“Is this it?” I questioned as I turned down the dirt road, seeing two small metal sculptures in front of me.
I stepped out of my car, a bit disappointed, and ready turn around. The heavy wind bit my neck, blowing fiercely under the beating sun. But as I turned my gaze to the horizon, past the golden fields of dying corn, I saw a metal wonderland open up in front of me.
“Oh wow!” I exclaimed without thinking, my mouth releasing the words before my brain could process them.
I stood there in awe as a smile crept over my face, eager to explore porter sculpture park.
I walk up to find two people at a both, nicer than they need to be. This seems to be a hallmark trait of people in the mod west, eager to make friends no matter how long you will interact.
I thank them for putting in the work for me to enjoy ahead of me and set off into the grassy paths.
A path lined with vultures invites me in. I can almost hear their cackle, laughing at me, knowing I have no clue what lies ahead.
Standing in the middle of the park, surrounded by towering pieces of metal, I can’t help but feel minuscule. The heft of a single sculpture, a quarter of my size, exceeds my mass by at least ten fold.
A graveyard filled with dragons accompanied by life sized bees ready to swat a fly.
An antelopes gaze piercing my soul, guarded by undead sheep, ready to protect at a moments notice.
Every foot I traverse leads me to another moment of awe.
A man wiser than most by eliminating his senses, follows the ancient monkeys advice. Hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil. In order to be wise, one first must be mangled.
As I watch the golden blades of grass sway in the wind, a pink hat appears and disappears over and over again, a young girl exploring to her hearts content.
All watched over by faceless robes men, dementors ready to suck your soul.
The ladies dance as the antelope noodles on his sax, filling the air with tunes from a world far away. They throw roses at his feet, hoping he will continue to play. Here, it all comes together, the most intriguing of displays.
A woman sits on her knees, sweeping up fallen pieces of her dreams, of her soul. The ballerina it is called. That’s all she strives to be.
If nothing else, I’m reminded to always stop and smell the roses. We never know what tomorrow will bring.
I laugh to myself as I wander about, thinking about the time I spent writing just a few hours before, about a sculpture park in West Des Moines that was worth an astonishing $40m.
The absurdity of it all, that art is valued the way it is. Here, I feel so much more of a connection to the art and it’s worth I’m sure is significantly less.
That’s the funny thing about art. I find that when it is driven by money, it looses most of its value. A contradiction in and of itself, but real nonetheless.
The likes of shredded paintings by Banksy and bananas taped to walls bring in laughable amounts of dough while pieces that show the true inner thoughts of a soul live on unnoticed throughout time. Lost in the ever growing world of mediums.
As I drive away though, I feel a deep connection to the experience I just had, as if a part of me was left behind to live and grow in these gust of wind that flow like waves over the golden amber fields. Or is it more appropriate to say that I have taken a part of this sculpture garden away with me, to grow and inspire other works (like the one I’m writing right now) throughout time.
How many people have taken a part of this park away with them and how much inspiration has it inspired? Will I know it when/if I see it? Or will I be forever connected to things without my conspicuousness ever knowing?
These are the thoughts I left with, and still feel as I look back on these memories. Nonetheless, this place is now a part of me, just like the countless other experiences I have been blessed with over the last few years.
Closest Supercharger Sioux Falls SD 28 mi
1900 S Marion Rd, Sioux Falls, SD 57106
Porter Sculpture Park
45160 257th St, Montrose, SD 57048
