Past Imperfect: The Floor Show at History Colorado

When the History Colorado Center opened at 1200 Broadway on April 28, 2012, ten years ago last Thursday, the $110 million museum boasted many marvels, including a huge terrazzo map of the state as it would look from 400 miles up in space, inlaid in the floor of the giant atrium. But even from just four stories above, at the top of the David Tryba-designed building, Colorado artist Steven Weitzman's piece was stunning, with rivers, mountain ranges and other topography outlined in stone and recycled glass. Here and there, the map was studded with metal markers; pass over a spot while riding on one of the center's newfangled, steampunk-y time machines, and you'd get a story.

Sadly, the time machines broke down early and were soon taken off the floor — first out into the lobby, then out to the junk heap when they proved beyond repair. Now, even the metal markers are gone from the forty-by-sixty-foot map, which otherwise looks as pristine as ever — although the rivers are probably too wide to accurately depict today's drought conditions. Explains Jason Hanson, chief creative officer for History Colorado, "The landing spots for the time machines have been removed from the map by our talented exhibitions staff, who knew all the tricks to get them off without damaging the terrazzo."

And then Hanson shows he earned his title with this: "The time machines were brilliant pieces of technology that traveled regularly to Colorado’s past to bring us stories from our shared history. After millions of miles and years traveled, they earned a rest, and today they are enjoying their retirement."
If only the other snafus in Colorado's history could be erased as easily. But at least one other is gone: When the History Colorado Center opened, intruding into that stunning atrium was a clapboard structure meant to conjure the turn-of-the-last-century train station in Keota, the focus of the Destination Colorado exhibit off the lobby. "The folksy country character of the phony train station recalls the ambience of a Black-eyed Pea restaurant," wrote Westword critic Michael Paglia. "And its presence assaults the atrium, violating its floor plate and its volume."

A decade later, that mistake, too, has been erased; later this year, that portion of the floor is slated to hold a tipi or two, a precursor of the exhibit that will finally replace Collision: The Sand Creek Massacre 1860s to Today, the much-decried display devoted to the Sand Creek Massacre that closed a year after the History Colorado Center opened, after descendants of the members of the Arapaho and Cheyenne tribes killed at Sand Creek complained that the interpretation added insult to injury.

Tribal representatives and History Colorado officials have been in consultation since then; the results of their discussions should be unveiled by the end of the year.