Art education major Erin Baxley '01 FAA wanted to make massive ruby slippers and display them adjacent to Mumford House, the peeling white house near Temple Hoyne Buell Hall on the South Quad.

Baxley wanted to give her audience a lighthearted pause and "an opportunity to see artwork in a place where they are every day," she said.

"There was no personal meaning behind it," said Baxley of the slippers, which were massive replicas of those worn by the Wicked Witch of the East in the film "The Wizard of Oz."

Ruby slippers created by Erin Baxley peep out from beneath Mumford House.

The results sparkled. Baxley discovered not only an appreciation of the labor that goes into creating public art, but also the satisfaction of an appreciative audience, seeing many surprised smiles and hearing many compliments about her slippers.

"I loved it," said Baxley. "I was really, really pleased with how it came out."

That pleasure wouldn't surprise Frances Kuo, an assistant professor in the Department of Natural Resources and Environmental Sciences. Kuo has found links between the provision of green space in communities and improved safety, community relations, work habits, economic progress and even happiness.

"We often think of public spaces as leftovers," Kuo said. Actually, public spaces "are really important; they are the lifeblood of community. ... And so investing in those spaces really does make sense.

"Art, obviously, is one way to accomplish that," she said.

Arthur Wu, a junior in electrical engineering at the University, took the "Art in Public Places" class as a freshman. He found a way to use a common space to express a common freshman sentiment: homesickness.

Wu couldn't afford to travel home to New Jersey as often as he would have liked. Thinking of the cows on the South Farms, one day he joked to his friends that he would steal one and ride it home. The thought got him wondering: If cowboys ride horses, what should the rider of a cow be called? Thus, "Horseboy" was born.

Wu went through many sketches and a model of "Horseboy" before he developed the method of interlocking cardboard pieces together like Legos. Though Wu put in an estimated 16 sheets of cardboard, $136 and 120 hours of work to create the final product, the reactions his sculpture received on the Quad and in Krannert made the labor worth it. "People said, 'Wow, I never actually thought about the word "cowboy,"'" Wu said.

Sachin Joshi, MARCH '02 FAA, also found a way to express himself through public art. Though he's not a musician, Joshi often finds his emotions reflected in music. His sculpture, "The Music Within," created a golden symphony of curves that Joshi called an "abstraction of how music soothes you."

Arthur Wu's "Horseboy" surveys the open range of the Quad.

For Joshi, public art is a way of making people think about their environment. "It's a way of getting more people together. It might be a way of bringing more people together," he said. "Being an architect, I see it as part of my profession."

Some students' dedication to completing the project has helped them beyond the semester. Joshi included his piece in his portfolio, as did Flairty. Martens knows of a student who, when asked about her interests in a job interview, mentioned her project. She was hired. Another student was commissioned to design a landscape by a viewer who saw her piece.

The class certainly helped Amy Larimer '99 FAA, MARCH '01 FAA, prepare for her career in architecture. Larimer had one of the most politicized projects in Martens' memory — and Martens has been teaching at the University since 1981.

As a freshman at the University, Larimer remembered how the Alma Mater was "such a big deal," but as the years went by, the sculpture faded into her scenery, unnoticed. Taking the public art class in the final semester of her master's degree in architecture, Larimer wanted to refresh her own and others' wonder at the structure.

She also wanted to use the cardboard as what it is most often meant for — packaging. By covering the Alma Mater with form-fitted cardboard, she sought to give it a rebirth. "I wanted to use the cardboard in a very honest way," Larimer said. "With packaging, there's a mystery of what lies inside."

Though her goals seemed simple, the process to get her sculpture made was significantly more difficult. The head of the UI Special Events Committee initially denied Larimer permission to cover the sculpture. She took her case to the committee in person, citing examples of professional public art. The committee agreed her project was interesting, said Larimer, but was unwilling to grant approval. Larimer then presented the project to Associate Vice Chancellor Clarence Shelley, who OK'd it.

In the end, the complicated permission process to display "Alma Mater Insum," or "Fostering Mother Contained," helped Larimer understand the balance between artistic intent, bureaucratic process and public interpretation. It also illustrated people's sensitivity to the environment around them. "I think that's what makes art interesting, especially public art," Larimer said.

Vespermann understands the stress — and the reward. The "Oklahoma City [memorial] was not without its controversy," he said. "There's no way in one design you can address everyone's need."

However, public artists can succeed in making the attempt. Trying to address community and individual needs, spark thought and discussion, and enliven an outdoor environment are goals and achievements Martens sees in abundance in her students' works. "Every year it amazes me the daring part of these students," said Martens. "They really struggle, they question their abilities, and they get through it."

For Larimer, that struggle mimics the goal of public art itself. "I think public art ... [makes] people think, and I think that's what's most important — to challenge people," she said.

For students in Christiane Martens' "Art in Public Places" class, the last challenge can be one of the most difficult: giving up their cardboard creations.

"They become attached to it, that it's really hard for them to let go," said Martens. Many don't. Flairty and Joshi have their small-scale models displayed in their homes. Though Wu's "Horseboy" couldn't ride himself home, Wu did manage to get his cow to New Jersey — or at least its head, which he sawed off and brought home to his parents' house. (They were a little unnerved until he explained.)

For Baxley's giant ruby slippers, there's no place like home. "I still have the slippers," she said. "They're stored in my brother's garage."