Panel Shelves Plans to Alter Plaza’s Copper Curtain

Based more on economic realities than aesthetic ideals, the copper curtain--the oft-derided public artwork fastened to the side of the Civic Arts Plaza--may eventually get the artistic equivalent of an Earl Scheib paint job.

But the Thousand Oaks Arts Commission on Thursday night was not comfortable choosing one of four plans by Port Hueneme artist Paul Morris to turn the curtain’s dull brown metallic strips into a colorful contemporary painting.

It voted unanimously to table the issue until March while more information and options could be gathered--including talking to the artwork’s creator and trying to make the copper curtain look more like he intended all along. The City Council must approve whatever recommendation the commission makes.

“Now what we [are considering] is rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic . . .,” Commissioner Robert Levy said of Morris’ plans before the vote to delay a decision.

As Morris is first to admit, the commission subcommittee that recommended his works to the full commission reviewed better ideas for improving the “refrigerator’s backside,” as critics of the curtain have come to call the artwork--including a proposal to take it down altogether and start from scratch. But none had the mixture of art and affordability that Morris offered--and no one else promised to raise most of the money to do the job, as Morris has done.

Thousand Oaks only has $10,000 to spend on altering the $150,000 copper curtain, which graces the otherwise unadorned Ventura Freeway side of the Civic Arts Plaza. It was the brainchild of Antoine Predock, the renowned New Mexico architect who designed the $64-million City Hall and theater.

Predock, who has not been consulted about changing his artwork, has repeatedly said that the copper curtain should not be judged--and changed--prematurely.

The $10,000 available, according to Morris, will not even cover the cost of the scaffolding needed to reach the top of the curtain. He planned to obtain an additional $30,000 in corporate sponsorship, including free scaffolding and enough money to hire half a dozen assistants. No paint would actually be used, according to Morris, who would treat the copper strips with heat and chemicals to alter their color.

“I don’t like the building, but that has nothing to do with what I’m doing,” said Morris, who makes a living designing sets and amusement parks for the entertainment industry. “I’m not correcting Antoine’s mistake. I’m correcting the city’s mistake.”

Morris believes that Predock’s copper curtain concept--meant to symbolize the flowing theater curtain inside the arts center--had some flaws. For example, Morris, who often works with metals in his artwork, said that the Southern California climate--and the exhaust from passing cars--would never have given the strips of copper a weathered turquoise patina, as Predock expected.

But even with that oversight, Morris argues that Predock’s idea would have been fine had it not been hamstrung by city leaders. When city officials decided to securely fasten the 2,000 copper strips instead of allowing them to flutter in the wind, as Predock had intended, they turned the architect’s dynamic artwork into little more than a “brown stamp,” Morris said.

City officials decided to pin down the copper strips for fear they would affect the acoustics inside the plaza’s auditorium, and break off during heavy winds, endangering unsuspecting freeway motorists.

Even with Morris’ painting of its surface, the curtain would continue to generate controversy, he believes. Part of the reason, Morris said, is that art and the democratic process do not mix.

“Art by committee is bad,” Morris said. “Art by the government is worse, and public art by the government is the worst. It doesn’t matter what you put up there, some people aren’t going to like it.

“This has become so controversial that some people in the city are afraid of saying anything,” he added. “It’s been frustrating. Your mission as an artist is to do good work, not please as many people as possible.”

Architect Francisco Behr, who urged the commission to table the proposal, said that was exactly what was wrong with changing the copper curtain: It was an attempt to alter a work of art based on public opinion.

“I believe what you have before you is something that is a horrible precedent for a community, and that’s . . . to change the work of an artist just because people don’t like it,” Behr said.

City leaders created a panel of arts commissioners, artists, architects and business leaders last year to come up with a plan to spruce up the curtain. The group entertained ideas from numerous artists about what to do--from leaving the curtain alone to removing it.

But commissioners and many of the dozen or so in attendance were wary of rushing into any new projects without considering other alternatives--and the feelings of Predock. The commission said it wanted to study whether the curtain could be made to move again as originally intended.

“It was changed so radically from his concept that we have a radiator,” said Commission Chairwoman Karen LaFleur, “If we had stuck with the concept, I think most of Thousand Oaks would have been satisfied. I don’t want to end up with just a colorful radiator.”