Pull up a chair and sit back to admire The Yearling* – an enormous red seat with a life-sized pinto pony perched on top of it. Nicknamed Scout, the gorgeous gelding offers an impressive sense of scale to the piece as he peers wistfully over the vast plains of downtown Denver.
I’ve got a nagging suspicion he’s going to gallop his way into your heart!
At 21 feet in height, The Yearling is the mane attraction of the Denver Public Library, and was built by the incomparable Donald Lipski. Proving he’s no one trick pony, Land of the Bigs fans will remember him as the provocateur behind Spot the Dalmatian.
Not surprisingly, this very unique Big Thing has been mired in controversy. Back in 1993, Donald was asked to build a statue for a new school in New York. Donald being Donald, he didn’t hold back.
“So I designed this sculpture, and my idea about it was that kids are really interested in scale,” Donald told a reporter from Westword, who must’ve been on the edge of her seat. “Understandably so. They’re little people in a world of big people, and their literature is full of scale references – Alice in Wonderland, Gulliver’s Travels, James and the Giant Peach.”
It would be-hoove you to read those tomes if you want to understand the true meaning of this horsey.
“I had this idea about a horse on some sort of prominent level, looking out. It just seemed like a narrative; there’s something heroic and contemplative about it,” Donald whinnied. “I then came up with the idea of the chair and making it look like a child’s chair, which was easy to do by putting the hand grip in the back.
“Everybody loved it,” chuckled Donald. “Or at least everybody I was talking to loved it!”
Tragically, it wasn’t long before Scout seemed headed for the glue factory.
*Please, please, please do not actually do this. There are many drug-addled homeless people hanging around the library, and they will steal your Hello Kitty lipgloss as you’re stretched out on the sidewalk, staring in open-mouthed wonder at The Yearling. Trust me, I know.
The Colt of Personality
The Yearling was a hit with the kiddies of New York City. But local fuddy duddies didn’t feel the same way. Concerned the sculpture would encourage children to indulge in horseplay, they demanded its removal.
And then the Dominicans got involved.
“For the Dominican people, the horse is a symbol of oppression, because the conquistadors had horses,” Donald lamented. “Everybody loved the chair and wanted me to put something else on it instead of a horse. They wanted a child, a rainbow…. None of the ideas interested me.”
There were long faces all around when the school board decided the giant chair and horse had to go. Fortunately, The Yearling wasn’t put out to pasture, and Donald took back ownership of his masterpiece. In November of 1997, Scout and his big bench trotted up the road to Central Park.
The sculpture soon ran a-foal of a streetwise youth gang, however, and after a few months Donald decided it was time for The Yearling to go west. Well, life is peaceful there, and there is lots of open air.
The good people of Denver, Colorado were looking to add some culture to their fine city, so they ponied up the money for The Yearling and plonked it in front of the library. But hold your horses, because there’s no happy ending just yet.
I’ve been through the desert on a horse with a chair frame
Scout – poor, kind, sensitive Scout – was fried alive by the harsh Colorado sun. He was swapped out for a bronze version, and the original was given to Denver’s Mare John Hickenlooper as a gift. Wowsers, a present like that must be as rare as rocking horse droppings!
John kept the dashing chap in his office for years. Scout v1.0 even joined him in the State Capitol when he became Governor. John probably didn’t a scrap of work done the whole time; he’d just sit there in his equestrian cap, looking at Scout with bedroom eyes and neighing quietly to himself.
When the guv’nor moved on, he parted ways with his bestie. Scout moved to the Denver Coliseum and Mr Hickenlooper, the last I heard, was roaming free in the Rockies with a brace of wild broncos. A short sentence.
As for Donald Lipski, he’s just happy that The Yearling finally has a place to call home.
“I wanted to give kids something that would really be a cause for wonder,” he reflected. And that comes straight from the horse’s mouth!
If I could turn back equine
I’d give it all to you!
Sadly, The Yearling is locked away behind a wrought-iron fence to stop overzealous Bigsthusiasts from riding Scout – or Venezuelan gangs from stealing the whole thing.
Of course, I considered climbing over the fence. Scrambling up one of the chair’s legs. Hoisting myself atop Scout for a memorable photo. But then I remembered I was in Denver – where laws are really heavily enforced and criminal activity isn’t tolerated in any way – so I thought better of it.
Without being able to get up close and personal with this Big, it’s hard to appreciate its scale in the way Donald Lipski intended. We must stand and admire The Yearling from a safe distance. Unfortunately, this is what we’re saddled with.
On a brighter note, as I was posing for these happy snaps, I spotted a statuesque homeless chap in a dark wig and fishnet stockings sashaying his way towards me.
“Excuse me, friend,” I cajoled him, flashing my award-winning grin. “But I’m here to see The Big Chair.”
“Oh, my mistake, Bigs,” he splurted, wiping gruel from his square jaw. “I thought you said you were here to see The Big Cher!”
