The Brooklyn Rail

I met Richard Serra in 1970 traveling to the Santa Barbara Art Festival where each of us was invited to give a presentation on our work. We were seated together on the airplane and I remember laughing a lot with him, especially about the absurd proportion of the tiny silverware that airlines provided at the time relative to Richard’s robust physicality. After we arrived, I invited him and Bruce Nauman, whom I’d met a few years before, to be a part of my presentation, which took place on a small proscenium stage. I performed a series of a cappella songs and movement material that I had created for my piece Juice: a theater cantata in three installments in 1969. The continuity of the presentation was my vocal pieces and movement, but since both Richard and Bruce were very interested in physical action, I suggested that they could enter and leave the space whenever they wanted as a kind of counterpoint to what I was doing. The three of us agreed on the activities that they would perform. Bruce would line himself up on the front of the stage, roll off it, and then get back up and line himself up on the edge again. Richard could enter at any time, lift me up, and put me someplace else on the stage. He would also make himself dizzy backstage by spinning and then lumber on and stagger around. It ended up being a little like a comedy act but we took it very seriously. Richard’s willingness to commit to the task with both diligence and humor remains indelible in my mind. We had a wonderful time.

Years later I saw Richard’s Snake Eyes and Boxcars (1990–93) at the Oliver Ranch in California, and was struck by the placement of his six sets of Cor-Ten steel blocks in the rolling landscape. Something about it felt inevitable. I sat on one of the hills for more than an hour. Later I found out that he had used the golden mean as a principle, creating both balance and harmony in the work itself, as well as in relation to the environment. 

Over the years, I never had the pleasure of spending time with Richard again, but I always considered him a friend and deeply respected him as an artist.