The first time I saw The Broken Kilometer by Walter De Maria who died last week, was around 25 years ago. I knew not what to make of it other than as an oddity called "art."
Each time I've seen it since, I've taken greater pleasure and appreciation from it. I also came to love it's hidden-in-plain-sight existence among Soho storefronts. Most days, thousands of sidewalk shoppers pass it by, with no idea of what's behind the door at 393 West Broadway. Unlike most things, I imagine that may never change.
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