When I got off the subway even in my sweater it felt too cold, but I was determined to work only in my long sleeve shirt, my uniform. Ran in JC Penny’s to buy a new $25 shirt – the uniform. I put on my sunglasses which aren’t prescription but look right. When I got to 49th street the curb was narrower than I recalled. A large grate blocked the West corner, both sidewalks were only 3 squares wide, the East blocked by a street lamp. It was tight. I thought – if I do it right out in front they’ll nail me and I wasn’t certain where the “public” sidewalk began…but my Assistant made the suggestion and I went with it. I believe there’s something sacred in working with sand out in the public, like Indian ‘singers’ of old, you’re placing trust in a higher hand.
9:00 pm a sweet sweet press photographer fawned over my piece and ushered me inside for the post auction buffet. After 8 hrs non-stop I was hungry and grateful to Christie’s for the repast. When we came out Christies had swept the sidewalk clean. The photographer was shocked. When the public unintentionally erases my sand work it feels like a DuChampian act of chance & nature. The press photographer felt that an antagonistic company’s sweeping up the “work” was vandalism.
Rockefeller security hit hard, first a young guard, Teague, dashed at me, tapping my arm and ordering me to stop. Then a white-haired authoritative man in full suited regalia commanded, “You can’t do that, this is private property. All of this is owned by Rockefeller Center.” I kept asserting this was a public sidewalk and security kept denying it telling me to go to the Avenues on the other side. The security have this shameless tactic, they stand in front of the videographer, they’re afraid to have their behavior and lies on video – so as Joe Ayala, Protection Supervisor talks his associates form a visual
Photography George Courtney
May 11, 2010
There was a point the night before where I was feeling some pressure, sleeplessness because of the fear, because being ticketed at Sotheby’s. And I laughed and said, “let it happen, whatever happens is right. If the police come they’re part of the performance and if they stop me than that’s the performance but I will push it, I don’t have fear.” And then whenever I wasn’t sure I asked for help, my assistant suggested the location in front of the pole. The doorman was moving metal street barriers and moved one out behind us, opening up a space for my assitant to shoot from. Everything that happen felt blessed.
Barricade of human backs,
actively blocking my cameraman from capturing Ayala and the NYPD’s behavior. It’s like in South America or Israel where the police put on balaclavas – they have moral and legal anxiety over they’re actions and attempt to conceal their behavior. To my surprise NYPD only questioned me for a few minutes. I assured them the sand was temporary and as Officer Borum looked for an situation in which I’d block traffic I assured him, no, if a passenger steps out of their car and crosses my sand painting I won’t stop them in any way. I noted that no one had ever intentionally stepped on my sand paintings.
The stone faced chauffeur approached, “I can’t
believe they hassled you for that. It’s so beautiful.”
That people always show enormous respect. The peace officer left me in peace. His radio blared soothingly as I knelt in the cold and moved the grains of sand to form the rope font of “RAMROD’s” theater logo on 20 Rockefeller Plaza. “Congress shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech...”
