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As a great admirer of the work of Dorothy Bryant I was disappointed to read her July 19 letter to the editor, in which she spoke so casually and dismissively of the artwork at the Albany Bulb. On the basis of a single “afternoon hike” in this most complex and nuanced environment, she has seen fit to judge the artwork there as if it were no more than a museum exhibit. She describes “nightmarish and sado-masochistic fantasies” in some of the artwork, seemingly unaware of the influence of her voice in our community and the effect of her words in shaping public opinion about what is to happen to this fragile, untamed space.  

I have been going to the Albany Bulb for nearly a decade. It has been a place of solace and inspiration for me. I will never forget the first time I encountered the Sniff paintings. Walking after dusk down an unfamiliar trail I came upon mysterious shapes that I only later realized were large canvasses. Peering closer I began to see strange figures looming up from the dark surfaces. I felt a prickly sense of unease as if something singular were taking place. I became transfixed by the illusion that I was seeing something no one else had ever seen before. It felt exhilarating to discover something like this right here in Albany. And all of it assembled from mere “scrap art.” Returning again and again over the years, getting to know the unique character of the entire Bulb and its wide range of magical creations, I continue to marvel at these vulnerable, generous contributions to our community, and their creators, who trust their work to the elements and to the good intentions of their fellow human beings.  

The Albany Bulb is not “wild” in the sense of its being a pristine untrammeled wilderness. It is merely an untamed sliver of land in an urban setting. The place is a dump, after all, that has begun to be reclaimed by the natural environment. It has been settled by the homeless, discovered by artists (among them homeless residents of the Bulb), dog walkers and those who wish to step for a brief moment outside the grid of our paved-over, locked-down culture.  

So now the Bulb is becoming valuable real estate. Many interests want to get their hands on it. But in between the time it was a forgotten, unwanted dump, and now, when it is becoming a hot property, something has been created that exists nowhere else in the world. And it was made by ordinary people with imagination and ability. No one got an art grant to do it.  

Everyone has the right to express their opinion. I admit that I have been bewitched, enchanted, frightened, inspired, awed and honored to have been able to observe what has taken place on the Bulb over the last decade. But whether one likes or dislikes or dismisses what has been created there, the task at hand is to acknowledge publicly that much of this artwork is unique, irreplaceable and inarguably “site-specific.” Artwork in a museum at least has the advantage of being physically protected from harm, whatever our opinion of it.  

Those who wish to “clean up” the Bulb have the support of the monied interests. The artwork survives only on its own merits—its existence is extremely fragile and subject to the goodwill of the community. Negative public opinion could easily lead to the removal or destruction of the artwork, benefiting those who wish to “improve” the area. We need to be smart about how we critique what has been going on there. The developers count on the support of decent, law-abiding citizens who feel uncomfortable with anything they perceive as disorderly or chaotic.  

Once the Bulb is developed, the artwork and the historical moment it embodies will be gone forever.  

All one has to do is to look at the hideous seabird sculpture at the entrance to the park to see an officially sanctioned alternative to what has been created at the Bulb. This bird sculpture is public art in all its impersonal splendor—and aesthetically it is deader than a doornail. It is not too difficult to imagine a similar monument being erected in honor of the soon-to-be-destroyed Bulb artwork: Perhaps a corner of one of the existing paintings or sculptures could be salvaged and incorporated into a publicly-funded project honoring this unique, and now, sadly, extinct, moment in Albany city history. Someone could be awarded a grant to do it. It would resemble all the ways we have honored and continue to honor the natural wonders, environments, peoples, cultures and architecture we destroy in our mad rush to fence in and pave over every aspect of this fearsome untamed world.  

Probably the artwork will have to go. But only because our culture cannot bear to “leave things alone.” We seem to honor the most valuable things by trampling them underfoot. If we have reverence for anything do we have the restraint to “let it be?” To “not” do something to it? Or do we have to spill over into every fragile and sacred space, destroying it simply because “we can?”  

Maybe we have the right to do this. But to deny the value of something we are busy destroying is just a cheap way to rationalize our insensitivity. Though this work was created outside official sanction, it exists nonetheless, and is given by artists freely and generously for everyone to enjoy. It enriches our culture more than we will ever be able to know, until after it is gone.  

Our job is not to “judge” the artwork (though we have the right to do so). Our job right now is to figure out a way to coexist with this or any other accidental beauty that springs up unexpectedly in our midst, and which cannot survive without our good will.  

Albany resident Peter Josheff is a composer and performer.