Every inch of open space is sacred in a city; still, is a hard place to love.
A large, lumpy triangle of grass, bounded by three of , it’s noisy, barren and smothered in goose droppings. Everyone knows its public art — those minimalist red, black and yellow sculptures that have been a landmark since the late 1960s — yet no one goes there. The place has just 10 parking spaces and you can always get one, or much of the time, all 10. Dogs don’t even like it.
Surely the 13 acres could be made more attractive, and is hatching a plan to add landscaping, trails and public events built around the art, quality improvements throughout. It all feels a little forced. How hard should the city work to make people come to a park right in the center of town?
A better option might be to abandon Burns altogether.
Now, I’m not advocating that Denver give up park land, not one blade of grass. But a city in land preservation, that possesses a system of urban green spaces, medians and mountain parks the world envies, can surely do better than Burns, which will always be a compromise. The traffic isn’t going away and neither is the massive Target shopping center across the street that overwhelms it. Even if it offers beauty, it will never provide peace.
One park for many?
Some out-of-the-box thinking: Burns might contribute more to the park system as a piece of real estate, a huge parcel in one of region’s most desirable neighborhoods, potentially worth tens of millions of dollars. For that we could outfit the city with a half dozen mini-parks that actually make urban life more tolerable and improve property values. Or we could create one, giant new park somewhere else, combining public, private and foundation money into a wonder that rivals in Chicago.
The present Burns Park’s greatest (only?) success is its colorful art, and there is some history to it. The four original pieces were built in place during a sculpture festival in 1968, organized by local artists who saw that Denver was lacking the sort of grand sculpture park other cities have. They are quality works by respected names: , Roger Kotoske, Anthony Magar and Wilbert Verhelst.
A piece by Barbara Baer was added in 1999 and a second Magar was installed in 2010.
The original objects were never meant to last beyond a few months; they were constructed from donated plywood coated in fiberglass. But people like them and they’ve been maintained over the years. The was in 2009 and cost $50,000.
Today, they are a joy to behold, even if they’re only beheld by motorists paused momentarily at traffic lights. That’s OK. They’re billboards, really, and consumable even at 30 mph.
The city wants to expand on their appeal and is planning the park’s future around ideas generated at public meetings. They’re good, though not revolutionary.
New infusion
They suggest making the triangle a combined art/park experience. More sculptures, paths for walking and biking, maybe a volleyball court. Ideas include doubling the parking, and making better connections across streets to the adjacent neighborhoods. There could be art, food and performance festivals and temporary exhibitions.
The city’s parks are congested these days by public events, walk-a-thons, concerts, festivals, and Burns could alleviate the pressure. But big ideas naturally lead to bigger ones, and that is where the notion of leveraging Burns commercially, rather than improving it, comes in. Before we spend public dollars, let’s at least explore the possibilities, and the limitations.
The traffic that surrounds Burns is relentless, from all sides. As an example: I set my phone’s timer for two minutes there at 10:45 Tuesday morning and more than 300 cars and trucks, many of them commercial vehicles, whizzed by the intersection of Colorado Boulevard and East Alameda Avenue before the buzzer went off. The third boundary, Leetsdale Drive, which cuts across the grid diagonally, is less busy, but people think of it as a shortcut and drive along as fast as they can.
The stretch is so disagreeable that along Leetsdale have actually built six-foot fences along their property lines. What homeowner, facing a park, fences off the view?
If Burns fails as a place of solitude, maybe it would succeed as a place for recreation. Maybe we could integrate tennis courts, soccer fields and playground equipment into the existing art. Imagine: We could have artists design the goalposts, asphalt courts, swing sets, sliding boards and fences. It could be the country’s first art playground luring folks near and far.
Of course, the neighbors would have to permit it, and anything that draws outsiders is bound to be a problem. This is the same part of Denver that recently prevented Walmart from coming in; a loud effort that had residents openly decrying the possibility that the wrong kind of people might invade their turf. A would naturally have to back that up, or hit the road.
No doubt, any plan to improve a park would go over a hundred times easier than actually getting rid of one. Imagine. Opposition would extend to a long list of good citizens that consider themselves open space supporters.
But wise people set immediate reactions aside. Even folks disposed to liking Burns have to admit they don’t ever go there. A park has to be something more than a place people admire from afar.
Suppose we traded Burns for a park on the site, or somewhere along the river, or we preserved a piece of the rapidly developing Highland, RiNo or Five Points neighborhoods before they are gone? We could move the historic sculptures there and make it the civic project of the century.
And, yes, we let developers have the corner of Alameda and Colorado. We find a responsible builder who promises more than a giant parking lot and big, brick boxes. Maybe we give it over to mixed-income residential, something that keeps the neighborhood diverse and brings life to the area. The has a few nice tracts in Curtis Park. We could swap them out.
Denver’s parks were built on bold visions, risk-taking, imagination, pride and hope. With a little fortitude Denver could have the great sculpture park those pioneering artists dreamed of, or several parks where people picnic with grandchildren, stroll with golden retrievers, where everyone connects with to nature, places that aren’t for special occasions that remind us how valuable the earth is and how we need to protect it.
Ray Mark Rinaldi: 303-954-1540, rrinaldi@denverpost.com or twitter.com/rayrinaldi
