Serra’s Immersive Legacies

One of the clearest memories I have of my child as a toddler was watching her navigate the grand expanse of the three Richard Serra sculptures on permanent display at DIA Beacon. The stark contrast between the monumental stillness and scale of these works and her lively, unsteady gait created an unforgettable image in my mind.

Richard Serra died a couple of weeks ago. He was known for creating art that was as immersive as a nosedive into the deep end of a pool, had a way of making you feel both anchored and slightly off-kilter. To say Serra's sculptures play havoc with your sense of balance is to put it mildly. These (often winding) structures invite you into a physical dialogue with the space. They command your attention with their sheer size, but it's the way they warp your perception of space and movement that sticks to your ribs.

To stand beside—or inside—one of his pieces is to engage in a silent conversation about the nature of permanence and our place in the world. It's a dialogue underscored by the temporal against the seemingly immutable, the human body navigating around these immovable steel behemoths. Yet, despite their steadfastness, there's a fluidity to Serra's work, a poetry in the steel curves, undulating and unending. It’s as if he’s saying, “Yes, everything is solid and serious, but also, it’s not.”

And now, with his passing, we're left to wander these metal labyrinths, our balance forever challenged.

Richard Serra's legacy is not just in the physical monuments he's left scattered across the globe, but in the ways he's forever altered our approach to experiencing art. He taught us to embrace the disorientation, to find our footing amidst the uncertainty, and to understand that balance—whether in art or in life—is not about standing still but about moving through the world with intention, curiosity, and a bit of a wobble.