Whitetail Plaza is the name of sculptor Stephen Glassman's latest opus. Glassman's creations -- sprawling and epic as they tend to be -- have appeared everywhere from the Paris Opera to the Moscow Circus, and spectacle is part and parcel of the work. Yet it's a bracing, humanist kind of spectacle, the kind that actually draws the spectator into the frame instead of alienating emotional connection due to the sense of scale. Coming to local attention in the '90s with his skeletal bamboo constructs, placed in spaces annihilated by earthquake, fire and uprising, Glassman now turns his focus on transforming corporate workspaces into something a little less square and inhuman. In "Whitetail Plaza," Glassman dazzles in slo-mo with two islands that glow from within as the sun goes down, arched steel reminiscent of birdflight or the gentle waving of grasses that once spilled over the banks of the nearby Los Angeles River to merge with the land of Warner Center itself - the sum effect being one of transcendence and reminiscence, not a heavy heavy guilt trip for all the corporate types trying to win more than just another trophy wife with all this rising beauty. "Whom the gods notice, they destroy," it's been said - although likely one look at Glassman's creations might stay the hand of Heaven for the hour or two it takes you to revel in them.
Tue., June 16, 5 p.m., 2009