Chances are you look at that sculpture by the fine arts center, and you have nothing nice to say about it. You remember being told that if you have nothing nice to say then don’t say anything at all but you just can’t help it.
I’ve heard people muffle out an “ewww,” squint, and even shudder, upon laying their eyes on the sculpture that stands over a dozen feet tall, nestled in the plaza right between the FAC and beautiful Herter, proudly taking all of the attention.
No one really knows much about this sculpture, not even some of the most studious art majors of our “honours” college, yet this is a significant part of our very campus. I was frankly quite befuddled upon finding out that everyone knew about this sculpture but not one person in my dormitory knew its name.
How can you call yourself a proud UMassian without knowing the truth about this? Sure you can go to all of the hockey games, memorize that our Sam the Minuteman statue and our “Red man” American Indian statue was given to us by the class of 1950. You could even know the name of each of the dormitories on campus, but until you know the truth about that sculpture, don’t you dare call yourself a proud UMassian.
Some say that it’s just a clunk of twisted metal forgotten in the plaza or dropped off there as an April fools prank, but no, this is no clunk I tell you. This sculpture is perhaps one of the best features of our campus, and I’m not just saying this because we have so many hideous buildings. There are many people who have used strong negative words to describe this piece of art, from the harsh word “hate” to “nauseating” and even “campus center-like” but I am afraid I must politely disagree.
This sculpture, named the Quinnipiac, is deep, moving, and serves as an inspiration to all of us. If you just open your mind, take a deep breath, and think outside the box, you’ll be able to see what it’s all about.
It is vibrant red, exuberates energy and is full of life, especially with its grey dull background. Red is the color of life and of love and after all what is livelier than that?
The best way to describe Quinnipiac is as a “dialogue between two sheets of steel” as the FAC Gallery exhibit catalogue states. Its design, full of curves, straight edges, and diagonal edges, with its undulating surface, creates a changing play of light and shadow. The curves of the sculpture in front of the sharp defined lines of the FAC, makes it stand out even more.
While no one really knows exactly what it is supposed to symbolize, anyone with a few hours to spare can come up to their own conclusions pretty easily. Unlike other sculptures, this one allows creativity, as we are not told for once what to think. It is unique, and it doesn’t blend in with its setting at all; it is in a sense a reflection of our own attempt to stand out and to be noticed.
No one wants to be boring, but rather everyone wants to be noticed for who he or she is. The one thing we constantly declare is that we don’t just want to be some face in a crowd. After all, perhaps being your own individual while part of a large community is the spirit of UMass.
This abstract art isn’t as defined or predictable as perhaps the statue of Sam the Minuteman, but the Quinnipiac allows us to think – it is a different sculpture at each angle, a different entity, as we are. It is a sculpture of us.
A remnant of the first exhibit of the Fine Arts Center, built in 1975, this piece of abstract art was part of the Fine Arts Center Gallery’s opening exhibit “Artist and Fabricator” and thus a part of the very beginnings of our FAC.
Its very name is full of meaning, as according to Quinnipiac.edu, the word of American Indian origins was pronounced “quinnuppin-uk,” which is defined as “a turning point; to make a change in the direction of travel.” This is a perfectly fitting place for a sculpture that is full of turns and changes of direction, a university, a place where we all change our direction of travel.
Perhaps that is why I am most puzzled that the UMass Alumni Association’s 2004 calendar had the Quinnipiac absent, as the sculpture was not present in even one of the twelve photographs, despite the fact that there were numerous photos of our library, a less than stellar masterpiece which at times has had bricks come loose and crashing down into the ground from dozens of floors up. The irony is that this large sculpture was partly funded by grants from the very same Alumni Association.
On the other hand, with all of the discrimination that the Quinnipiac has had to suffer over the years, is it that surprising? How many post-cards at the UMass U-store have a picture of it? How many websites? On a UMass campus tour for incoming freshmen they don’t even mention it! This is either due to a deep hatred of Canadians or due to a lack of appreciation of abstract art.
I for one am glad that the Quinnipiac has UMASS-Amherst as its home. I love the Minuteman, and I am very happy that the class of 1950 was generous enough to donate such a beautiful sculpture, but just as the Minuteman has its place, so does the Quinnipiac. As the Canadian-American artist of the sculpture, Robert Murray, put it, “University students are supposed to be open to new ideas; theoretically they should be a good audience for painting and sculpture.”
I urge you to go visit the Quinnipiac. Touch it, be part of it, feel it, be with it, eat under it, love it. Make it a part of your everyday routine, maybe even hug it. Look deep into it; perhaps you will discover something new about yourself or the world. You have been given the opportunity to think for yourself. Walk around it, see it from each angle, and let it expand your mind.
Gilad Skolnick is a Collegian columnist.
