Week of Aug. 22, 2024

From the editor’s desk

Since 2016, the giant, brightly painted cairns of limestone boulders, known as “Seven Magic Mountains,” have been stacked in Jean Dry Lake, 10 miles south of the Las Vegas Strip. The Nevada Museum of Art, which has long been dealing with land art—first as a conservator, then as an incubator—commissioned the project with help from the Art Production Fund, a New York-based group that helps fund particularly ambitious projects. The budget was $3.5 million.

On Tuesday, the Washoe County Board of Commissioners voted 4-1 in favor of allocating $500,000 to relocate the sculpture to Washoe County, to a site that has not yet been determined. (Keeping the sculpture where it is is not an option, by the way. Its lease with the Bureau of Land Management expires in 2026, and that land is allocated for an airport expansion.)

The criticisms of this plan are plentiful. Both at the County Commissioners meeting and on social media, many raised legitimate questions about the hefty expenditure. I don’t yet know enough about the nuances of the budget, with funding via the American Rescue Plan Act, to claim that I’m firmly in favor of the plan, but I’m not rushing to decry it, either, and for now I’m giving the idea a fair shake. Here are two reasons why.

First, the $1.9 trillion in ARPA funding that Congress approved in 2021 was allocated to rebuild the nation’s economy after the pandemic. Many consider money spent on arts and culture to be money flushed down the drain, but if the “Seven Magic Mountains” relocation comes to fruition, and indeed the $500,000 does get spent, that money doesn’t just disappear into the ether. Typically, with a project like this, much of the money spent ends up in the pockets of working families—via the trucking companies, drivers, heavy equipment operators, painters and many others who will be contracted to do the labor. I’m sure there will be some overhead in the budget, but much of it will likely go to Nevada business owners. That is not a bad place to invest money, and that is exactly what ARPA funding was intended for.

Second, this piece of art might not be as bad as you think it is. It has earned its share of dismissive nicknames—Bristle Blocks, chunks of Play-Doh, and every synonym for “eyesore” you can think of—and I believe that those critiquing the simplicity of the design have a point. Sometimes, brightness and playfulness work in sculpture. Sometimes, they don’t. There’s always a danger of a very large, playful piece coming off as misplaced majesty or as some awkward gimmick. And if you’re cringing at the day-glo colors—well, I did too, until I actually saw the thing in person. 

I had all of the usual doubts as I drove south of the Strip to where the urban grid gives way to serene, open desert. But the experience of standing under these gargantuan rocks hit just the way it was supposed to, and the more I learned about the artist, Ugo Rondinone, the less pretentious and more welcoming it seemed. His gallery and museum work, often equally bright, pulls off a kind of assertive optimism that I often have a hard time swallowing, but, in my opinion, he’s pulled it off many ways in many instances, including this one. You’re certainly not required to agree with me on the merits of the piece. But I will point out that a lot of people hated “Seven Magic Mountains”—until they stood next to it. And I have a feeling that the celebratory atmosphere and incredible visitorship count that the current site enjoy would transfer just fine to Northern Nevada. 

If you’d like to hear my case for the sculpture in more detail, check out my 2018 travel story, “Magic moment.” 

Take care,

—Kris Vagner, managing editor