All images (c) Joseph Muscarella.

To stage MoMA’s 2007 Richard Serra retrospective, Richard Serra Sculpture: 40 Years, the museum had to cut open its newly-built building to accomodate the installation of Serra’s massive pieces. The installation was so painstaking a feat of planning and engineering, it got its own New York Times piece. Indeed, part of the allure of Serra’s work is its otherworldly scale; installing a Serra is an act of dedication, of respect. Serra himself has only missed one installation in his four decades at work – he was reportedly recovering from surgery. Continue.

The experience of wandering through a Serra piece is lovely, but what might be even more fascinating about his work is how the sculptures live, die, move, and change over time. In 2009, a photographer named Nathan Kensinger spotted a deconstructed Serra sculpture behind a chain link fence in the Bronx. The piece, called “Belamy,” was in storage, surrounded by “used condoms and decomposing cardboard.” Kensington’s photos of the piece are beautiful, and provoked the NYT to comment once again, this time on the business of art handling and whether the piece’s less-than-reverent new location actually might speak to its provenance. Does it matter whether you view a Serra in MoMA or on an industrial waterfront, covered in garbage? Does the act of installation really signify the work with meaning?

Yesterday, architect/friend of ours, Joseph Muscarella, was leaving his office at 11th Ave and 26th Street and spotted another Serra sculpture sitting on flatbed trucks in the sun. Serra’s show of drawings at Gagosian Gallery is on view just three blocks away – presumably, the pieces were either coming or going. Anyone know?

All images (c) Joseph Muscarella.