WE WALK past them every day on the way to class. They loom over us like giant white gods, their shadows encompassing our small figures as we enter a building or walk down the Lawn. Their stark white paint glows in the sun, nearly blinding our eyes as we peer reverently up at them.
Okay, so the columns aren’t that startling. Yet their presence is ubiquitous on Grounds and commands a sort of silent respect from students and faculty members alike. They are so ubiquitous, in fact, that we barely notice them as we go about our daily lives. We are so used to seeing these columns and to accepting them as reminders of Thomas Jefferson’s obsession with classical architecture that we rarely — if ever — stop to think about exactly what ideas they convey.
Thanks to artist Mel Ziegler, this year’s participant in a University-sponsored residency program, we finally have a chance to stop and think — to think about their purpose, their color (or lack thereof), and about what they imply.
For one thing, the numerous buildings on Grounds that feature these columns imply the belief in the academy as a solemn and grand environment. They bring to mind words like respect, perfection, and sophistication. Furthermore, since the columns were originally sandstone, the choice to paint them white implies an unspoken meaning in the color choice itself.
All of this led Ziegler to the conclusion that the columns need a serious makeover, at least temporarily. Ziegler, a nationally acclaimed artist focused on creating community art projects, is working with the University’s student-led Arts Board to get approval from the Board of Visitors to transform a number of columns on different buildings from everyday white edifices to eye-catching multi-colored structures. If the proposal is approved, the colors selected for each column will be chosen by those who use the buildings that the columns adorn.
Ashley Lefew, co-Chair of the Arts Board, said of Ziegler, “His work is often about engaging communities and questioning their history: two things that we are eager to have happen at UVA.” She added, “I think the fact that he is planning on working outside of a gallery setting is particularly interesting and will make this work more accessible to students and the wider Charlottesville community.”
If the response to the proposal so far is any indication, Ziegler’s artistic vision may have already begun to take shape in an interesting way. The idea of painting the columns of Minor Hall or Clark Hall or — gasp! — the Academical Village — has been received by many as an effort to deface and debase some of the most prized possessions of the University. Faculty members and administrators appear hesitant, at best, to let the artist proceed with his plans, even though Ziegler has set aside funds to repaint the columns back to their ‘original’ white four weeks after his project and has even contacted Facilities Management to ensure their maintenance.
What if the repainted column chips and bright blue shows through? What if a visitor to Grounds complains that they came to the University expecting to see neo-classical buildings, only to see a red-and-yellow striped column adorning Garrett Hall? What if people just don’t get it?
The last question, at least, is not an issue. The uproar Ziegler’s project has already caused among those who have heard his proposal is evidence that his plan is working perfectly. Painting the columns is an artistic feat intended to foreground the issues and debates that are so often implicitly hidden beneath the tailored lawns and the solemn structures on Grounds. A painted column jars the senses; it upsets the balance so carefully established by the architecture here.
Moreover, the issue created by Ziegler’s proposal reveals the debate over who really gets to decide what the columns look like. Who do these columns belong to? As students at the University, we are force-fed line after line about student self-governance, about working hard to make this University our own. We are encouraged to make our mark here and to take ownership of the institution that will inevitably have a major impact on our lives beyond our four years here. Yet when it comes to challenging the neo-classical tradition, when it comes to the idea of painting a column green—even if only for four weeks, we are told it is impossible.
So what if orange paint shows through three years from now when a little chip of white paint falls off one of Cocke Hall’s columns? First of all, to calm your fears that the University’s architecture will be forever marred, there’s the simple fact that a little chip can be mended by a few brush strokes of that same old white paint. But won’t the color beneath make a great story to tell a visiting prospective or an interested tourist? Won’t it mean something that the University rose to the occasion when challenged to reconsider some of its most cherished traditions?
The questions that will arise will not deface Thomas Jefferson’s vision or the University’s respect for its history. Instead, they will serve to remind us all that a little questioning—and perhaps a little color—never hurts.
Amelia Meyer’s column usually appears Wednesdays in The Cavalier Daily. She can be reached at a.meyer@cavalierdaily.com.
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