Ozymandias, King of Amarillo.

Rising 24 feet and 34 feet into the air (28 feet and 38 feet if the 4 feet base is added) just south of Amarillo are two bodiless, gigantic statues of legs from an “ancient” monument – or what is evidently left of the monument. The subject of this work of art is Ramesses II, aka Ramesses The Great, aka Ozymandias, a name given to him by the Greeks. He, Ozymandias, was the third Egyptian pharaoh of the nineteenth dynasty who reigned between 1279 B.C. to 1213 B.C. He was considered to be one, or perhaps, the greatest pharaoh Egypt ever saw, which prompted his successors and Egyptians to refer to him as “the great ancestor.” He filled Egypt’s Valley of Kings with monuments of himself; monuments which later became ruins, ruins which inspired the sonnet “Ozymandias” by the English Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley. This poem was first published in 1818:

I met a traveler from an antique land,

Who said: Two vast and trunk less legs of stone…

And on the pedestal these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings.

The Ozymandias statue, which was commissioned by Amarillo’s “patron saint” of quirky art, Stanley Marsh 3, is actually only 20 years old. It was commissioned in 1994 but finished in 1996. However, it was made to look like the 4,500 years old Egyptian ruin of Ramses II. Amarillo-based sculptor Lightnin’ McDuff fell in love with the idea of creating the Ozymandias statue after Mr. Marsh introduced him to the poem (of the same name) by Shelley which, according to McDuff, happens to be his (Stanley Marsh’s) favorite poem as Stanley stated himself in a documentary by the Dallas-based documentary filmmaker Todd Kent. The film captures Marsh saying “Now that’s my favorite poem because it’s about the futility of building monuments and I build monuments.”

The statue itself was made from concrete but made to resemble sandstone so as to appear as if it has suffered through the harshness of time (and weather, especially the harshness of the Amarillo area). McDuff started working on the statue in 1994 but would not complete the project till 1996 due to uncontrollable challenges that hindered the pace of his wok. In an interview with Reporting Texas, Mcduff stated that there were times, on the prairie, when the wind almost blew him off his scaffold while he was trying to work on the statue.

According to many sources, Stanley Marsh 3 was a true prankster when it comes to art. He died in 2014. He commissioned several art works in that same unusual, joking fashion. I presume he believed art should not be so serious at all times and we should be able to see it from a fun and playful perspective. Relatively, I would say that is a good take on the subject of art, especially in an area where art was not very popular and is still struggling to thrive. His commission of the “Ozymandias” statue was no different from his usual playfulness, more of which can also be seen through the three writings (false claims) on the side of the statue; the first states that “the legs are the ruins and inspiration for Shelley’s poem,” the second claims that the “shattered visage” Shelley mentioned in his poem (which was never created by McDuff) was destroyed as a casualty due to the rivalry between Amarillo and Lubbock (a town almost 2 hours south of Amarillo). Lastly, the last text claims that the visage (which does not exist) is now in the Amarillo Museum of Natural History (which, also, does not exist).

It is apparent that the statue was conceived purely out of humor; it is a monument built to address the futility of monuments as conveyed by Shelley in his poem. But you cannot expect less from a man (Stanley Marsh) who has been described as a “subversive genius and a foolish eccentric” (weirdus.com). However, as jokingly as it may have been conceived, one cannot but help examine its aesthetic and its influence on Amarillo and what it was influenced by. Take for instance, in September 2013 when the acclaimed show “ breaking bad” aired its “Ozymandias” episode. It cannot be denied that it (amongst other media attention) helped push the statue into the spotlight and made it more popular and therefore bringing more attention to the town of Amarillo itself. More so, the statue’s terrible placement – it lurks deep into the side of the road and almost hides under an overpass bridge- became immaterial, as many travelers who may have never enjoyed driving through Amarillo began to pay attention to the roadside – or even drive out of their way through Amarillo- to see its “monumental” attraction. The popularity, I assume, also helped pushed the interest for art into the heart of the locals (although not enough) and made them become more aware of their environment.

However, unlike its “ancestor” in the Egyptian desert, the Stanley Marsh monument/ruin has suffered a lot violation at the hand of pranksters. According to the article by Eva Molina for Reporting Texas in 2013, the sculptor Lightnin’ McDuff clarified that the sculpture was not really meant to be a tourist attraction, a thought which influenced where the statue itself was placed. It was constructed far from the side of the road with a barbwire fence around it in hopes that it will be less likely for people to desecrate it. Unfortunately, a lot of people did not share that same thought; as the statue that was made as a joke has since been tormented by jokers. From its toenails being painted or a pair of socks painted on it, amongst other things, what is left of the pharaoh’s legs is always “the butt of a joke.”

Positively, in a town that suffers from a lack of heritage, the statue can be seen as something inherent to the town itself. It was commissioned locally and made by a sculptor living in the town. However, the question arises, can a town that does not care much for (or celebrate) the cultural heritage of her African population really claim to appreciate the cultural influence from an artwork influenced by an African heritage? Egypt is, of course, in Africa and whether or not Marsh or McDuff acknowledged this, it cannot be denied.

The town of Amarillo suffers from close-mindedness and racism, a suffering that, from my point of view, is hindering the growth and progression of the town itself. Ironically, the town has no problem displaying an artwork influenced by the heritage of a people from an entirely different part of the world. And even though a lot of Stanley Marsh’s commissioned works have been scrutinized over the years due to the controversy surrounding the man. The said controversies made a lot of the locals to call for the removal of most of Marsh’s commissioned art, which includes the more famous “Cadillac Ranch”, but the “Ozymandias” statue –well known to have been commissioned by Marsh and sitting on a land owned by him- has never really suffered the same fate as the other works (Molina 2013).

Why? Perhaps in an attempt to acquire more layers of heritage, the town decided to overlook what influenced the work itself or maybe the work created a want in the town to expand its cultural heritage and become more inclusive? I say the former. As I have come to find out, most people in the town do not know who Ozymandias is and there is even less care for the influence the pharaoh has on anything around them or how it should be able to enact any type of change. It would seem as long as there is something to fill the boring landscape, the town’s citizens are content. They do not really care about where it came from or what layers of heritage it represents. But whether or not it is known or acknowledged, the Stanley Marsh statue should be appreciated not only for its quirkiness but also for its effort in expanding the diverse cultural heritage of the Amarillo area, which includes many citizens who claim African roots.