Unpopular opinion, but let's face it—Orange County is like the Bermuda Triangle for seekers of California’s quirkiest corners. A labyrinth of lackluster strip malls, homogenous chain restaurants, pricy beachside abodes, and an abundance of dudes in backward hats crooning to the tunes of Jimmy Buffett and the Eagles at the local dive bar (apologies if you like Jimmy Buffet or the Eagles, or crooning). The OC's vibe? Exactly what the TV show promised, plus a little more sterile and a lot more underwhelming in the “unique things” department... until you stumble upon the totally random and foreboding enigma known as Bunnyhenge.
Bunnyhenge, dubbed so for its "Stonehengeian" flair and, of course, its army of bunnies, is precisely what it sounds like, and yet, so much more. Imagine a mesmerizing circle of unsettling bunny statues (a grand total of fourteen; if there were thirteen, we'd be delving into major conspiratorial territory here), all wrapped up in a delectable, but fairly cheap, Stonehenge pun. Done thinking about it? Well, take a look.
These bunnies, chiseled from the unyielding embrace of solid rock, possess an otherworldly charisma that would seem more welcome at a Manson Family Thanksgiving than a children’s park in Southern California. Featuring beady eyes that gleam with an air of majestic menace, they stand as sentinels in a horrifying cosmic ballet, frozen in a dance that transcends the grasp of our ordinary minds.
Their stoic and stony forms seem to harbor secrets far beneath the surface. Do they hold the answers to interplanetary space exploration? Can they explain why socks mysteriously disappear in the laundry? Perhaps they hold the secret recipe for Coca-Cola that has eluded humanity for generations? These are the questions we ask; these are the answers they have.
Arranged in a perfect circle, almost as if partaking in some diabolical ritual or plotting against the human race, it's hard not to wonder if this whole charade is a front for an underground Orange County Satanic society. Picture this: a pentagram smack dab in the center, and suddenly, the OC just got a lot more uncomfortable! Or envision the real housewives of Orange County donning robes as the clock strikes midnight, engaging in dark ceremonies, and perhaps even sacrificing a hapless soul to the bunny gods. Do their eyes glow an ominous green when the sun sets, fueled by a thirst for the blood of virgins to sustain them through each Easter? We may never know.
Just take a gander at this spooky spectacle! Who in the world dreamt up this concept and decided it was suitable for innocent children to frolic around? Perhaps it was an avant-garde artist with a penchant for bunny-themed nightmares or a rogue garden gnome enthusiast seeking a darker twist on garden decor. Whoever it is, I imagine that person is back in some artist's loft in downtown Los Angeles, slowly smoking a cigarette and cackling about the emotional damage caused down south.
And as for the rest of the park? The bunnies casually hold court in the very heart of an 'enchanted' art garden and share the stage with an array of other strange statues, each possessing an eerie allure that could linger in your dreams for weeks.
Sleep well, Orange County! You’ve earned it.
HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN?
Situated adjacent to the Newport Beach Civic Center in the recently established Civic Center Park, Bunnyhenge has been a source of joy for children and a thorn in the side for some less-than-enthused Orange County locals over the past few years.
Conceived by the innovative minds at PWP Landscape Architecture– they COULD still be rogue garden gnome enthusiasts, though PWP sounds pretty official– these bunnies emerged as a purposeful departure from the typical playground fare. Drawing inspiration from Alice in Wonderland, the designers initially toyed with the idea of giant quails, lizards, and turtles before ultimately settling on the whimsical world of oversized stone rabbits.
Marketed as a beacon to spark imagination and bring joy to local children, the bunnies have, however, become a costly controversy for the OC. The grand total to construct these 14 rabbits hit a staggering $221,000, a sum that raised the eyebrows of some affluent residents who deemed giant stone rabbits an unworthy investment for the city.
Despite persistent threats of eviction, the bunnies still proudly stand tall, their eerie presence suggesting they might just be having the last laugh.
The LA Times actually did a full piece on the drama.
