I drove down to Twelfth and Callowhill the other night to revisit what is probably the most interesting failed sculpture in Philadelphia.
City Root, by Keiko Miramori was originally commissioned for a park but was rejected because it cracked during the curing process. (Nobody had every done anything quite like it before.) Now it lives in exile in Philadelphia. The new owner has clamped lights to its top which are turned on at night so that it glimmers darkly as you drive by.
The sculpture has become something unintended, a changing reflection on decay and mortality. The cracks have widened enough that you can darkly glimpse bits of root inside. The solid parts of the cube have fractured and fractured again, so that it has filled up with shimmering planes and surfaces, pretty much hiding the roots and the stones and bricks caught up in it.
It was always a beautiful work. But now it's become profound.
You can see my previous blog (with daytime pictures) here.