Uraeus 2018

Curator: Standing before us is Anselm Kiefer's "Uraeus," a public sculpture dating from 2018. It's crafted from metal, appearing rather imposing within this urban setting. What's your immediate take on it? Editor: Heavy. Weighty. It feels like the last chapter of something epic. Like a fallen angel with a lot on its mind—and now its feathers and books are scattered. It's brooding, isn't it? Curator: The juxtaposition is interesting, wouldn’t you agree? The raw, almost brutal quality of the metal against the classic backdrop of Rockefeller Center…Kiefer often explores themes of history, memory, and mythology. Editor: Mythology, yes! That staff with the serpent—classic symbol. But I get more post-apocalyptic vibes here. Maybe it’s about the weight of history crushing us, not elevating us? I mean, those books aren’t just sitting there, they’re kind of…splattered. Curator: Perhaps both are true. Kiefer's work doesn’t offer easy answers. "Uraeus," referring to the ancient Egyptian cobra symbol of divinity and royalty, raises questions about power, knowledge, and the consequences of both. It’s literally a fallen open book with giant metal wings. Editor: Right. The title throws this extra layer in: knowledge and divinity brought down to earth. Almost literally grounded. So, where do we find the sacred now? Amongst the ruins of old stories and power structures? The artist poses profound, discomforting questions. I find it visually jarring and deeply thoughtful at the same time. Curator: Precisely, the sculpture invites reflection on how societies build themselves and how knowledge either soars or is grounded, becoming scattered amongst the landscape and our conscious mind. It's definitely intended as something to stop you in your tracks. Editor: Absolutely. It sticks with you; I will certainly remember passing it today, thinking how lucky this location is for installing something so interesting to see and think about.