This is Tammy. It’s hard to imagine that the Sol LeWitts are gone. We got up REALLY EARLY last week to witness the big event and I think I gasped when the first roll of paint hit it. And not because I’m one of those people who believe in the sacredness of art and its artifacts, but because I suddenly realized that these giant stripes of color have been a subliminal message for me in my five years of working here at the museum, and I gasped because I had finally figured it out…yes, Sol LeWitt’s Wall Drawings #935 and #936 look like my mother’s dresses from the seventies—sacred (my mother and the seventies, I don’t really care about dresses).
Even still, there was something very satisfying about watching the erasure of this bold display. Someone made a joke about wearing white after Labor Day, and then staff photographer Don Ross got stuck up in the cherry picker.
I was sad to see them go: