Sculpture Fields pieces open to personal interpretation and that's cool

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Obvious & Obscure: Sculpture Fields pieces open to personal interpretation — and that's cool

Ignore the bulldozer tracks, the bare hillsides sprinkled with rocks, the pools of muddy water.

None will get in the way of enjoying the newly opened Sculpture Fields at Montague Park.

It's obvious that the 33-acre park, which officially opened on April 8, will be a gem when it's completed with the turf grass planted, pools sucked dry, new trees fully planted and rocks removed. The remaining two phases also include building a visitors center with classrooms and restrooms, an amphitheater and children's play area, plus adding about 50 more sculptures.

Right now, though, you can enjoy the 27 sculptures already spread out along the park's gravel trails. You may not "get" all the sculptures; there are several that may give you the feeling of "Whoosh!" as the meaning zooms over your head. But it's fun to try to figure out what they mean, and many of them are stunning simply for their physics ("How did they make that?") and the obvious work the artists spent constructing them.

For a little more insight, you also can access some artists' statements on the plaques in front of each sculpture in the form of a QR code that can be scanned with a smartphone. In some cases, however, the information is simply bio material.

Centerpiece of the fields is "Anchors," the 60-foot tall, 100-ton sculpture that's a tribute to the five servicemen who died in the July 16, 2015, terrorist attack in Chattanooga. Created by Peter Lundberg and unveiled last September, it combines concrete, metal, black tarp, even dirt and rocks. Overwhelming in both its size and its connotations, the sculpture is meant to symbolize a ribbon or a hand reaching for the sky, Lundberg said. The emotions that flow from it are intense.

Another deep-think work is "All Hold Because All Fall" by Jan Meyer-Rogge, who lives in Hamburg, Germany. Its three leaning rectangles of steel seem to be supported by three similar rectangles that have fallen at its feet. Looking up between the standing sections gives an unsettling deja vu for what was left of the World Trade Centers after 9/11; the sculpture seems to say that the ones left standing after monumental - sometimes horrendous - moments in history must build upon the sacrifice of those who are no longer here.

On a lighter note, "Swizzle," by Mark di Suvero, is a twisting, entwined mesh of rusted steel bent into circles and curves that mix with straight-arrow I-beams. Its name perfectly represents its look, which changes as you walk around it - yes, you can circle about the sculptures, even touch them. Doug Schatz's "River City Queen" seems fairly straightforward, its five spikes representing the spikes on a crown, but in his artist's statement, Schatz says his intent was to present it as "a piece of a visual puzzle."

At first glance, the obvious name for "Red Alert" is "High Chair," but artist Gary Kulak had other ideas. In his artist's statement, he says he likes to come at things "through the side door" and that's certainly the case in this piece, which takes a simple red chair and elongates and warps its legs into absurd proportions. It seems whimsical but its intent is far from it, according to Kulak's statement. He says it was based on the rise of Isis and, like a deer in the woods, we need to raise our heads and keep an eye out for danger.

Other pieces that hide their meaning in humorous construction include "Captain Merkel's Ramming Dragon" by Chattanooga's Verina S. Baxter; no, there's no explanation of who Captain Merkel is and the piece resembles a dragon only in the most-symbolic sense. "Hulettejah" (the plaque on the sculpture itself spells it "Huletteja") by Barry Hehemann is a riff on the Hulett crane, a piece of equipment used to load and unload ore from ships. Even if you didn't know what a Hulett crane is or that it even exists, the piece does resemble the actual machine.

But much of Sculpture Fields is populated by pieces that, to fully understand (or at least try to understand) should be examined closely from all sides.

"Woman," by Wyoming-based Neltje, hides its meaning until you walk around it On the side that doesn't face the path is a cubbyhole formed by the leaning pieces of metal. Step inside and there's a definite feeling of being in the womb.

But there are several that may make you go "Huh?" One is "Bette Davis Eyes," built in the mid-1970s by Chattanooga's John Henry. There are no obvious eyes on the 70-foot-long sculpture; in fact, it looks more like a giant spider from a distance, which makes sense because, in his artist's statement, Henry says he made a companion piece called "Spider." But if you move to one end, it evokes the idea of someone lying down, propped up by their arms. Still no obvious eyes, though.

"H-1540" by Claus Moor is a blend of steel triangles, semicircles and rounded shapes. In his artist's statement, Moor says the piece is "flowing in motion, powerful in its form and stability, imposing, hard, and bold in structure, yet round, yielding and feminine." Sure, the stability, imposing and hard are there, but where is the feminine? Perhaps in the large rounded section that looks somewhat like the belly of a pregnant woman. And the name? It may be a variation on entry No. 1540 in "Strong's Concordance," a translation of all the words in the King James Bible back to their original Hebrew or Greek. Entry 1540 is the word "galah," which means to denude or uncover.

Although extremely cool in design, "Some Waves Spark Stone" by Roger Colombik is something of a mystery. Shaped like a Viking ship, it has a gnarly tree that, at first glance, seems to be growing inside the boat. But it's actually right up against the hull on the opposite side. Intriguing, but obscure. In his spoken artist statement, Colombik says he was inspired by the finding of a boat at the Great Pyramid of Giza and has used a vessel shape in other works as a notion of journey.

As with all art, divining the meaning of the works in Sculpture Fields is a personal exercise. What means something to one person may mean something totally different to another. That's the beauty of the park; so many sculptures, so many meanings.

Contact Shawn Ryan at sryan@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6327.