The Lightning Field, in images (or lack thereof)

Since artist Walter De Maria completed The Lightning Field in 1977, photography of the work has been strictly controlled. Visitors are not allowed to take photos on the site, and sign an agreement stating as much. Publishers and other media outlets who make a request to reproduce images are (it's fair to say) carefully screened, and approvals, when they're given, generally only grant use of a one or two of the few select images that the artist has officially approved.

Because of The Lightning Field's low visitorship (Dia Art Foundation estimates the figure at only 15,000 people since 1977) most of us know the work only through images. More specifically, most know the work in its most iconic photographic state, with lighting striking. Images like on the April 1980 cover of Artfourm (which featured a special feature on the Field, written and designed by De Maria himself), or the cover of Robert Hughes popular book, American Visions: The Epic History of Art in America. Of course, what most don't stop to realize, is that lightning strikes at The Lightning Field, are the exception, not the rule.

We use those images though because they're more dramatic, but how else can we image this work? Both for those that have never, and may never see it in person, and for those that have been there before. The follow-up question is of course, should we image it at all? But that's for another time.

This is the only image we included in Kenneth Baker's book on the Field. It was taken by the author and used with Dia's and De Maria's permission. Though it hardly does justice to the work or the experience of being there, it is, I think most past visitors to the site would agree, a better representation than the lightning strike images.

Walter De Maria, The Lightning Field, 1977. © Walter De Maria. Photo: Kenneth Baker.

These are images that couldn't have been taken on site (because as I mentioned, photography is not permitted), but in many ways, they're reminiscent of major parts of the experience of The Lightning Field.

  
Earth and Sky

Another perspective, aerial, which I quite like a lot. It's removed enough that it can't really color our vision of the work prior to seeing it, but I think it says something interesting about the work whether you've seen it or not. Something about patience, about careful looking, about the dramatic and inescapable effect our perspective has on our vision and understanding of the artwork, or of any artwork. If we could get a satellite image at sunset to go with it, it would be even better. (Be sure to click on the image below to expand, or download the 1890-pixel-wide version, 1.9MB.)

Unofficial aerial view of The Lightning Field.
Imagery © Digital Globe/Yahoo

Another way to image the work is not to photograph it all, but rather to draw it. I am surprised, actually, not to have ever seen many drawings of the Field at all. Perhaps because it would be hard to draw in any meaningful way, or because people tend to share their photos online so much easier than drawings or sketches. One notable exception is a feature in the Summer 2001 issue of Cabinet magazine that asked a half-dozen artists to "Please Draw That Famous Photograph of The Lightning Field from Memory". That in mind, along with the aerial view above, and a separate thought about an illustrated edition of Rosalind Krauss' essay on the grid in Modern Art; I'd propose another:

Grid drawing of The Lightning Field.

Finally in regards to imaging The Lightning Field, and also from that same issue of Cabinet (the theme of which was "Weather"), there is a terrific interview with photographer John Cliett. Just as the Dia Art Foundation hired Kenneth Baker to write about the work (the result of that commission is the first essay, "1978", in his book), they hired John Cliett to photograph it. The results—not the pictures, of which so few have ever been seen, but the story behind them—are fascinating.

The Lightning Field, 140 characters at a time

To mark our e-book publication of The Lightning Field, by San Francisco Chronicle art critic Kenneth Baker, we're tweeting some Field facts and fancies over the next few days and into the summer. Join us at #lightningfield. If you've visited the work or read the book, we'd love to hear from you. Here's a little from what we've shared the first day:

#lightningfield is comprised of 400 stainless-steel poles arranged in a 1 kilometer x 1 mile grid, at intervals of 220 feet.

The distance around the outer edge of #lightningfield is 3.2427 miles, or about an hour's walk at an average pace.

Visiting each of #lightningfield's 220 poles, would require a walk of more than 16 miles!

The tops of the 400 2-inch-diameter stainless-steel poles form a flat, horizontal plain over the subtly changing landscape #lightningfield

The tallest pole is 26.72 ft, and the shortest is 15.07 ft. #lightningfield

32 companies and 26 people, including De Maria himself, are listed as having worked on the project. #lightningfield

The companies included Expert Machine Co. for the "machined tip" and Yellow Bird, Inc. for "helicopter service". #lightningfield

Pilgrims and Caretakers

I hope you've read Geoff Dyer's great piece on Walter De Maria's Lightning Field and Robert Smithson's Spiral Jetty in last week's New Yorker. Dyer's a lovely writer who comes to his subject (no matter what it is) from his own unique perspective of curiosity, exploration and creativity. Of his many previous books, a couple have dealt with art. The first was The Ongoing Moment,  his take on photography, and the second was Jeff in Venice, Death in Varanasi, a novel in which the main character is an art journalist and the first half of the book takes place at the Venice Biennale.

In this latest art essay, Dyer meanders (literally and literarily) through these great works of Land Art, and through larger ideas of place and pilgrimage. It's based on a lecture he gave last year, which is itself worth a look, whether or not you read the essay, or if you don't subscribe and can't get past the New Yorker's paywall.

Dyer speaks about visiting these places and how that act, the physical travel that is required, makes up so much of our experience of the works themselves. This is true for almost everyone. The exception being (it is easy to forget) the caretakers of these works, particularly those for The Lightning Field, and for some of De Maria's other works like The New York Earth Room and The Broken Kilometer, both in New York City. And it is these caretakers who were the subject of another essay I hope you'll read, this one from a not-so-past-issue of Art Lies and written by Graham T. Beck. As he writes of the three people who have been largely responsible for these particular three works: 

"Between the three of them—Bill, Patti and Robert—they’ve spent sixty-eight years with Walter De Maria’s art, which would be impressive under most circumstances, but given the crucial role that time plays in these creations, it’s really quite exceptional."

In a culture that fosters single visits to blockbuster exhibitions of often hundreds of works of arts, Beck's highlighting of this alternate experience of art feels refreshing and even revelatory. Read it, and then at 3pm eastern time today join the Dia Foundation's #AskDia forum on Twitter where Bill Dilworth (the 20-year-plus New York Earth Room caretaker) will be answering your tweeted questions live. Very cool, and los to keep you entertained, and properly distracted, on this spring Friday.

Update on Friday, April 22, 2011 at 02:01PM by Hol Art Books

Dia Art Foundation hosted a Twitter forum (#AskDia) on Friday, April 22 with Bill Dilworth, who's been the caretaker of Walter De Maria's New York Earth Room since 1989. Unfortunately it didn't generate a lot of participation, but I think some nice tidbits came out. I especially loved the idea of the Room's "quality of remoteness". Here are the slightly edited questions and answers:

Q. You've spent so many years with The New York Earth Room, what's the longest a visitor has ever stayed there? (@holartbooks)

A. There have been people who have spent hours, but one guy came every day for a year!

Q. Lightning Field's remoteness and Earth Room's ban of photos indicate De Maria's fascination w/ experience, could you talk more on that? (@trillary)

A. Walter doesn't want you to relate to the work as a photo. It's all about the experience of being there. By not allowing photos, it gives The New York Earth Room a quality of remoteness.

Q. Looking back on it, has anything really surprised you about your experience there? Or about what you think about the work now? (@holartbooks)

A. The longer I'm here, the more I like it—that's surprising to me. Another thing that surprises me is how popular the it became. I never anticipated guide books becoming interested. And it surprises me that The New York Earth Room is in such good shape after all these years.

Update on Friday, April 22, 2011 at 02:14PM by Hol Art Books

A 5 minute WNYC piece from December 2008 on Bill Dilworth and The New York Earth Room.