A Rare Artistic Treasure Returns to the Spotlight—And Here's Where the Controversy Begins...
Imagine discovering a masterpiece that’s been missing for decades, its true significance hidden beneath layers of neglect and time. Now, picture that same artwork being carefully restored and displayed in one of Detroit’s most prominent new locations. This is precisely the journey of a remarkable sculpture by Harry Bertoia, a celebrated artist whose work was thought to be lost forever and who now finally earns its rightful place in the city’s vibrant artistic landscape.
This striking piece, created in 1970 for Flint’s Genesee Valley Center, features two expansive 'clouds' of interconnected metal rods, affectionately called 'sunlit straw.' These intricate forms once hung gracefully in the mall's multistory atrium, serving as a centerpiece of mid-century modern design. However, after the mall changed hands and underwent renovations in 1980, the sculpture disappeared from public view, its location unknown and its condition forgotten.
Fast forward to 2017: the sculpture was serendipitously uncovered in a neglected basement of Southfield’s Northland Mall, in a state of disrepair and seemingly forgotten. Recognizing its importance, General Motors stepped forward with a clear vision—restore it and showcase it in the new headquarters of Hudson’s in Detroit. The process of resurrecting this artwork, however, was anything but straightforward.
According to Natalie Morath, GM’s lead archivist and curator, the effort involved meticulous work and a true labor of love. Handling a sculpture of such size and complexity, especially one stored away in underground conditions for years, posed unique challenges. Morath recalls encountering the sculpture in two separate, rough pieces—twisted and rusted, with little indication of how they fit together. Yet, thanks to confirmation from Celia Bertoia, Harry Bertoia’s daughter and head of the Bertoia Foundation, they knew it was a genuine Bertoia piece.
Celia and her team played a vital role throughout the restoration process. They recommended Michigan-based conservation specialists, Flatlanders, as the best choice for preserving Bertoia’s iconic metalwork. Luckily, these experts were nearby—saving the project from subsequent logistical nightmares. Celia expressed her excitement and pride about seeing her father’s work restored and appreciated once more.
Initially, GM investors considered installing this sculpture at their Technical Center in Warren, which already showcased another Bertoia artwork—his first commissioned piece from 1953. But the scale of the newly discovered sculpture proved too vast for that space. When the opportunity arose at Hudson’s, the team saw an ideal setting: a spacious, airy atrium that complemented the sculpture’s grandeur.
The installation was a true team effort. The construction team had to think creatively—to 'zip' open part of the building’s structure and maneuver the sculpture inside—then secure it by cable, from the internal balconies in the atrium. Morath describes the process as a full-team collaboration, reflecting the passion and dedication that made this possible.
For Morath, seeing the finished installation is a moment of pride. She calls this achievement a highlight in GM’s cultural stewardship, emphasizing that the company already curates impressive artwork, such as Alexander Calder’s water ballet fountain and a significant painting by Charles Scheeler. The Bertoia sculpture’s connection to both Hudson’s and GM adds a unique layer of local history—since Bertoia himself was deeply rooted in Detroit’s artistic circles, attending Cass Tech, College for Creative Studies, and Cranbrook, working alongside many prominent Detroit designers and artists.
Bertoia passed away in 1978 from lung cancer, but his legacy continues through his daughter Celia, who manages a foundation dedicated to preserving and promoting his work. She described the sculpture as incredibly significant—born from a collaboration with architects and art directors, intended to hang suspended in the open court of the mall. Its physical weight, estimated in tons, underscores how monumental this work truly is.
When the sculpture was discovered, Celia fondly recalls her initial reaction: a mixture of curiosity and amazement. She explains that, after studying the photos, she confirmed it was an authentic Bertoia piece—and one that, despite being bent and rusted, held immense artistic value. The process of conservation involved professional cleaning, repairs, and careful handling to restore its original splendor.
Today, seeing this sculpture displayed publicly at Hudson’s is not just a moment of artistic triumph; it’s a story about rediscovery, community effort, and the importance of preserving cultural treasures. Celia and the Bertoia Foundation hope to see more hidden masterpieces emerge from obscurity, restoring their rightful place in our shared history.
So, as we marvel at this revitalized artwork, one has to ask: Are we doing enough to find and save other forgotten sculptures and artworks tucked away in basements, warehouses, or abandoned sites? Or are some of our most valuable cultural assets fading into obscurity forever? Share your thoughts—do you believe more efforts should be made to uncover and protect these hidden treasures?
