Richard Serra, sculptor of massive steel curves that looked like pieces of ships under construction, passed away recently.
In 1981, Serra was on a flight from NYC to Madrid to oversee an installation. I was on that same flight. I was his neighbor on the starboard side.
At the time I was in peak Jethro Bodine please-pass-the-jelly mode, 20-going-on-14, no doubt annoying the living shit out of a famously grumpy man. "HI I'M RDCANECUTTER FROM SOGGY BOTTOM ALABAMMY." "Yeah I'm Richard Serra." (zero knowledge of who that was.) "HI MR. SERRA THIS IS MY FIRST AIRPLANE RIDE CAN I SWAP TO THE WINDOW SEAT WHILE WE TAKE OFF?" "No."
We actually got along after I settled down, and looking back, knowing how he could be, I realize he was being really nice to me.
"Mr. Serra I wanna be an artist too."
"Really? What kind of artist?"
"I'm studying graphic design."
"You're never gonna be an artist. Graphic Design isn't art. That's like studying Journalism and calling yourself a writer."
"But but but I need to pay my bills..."
"Pay your bills with any old job and do real art after work. Me, I drove a truck for years. I didn't do Graphic Design."
That morning we were coming in low over the fields outside Madrid. He said that central Spain always reminded him of Iowa.
Months later when I was back at school, I told another art professor I'd met Richard Serra.
"Richard Serra! One of his pieces fell over and killed a man!"