Equal

Richard Serra, 2015 · Gallery 210 · Floor 2

Alright, so they put Richard Serra in a cage, hook it to a crane, and move him toward a block of white-hot steel. He's got the whole outfit on. Asbestos suit, hood, big boots, big gloves. And he's holding a tool for checking if a corner's square. That's what he's up there for. A corner. He'd asked the guys at the forge how sharp they could get the edges. They'd never done anything this big that precisely. He wanted it as tight as possible. And they said, "OK, you do it." He'd worked in steel mills as a kid. So you know... Heavy steel didn't scare him much. So, go stand at a corner of one of these blocks. He was there too. Under somewhat different conditions. That edge in front of you. That's what he wanted tight. He'd been making sculpture since the sixties, by the way. None of it was a picture of anything. Big heavy things you have to walk around. So getting you in here mattered to him. He had opinions about people getting their art through a screen. Sure, you get the look of a thing. But, the weight doesn't come through. Serra said this space seems to let you find the weight of your body against the weight of the piece. Eight blocks. Solid forged steel. Forty tons each. Almost cubes, but not totally square shaped. Bottom one's about your height. Then another one on top. If the top one's turned a different way, it hangs over, or comes up short. Each stack's turned its own way. And every stack still comes out the same height. Eleven feet. He called it Equal. Now walk around. The other stacks start moving around on you. One slides out from behind another. A gap opens. Another face appears. Same height. Same eighty tons. The steel hasn't done anything. You've just walked a few feet. He could specify every inch of the blocks. But, he couldn't stand here for you.

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