The Waterfalls Look Fake—Just the Way They Should

By now everyone’s had a chance to check out “[The New York City Waterfalls]” and, if the media’s done its job (you can check out[ our slideshow here](http://nypress.com/waterfalls/)), you’re probably sick of hearing about the damn things. Good. That’s actually the best thing that could happen to Olafur Eliasson’s installations in the East River.

I attended last week’s press conference, heard the big ideas trumpeted by Susan K. Freeman, president of the Public Art Fund (“the most important art project of this century”), and the even bigger rhetoric blandly intoned by Mayor Michael Bloomberg (“biggest waterfall attraction between Niagara Falls and Victoria Falls”), and I could sense the “greatness” of the project quickly kill its chances of having any “transcendent” effect on viewers.

The “waterfalls” are not beautiful objects to behold. You will not be transported in some sublime fashion by their magnitude. In fact, you’ll probably look like many of the young publicists who took a gander, made a face and whispered, “That’s it?” to the girl in the slightly rumpled Club Monaco ensemble next to her. “Under-whelmed” was the most common response I heard from those who went out of their way to see them over the weekend. And I expected the retort of one onlooker, who [told a reporter that she wished there had been some rocks or landscaping to hide the steel scaffolding that supports it].

It’s all to be expected since the waterfalls are the work of an artist interested in challenging ideas of space and nature, perception and expectation. In many ways, Eliasson’s waterfalls are meant to disappoint. There’s no denying that their expense ($15.5 million), coordination (more than 20 permits granted) and cooperation (public/private donors) are truly part of their awesomeness. Who would be willing to battle the bureaucracy (other than Christo and Jean-Claude, of course) to get a work of this scale and complexity completed?

But if your curiosity hasn’t been completely drowned by the boosterish glee, take a second look. Don’t look for a replication of a natural phenomenon, instead, treat it like a Gucci bag in Chinatown and, embrace the fake. The waterfall located against a pillar of the Brooklyn Bridge is the most photographed, but it’s most interesting when seen from an angle, when the scaffolding’s cross-braces repeat the latticework found in the bridge above. When seen from Brooklyn, the waterfall facing south at [Manhattan’s Pier 35] mimics the structure of one of the many residential towers, and reinforces Eliasson’s clever observation that “scaffolding is the legacy of New York.” The tallest structure, at [120 feet along a formerly industrial Brooklyn port](http://nypress.com/waterfalls/page05.html), perhaps the most intriguing, the way it looks like a giant flume and fits so naturally between the abandoned piers. Finally, then the Governor’s Island waterfall puts the entire project into a clearer perspective, since the height causes it to tower above the tallest structure on the island and creates the most unnatural spectacle of all. (The constant [police boat detail](http://nypress.com/waterfalls/page07.html) is a further reminder that this "public art" is off limits.)

The truth of this project is that the waterfalls actually look like just one more unfinished construction project. Scaffolding, cranes and obstructions to the skyline are so common that we no longer consider them as out of the ordinary. But this art installation is meant to not only turn our attention to the waterways, as Eliasson has insisted, it is also intended to make us even more aware of New York’s artificial environment. Even Central Park, the most “natural” setting we know, was completely crafted by the designers, every boulder placed to look more real, every tree planted and pruned to cause us to gasp with delight at its “naturalness.” Its power is in its deception.

I grew up in a small town in north Texas called Wichita Falls that didn’t contain one waterfall—until they created it. It was in the late 1980s, and an [artificial waterfall was constructed] along a tributary of the Red River. We schoolchildren joyfully raised money to put in the brick paths, the faux rocks and landscaping along with the rest of the community that had been spurred into civic action. Camera crews showed up (even Willard Scott from the Today show) and tourists came from as far as Tokyo (or so they claimed). They wanted to see the “falls put back in Wichita Falls.” But let me tell you, fake nature isn’t so awe-inspiring. Understanding the lie that is nature in any urban environment, Eliasson lays bare “nature’s” infrastructure—something even more stunning to behold.

Photo by Andrew Schwartz