Konza Bales
2023 Fall Resident Kevin Benham connects viewers to a larger context through a common Wabaunsee County object
Konza Bales
celebrates the relationship of the Tallgrass Prairie to the Celestial Sky it lies under. The piece is composed of four one-ton bales of native prairie grasses that are placed to align with the Winter Solstice and Summer Solstice. Cardinal North and South are also marked with bales. The location and center of the site was selected using two copper rods for divination. After the placement of the bales, the rods reacted more strongly to the four marked coordinates. The bales are located on a high ridge visible from Old K-10. –
Kevin Benham
The source-material for Benham’s “riff” is Nancy Holt’s
Sun Tunnels. Benham, a professor of landscape architecture at Louisiana State University, deliberately used a different material in his piece. Instead of employing concrete cylinders, Benham selected bales of prairie hay. The intent is for the work to slowly disintegrate over time, returning to the landscape. These temporary monoliths, placed in a simple arrangement, serve to reorient the viewer to the larger contexts that many forget.
K E V I N B E N H A M
Testing the boundaries of landscape architecture and materials are central to Kevin’s practice. The Louisiana State University professor installs works that put spacial qualities and temporal movement into relief. While at Volland, Kevin immersed himself in the region’s ecology, hydrology, geology and more.
Visit Kevin’s website here
DECEMBER 6, 2023
Upon discovering Konza Bales unexepectedly during a hike – by Kathie Hummel, poet
For six years now, I have been coming to Alma Kansas a week or two after the Thanksgiving Holiday. As folks in Kansas City are hustling about with Black Friday sales, I am packing up my Carharts, insulated boots and binoculars. Grateful to be outfitted by those who know the prairie and the harsh conditions this time of year, my suitcase becomes a toolbox filled to the brim with all the necessary items one could need for a magical winter expedition.
By the time we head west on I-70, I panic briefly, wondering what I may have forgotten. Orange hunting vest? Check. Snippers for winter prairie bouquets? Check. Breathable wool socks for long hikes? Check. Mile by mile the anxiety melts away, and the rhythm of needs bends to something greater. It is as if, I let go, knowing there are certain things you can’t pack……awareness, observation, wonder.
Once we pass the toll both near Topeka, excitement builds, my mind wanders to Missouri Ave in downtown Alma. Will the town have all the Christmas decorations up? I love the stillness offered by a main street that allows one to stand smack dab in the middle of it’s hospitality and twinkling glow to capture a photo, worthy of a Christmas Card.
As we turn onto K-10, and cell service starts to fade, there is an intoxicating shift that washes over me, knowing my senses are about to be rebooted. This city girl has
done,
gone, country! Unpacked, settled in, and geared up, we head out for our first hike. The crisp dry air hits my lungs and I am instantly recharged. This is what I call the Flint Hills elixir.
There has never been a hike where I returned without gaining some morsel of intriguing knowledge from my loving partner and guide. He is completely in tune with nature, wildlife and all things outdoorsy. And while this hike did include descriptions of how archery bows are made from the mighty Osage Orange tree, it was I that tuned in to the earths vibration and something innately true to my bones.
A kind of genetic energy electrified me and I was captivated by……..hay bales?
Approaching these majestic golden sculptures, I noticed they were flanked on either side by a pair of yearling does.
I mean, you want to talk about a Christmas Card moment, there it was.
But more than that, it was an offering, that I could not keep from being swept into.
Were we intruding on some kind of cryptic transcendental assembly? I could almost hear the deer, the grass, the land, a call from Celtic sisters thousands of miles away drawing me closer not only to the hay bales but to an invitation of…..play? They were playing. And once they scampered off, I played too! I danced around the carefully positioned configuration with a Gaelic tune familiar to my body but never before heard by my ears. My partner was a bit confused as I explained that these were no ordinary hay bales left by a farmer, I was certain of that. The shape, the soul, the purpose was palpable and for a moment I straddled two beloved lands. Grounded by an ethereal connection that allowed me to float back and forth with lightness and joy.
I am not sure why, on that day in the Flint Hills of Kansas, I travelled to Scotland. But that is the mystery and enchantment of this place, you never know what will grab hold and tug at your heart. Who knows where these hay bales will take you, but I certainly would not miss the opportunity to find out.
Happy Winter Solstice.
Kathie Hummel visits this site frequently – and appreciates the Flint Hills as only a poet can.
Konza Bales
celebrates the relationship of the Tallgrass Prairie to the Celestial Sky it lies under. The piece is composed of four one-ton bales of native prairie grasses that are placed to align with the Winter Solstice and Summer Solstice. Cardinal North and South are also marked with bales. The location and center of the site was selected using two copper rods for divination. After the placement of the bales, the rods reacted more strongly to the four marked coordinates. The bales are located on a high ridge visible from Old K-10. –
Kevin Benham
The source-material for Benham’s “riff” is Nancy Holt’s
Sun Tunnels. Benham, a professor of landscape architecture at Louisiana State University, deliberately used a different material in his piece. Instead of employing concrete cylinders, Benham selected bales of prairie hay. The intent is for the work to slowly disintegrate over time, returning to the landscape. These temporary monoliths, placed in a simple arrangement, serve to reorient the viewer to the larger contexts that many forget.
K E V I N B E N H A M
Testing the boundaries of landscape architecture and materials are central to Kevin’s practice. The Louisiana State University professor installs works that put spacial qualities and temporal movement into relief. While at Volland, Kevin immersed himself in the region’s ecology, hydrology, geology and more.
Visit Kevin’s website here
DECEMBER 6, 2023
Upon discovering Konza Bales unexepectedly during a hike – by Kathie Hummel, poet
For six years now, I have been coming to Alma Kansas a week or two after the Thanksgiving Holiday. As folks in Kansas City are hustling about with Black Friday sales, I am packing up my Carharts, insulated boots and binoculars. Grateful to be outfitted by those who know the prairie and the harsh conditions this time of year, my suitcase becomes a toolbox filled to the brim with all the necessary items one could need for a magical winter expedition.
By the time we head west on I-70, I panic briefly, wondering what I may have forgotten. Orange hunting vest? Check. Snippers for winter prairie bouquets? Check. Breathable wool socks for long hikes? Check. Mile by mile the anxiety melts away, and the rhythm of needs bends to something greater. It is as if, I let go, knowing there are certain things you can’t pack……awareness, observation, wonder.
Once we pass the toll both near Topeka, excitement builds, my mind wanders to Missouri Ave in downtown Alma. Will the town have all the Christmas decorations up? I love the stillness offered by a main street that allows one to stand smack dab in the middle of it’s hospitality and twinkling glow to capture a photo, worthy of a Christmas Card.
As we turn onto K-10, and cell service starts to fade, there is an intoxicating shift that washes over me, knowing my senses are about to be rebooted. This city girl has
done,
gone, country! Unpacked, settled in, and geared up, we head out for our first hike. The crisp dry air hits my lungs and I am instantly recharged. This is what I call the Flint Hills elixir.
There has never been a hike where I returned without gaining some morsel of intriguing knowledge from my loving partner and guide. He is completely in tune with nature, wildlife and all things outdoorsy. And while this hike did include descriptions of how archery bows are made from the mighty Osage Orange tree, it was I that tuned in to the earths vibration and something innately true to my bones.
A kind of genetic energy electrified me and I was captivated by……..hay bales?
Approaching these majestic golden sculptures, I noticed they were flanked on either side by a pair of yearling does.
I mean, you want to talk about a Christmas Card moment, there it was.
But more than that, it was an offering, that I could not keep from being swept into.
Were we intruding on some kind of cryptic transcendental assembly? I could almost hear the deer, the grass, the land, a call from Celtic sisters thousands of miles away drawing me closer not only to the hay bales but to an invitation of…..play? They were playing. And once they scampered off, I played too! I danced around the carefully positioned configuration with a Gaelic tune familiar to my body but never before heard by my ears. My partner was a bit confused as I explained that these were no ordinary hay bales left by a farmer, I was certain of that. The shape, the soul, the purpose was palpable and for a moment I straddled two beloved lands. Grounded by an ethereal connection that allowed me to float back and forth with lightness and joy.
I am not sure why, on that day in the Flint Hills of Kansas, I travelled to Scotland. But that is the mystery and enchantment of this place, you never know what will grab hold and tug at your heart. Who knows where these hay bales will take you, but I certainly would not miss the opportunity to find out.
Happy Winter Solstice.
Kathie Hummel visits this site frequently – and appreciates the Flint Hills as only a poet can.
Watch
DECEMBER 21, 2023
Winter Solstice
A few faithful friends arose at dawn and met at the hay bales.
We planned this Solstice Party with the tongue-in-cheek notion that we would check the accuracy of the artist’s work, certain that we would see the sun rise in the exact center of the east hay bale.
It was cloudy. No sun. We lined up for a photo looking toward the middle of the east hay bale. Then, the clouds parted slightly, revealing that the sun was at about 2:30 o’clock away from where it was supposed to be.
A landscape architect friend brought a compass to the party. He confirmed the North and South Cardinals were correct. Someone noted they had made a photo at sunset the evening before, showing the sun sinking very close to the edge of the western bale. Did the artist mix up Winter and Spring? How could the coordinates of the sunrise be off that much? Or was it a reflection of the sun that was truly in the right spot, hiding behind the clouds? Did the artist do this to trick us? (A phone call later confirmed that this was not the case.)
We conjectured, wondered, speculated, and discussed as we hung around, then descended the hill to find coffee, and to puzzle about it some more. The conversation was lively. It was a good mystery to try to sort out. Good art inspires thinking and reaction.
We will reconvene at the Summer Solstice to see if the sun rises where it was supposed to on December 21, unless the deer eat the bales in the meantime. We observed that the deer seem to prefer the east and west hay bales.
A friend, hearing all this from afar, said: I loved the
new magic and storytelling generated by the Winter Solstice and the Hay Bales! The Flint Hills landscape in Winter is
fabelhaft , full of fables…”
Drive south from Alma on Old K-10. Just after the turnoff to West Spring Creek Road, before you reach the bridge, look up to the top of the hill in the direction of 1 o’clock, and you will see three of the four hay bales.
