My decision to plant a wheat field in Manhattan grew out of the long-standing concern and need to address misplaced priorities and deteriorating human values. Manhattan is the wealthiest, most congested, most fascinating island in the world. To plant, sustain, and harvest two acres of wheat in its financial center, wasting valuable real estate, created a powerful paradox. It was insane but it would show people that unless human values were reassessed, life itself was in danger. Placing it near the World Trade Center, a block from Wall Street, facing the Statue of Liberty, had symbolic import.
Wheatfield was a universal symbol representing food, energy, commerce, world trade, economics. Referring to mismanagement, waste, world hunger, and ecological concerns, it was a confrontation of High Civilization but also Shangri-La, a small paradise, peace, forgotten values, and simple pleasures.
What differed about this wheat field was that the site was a dirty landfill full of rusty metals, boulders, old tires, and overcoats, an extension of the congested downtown of a metropolis where every inch was precious real estate. The absurdity of it, the risks we took, the hardships we endured were all part of the basic concept.
After months of preparations, planting began in May. 200 truckloads of dirt were brought in, 285 furrows were dug and cleared of rocks and garbage, seeds were sown, and the furrows covered with soil, all by hand. The field was maintained for four months, cleared of wheat smut, weeded, fertilized, irrigated, and sprayed against mildew fungus. In August we harvested more than 1,000 pounds of healthy, golden wheat. The seeds were planted by people around the globe, in solidarity with the concept.
The site is now a luxury office and apartment complex. But the memory lingers of a golden amber field of wheat blowing in the wind and the power of the paradox, more poignant since September 11, 2001.
My decision to plant a wheat field in Manhattan grew out of the long-standing concern and need to address misplaced priorities and deteriorating human values. Manhattan is the wealthiest, most congested, most fascinating island in the world. To plant, sustain, and harvest two acres of wheat in its financial center, wasting valuable real estate, created a powerful paradox. It was insane but it would show people that unless human values were reassessed, life itself was in danger. Placing it near the World Trade Center, a block from Wall Street, facing the Statue of Liberty, had symbolic import.
Wheatfield was a universal symbol representing food, energy, commerce, world trade, economics. Referring to mismanagement, waste, world hunger, and ecological concerns, it was a confrontation of High Civilization but also Shangri-La, a small paradise, peace, forgotten values, and simple pleasures.
What differed about this wheat field was that the site was a dirty landfill full of rusty metals, boulders, old tires, and overcoats, an extension of the congested downtown of a metropolis where every inch was precious real estate. The absurdity of it, the risks we took, the hardships we endured were all part of the basic concept.
After months of preparations, planting began in May. 200 truckloads of dirt were brought in, 285 furrows were dug and cleared of rocks and garbage, seeds were sown, and the furrows covered with soil, all by hand. The field was maintained for four months, cleared of wheat smut, weeded, fertilized, irrigated, and sprayed against mildew fungus. In August we harvested more than 1,000 pounds of healthy, golden wheat. The seeds were planted by people around the globe, in solidarity with the concept.
The site is now a luxury office and apartment complex. But the memory lingers of a golden amber field of wheat blowing in the wind and the power of the paradox, more poignant since September 11, 2001.
My decision to plant a wheat field in Manhattan grew out of the long-standing concern and need to address misplaced priorities and deteriorating human values. Manhattan is the wealthiest, most congested, most fascinating island in the world. To plant, sustain, and harvest two acres of wheat in its financial center, wasting valuable real estate, created a powerful paradox. It was insane but it would show people that unless human values were reassessed, life itself was in danger. Placing it near the World Trade Center, a block from Wall Street, facing the Statue of Liberty, had symbolic import.
Wheatfield was a universal symbol representing food, energy, commerce, world trade, economics. Referring to mismanagement, waste, world hunger, and ecological concerns, it was a confrontation of High Civilization but also Shangri-La, a small paradise, peace, forgotten values, and simple pleasures.
What differed about this wheat field was that the site was a dirty landfill full of rusty metals, boulders, old tires, and overcoats, an extension of the congested downtown of a metropolis where every inch was precious real estate. The absurdity of it, the risks we took, the hardships we endured were all part of the basic concept.
After months of preparations, planting began in May. 200 truckloads of dirt were brought in, 285 furrows were dug and cleared of rocks and garbage, seeds were sown, and the furrows covered with soil, all by hand. The field was maintained for four months, cleared of wheat smut, weeded, fertilized, irrigated, and sprayed against mildew fungus. In August we harvested more than 1,000 pounds of healthy, golden wheat. The seeds were planted by people around the globe, in solidarity with the concept.
The site is now a luxury office and apartment complex. But the memory lingers of a golden amber field of wheat blowing in the wind and the power of the paradox, more poignant since September 11, 2001.
