Michael Heizer Earth Art Ephemera

a 55 year old sheet of notebook paper with to-do lists and reminders for, we're told, michael heizer, and a wound length of blasting fuse for dynamite from, again, we're told, michael heizer's double negative, taped to another sheet of paper. via la modern auctions
Michael Heizer, Double Negative [sic] notes and fuse (two works [sic]), 1971, via lamodern

Michael Heizer built Double Negative in 1969-70, and in the early days eyewitnesses were sparse. Curator Jan van der Marck told the story of visiting Double Negative and Walter de Maria’s Las Vegas Piece on a Viriginia Dwan-organized junket in early 1970, blazing across the desert with German art volks in the back of Heizer’s truck.

MoMA curator Jennifer Licht seems to have gone with Heizer in November 1971, just before she made the presentation to the trustees on the museum’s acquisitions committee about Double Negative, Las Vegas Piece, and Spiral Jetty that appears in Calvin Tomkins’ 1972 New Yorker feature on earth art.

I say seems because that is the implication of the annotations on these two pieces of Michael Heizer ephemera that just turned up at auction in Los Angeles, from Licht’s collection. One, a loop of dynamite fuse taped to a sheet of paper, is labeled “Dynamite from Double Negative (from Michael Heizer)” and “Overton, Nevada November 1971.” That’s the town at the base of Mormon Mesa where Double Negative is.

The other sheet is a disparate list of items that someone (else) has annotated with, “Heizer work notes, Nevada, November 1971.”

The notes mention Montana several times: “Butte KOA [campground],” “Missoula Dept Engineering,” “Mill Creek [Trail] photos.” Heizer traveled and scouted sites for works in Montana, but the closest thing to a direct work reference is “NESW,” which is also the name of an earth work he planned in 1967, partially executed in the desert with funding from Robert Scull, and then realized in full in 2002 at Dia Beacon; it’s his set of holes in the floor. Except for being annotated as from Nevada, their connection to Double Negative seems unclear to me, especially as work notes for a work that’d been done for almost two years by that point.

[a few minutes later update] greg.org hero Julian Myers notes that Goplen & Yokoyama were Heizer’s engineers in Berkeley, and “NESW blues” could be blueprints, which was calling to get “one copy to me.” Myers also recalls a possible second round of excavation at Double Negative after the initial late 1969 phase. But Tomkins and Virginia Dwan visited it “a year and a half since the piece was finished,” so the summer of 1971, and found erosion and some graffiti. Perhaps after this visit, and after thwarting Dwan’s sale of the work, Heizer (and Licht?) went back to touch it up with some dynamite.

Also, did anyone dare to ask the artist if they are works? They sure are objects, artifacts, ephemera. And if they’re what they appear to be, they are incredible, exceptional, and—until they’re sold—invaluable.

18 Aug 2026 Lot 143, Michael Heizer, Double Negative Working Notes and Blasting Fuse (two works), est. $3-5,000 [lamodern]
Previously, related: A report from the Las Vegas Piece junket
Walter De Maria’s Las Vegas Piece
Backroads Backstory: Walter De Maria on Michael Heizer
Double Double, on Sturtevant’s Heizer Double Negative

Estate Of Cameron Rowland

a white spiral bound booklet with the small title at the top,dia art foundation real estate 1974-2024, sits on a festive turquoise oilcloth placemat on a pine tabletop

I finally got a copy of Estate (2024), Cameron Rowland’s publication for their Dia exhibition Properties. The book also has the title, Dia Art Center Real Estate 1974-2024, and it’s a pageturner. It includes both acquisitions and dispositions, which, for Dia, is like half the story.

And while I knew the general narrative around conflicts, like the whole Judd/Marfa/Chinati mess; and the never-quite-permament permanent home for LaMonte Young and Marian Zazeela’s Mela Foundation; and the way the building that’s now The Kitchen was originally going to be for Robert Whitman, seeing it play out in chronological, site-by-site transactional detail is still fascinating.

And then there are some surprises. Lke, I knew about buying thousands of acres within sight of Lightning Field, but I did not know Dia’s acquired 520 acres around Nancy Holt’s Sun Tunnels, too. And I don’t think I’d ever heard about the Cy Twombly Museum, for which Dia bought a 3-story, beaux-arts building at 324 West 23rd St in 1980. Twombly had shown at Heiner Friedrich’s gallery since 1964. And in 1978 he showed Fifty Days at Iliam at the Lone Star Foundation, a de Menil/Friedrich joint for purchasing art that later consolidated with/into Dia, so I can see it happening.

a 1911 three story beaux arts building of limestone on west 23rd st in chelsea, nyc, has two corinthian columns with gold capitals and a pleasant flat facade otherwise. then there is a horrible five story post modern brick condo addition on top of it with dark cave-like balconies set into it, and a weird peaked roofline. there is a citibank on the ground level, with its associated blue awnings everywhere, via streeteasy
The Cy Twombly Museum (RIP), 1980-86, 324 W 23, via Streeteasy

I guess it all imploded in 1983, with the Marfa suit. Friedrich and Dia were burning through Philippa de Menil’s Schlumberger shares, and in 1985 her mother Dominique staged an institutional intervention. The family took over Dia and put Philippa’s inheritance in a trust.

Dia ended up selling the not-Twombly Museum in 1986. (They bought it for $550k, and sold it for $1.675m. In 1988 it got turned into a horrible-looking condo tower with a Citibank.) To ease Twombly’s loss, Dia gave him a show in 1988 in Bridgehampton instead. The series of green paintings Twombly made in 1988 for Venice were conceived as a permanent installation, and the Menil, which opened in 1987, eventually came through. All in all, a surprisingly coherent moment. A Twombly Museum on 23rd St. would have been amazing, though, ngl.

Anyway, what’s also interesting is what is not included in Dia’s real estate portfolio, namely the Spiral Jetty and Depreciation, Rowland’s own 2018 project in Edisto, SC. Dia does own Spiral Jetty the artwork, but not the lakebed land, which is, of course, leased from the State of Utah. Ask me how I know. As for Depreciation, when Rowland acquired the one-acre site of former plantation and reparation land, he placed the title in a non-profit company he manages. Dia has a longterm stewardship agreement with the artist. But unlike any other art-related Dia property, it is meant to not be visited.

Cameron Rowland: Dia Art Foundation Real Estate, 1974-2024, $10 [diaart.org]
Previously, related: Property Art
One Acre And Dia Mule
Rowland cameos in The Steve McQueen Bass Symposium

Spiraling on BLKNWS

an infographic of short zig-zag lines tallying the numer of black people living in cities of various sizes in 1890, and a long red line, so long it spirals into the center of the page, showing the vast majority of black americans living in rural areas, designed by w.e.b. dubois
W.E.B. Du Bois, data visualization of the rural vs urban distribution of Black American populations in 1890, c.1900, via Smithsonian

I’ve been trying to keep up a pace here, but it is taking me longer than I expected to put some thoughts together about Kahlil Joseph’s 2025 film, BLKNWS: Terms & Conditions. When David Naimon, who hosts Between The Covers, had asked me about it on Bluesky, I thought I knew all I needed from the original 2018 video installation, and from the post-production and distribution wrangling that swirled around its adaptation into a feature film.

a contemporary drone photo of spiral jetty with the parking lot that intrudes on the base, and the lakebed that hasn't seen water in years, and if things don't change, may never? from the sl tribune
A contemporary drone shot of Spiral Jetty, 1970, via SLTrib

But BLKNWS the film is both recognizable, and also totally new. It is what it began as: a non-linear edit of the people, events, and ideas that constitute Black history, culture, and experience in the thin form of a cable news channel. And it has become something else entirely: encyclopedic and personal, autobiographical and universal, historic and prophetic. Joseph and his producer Onye Anyanwu opened BLKNWS up to collaboration—Naimon’s initial teaser was about the spectacular list of contributors and cameos—and they opened the film’s structure, or rather, took on a structure—the spiral—that opens, loops, and expands.

Maybe the logical thing to do is to follow their lead, and spiral, just blog about BLKNWS from now on, and take occasional note of how it turns and returns periodically to the compass points marked here before.

[next morning continuation]

a dark leviathan-shaped cruise ship hovers above the surface of a dark sea, clouds behind it to the left, and sunlit horizon behind the stern, a still from blknws, a film my kahlil joseph
BLKNWS, ‘The Nautica,’ via indiewire
Continue reading “Spiraling on BLKNWS”

For Sale: The Spiral Jetty, 16mm

a pale grey plastic film case for a single reel 16mm film, with a white, typed label affixed to it that reads, the spiral jetty by robert smithson, selling at rago arts in march 2026
The Spiral Jetty by Robert Smithson, in the can, selling on 18 Mar 2026 at Rago

I never thought I’d be back in the bidding on The Spiral Jetty business, but here we are.

A 16mm print of Robert Smithson’s film, The Spiral Jetty that belonged to a retired art history professor is selling at Rago next week. The condition of the 50-year-old film seems fine, but who knows if it’s playable? How many film prints are there? Does it matter? Is this an artifact people want [to spend $6-8,000 on]? [update: Rago responded that the film has not been tested on a projector but that the acetate looks to be in good condition, with no physical impediments to playing. Also, by the morning of the sale, it had a bid of $4,500, so it’s an artifact somebody wants to spend money on! update: it sold for $11,520.]

Is it 20x better than just buying the DVD from EAI? Oh, wait, now you really have to be an educational institution to buy it? Are any retired art professors selling the DVDs, too?

Better Read #40: Tacita Dean’s Directions To The Spiral Jetty

a detail of a photo of a page of a book,  Tacita Dean: Selected Writings and Complete Works & Filmography, showing the header of a fax sent in June 1997 to Dean by the Utah Arts Council, the second of two pages of directions to Spiral Jetty. The text partially reproduced here is read in full in the audio below, but for conceptual reasons not explained in the audio, it felt relevant to have the directions interrupted by the header. hopefully this image gives a sense for what will happen in the robot audio performance.

Though a review of USGS historic data for water levels at the Great Salt Lake show it had re-emerged briefly in the 1980s, the first reported sighting of Robert Smithson’s Spiral Jetty occurred in the Spring of 1994. I saw it in August 1994, following a half-sheet set of directions and a hand-drawn map provided by the ranger at the Golden Spike National Historic Site, whose parking lot abuts the dirt road to Rozel Point.

In 1998 Tacita Dean made an artwork, Trying to find the Spiral Jetty, of directions to Spiral Jetty, which filled one and a half of two pages of a four-page fax she received from the Utah Arts Council. This edition of Better Read is an audio performance of that those now-obsolete directions, as preserved in Dean’s artwork. The fax is reproduced in Tacita Dean: Selected Writings and Complete Works & Filmography, published by the Royal Academy in 2018, which I surreptitiously photographed at Glenstone while waiting for my copy to arrive.

Trying To Find Trying To Find The Spiral Jetty

In June 1997 Tacita Dean was attending the Sundance Institute, and decided to find the Spiral Jetty, which had begun to resurface intermittently starting in 1994.

In 1998 she made an audio work—an installation and an audio cassette edition—titled, Trying to find the Spiral Jetty, and in 1999 she added a slideshow accompaniment, Rozel Point, Great Salt Lake, Utah, 1997.

an acrylic case for an audio cassette tape, trying to find the spiral jetty, has a cover that reproduces 1.5 pages of text on two sheets which were faxed to the artist tacita dean, are directions to the spiral jetty. via some british estate auction house
Tacita Dean, Trying to find the Spiral Jetty, 1998, audio cassette, ed. 100, sold in 2019 for like a pound

I’ve looked intermittently for years for a cassette edition, and have not heard it, but I do know the cover art: a set of typed directions provided by the Utah Arts Council, which were faxed to Dean at Sundance. [According to Tacita Dean: Selected Writings and Complete Works & Filmography, published by the Royal Academy in 2018, her saved fax is also a work in its own right.]

On a recent search for the cassette, I found a 1999 interview with Dean from Audio Arts, a cassette-based art magazine, which has been preserved by Tate Modern. In it she discusses Disappearance at Sea (1998), a short film for which she was nominated for the Turner Prize, and the Spiral Jetty search and works.

I had always assumed that Trying to find the Spiral Jetty was a field recording, a documentation of the trip made following the directions across increasingly remote and rough dirt roads. But Dean explains the audio is a fabrication, an exercise of memory. She and her companion, an audio engineer named Greg, reconstructed the trip in conversation, and then constructed it anew via Foley sound effects, to augment some ambient recording begun as they approached the lake.

Especially in the earliest, uncertain days of Spiral Jetty‘s re-emergence, and based on her work’s title, it seemed that searching for the Jetty had to be at least as relevant as whether she found it. But I also think that Dean was less concerned with the experienced reality on the ground than the produced reality on the tape. At least that’s how it sounds in her interview.

And of course, the embraced ambiguity worked its way through her practice, and led [as] directly [as possible, via the inspired machinations of Jeremy Millar] to her correspondence with JG Ballard, whose writings inspired Smithson, and to JG, her 2013 anamorphic 35mm film work which circled around Spiral Jetty.

Performance-Lectures: A greg.org Compendium

The performance lecture form has been of interest to me and a topic on this site for an extended period of time.

It has its origins in my own professionally driven interest in Powerpoint as a Creative Medium [oof so many dead links, from when I also believed hotlinking images would be the best practice/fair use realization of a Project Xanadu-like networked utopia. I’ll fix them in a minute.]

Then I was critical of the posthumous transmutation of Robert Smithson’s Hotel Palenque lecture and slideshow, delivered at the University of Utah in 1972, into an acquirable work of art.

The next year, when I discovered—via some snide comments by disgruntled art faculty at my welcome dinner—that my invitation to speak at the UofU had been arranged under the auspices of a visiting artist lecture, I quickly decided to become an artist. I had my younger brother sloppily record my lecture on video, an homage to Alex Hubbard’s drunken bootleg video re-enactment of Smithson’s Hotel Palenque lecture, which was a topic of my talk. [That video, uploaded when YouTube had still time limits, is in eight parts.]

But I also ended the lecture by declaring it a work of art, in an edition, and I sent around a stack of signed and numbered certificates of authenticity for anyone who wanted one. I think I made 100, and got 40 or so back? [Shoutout to my OG collectors, that turned out to be CR-1.]

Relational Aesthetics for the Rich performance, 2010, image via hyperallergic

In 2010 I made a blog post into a slideshow into a performance at Jen Dalton & William Powhida’s #rank in Miami, “Relational Aesthetics for the Rich, or A Brief History of the Gala as Art”, with gift bag editions [on the table above].

brb, have to check and update a dozen dead links.

Richard Serra & Robert Smithson

Robert Smithson and Richard Serra fixing the soon-to-be-Spiral Jetty, 1970.
photo: Gianfranco Gorgoni

I’ll have more to post about Richard Serra in a bit; he was a foundational artist for my world, and I wish his people peace.

In the mean time, nothing quite shook my little art world like finding Kathleen Merrill Campagnolo’s article, “Spiral Jetty through the Camera’s Eye,” in 2010 in the Smithsonian’s Archives of American Art Journal. [Which I see has been subsumed by Chicago and Jstored.] That’s where I first saw this Gorgoni photo of Serra at Rozel Point with Robert Smithson, trying to fix the jetty he’d just built in the Great Salt Lake.

Previously, very much related: The Not-So-Spiral Jetty

Goodbye 2023

I hate that this needed to come back: Gonzalez-Torres Forbidden Colors, 2021 —

NGL, it does not feel like a moment to celebrate, and it’ll take a lot of work for 2024 to not become the biggest dumpster fire yet.

But whether via email, commentary, hyping or buying things, many people have engaged with me, the blog, and the various projects this year, and I’m grateful for all of the thoughtful and invigorating interactions. To close out the year, here are a couple of art accomplishments in 2023 which I found satisfying. They are in roughly chronological order:

Celebrating Ellsworth Kelly’s 100th: EK 10 MAR 23 T [via]
Biggest show of the year: Mural With Girl With A Pearl, obv [via]
Jasper Johns’ Stolen Balls [via]
Meanwhile, in this, year three of me swearing I’m not a dog painting guy: Jacques Barthélémy Delamarre Facsimile Object (D1), ‘Pompon’, obv [via]
Underground Projection Room (for Rattlesnakes), 2023 [via]
Proposed Katharina Grosse (PKG) for Basel, 2023 [via]
The Second Deposition of Richard Prince, 2023—? [via]
Happy Joan Mitchell Season T [via]

The Shekvetili Dendrological Park: Land Art For Oligarchs

Still from Salomé Jashi’s Taming The Garden, 2021, showing a giant tree on the Black Sea en route to Ivanishvili’s private tree zoo. images via a German-titled arte broadcast uploaded to YouTube

In 2021 Georgian filmmaker Salomé Jashi released Taming The Garden, a documentary about the creation of the Shekvetili Dendrological Park. Bidzina Ivanishvili, a Georgian oligarch-turned-politician who minted his $6 billion fortune in Russia, spent five years collecting over 200 old-growth trees from around the country, which he had transplanted in a park of his own design next to his estate on the Black Sea. The park opened to the public in 2020.

Residents of a Georgian village follow their tree as it drives out of town in Taming The Garden, along a route with probably 90% fewer infrastructure hassles or regulatory hoops to jump through than that rock had to face on its way to LACMA

In her film, Jashi follows several trees as they are removed from the village s, farms, and forests where they’ve been for centuries. She records the resignation and loss of the locals, as well as the surreal transport of the uprooted trees along rural roads, and on barges. The filmmaking is quietly powerful, with dramatic images that only reveal the project’s traumas and absurdities and slowly.

NO SPOILERS but Jashi’s quiet revelations of the sheer artificiality of this ostensibly idyllic natural landscape are amazing

A 2022 dispatch from Ivan Nechepurenko in the New York Times, with striking photos by Daro Sulaukari, reports that around half the trees arrived by sea, and half by truck. The entire project cost Ivanishvili “tens of millions” of dollars, which seems like a pittance for what he did and what he got.

Robert Smithson’s Floating Island, 2005, image via NYT

Why, in 2005, when Nancy Holt authorized Floating Island, a previously unrealized project of her late husband, Robert Smithson, it cost $250,000 to drive a single barge around lower Manhattan for a week.

A miniature version of The Gates chasing a miniature version of Central Park, by, as it turned out, Bruce High Quality Foundation and Robert Smithson, respectively, as captured by Ian Adelman in 2005 in the NYT

I guess I should be more shocked, surprised, dismayed, whatever that Land Art, created in opposition to the collector-pandering commodification of the gallery system, has been so thoroughly subsumed by the billionaire class. But then again, Double Negative was produced and owned by a 3M heiress who donated the first version of Lightning Field, realized on her New Mexico ranch, to the foundation started by the oil heiress which built the permanent version. And which now manages Spiral Jetty. And of course, it was New York’s own oligarch-turned-politician Michael Bloomberg who made Christo & Jeanne Claude’s Gates happen. And the industrialist with the private museum has taken on the care and funding of City. Is Land Art actually about real estate and power? Always was.

“For me, a floating tree was a symbol of power, of desire, of wanting something at any cost,” Ms. Jashi told the NYT. If Land Art can accommodate the Department of Defense’s creations at Dugway Proving Grounds, the cost-be-damned symbolic gestures of a tree-obsessed oligarch should fit right in.

Getting Smithson’s Number

Sometimes a volcano’s just a volcano, but probably not here: Robert Smithson, Buried Angel, 1962, oil on canvas, 125 x 125 cm, sold at Christie’s in 2008

Today is the 50th anniversary of Robert Smithson’s death, and an occasion to revisit Zack Hatfield’s Artforum review of Suzaan Boettger’s biography of the artist, Inside The Spiral: The Passions of Robert Smithson.

Hatfield reminded me that in addition to Smithson’s almost mystical Catholicist early days, Boettger goes deep on his interest in numerology. And she looks closely at Smithson’s early work, only some of which has been shown before. Which reminded me of a wild group of works sold a few years ago—wow. it was 2008—by the family of George Lester, a diplomat/collector/dealer who invited 23-yo Smithson to stage a show in Rome in 1961.

Robert Smithson, Two Frogs Guarding The Palace, 1962, gouache, oil, ink and collage on paper, 24 x 15 1/4 in., sold from the Galleria Lester archives at Christie’s in 2008

The Holt/Smithson Foundation helped organize an exhibition at MACRO in Rome of work from this largely unknown period, and noted that Smithson traveled to Italy in 1961. It just closed in May 2023.

The metric dimensions of Buried Angel, the canvas up top with an angel buried in jumbles of numbers and letters, make me think it was painted in Europe. The dimensions of the fantastical collage, Two Frogs Guarding The Palace, meanwhile, could go either way.

In his 1972 AAA interview with Paul Cummings, Smithson described the work from this period as “phantasmagorical drawings of cosmological worlds somewhat between Blake and…oh, a kind of Boschian imagery…They were sort of based on iconic situations…They dealt with explicit images like, the city; they were kind of monstrous as well, you know, like great Moloch figures.”

Point is, I think I really need to read the book.

Mortal Coil: Resurrecting Robert Smithson [artforum]
Buy Suzaan Boettger’s Inside The Spiral: The Passions of Robert Smithson at Amazon [amazon]
Lots 233-37: From the Archives of the Galeria George Lester, Rome [christies]
Rome is Still Falling: Nov. 22 – May 23 [holtsmithsonfoundation]
So much here, so much not: Oral History interview with Robert Smithson, 1972 [aaa.si.edu]

Underground Projection Room (For Rattlesnakes)

Robert Smithson, Underground Projection Room (Utah Museum Plan), 1971, graphite on paper, 9×11.75 inches, lot 145 @ LA Modern, 21 June 2023

According to the friend of my mom’s whose family used to own the ranch land on and around Rozel Point, the basalt-strewn hill above the Spiral Jetty is full of rattlesnake dens. I don’t know if Robert Smithson knew this when he picked the site, but I doubt it. He was more focused on the scenic qualities: the pink salt water of the Great Salt Lake, and the collapsed oil derrick a little further along the shore.

I’ve thought about it a lot, though, especially when I think about Smithson’s original plan to show the Spiral Jetty film on a continuous loop in an underground screening room on the site. A sketch for that idea (above) will be sold next week at LA Modern auction house.

Which is as good an occasion as any to propose that Smithson’s idea be realized. For the snakes.

greg.org, Study for Underground Projection Room For Snakes, 2023

As half the human population on earth knows, tiny flatscreens are a thing. And so is solar power. Smithson’s film, Spiral Jetty, is 36 minutes long and can easily fit on a micro SD card that plugs into an Arduino-compatible 60×94 pixel TinyScreen+, which can be lowered into the snake den.

The TinyScreen+ next to a US quarter, $39.95 at TinyCircuits.com

A small solar panel on the surface, connected to a battery connected to the Tinyscreen down below will keep the movie streaming endlessly, or until the heat death of the planet, whichever comes first. Before installing them for the snakes, I think I need to make a small edition of prototypes first. And to start by extracting out my copy of the film from the not-solid-state external drive. Fingers crossed that this project isn’t over before it starts

One Acre And Dia Mule

Last Sold: 8/6/2018, Zestimate®: None, Zillow screenshot

Until 2018 Edisto Island meant one thing in the contemporary art world. Then after, it meant another. Or rather, it meant two things. On August 6, 2018, Cameron Rowland bought an acre of land that had once been part of an enslaver’s plantation; then was part of a “forty acres and a mule” Freedmen’s reparations order; and then was almost immediately repossessed by the former enslavers. Rowland bought the land and placed restrictive covenants on its deed that remove any use or monetary value. The land and the deed constitute their work, Depreciation, and Dia just announced stewardship of it.

The work comprises the land and the deed, but that is not all. Depreciation is owned by 8060 Maxie Rd, Inc., a not-for-profit corporation Rowland established to execute the work. The company is named after the land’s address on a road named after the enslavers. Rowland maintains the corporation, and thus ownership of the work, and has put it on extended loan with Dia.

Continue reading “One Acre And Dia Mule”

Here Are The Coordinates For Michael Heizer’s City

 38°01'59.5"N 115°26'37.0"W 
a screenshot of the googlemaps image of the above coordinates, which is where the label for michael heizer's city used to be until aug. 22, apparently. maybe just not going is the best flex at this point.

Which has apparently been removed from Google Maps? [h/t @bbhilley]

Previously, related, from 2005 (!): Earth Art via Satellite
cf. Peter Morse’s early roundup of looking for Earth Art via Google Maps [archive.org link]
2002: arguing with the guy who wrote for Artforum about not being able to find the Spiral Jetty [sheesh, I was insufferable, but so was everybody else. 2002 really was another internet country.]

Missing Wynn Kramarsky

I met Wynn Kramarsky on the internet almost exactly 25 years ago to the day. It turned out not to have been my first encounter with him, but I’ll get to that. We met on Usenet, a global, distributed message board/listserv that was organized by topic, sort of like how reddit is now. It was August 1994, and I had just reported to alt.art.robert.smithson about my visit to Spiral Jetty. Wynn commented enthusiastically and wanted to know more–Spiral Jetty had only emerged from the Great Salt Lake a few months earlier, and was visible for the first time in decades [sic. By analyzing lake levels I’ve since concluded it was visible for a year or two in the 1980s, but it seems no one looked/reported/cared.] We emailed. He offered to send me a catalogue from a recent Smithson exhibition at Columbia, what was my address? On the internet of 1994, it seemed wilder to me to give a stranger a catalogue than to give a stranger your address. It was only when the book arrived with a note and his card that I realized Wynn was lending it to me. I could bring it back on one of my trips to New York (I was at business school in Philadelphia), and we’d go to lunch.

And that’s what we did, a couple of months later. We met at his office in SoHo, the entrance of which was lined with thousands of books. That first visit, an extraordinary Richard Serra work, multiple sheets of paper with ink applied in large slabs with a roller, filled the first open wall. The internet has been failing to surpass itself ever since.

After we’d toured both floors of his SoHo space and had a sandwich with his staff, we went into his office. Behind his desk was a drawing Robert Smithson had made on a large, aerial photo of the Kennecott Copper Mine. I knew it because I had bid on it the year before, when it had come up for auction at Sotheby’s. I had just quit my job and was preparing to go to grad school, and I really had no business bidding, even during a recession. But I really wanted it, and so I made a couple of bids for it before giving it up to the winning bidder. I apologized for running up the price on him, and then I thanked him for not bankrupting me.

Wynn and I became art correspondents, and we’d meet of the years while he was actively putting on shows. He was as infectiously passionate about the work of young and emerging artists as he was about the people he’d known and collected for decades. At his encouragement, I met artists and visited studios I never would have thought to reach out to otherwise. He made me want to be a better, more thoughtful collector by being a curious and engaged counterpart for artists, not just a consumer.

We both got more actively involved in supporting MoMA around the same time–on obviously different levels–and he was always generous with advice and insights. He took collecting and donating seriously, and was always cognizant of a responsibility to artists and to society. I still feel the impact of his incisive observations of socialites, unserious collectors, or museum groupies angling for respectability on my own views of how the art world should or could work. When a committee meeting I was running at MoMA got derailed one night by some tedious presentation, I immediately felt the weight of Wynn’s story about the flaky chair of a museum board he’d been on: “She wrote a check, but she sure couldn’t run a meeting!”

When I began writing, especially for the Times, and later on topics like early Jasper Johns, the Jetty, or Tilted Arc, Wynn’s was always a voice I sought out and trusted, and he always spoke very candidly. I always got the sense he didn’t want to be quoted, though, and so I never did. I also always got the sense that he operated out of a profound respect for the artists he knew, and for their work. It felt like artists trusted him, and that he cherished that. I miss Wynn and mourn for the loss his friends and family are experiencing, but I’m grateful for the chance to know him, and for all he did and showed and taught.