Monolith on the move again -- this time to the shop for repairs

The creators of Seattle's once-mysterious monolith reclaimed the 350-pound sculpture Friday, happy to have it back but distressed that they had to reveal their identity when they went to Green Lake to take it home.

The sculpture has appeared, disappeared and reappeared like magic several times this week. It first graced the cityscape on New Year's Eve at Magnuson Park. Sitting peacefully atop Kite Hill, it bore a striking resemblance to the monolith in the film "2001: A Space Odyssey" and inspired mystical pondering.

NOTE: This article has been updated since it was originally published in the newspaper.

It disappeared just as mysteriously Wednesday, only to reappear a day later on Duck Island in Green Lake.

It was at that point that the sculpture's creators, a loosely knit group of artists and writers who call themselves "Some People," came forward to acknowledge ownership.

Spokesman Caleb Schaber, 27, part of a core group of about 15 members of Some People, said the plan now is to do minor repair work and return the monolith to Magnuson Park, where it will be mounted more securely in an attempt to prevent future kidnappings.

Schaber said the group wanted the sculpture to be an anonymous gift to the city, but the pranksters who moved it to Green Lake spoiled that. Still, he's glad the city appears willing to let Some People display the artwork.

Where did that come from? A heron appears to be studying a mysterious traveling sculpture that has turned up on Green Lake's Duck Island.
Paul Joseph Brown/P-I

After the monolith showed up at Green Lake, Christopher Williams, Seattle's parks and recreation manager for northwest Seattle, stood in the midday drizzle. As the curious began congregating on the shore's edge, Williams joked that the best solution would be to charge the public for the view.

The parks department has spoken to police, who said an investigation has not been initiated.

"We can't figure out what laws (have been) broken," Williams said. Although it is discouraged, visiting the island at the northwest end of the lake is not illegal.

The feathered inhabitants of the island, which is an unofficial bird sanctuary, seemed unruffled by the monolith and onlookers. Ducks quacked and a bald eagle perched in a tree's bare branches high above it all. A lone heron seemed drawn to the sculpture, which provided nearly perfect camouflage for the gun-metal-gray bird.

How the sculpture, which some argue is not technically a monolith because it is not made of rock, got to the island is a mystery.

It is suspected to have left Magnuson Park and arrived at the island at night by boat. But the sculpture and boat would have to have been carried to Green Lake's edge, because there is no public boat launch.

A visit to Duck Island revealed few clues. Smudged, muddy footprints were visible on the shore, but the number of people who delivered the monolith was unclear.

Sitting about 15 feet from water's edge, slightly tipped in a bed of fallen leaves, the monolith bore no obvious signature.

Before "Some People" came forward to claim responsibility Thursday night, local artists said they were clueless as to who made it.

Gerard Tsutakawa, who created Safeco Field's famous metal "Mitt," had no idea.

"I'm just following the news," Tsutakawa said. "It's a lot of fun. I like to see more interest in sculpture."

Daryl Smith, who has a studio at the Fremont Fine Arts Bronze Foundry, also pleaded ignorant.

"We're all in favor of it, but we're not responsible for it," he said.

Smith, who sculpted Capitol Hill's life-size bronze statue of Jimi Hendrix, predicted that once the artist was identified, the interest generated by the monolith could help his or her career.

"Artists have a hard time getting attention. Sometimes they have to jump up and down," he said.

Or have their art moved to the middle of a lake without their permission.