Seattle Post-Intelligencer - January 5th

On New Year's Eve, perched at Magnuson Park, the mysterious monolith inspired mystical pondering.

Jimi Lott / The Seattle Times

Members of Some People gather around the Monolith they placed atop Kite Hill at Sand Point's Magnuson Park.

But in yesterday's relentless drizzle on the guano-fortified shores of Green Lake's Duck Island, the effect was somewhat diminished.

Paul Joseph Brown/P-I

Where did that come from? A heron appears to be studying a mysterious traveling sculpture that has turned up on Green Lake's Duck Island.

"All that hoopla for nothing," huffed Irma Clifton, a longtime Green Lake resident. "It's just a tin box or whatever."

The recurring rectangle was discovered yesterday around noon at Green Lake, the second stop on the sculpture's unannounced tour of the region. The monolith, which bears a striking resemblance to the one in the film "2001: A Space Odyssey," first appeared at Magnuson Park on Sand Point.

By Wednesday morning, it had vanished from the locked park.

Christopher Williams, the city of Seattle's parks and recreation manager for northwest Seattle, stood in the midday drizzle yesterday to observe Green Lake Park's newest addition.

The Monolith, January 5. 2001 - Angela O.

"We're not going to do anything (to remove it)," he said. "We think this is guerrilla art."

That's exactly what it is, according the people who claim to have created the monolith. "Some People," a group of local artists, appeared on local television newscasts last night to say they made the sculpture as a way to celebrate the millennium.

They had no intention of coming forward, but then somebody went and moved their creation to Green Lake.

That's right. The artists say they placed the monolith in Magnuson Park; somebody else took it to Duck Island -- so the mystery continues.

Duck Island, January 5, 2001 - Angela O.

As the curious began congregating on the shore's edge, Williams joked that the best solution would be to charge the public for the view.

The parks department has spoken to police, who say an investigation has not been initiated.

"We can't figure out what laws (have been) broken," Williams said. Although it is discouraged, visiting the island at the northwest end of the lake is not illegal.

The feathered inhabitants of the island, which is an unofficial bird sanctuary, seemed unruffled. Ducks quacked and a bald eagle perched in a tree's bare branches high above it all. A lone heron seemed drawn to the sculpture, which provided nearly perfect camouflage for the gun-metal-gray bird.

How the sculpture, which some argue is not technically a monolith because it is not made of rock, got to the island is a mystery.

It is suspected to have left Magnuson Park and arrived at the island at night by boat. But the sculpture and boat would have to have been carried to Green Lake's edge, because there is no public boat launch.

A visit to Duck Island revealed few clues. Smudged, muddy footprints were visible on the shore, but the number of people who delivered the monolith was unclear.

Jimi Lott / The Seattle Times

A small boat gets a closer look at the New Year's Day monolith that has reappeared on Duck Island on Green Lake.

Sitting about 15 feet from water's edge, slightly tipped in a bed of fallen leaves, the monolith bears no obvious signature.

Before "Some People" came forward to claim responsibility last night, local artists said they were clueless as to who made it.

Gerard Tsutakawa, the artist who created Safeco Field's famous metal "Mitt," had no idea.

"I'm just following the news," Tsutakawa said yesterday. "It's a lot of fun. I like to see more interest in sculpture."

Daryl Smith, who has a studio at the Fremont Fine Arts Bronze Foundry, also pleaded ignorant.

"We're all in favor of it, but we're not responsible for it," he said.

Smith, who sculpted Capitol Hill's life-size bronze statue of Jimi Hendrix, predicted that once the artist was identified, the interest generated by the monolith could help his or her career.

"Artists have a hard time getting attention. Sometimes they have to jump up and down," he said.

Or have their art moved to the middle of a lake without their permission

Monolith to make Magnuson encore
by Richard Martin

Seattle's monolith will return to Magnuson Park next week, not by mysterious forces in the night, but through an agreement between its owners and the city parks department.

The dark-gray, 9-foot steel rectangular structure will sit atop grassy Kite Hill until the start of kite season in mid to late March, C. David Hughbanks, the park's executive director, said yesterday.

The monolith, an apparent tribute to the one that appeared in the 1968 film classic "2001: A Space Odyssey," was discovered at Magnuson Park on New Year's Day but was apparently stolen Wednesday morning.

On Thursday, it was spotted on a small island at Green Lake.

Caleb Schaber, one of the monolith's owners, asked parks officials for help removing it, then sought permission to display it at Magnuson Park.

Schaber and parks officials used a boat to remove the 350-pound monolith from Green Lake's Duck Island yesterday afternoon. It's locked in storage at Magnuson Park.

Next week, Schaber and parks officials are expected to sign their agreement then erect the structure a few days after that. The agreement will not recognize the monolith as a piece of public art, but rather just as a happening, Hughbanks said.

"There's a lot of public interest in the monolith; that's what we're doing it for," Hughbanks said.

The monolith will be mounted atop the hill in much the same way as it was the first time. But this time, "it won't be put together in the middle of the night," Schaber said.

It will also be anchored more securely so that it doesn't pose a safety risk to park-goers and so that it can't be swiped again in the middle of the night.

Schaber is one of several members of a loosely organized group of artists called "Some People" who erected the monolith at Magnuson over a two-day period.

Last Saturday, they mixed and poured concrete into a rectangular hole and set four hollow tubes in the concrete.

The monolith, which was built with four pieces of rebar protruding from its base, was set onto that foundation the following evening using epoxy.

Local residents have come in droves to see it during its brief existence in public view, and it has attracted interest from far beyond the city's borders.

"It should be kind of interesting for a couple months," Hughbanks said.

Seattle Post-Intelligencer - January 7th

Its origins have been revealed, but the message of the metal monolith remains a mystery.

A group of artists and writers called "Some People," who claimed ownership of the monolith, arrived yesterday at Green Lake to retrieve their work of art. The artists are returning the sculpture to Magnuson Park at Sand Point, where they originally placed it during the wee hours of New Year's morning.

Meryl Schenker/P-I

Members of the artists' group Some People, including Caleb Schaber, right, carry Seattle's celebrated monolith away from Green Lake Friday.

Some People doesn't know who moved the 350-pound steel sculpture from the park, though they suspect a "rival group." The monolith inexplicably reappeared Thursday on Duck Island in Green Lake.

Members of the artists' group Some People, including Caleb Schaber, right, carry Seattle's celebrated monolith away from Green Lake Friday. Meryl Schenker/P-I
Although the rest of Seattle was largely intrigued by the appearance, disappearance and reappearance of the monolith, its creators were not impressed.

"We were very upset," said Caleb Schaber, 27, a member of Some People. "Most of the people are unhappy about the attention. They wanted to remain anonymous."

Schaber doesn't have an explanation for the monolith, though he confirmed suspicions that it was inspired by a similar object in the film "2001: A Space Odyssey."

"We make art and other people can figure out what it means," he said.

The group reclaimed their art with assistance from employees at the Green Lake Small Craft Center, a division of the city of Seattle's Parks and Recreation Department.

Using a small floating dock, the artwork was ferried to the shore. The only damage to the hollow-bottomed, steel structure appeared to be a little mud and bending of four pieces of rebar that serve as anchors.

Some People did not build the monolith but conceived the idea and raised $500 for materials. One or more local anonymous artists made the structure.

The monolith is not the first for the group, which has about 15 core members ranging in age from 22 to 50. Some People had been depositing smaller, black monoliths around town, but those wooden structures received little attention.

Schaber said the group is a modern take on Dadaism, an arts protest movement that originated in 1916 in Switzerland.

Some People's goal is to "provoke thought and conversation," said a 26-year-old member who goes by the alias "Stumpy."

The group's Web site is www.supportthemonolith.org

Members thought it inappropriate for the sculpture to be placed on an island preserved for birds. They were also concerned that it could be knocked over and cause injury.

The monolith will be kept in a secure location at Magnuson Park and returned to public display next week. Some People said they will make sure it's theft-proof this time.

The artwork could remain at the park for two or three months, said parks Superintendent Ken Bounds. Finding a permanent home there or in another park would require a public approval process.

Some People would like the monolith to remain permanently at Magnuson.

"It's a gift to the city," Stumpy said.

SEATTLE - The Monolith, a 9-foot-tall rectangular sculpture, is back in Seattle's Sand Point Magnuson Park on Kite Hill.

Park director David Hughbanks says it reappeared Monday morning.

It first appeared on New Year's Day, recalling images of the sci-fi movie "2001: A Space Odyssey."

It turned out a group of artists called "Some People" had erected the Monolith, but some other people moved it to Duck Island in Seattle's Green Lake.

Some People reclaimed it.

The 350-pound box has now been set in about 7,000 pounds of concrete. It won't be going anywhere until it's removed at the end of March for kite season -- probably with a crane.

One of the Some People activists, who wants to be known only as "Honky the Clown," says the Monolith was thought up by two of his friends about two months ago.

"We wanted people to see something happen that was simply enjoyable, but simple and beautiful," he said.