"Dad once asked me, 'What happened to those car springs?' And I said, 'Well dad, I chopped them up and made a sculpture out of them.'" But Wayne preferred metal to merino (that's a sheep joke), and began making art from old farm equipment, cement mixers, and anything else that he could get his hands on. "The only vegetarian rancher in the state, I think," he says. Wayne learned ironworking from his dad, went to college, came home and started a sheep ranch. During the summer months, when the wind isn't too bad, Wayne hangs out at the shack - giving tours to the curious and adding his insights and opinions. From here, he can survey two of his creations - a huge yellow hand sticking straight up out of the sod, and the 60-foot-tall Egyptian cow head, which has become a landmark along the interstate. Wayne met us in a small shack perched on a wind-swept hill of prairie grass overlooking I-90.
Wayne Porter inside the bull head with crucified demon, 2008. But you look at Wayne and wonder how he can make things this big and not seriously injure himself. Liggett and the yarn-spinning banter of George Daynor. Wayne Porter was moved to create giant metal sculptures for the edification of interstate motorists. But as it turns out, you can easily get the artist's story - because he's still hanging around at the bottom of the giant bull head When we first saw pictures of the startling giant "bull head" along a South Dakota stretch of I-90, it had all the makings of another mysterious, out-of-context landmark. A cryptic statue alone in a field, with no button to push for a recorded explanation. Folk art without intelligible labels and with no living creator. Over countless miles, staring at America's strange sights, we're used to the sad fact that some places will never be fully explained, or even understood.
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