Public art inspires even vandals, tramps and thieves

In the mythological world that inspired suburban artist Patricia Brutchin, her winged statue would have come to life and soared from the annual Fine Art Show in St. Charles on a heroic quest to find an enchanted key, free a gnome and save a kingdom.

Unfortunately, the statue's disappearance has a mundane, earthly explanation.

It was stolen.

"It's a little gothic looking because it's black and has wings," Brutchin says, hoping the thieves were motivated by an appreciation for the statue. "If they have it, I hope they are enjoying it."

The "Winged Crawler" was a labor of love for the Lake in the Hills artist, who got her master of fine arts degree from the University of Cincinnati in 1987 and has had works exhibited in national competitions.

"I spent four months working on it," Brutchin says of the one-of-a-kind piece.

Brutchin started by sculpting it in wax -- getting the exact texturing she wanted by using pheasant feathers given to her by friends who hunt. A lengthy, painstaking process of mixing, dipping, burning, cooling, pouring and chipping away porcelain left her with the bronze statue.

An accomplished painter, sculptor and instructor at the Illinois Institute of Art, Brutchin acknowledges that her art mettle, or even meddlesome kids, may have nothing to do with the theft.

"They could have stolen it for the metal," says Brutchin.

She estimates she put about $700 worth of metal into the 60-pound statue.

In this economy, where the value of scrap metal has crooks stealing gutters off houses, metal statues (and even the plaques explaining them) are an endangered species. Where we see "works of art for public enjoyment," others see "valuable metals left unattended."

Earlier this year, audacious crooks stole a landmark stainless steel sculpture from in front of the Newberry Library on Chicago's Gold Coast. Titled "Umanita," (Italian for "humanity") the 150-pound piece by acclaimed artist Virginio Ferrari was valued at about $70,000, but worth a few hundred as scrap metal.

The International Sculpture Park in Schaumburg hasn't had vandals in about a decade, says Sgt. John Nebl, community relations bureau supervisor for the Schaumburg police. Nebl credits round-the-clock patrols by officers on foot, in cars and even on a Segway.

But elsewhere in the suburbs, public art has been and still is the occasional target of vandals who seem to have no financial or high-minded motivation. Our graffiti artists aren't Keith Haring or Jean-Michel Basquiat making street art, but merely mopes who paint or carve initials into public property.

Naperville's annual United Way art display lures vandals every year. The damage done to some of the bug sculptures this year can't be attributed to the same fear of art that led to the Taliban's destruction of ancient statues of Buddha in Afghanistan.

Nor were vandals making an artistic statement when they took 180 plants from Geneva's beautification program and dumped them into the Fox River.

"Not the flowers, too. Usually no one has a beef against the flowers," says Elizabeth Kelley, director of the Public Art Program for Chicago.

The roots of that kind of mindless vandalism might be substance abuse, boredom or what Nebl calls "a lack of good judgment"

Kelley says vandalism isn't often directed at Chicago's hundreds of public art displays. The famed "Cows on Parade" exhibit suffered mostly unintentional damage and one theft, Kelley says.

Even Chicago's most famous, and tempting, target for vandals and metal-minded art thieves appears safe. Of course, snatching "Winged Crawler" from St. Charles is one thing; getting that Picasso sculpture out of Daley Plaza would require thieves with magical wings.