Public art stirs controversy

Even the words “public art” should fill politicians with dread. Victoria’s city councillors are the latest victims, wrestling with approval for a $250,000 sculpture as part of the Johnson Street Bridge project. The sculpture would look like 11 stylized surfboards half-buried in the ground, with the silhouette suggesting — loosely — an orca. But Victoria councillors are not alone. Calgary city council was bashed this year over a $500,000 sculpture installed as part of a highway project. The work — four rusty steel towers with rocks placed on cross pieces — was criticized for everything from the cost to the New York artists’ claim the work incorporated Blackfoot cultural traditions, which came as a surprise to local Indigenous artists.

But history also reminds us that the immediate public reaction can be proved wrong in time.

In 1966, Toronto politicians were roasted for installing The Archer, a Henry Moore abstract sculpture, on the plaza outside the then-new city hall. The $100,000 cost — about $750,000 today — was covered by private donations, but citizens still scoffed. Today, it’s part of the city’s fabric and a marker of the moment Toronto embraced a broader definition of public art.

So how can politicians avoid getting tripped up by public art?

Coun. Geoff Young set out one good principle during discussion of the Johnson Street Bridge piece. Others on council had noted that they liked the piece better after the artist explained his intentions and suggested signs near the work.

“The fact is that the great majority of people passing the site will not have the benefit of any explanation,” Young said. “They’ll see surfboards. They’ll think surfboards. I’m sorry. If I had my way, no public art competition would allow the artist to say even one single word or write one single word.”

Good advice. In Calgary’s case, the city’s arts manager defended the sculpture, noting the “stones float in steel cribs and when you look at them you can actually see the water ripples from the lake that was here 227 million years ago.” Except the work is beside a busy highway, and the ripples are not likely visible to drivers flashing past. The work needs to stand — or fall — on its own. Politicians involved in public-art decisions should also be prepared to embrace a diversity of styles. People who still don’t like Mowry Baden’s sculpture outside the Saveon-Foods Memorial Centre might be pleased by Andreas Kunert’s rock retaining wall along the Old Island Highway in View Royal or Nathan Scott’s The Homecoming on Wharf Street.

And they should be prepared for controversy, whatever the decision. Part of the role of public art is to spark discussion, engagement and reflection on art and community and our environment.

Citizens, in turn, should focus less on each new piece and consider the growing array of public art across the region and the richness that it brings to daily life.