this regard, he has succeeded beyond expectation. By evoking water-nymph stories, he has emotionally connected his site to the constantly flowing Humber River, even though we can’t see it. On three tiny pieces of land, he reminds us that rivers have their own mythology. The spaces themselves are static, but the sculptures are fluid and dynamic, creating strong narrative lines against the rigid descriptive lines of the architecture.
The important thing is that public art should expand the idea of its site, whether it’s an international destination or a neighbourhood street corner, adding meaning, impact, engagement and a degree of thoughtfulness. Who knew that mermaids could do that?
REFERENCES
1. See: www.reddit.com/r/pics/comments/3prnlw/statue_of_lenin_converted_into_darth_vader_in/ Statue of Lenin converted into Darth Vader in Odessa, Ukraine as a part of decommunization process that outlaws Communist symbols.
2. The Little Mermaid statue has its own story. Because it is such a cultural icon, it has suffered at the hands of political activists over the years, having been decapitated twice, blown up once and covered in paint several times.