| Issue #43, February 2, 2007 |
When Art Attacks

God Help and Protect Us From the Sculptures
on the Lawns Here
By Dan Rattiner
East Hampton has a reputation
of being far tougher on developers than Southampton. But as far
as sculptors and artists are concerned — East Hampton is tougher
on them too.
In Southampton, a painter or sculptor
can do his or her work in a studio on his property that is separate
from his residence. In East Hampton, they make it very hard to do
that. You can have a separate studio, but about twice a year, you
can expect the art inspectors to come by. You better be sure you
are in there, doing your work. Or they will pull your permit.
As far as displaying sculpture outdoors
is concerned, once again East Hampton lags way behind. All through
Southampton Town you’ll find large sculptures on the front
lawns of private homes and commercial buildings. There’s one
on the lawn of the building next to the Omni on County Road 39 in
Southampton. There’s a whole lot on the Nova’s Ark property
on Millstone Road at what used to be the Tiska Farm. Around the
corner, for fifteen years, there were a dozen sculptures by Warren
Padula along the long dirt driveway leading up to the farmhouse
at the Vanderveer potato farm. Some remain. Leonard Riggio, who
is the Chairman of the Board of Barnes and Noble, has a beautiful
wavy metal sculpture by Richard Serra on his front lawn on Ocean
Road in Bridgehampton, and right on Main Street in that town, there’s
a sculpture on the front lawn at Dan’s Papers by Jeffery Parsons
and nobody’s ever said anything but that they like it. There’s
more sculpture on the highway leading west from our offices in front
of the old Wendy’s Fabric Building in Water Mill and there’s
a whole sculpture garden full of huge metallic pieces down on Amy’s
Lane in Sagaponack, curated and owned by Lou Meisel. All of this
is in Southampton Town.
In East Hampton, it’s another
story entirely. You’d think you could burn out your eyes from
looking at sculptures too long.

About fifteen years ago, when
Tony Bullock was Supervisor of that town, he allowed some of our
local sculptors to make a display on the horseshoe driveway leading
up to Town Hall. People protested — one of them wrote a letter
to the editor of the local paper saying he was a taxpayer and didn’t
see how the town could be allowed to FORCE him to see sculptures
every time he went to that place to pick up his fishing license
— and the sculptures came down.
In the village, on Main Street, Guild
Hall put a single sculpture, a beautiful six-foot metal cube by
Bernard (Tony) Rosenthal, on the front lawn and it took practically
an act of Congress to allow them to keep it there. They practically
ran Morgan Rank, an art dealer, out of town when he put up a wooden
sculpture atop a flagpole next to his store on Newtown Lane, and
a sculptor named Sasson Soffer sold some land to the town cheap
with the proviso that on a certain part of it he be permitted to
display his work in perpetuity and you’d have thought he was
putting in an oil refinery or something.
Now EECO Farm, a group running an
organic farm on Town leased land on Long Lane has petitioned the
town, their landlord, to allow them to place a magnificent sculpture
on the property, which a wealthy patron has offered to give them.
It’s a metal portrayal of a tractor.
“It’s a farm! It’s
a farm!” said Councilman Mansir, voicing her strong objection
to the possibility of this dastardly act.
“Where does it stop?”
Supervisor McGintee asked.
The board voted down the request.
Apparently, the only time you’re
allowed to put a work of your sculpture on the grass anywhere in
East Hampton Town is after you’re dead and you’re lying
under it. There are wonderful sculptural displays created by various
artists up at Green River Cemetery on Old Accabonac Road in Springs,
and you’re welcome to drive or walk in and go slowly around
the gravel horseshoe that serves as a road there.
These sculptures are tombstones and
the makers of them are beyond the reach of the East Hampton Town
Board. And a good thing too, if you ask me.
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