Opinions

What's It Mean?

authorStaff Writer on Oct 6, 2020

The best art provokes questions. “Stargazer,” the large work of public art along County Road 111 in Eastport, certainly qualifies as great art, since its cryptic image has generated questions for decades: Is that a rooster? It’s a deer? What’s in its mouth? A branch? An antler? What’s it mean? And why is it called “Stargazer”?

It’s time, today, as the metal, plywood, stucco and paint stands in the farm field badly damaged by a recent storm, to ask a very big question: At what point does familiar become essential?

The late artist Linda Scott’s most well-known work is certainly familiar: Though it’s outside the area commonly encompassed by “The Hamptons,” it’s the signpost to let visitors know they’re almost there, and for residents to know they’re almost home. It’s a spiritual work, a talisman of sorts, and a reminder to leave the outside world where it belongs when you arrive in such a special place.

For those reasons, “Stargazer” has become beloved and is an unofficial image for the entire South Fork. Which is ironic, since the artist never intended the large sculpture to have such an iconic location: It was originally designed to provide an arching entrance to the Animal Rescue Fund campus in Wainscott. Nor was it ever designed as a permanent installation — it has been on display for nearly 40 years, much longer than the decade or so it was designed to survive.

So the time has come to ask more questions: Is “Stargazer” important enough to save? And if so, how to raise the money, especially in a time of such societal and fiscal uncertainty, when there are so many other causes in need of support?

There really are only a few options. It’s unfair to ask Ms. Scott’s surviving partner, David Morris, to shoulder the responsibility, so perhaps a longshot GoFundMe effort could raise the estimated $100,000 for repairs a few dollars at a time. Businesses have stepped up in the past, and perhaps they can play a role as well. It would take time, and the tattered sculpture is already running out of that.

Also, a six-figure rebuild shouldn’t be considered a permanent solution: To do the job right will cost double the original estimate, using sturdier materials and giving “Stargazer” a much longer lifespan.

Another option would be for some deep-pocketed resident of the South Fork, either an artist or someone who appreciates public art, or just someone who understands the significance of such a generous gesture to a community, to foot the bill.

Perhaps a group of local artists could make the resurrection of “Stargazer” a team project, redesigning or reconsidering the work, each taking a small role in bringing it back to health, as a kind of monument to teamwork and a celebration of art, which is tightly enmeshed in the region’s history.

Ultimately, there’s a less attractive option, but not an unreasonable one: Perhaps with a nod to the impermanence of all art, a notion built into this sculpture (and chipped into reality by woodpeckers), “Stargazer” should be allowed to go, its work done. The void will be felt sharply — and in some ways, that can be the last important message of this work of art: Beauty and joy are fleeting, and nothing is forever.