Clogtown: Franconia Sculpture Park - Start Seeing Sculpture!

Blogtown just celebrated its tenth anniversary the other day ... but I'm still in Minnesota helping out my Mom, so this will be a Clogtown story, as all Minnesota ones will be posted under (I started wearing clogs here, it too rhymes with Dogtown ... you get it). My family and I had an excellent field trip the other day to the Franconia Sculpture Park, and wow - it's super worth the short drive north of Minneapolis. WOW. We absolutely loved every bit of it.

Franconia Sculpture Park is spread out over 43 acres of beautiful prairie land in the St. Croix River Valley (just west of Taylors Falls), with so many sculpture works I'm really not even sure we saw them all, but we did our best. It's been here 22 years, but this was my family's first visit, and it was awesome - and ever-changing so there's always a reason to return. Franconia is open 365 days a year, and it's free to the public (donation boxes are located around the park to show your appreciation), so this is truly public art for all - and you gotta get there.

Each piece had a sign telling about it, and pretty much all of them had way deeper meanings than what you might have guessed from merely looking at it. I felt so proud the whole time that this remarkable place is in Minnesota, and that its artists are obviously so smart and conscientious.

A kind of centerpiece looming over everything was a piece called Skallagrim, 2015 by Peter Lundberg from Wisconsin. Made of cast stone, it reminded me of the logo for the Lillehammer, Norway Olympics logo (1994, you might not remember, but I do because my friend's brother played for the US Hockey team that year), sort of a giant rune stone. I dug it.

Nearby, there was one of my favorites in the park, a pile of boats called the Franconia Boat Tower, 2015 by Pete Driessen, a fellowship artist from Minnesota. There are resident artists and fellowships going on all the time at Franconia, so you are really roaming around a working sculpture studio. Rad.

They have golf carts available for those who need more accessibility, so we were able to take my Mom right up to the sculptures, and she didn't have to feel left out at all because she currently needs a wheelchair. She was out there cruising around with us all day, and we really appreciated the fact that this art is truly for everyone, and they make it easy.

Mom's favorite piece of the day was Fibonacci Wannabe III, 2011 by Nam Trong Le, a Vietanamese artist living in North Carolina. Le's artist statement talks about being interested in cycles, saying, "My goal is to create forms as beautiful as what surrounds us  - naturally occurring wonders." Job well done.

A cool one nearby depicted all kinds of wild animals like a deer, a wolf, an eagle ... all swirling above like the coolest mobile ever. Predator/Prey Constellation, 2015 by Wendy Klemperer from Massachusetts. She too comments on how the landscape itself is embedded in the work, and that the lines of steel come to life almost like spotting an animal in the wild. Neato.

It was slightly drizzly when we visited, and we didn't mind a bit. There are plenty of spots for shelter, like the great tree house in the woods I wanted to live in called "When left alone and unprovoked predators usually won't attack" (Orion station decommissioned), 2014, by Samantha Persons from Florida. It's a living installation, changing constantly by the people who inhabit it (there was mostly just graffiti inside), and it was a welcome respite from the weather for a little break.

Not far from there was a big motel sign sticking up out of the prairie, looking all retro and cool. It was only when we got up close and read the information photo. It was a replica of the sign for the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, TN where Martin Luther King, Jr. was murdered. Whoa. Lorraine Motel Resited 2016, 2016 by Chris Larson of St. Paul, MN was pretty sobering once you realized what it was, and that was the artist's intent. Viewing these things outside of their original context in a new setting is fairly unsettling ... and strangely beautiful.

There was a beautiful basket weaving looking piece called Vascular Form V "Orientation", 2015 by Foon Sham from China, that was actually made of interlocking 1,180 pieces of wood ...

... and when you went inside of it, you could look up and see its sacred geometry. It felt kind of holy in there. Reverent.

Then there was the pointy "S" that every kid drew all over their folders in junior high, only done up huge and in metal ... ! I looked all over the internet and no one really seems to know the origin of this thing, but it is still iconic - especially when it's like 25 feet high! There Is Always A Link, 2019 created by Zakriya Rabani, a sculptor from Florida who gets that we are all connected ... sometimes by something so simple as a doodle we all did as kids. Loved it.

Also cool was Black Book, 2010-11, by the one-named sculptor, Peyton from Minneapolis. This piece is a tribute to the Minneapolis graffiti scene, and meant to be like the black books graffiti artists keep of work to inspire them.

The poster display (like the ones they had at Spencer's Gifts) reaches out to a pile of letters that look graffiti style. There amid all of the natural flora (like the bright yellow wild parsnip planted everywhere that will cause you to blister if you touch it, so said the signs!) and fauna, it was both out of place and perfect right there.

A piece of roller coaster track pieced together in a circle was called Infinite Play, 2014 by Risa Puno of New York was super fun ... and kind of how we felt this day. Like grownups having endless fun, inspired by all of the giant works of sculpture we could climb on and immerse ourselves in, right there in the middle of a Minnesota field. Playing.

The play theme was carried over to Poetry Studio, 2012 by Bridget Beck, the 2012 Artist in Residence. Her artist statement told me I would get along well with her: "I see my sculptures as places to escape responsibility and seriousness. I hope to trigger fond memories and prompt fantastic thoughts. I want drudgery as prisoner and the swing to reign. This, for me, is where I wish to be." Me too, Sister.

My brother, Paul, climbed up on one called Death Bed, 2016 (by Jess Hirsch from Minnesota) and looked like he was about to attend his own Viking funeral there amid the moody clouds. I say it should be his profile picture.

Surrounding this was a series of mirrors reflecting both the nature and yourself back to yourself. I never did find the information thing for this one, but it was beautiful, and a solid handshake is owed to the artist who thought of it.

A melting lamppost like I imagine Dali would have made was great ...

There was a levitating house I also had to race by, but loved it ...

As I did 17768 Tiger Lily, 2013 by Saya Woolfalk from Japan. It was a most welcome bright spot of color in the gloomy day, and I thought it was great.

A lovely staircase was made lovelier by an arm extending out from it holding flowers, telling us that love remains for something beautiful that is now gone. Saudade, 2018 by Kendra Elyse Douglas from Kansas was moving, and I wasn't even sure why until I read the above about it.

Sometimes you'd just be walking along, and if you didn't look up, you might miss something. Twisted metal circled the tree branches above us, looking completely natural there, so much so that we almost didn't notice it up there.

Another favorite was the wall of boom boxes that Paul had to do the Say Anything pose in front of. Totally required, but I'll give you the full frontal of it here to get a clear view ... This was as we were dashing out and I again didn't see the name or artist, but high five, friend!

It's a tough call, but I'd have to say my favorite thing I saw/experienced this day was the piece that meandered across the whole park and into the woods, called I Worried, 2019 by Molly Valentine Dierks from St. Paul, MN. It's a series of modified street signs that lead you to the most delightful conclusion ... with surprises along the way.

My Mom is a big fan of telling us not to worry. She believes that worrying is sinful, even, as it means you're not trusting and believing that things are going to work out. That's pretty hard to live by, but she does, even after a summer that found her losing her leg and entire old way of life. She doesn't worry. {Psst! Or TRIES not to. I know she's worried about my brothers and I, c'mon).



I had wandered off on my own for a minute, being led along by these signs, and really taking them - and their questions - in. *I didn't include all the signs here so you can have your own discovery.

Big things are happening, and big decisions are having to be made, both personally and globally. I know I'm not alone when I say that these things weigh heavily on me, and I think about them constantly. Some might even say worry.

I also know that this will accomplish nothing. Only positive thought and action will. And unity.

As I walked down the path lined with these signs, I heard a strange, otherworldly hum begin, and I looked around. I realized that the solar box thing was recording sounds of nature and playing them back. I backed up to the beginning to read the information sign: "The signs also incorporate sound: electrical recordings from plant leaves and human skin (!) that have been converted into musical notes paired with nature recordings (Minnesota birds, frogs, wind, and water). A small instrument is attached to the back of the powered signs, making them 'sing'." TRIPPY.

I went back down the path, absorbing the actual sounds of the actual nature - and my skin! - and just beamed with how cool it was as I raced back to get my Mom and the cart to drive her down this beautiful journey ... that ended in the trees with the sign telling us ALL - humans and nature - to join in together to SING.

You know me ... fully choked up. It could totally have been my Mom talking in those signs ... and to have her next to me was a special moment. This one was my highlight.

What an extra great field trip to take together, as we all try to navigate these unbelievable days. Such a surreal place rising up out of the Minnesota farmlands, in a glorious exhibition of what can be done to realize a vision. It's not at all your whimsical small town roadside attraction, it's really serious work - and also really serious play, to be fair. What another thing to be proud of for our beautiful, smart, creative, weird, atypical Northern state we all so love. I'd put Franconia Sculpture Park and their work (and their bumper sticker) to urge everyone to "Start Seeing Sculpture!" right up there with the things people rattle off as ours: Prince, Dylan, A Prairie Home Companion, First Ave, Vikings, The Fair ... it deserves to be among our greatest hits. *There are donation boxes scattered about - please fill them! I only included a fraction of the work you can see here, and it's ever-changing, so there will always be something new to see. Go!

We visited on Saturday when the office was closed, so I didn't get to interview anyone about how this all came about, but another reason to return! Thank you to all of the artists and founders and dreamers and movers and shakers that gave us this wonderful day!

Love, The Gronners

Franconia Sculpture Park
29836 St. Croix Trail
Shafer, MN 55074
#651-257-6668
www.franconia.org

Open 365 days a year, dawn to dusk. Beautiful.

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