A Million Dollars Worth of Dirt

Some time ago before visiting New York, I did a little research and somehow found out about an unusual artwork: a room full of dirt worth a million dollars poetically named The Earth Room. I don't know exactly what I was thinking but I somehow made up my mind that this was something I needed to experience. So I ventured out to see this New York Earth Room, an artwork by artist Walter De Maria that can be found on Wooster Street in Soho. The street houses brands like Céline, Moschino and Issey Miyake, leading uptown and finally arriving at the Earth Room. The work is described as 'an interior earth sculpture' by the Dia Art Foundation that once commissioned and now maintains it.

I left my hotel room knowing I was on my way to go see a room full of dirt and yet I did not know what to think when I was actually standing in front of it. Apart from the sensory experience of a thick, moist atmosphere and the distinct smell of fresh dirt, I didn't know what else to take away from this second floor installation. I read the leaflet that was available in the adjacent room - it provided no artist statement or any other clues as to what to make of the artwork. 

I stood there and looked at the colour of the dirt and the way it had been manipulated to look untouched (the dirt is consistently being watered so it doesn't dry out). I observed the height of the room. I looked down to inspect the dirt pressed up against the glass that kept it from pouring out of the doorway and noticed it came somewhere up to my knees. I noticed the light change on the window side of the room. And when there was nothing left to observe I started to ask myself questions. How long should I be stood looking at this room full of dirt? Is there an appropriate amount of time one should be looking at a room full of dirt? Is not long enough disrespectful towards the artwork or too long too pretentious? Then I started considering other aspects of this work such as the sheer magnitude of this operation as surely it isn't as easy as it looks to keep a room full of dirt in good condition for over 40 years. Where is the actual monetary value in this artwork? Is it in the real estate of the building or has the actual soil become worth over a million dollars? Is the artistic value solely in the dirt and thus theoretically could be sold and exhibited somewhere else as the same artwork or has the room and the location become an integral part of this piece of art?

I left with all questions unanswered and without being able to place the Earth Room in any sort of context. I was neither disappointed with nor pleasantly surprised at my interaction with the 197 cubic meters (250 cubic yards) of dirt that has been around since 1977. I did decide I was curious enough to go see a second work of De Maria, located only a few minutes away from The Earth Room, titled The Broken Kilometre (1979). I looked out for the discrete signs as had been present at the first artwork and I quickly discovered the entrance to yet another respectable space named The Broken Kilometer. I encountered an artwork that was definitely more aesthetically pleasing and somehow less confronting than the Earth Room. The leaflet again provided only technical details:

"500 highly polished, round, solid brass rods. 5 parallel rows of 100 rods each (...)
The spaces between the rods increase by 5 millimeters. The first two rods of each row are placed 80 millimeters apart, the last two rods are placed 570 millimeters apart. (...)
Total length of sculpture (if all elements were laid end to end): 1000 meters."

I looked at the final rows of rods towards the end of the impressive, majestic space and was unable to detect the difference in distance between those rods and the first rows of rods, although the leaflet mentioned the difference should be nearly half a meter. I tried to take different angles and perspectives, but access to the artwork is limited. Finally I started a conversation with the lady at the desk and she confirmed that the rods are indeed far wider apart towards the end of the room as she has seen with her own eyes while working at The Broken Kilometer for 24(!) years. The conversation turns to visual perspective, optical illusion, the work that goes into maintaining the sculpture and Walter De Maria's other work. The lady told me that the artwork is soon due for its biennial polish, taking a team of four people three fulltime weeks to complete. She explained how they go about it and I was fascinated by the commitment of the foundation and the woman herself to this artwork. When I asked about De Maria's other works, she pulled out a stunning photobook and proceeded to tell me about them. Within 20 minutes I had turned from a hesitant Earth Room visitor into a De Maria enthusiast impatient to see what must be one of his most impressive works in New Mexico: The Lightning Field.

The Lightening Field (1977) as an artwork can only be visited as part of an experience that lasts approximately 22 hours. From arriving to the pick up point in Quemado, New Mexico at 2 pm from where you'll be taken for a 45 minute drive to The Lightening Field to being returned again at Quemado around noon the next day.

"A sculpture to be walked in as well as viewed, The Lightning Field is intended to be experienced over an extended period of time. A full experience of The Lightning Field does not depend upon the occurrence of lightning, and visitors are encouraged to spend as much time as possible in the field, especially during sunset and sunrise. "

Basically, you get picked up and driven to a remote area where the artwork is located, adjacent to which a cabin is situated that you'll be sharing with a maximum of five other people. You're left to your own devices with nothing else but a basket of food and the company of the other visitors until the next day.

Any photography is strictly prohibited in keeping with the artist's wishes, although you might wonder who in this day and age could refrain themselves from actually doing so. I found one person that was naughty AND put it on YouTube. Don't bother watching it through to the end though, it's not exactly the best piece of hobby journalism it could have been if you were going to break the rules.

Being able to relate several of the artworks to each other and having a reference to one another did deepen the experience of the individual artworks. Suddenly a room of dirt seems to tell a little bit of a story with a bunch of brass rods being a sequel to that story and a field of upright poles the three hour long season finale.

Registration to visit The Lightening Field opens once a year and within a matter of hours all spots are taken. This is definitely on my bucket list and I'm excited to go explore the kind of legacy and longevity an artwork can enjoy. I often wonder if the ideas we have, the things we create and the contributions we make will outlive us. It's encouraging to see that this is one of the possible scenario's where not only the work of an artist lives on in books and museums but is able to interact with and create an experience for its spectators.

credits: photo via the Dia Foundation