Mining the West: Primary Elements

In the early 1970s, many mining companies were looking for creative ideas to remediate their lands as they braced for increased federal regulation. Robert Smithson, hearing a rumor Bingham Canyon might soon be designated a Superfund site, sent Kennecott Copper a proposal. His proposed Bingham Canyon Reclamation Project, tentatively titled Project for an Open Pit with Lake, would have hugely surpassed the scale of Spiral Jetty.

Smithson proposed placing a massive concrete disk in the circular bottom of the pit, with four dividing concrete rises curving inward toward the center. During heavy rains, the disk would collect the mine’s polluted runoff, turning the concrete rises into jetties reaching into the center of a pond. From above, it would evoke a whirlpool. The collected water would be the most visually striking aspect of the artwork—a vibrant, unearthly yellow due to acid rock drainage, known to miners as “yellow boy.” The viewer, rotating at the bottom of the pit, would, turning, be unable to turn away.

Smithson’s proposal strikes me as no better or worse than any other option—damaged sites must be remediated somehow when their corporations leave the scene. Returning a structure as vast and dangerous as the Bingham Canyon Mine “to nature” seems like a laughable proposition. Smithson’s proposal acknowledged both the permanence of the site and, most dangerously, its impermanence—a structure in need of preservation for safety reasons. (The art world, after all, is incredibly good at preservation.) Currently, the mine’s rapidly deteriorating slopes are managed by Rio Tinto, who has a legal and economic stake in the mine’s viability as a bounded entity. What happens when it leaves? Who supervises the mine’s future, or lets it collapse? At least Smithson’s proposal feels honest.

In March 2019, the State of New York filed a civil lawsuit against the Sackler family, whose aggressive marketing of OxyContin helped manufacture the opioid crisis in the U.S. The Sackler family had donated millions to major art institutions such as the Guggenheim and the Metropolitan Museums, using, the lawsuit alleged, “their ill-gotten wealth to cover up their misconduct with a philanthropic campaign intending to whitewash their decades-long success in profiting at New Yorkers’ expense.”¹¹ A few months later, the Whitney Museum of Art faced protests over the board membership of vice-chairman Warren Kanders, CEO of weapons-manufacturer Safariland, whose tear gas was being fired at asylum-seekers at the U.S.-Mexico border. He stepped down in the middle of the Whitney Biennial, called by some the Tear Gas Biennial.

The wealthy have long used philanthropy to obscure wrongdoing at a scale not possible for the average citizen. They are typically successful. When oil magnate John D. Rockefeller tried to establish a charitable foundation in 1909, then-president Theodore Roosevelt refused, saying: “No amount of charity in spending such fortunes can compensate in any way for the misconduct in acquiring them.” Today, the front page of the Rockefeller Foundation’s website touts its support for “An Inclusive Green Energy Transition”.

Kennecott Copper ignored Smithson’s proposal in the 1970s; they weren’t interested in closing down. In December 2020, Rio Tinto announced a $1.5 billion investment to extend mining operations at Bingham Canyon through 2032. The massive creatures go on walking.

¹¹ Weber, Jasmine. “New York State Launches Opioid Lawsuit, Naming Sacklers and Purdue Pharma.” Hyperallergic, 28 Mar. 2019.