Les Bruning Sculpture

Epilogue: The short life of a piece of not-so-permanent art

The two-story sculpture towered over visitors at the County-City Building for three decades. Then it disappeared -- from sight and from memory. The vandals found a way in by climbing to the roof, scaling down a courtyard tree and shattering an unprotected window. One of them picked up an old chair.

The county had used the old Naval Reserve building for storage for years, filling it with cast-off furniture, fluorescent tubes, Lancaster Manor bed frames, the original courthouse cornerstone.

And two dozen feet of walnut, aluminum and a young artist's ambition.

"The Joining of Two Forces on a Common Plane" had towered over visitors at the County-City Building for nearly 30 years, spanning the two-story atrium from the ceiling down to the floor, near the escalators.

A Wesleyan junior had won a sculpture design contest -- and the $3,000 commission -- to build a piece of permanent art for the building, which opened in 1969 and brought the city of Lincoln and Lancaster County (the two forces) under the same roof (the common plane).

At the time, the piece was a little optimistic. The city and county were grudging roommates, setting their own schedules, controlling their own elevators, marking their own territories.

"It did stand for county-city coordination," said Linda Wilson, a former city councilwoman and a member of the County-City Building Commission. "Which is odd, because it didn't happen at the time."

Still, the piece catapulted the artist. The minister's son from Greeley (and Harrison and Wisner) spent his commission studying at the University of Graz in Austria before returning to Nebraska and what would become a lifelong career as a sculptor and teacher. And, over the years, the two forces grew closer together -- an interlocal agreement here, a shared service there -- but the piece of permanent art wasn't so permanent. When the city and county moved next door in the late '90s, the sculpture didn't move with them. The county searched for a new home, shopping "Two Forces" to the senior center, libraries, the airport. No takers. So workers dismantled the walnut arms, the 6-foot disc, the aluminum spine -- and hauled it all off to the old Naval Reserve building on North 10th Street.

* * *

Earlier this summer, a Journal Star reader mailed a 14-year-old story back to the newspaper. "Government seeks home for 2-story art" detailed the county's attempts to get someone to take the sculpture.

Eleanor Benes of Raymond wrote: "I always wondered what happened to the sculpture that had been in the City-County Building. Did it find a new home?" The artist? Hadn't seen it in years.
"I don't know what happened to it," Les Bruning said. "Same thing that happens to a lot of other projects. They just disappear through lack of interest or the right people being busy at the time." The county property manager didn't immediately know where to find it, either.
"I think it's still in storage somewhere," said Don Killeen, who had tried to score a new home for "Two Forces" in 1998. But he promised to find out.

* * *

More than 40 years ago, Les Bruning's mom mailed him a newspaper clipping about Lincoln and Lancaster County's public art contest. The college student waited until just before deadline to send his entry.

He pitched a 2-inch-thick aluminum rod planted in the floor and held by a bracket two stories up. Finely finished walnut arms sweeping out from both ends, meeting in the middle to cradle a disc. A clean, sleek design inspired, in part, by his interest in the Russian constructivist Naum Gabo. He made a 6-foot model for a student art show. Then he built the real thing in the basement of a home near 49th and St. Paul streets -- he called it the social action house -- next to First United Methodist.

He had to work around the massive furnace in the middle of the floor.
The best part about winning: His sculpture instructor at Wesleyan entered the contest, too.
And $3,000 was real money 40 years ago, especially to a student.
"That summer of '69," he says. "I turned 21, saw France and Germany and Austria and Czechoslovakia. What a great summer."

* * *

The county had fortified the Naval Reserve building, locking it tight and boarding up the outside-facing windows. But there was a courtyard, and a tree that had sprung up, and that's all the vandals needed.
"They broke everything that was breakable," said Fred Little, facilities manager for city-county property management.
The wooden cabinets. The boxes and boxes of fluorescents. One of them took an old chair to "Two Forces," beating it to little bits. "They literally trashed it. The biggest piece left might have been a foot."
It wasn't the first crime or the last. There were multiple break-ins, graffiti, a fire. At some point, the county simply stopped using the building for storage, Little said. "I don't know how many times we turned in police reports of neighborhood kids getting in and trashing stuff." And the whereabouts of "Two Forces?" "I think it did go in a Dumpster when the guys cleaned out the building."

* * *

Linda Wilson, former councilwoman: "It's too bad. It was supposed to signify county-city government, but it was really large, and there was nothing for it in the new building."

Don Killeen, the county property manager: "It would have been nice if someone had been willing to take it." "Oh, my goodness," said Eleanor Benes, who sent the letter wondering what became of the piece. And the artist: "It's a sad tale, isn't it?"

But Les Bruning isn't necessarily angry. "I've been around long enough that I'm always more disappointed than pissed off." He hadn't seen the piece for years. He hadn't thought much about it, either. But between the time the Journal Star asked him what happened to it, and the time it told him -- a few days later -- he'd thought about trying to find it and donating it to Wesleyan. "Two Forces" would be worth up to $40,000 these days, he said. "I should have been more proactive. But I'm always more interested in what the next one will look like."

* * *

And in the 40 years since, he built "Two Forces" in a Lincoln basement, Les Bruning has made dozens of next ones. "I consider that my start date, 1969. I've probably involved myself in some kind of sculpture every week since that time." His pieces now fill businesses and homes and public spaces in Lincoln and Omaha and elsewhere -- San Francisco, Chicago. He has work in O'Donnell Auditorium at Wesleyan. He helped make the King Kong perched over a restaurant near North 27th Street and Interstate 80. He built the "O! Dude" that looks down on Omaha's Old Market -- one of 30 or so pieces on public display in that city. He has a crowded studio and a business in the shadow of Omaha's new ballpark. His series of smaller pieces -- human heads crushed and split by fastballs -- got airtime on ESPN during the College World Series.

He recently cleared a space at his favorite, sunny spot at the long table that dominates his studio. He found a clean sheet of paper and sharpened a pencil. His strokes were light at first, then bolder as he brought "Two Forces" back to life. Drawing from his memory, he produced a sketch that matched -- almost perfectly -- the photo that ran in the newspaper in 1998.

Les Bruning is a teacher, too. He was on the faculty at Bellevue University from 1973 until his retirement this year. He's used to critiquing student art.
What about the student-produced "Two Forces?" It's a strong design, he said, and if he were making it now, he'd probably do some things differently. But no, he wouldn't want to change it. Even if he had the chance, even if it still existed.
"Everything you make exists for a time and place. But the time is different now, and the place is different."