Denver International Airport (DIA) is known for many things, but perhaps none so visually arresting as the towering blue horse that greets visitors. Officially named “Mustang,” but more commonly known as “Blucifer” by locals, this 32-foot-tall fiberglass sculpture commands attention with its powerful rearing stance and piercing red eyes that glow against the Colorado sky. For travelers and Denverites alike, the Blue Mustang is more than just art; it’s a symbol that evokes curiosity, debate, and a touch of local legend.
Stacey Stegman, DIA’s senior vice president of communications, marketing and customer service, aptly describes the sculpture’s role, stating, “We have this fierce blue mustang that we look at as kind of a protector of travelers, guarding this airport.” Indeed, the Blue Mustang has become an intrinsic part of the DIA experience, standing sentinel amidst the bustling airport activity and the swirling rumors that often accompany DIA’s unique character. Beyond the airport’s practical function, it’s also a place steeped in intrigue, fueled by conspiracy theories ranging from Freemason involvement to supposed underground UFO hangars and apocalyptic symbolism embedded in its art. Amongst these theories, the Blue Mustang, alongside other artworks like murals and gargoyles within the airport, only adds to the mystique.
Adam Horst, a resident of Aurora, captures a common sentiment towards the artwork, calling it “a fun, weird welcome to the state.” He notes, “The mustang is very Colorado, and then it takes a hard left turn with the red eyes and the blue.” This “hard left turn” is precisely what piques the interest of so many, prompting questions about the sculpture’s origins, its distinctive features, and the story of its creation.
The Tragic Tale of the Mustang’s Creator
The striking figure of the Blue Mustang inevitably leads to questions about its genesis and the artist behind it. Luis Jiménez, a New Mexico sculptor, was commissioned to create this monumental piece, and his story is inextricably linked with the artwork itself. Horst’s curiosity extends to the artist, specifically “what exactly happened with the artist and the ultimate demise of him.” This question touches upon a somber yet crucial aspect of the Blue Mustang’s history: the tragic death of its creator during its construction.
It’s a stark truth that the creation of the Blue Mustang came at a devastating cost. Luis Jiménez passed away in 2006 at the age of 65 in a workshop accident directly related to the sculpture. While working on the massive artwork, a section of the Mustang detached, severing an artery in his leg, leading to his untimely death due to blood loss. The sculpture is constructed in three primary parts: the head, the torso, and the hindquarters. At the time of the accident, Jiménez had reportedly completed the head section.
Despite this tragedy, Jiménez’s studio persevered, completing the Blue Mustang posthumously. After numerous delays and even legal disputes during its fifteen-year journey from commission to completion, the sculpture was finally unveiled at DIA on February 11, 2008. This history adds a layer of poignancy to the Blue Mustang, transforming it from a mere artwork into a memorial, imbued with the spirit and dedication of its creator, as well as the shadow of his sacrifice.
Unpacking the Mystique: The Red Eyes and Blue Hue
Beyond the dramatic backstory, the Blue Mustang’s aesthetic choices are equally compelling, particularly its glowing red eyes. Michael “Gunner” Gunstanson from Lakewood, Colorado, humorously inquired, “who changes the light bulbs in the eyes of the big blue horse?” dispelling any notions of supernatural power sources. In reality, the piercing red eyes are illuminated by LED flood lights, maintained by the airport’s electrical team, requiring only infrequent changes in the past seven years.
Far from being demonic, the red eyes are, in fact, a heartfelt tribute to Jiménez’s father. Born in El Paso, Texas in 1940, Jiménez grew up immersed in the world of neon signs, apprenticing at his father’s neon shop from a young age. There, he honed skills in welding and painting, foundational elements that would later define his artistic style. Susan Jiménez, his widow, recounts stories of his deep connection to his father and the neon shop, recalling his hands marked by the day’s labor, a testament to his hands-on upbringing. His father believed in learning through doing, instilling in Jiménez a profound respect for craftsmanship.
This early exposure to neon, with its vibrant colors and glowing lights, deeply influenced Jiménez’s artistic vision. The red eyes of the Blue Mustang serve as a direct homage to his father’s neon artistry, a personal touch embedded within this massive public sculpture.
Jiménez’s artistic journey was multifaceted. He pursued architecture and then fine art at the University of Texas, further refining his craft in Mexico City and New York. However, his hands-on approach remained central to his process, even as he embraced fiberglass in the 1960s. He aimed to maintain a process akin to “a blue-collar process,” as he described in a Smithsonian American Art Museum video, seeking to distance himself from what he perceived as overly refined “art processes.” The Smithsonian holds several of his works, including “Vaquero,” a sculpture of a cowboy on a blue bucking horse, showcasing his recurring themes and color palettes.
Susan Jiménez also shared an anecdote that adds another layer to the “eyes” interpretation. One night, alone at home, Luis was startled by two glowing eyes in his living room. Initially fearing an intruder, he soon realized the source was Black Jack, their horse and the very model for the Mustang, who had somehow wandered inside. This personal experience, blurring the lines between fear and familiarity, may subtly resonate within the sculpture’s intense gaze. Regardless, Susan firmly states, “the eyes do not have any evil intent whatsoever.”
The striking blue color of the Mustang is another deliberate and significant choice. Dale Kronkright, head of conservation at the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe, New Mexico, highlights Jiménez’s masterful use of color. He explains that Jiménez’s sculptures were characterized by layers of color, often “no less than six different colors, each airbrushed separately adding a slightly different tone.”
Kronkright, who worked on the preservation of several Jiménez pieces, including the Mustang, points out the artist’s frequent use of metallic flakes, creating the shimmering effect reminiscent of lowrider cars. While some critics found this style too flamboyant, others recognized it as a powerful representation of the Chicano and working-class experience in the American West, reflecting Jiménez’s own heritage. Kronkright interprets the Blue Mustang as “defiance, this absolute expression of identity, having a place, standing strong, being fiery, being gigantic.”
The sheer scale of the Blue Mustang, being Jiménez’s largest work, presented significant engineering challenges. Kronkright recalls a conversation where Jiménez humorously remarked, “You know, this work is gonna kill me,” a darkly ironic foreshadowing of the tragedy to come.
Susan Jiménez emphasizes the importance of completing the Mustang after her husband’s death, meticulously using his original paint formulas. “It was his life’s work,” she says. Commissioned in 1992, the Mustang occupied a significant portion of his career as a mature artist. Early sketches even explored colors like yellow and pink, but the final blue hue was inspired by Black Jack, the blue Appaloosa horse that served as the sculpture’s model.
Enduring Controversy and Public Reception
From its inception, the Blue Mustang’s bold color and intense red eyes sparked controversy. A Facebook page titled “DIA’s Heinous Blue Mustang Has Got to Go” emerged, reflecting public dissent. However, Colleen Donohoe, DIA’s public art manager, acknowledges the silver lining of controversy, noting, “There’s a number of public art collections that people don’t talk about, so we’re lucky to have that aspect.” The fact that the Blue Mustang continues to generate discussion, whether positive or negative, keeps it relevant and engaging in the public sphere.
Criticisms range from claims that “he scares our children” to humorous suggestions to repaint it in Denver Broncos orange. DIA’s public art policy dictates that artworks remain on display for at least five years post-installation, a period that the Mustang has long surpassed.
Despite the initial outcry and occasional vandalism, the Blue Mustang has not only endured public scrutiny but also the harsh Colorado elements – rain, hail, and strong winds. Conservators consider its exposed location an extreme environment for art. Denver has insured the sculpture for $2 million, ensuring its continued resilience.
DIA’s Stacey Stegman believes that any attempt to remove the Mustang now would be met with significant public opposition. Michael Gunstanson jokingly offered to “lead the charge” against removal, to which Stegman playfully responded, “You and I will lay on the ground together. We’ll chain ourselves to Mustang and he’s not going anywhere.” This lighthearted exchange underscores the Blue Mustang’s cemented place in Denver’s cultural landscape. It has become more than just a sculpture; it’s a landmark, a conversation starter, and an enduring, if somewhat controversial, symbol of Denver International Airport.
