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QUEMADO, N.M. - Mother Nature has been very good to artists.

Since cave days, creative minds have made it their business to capture the animal form, the romance of a majestic landscape, the simplicity of a fruit arrangement, and make it their own.

The land artists of the 1960s and '70s were no different. But instead of trying to copy nature or use it as a subject, land artists such as Walter De Maria, Robert Smithson and Michael Heizer made their physical mark on Earth, integrating it into their art.

For such artists, choosing the site for an earthwork was a labor of love. By car and plane they combed the country, searching for distinctive combinations of light, space, color and isolation. That most are situated in the spacious West is a testament to the region's spectacular beauty.

You don't just stumble upon land artworks like ''The Lightning Field'' or Robert Smithson's ''Spiral Jetty'' - situated in even more-secluded Utah rough - unless you're an adventuresome (and, perhaps, lost) 4x4 enthusiast. Invariably found in the most remote and unforgiving territory, land art demands a commitment of its visitors. A pilgrimage.

Knowing I couldn't visit them all in one go, I consulted the devil on my shoulder and chose one of the best-known: "The Lightning Field.'' The idea of natural power - directed, if not tamed - won out over ''Spiral Jetty's'' lure of an ancient, salty wasteland. Plus, ''The Lightning Field'' is a bit easier to reach.

Still, there would be desolation enough. Relatively few people - only six at a time - have ventured to the remote site of one of modern art's greatest monuments, where lightning comes to roost practically on demand.

Meticulously spread out over 1 mile by 1 kilometer of scorched earth near Quemado, N.M., the 400 stainless-steel poles of ''The Lightning Field'' sound like something the aliens dropped off on the way to Roswell. (How could a mere mortal conjure ''lightning''?) As a lover of those groan-inducing '50s sci-fi flicks, the thought of a close encounter with this inorganic construction designed to commune with the heavens was irresistible. And what better place to play it out than in American Indian land, whose mysticism has stayed with me since a family road trip 20 years ago.

''The Lightning Field'' itself is in an intentionally undisclosed location. The closest city to fly into is Albuquerque, a 2 1/2 -hour drive through the beautifully rugged El Malpais National Monument to Quemado, where my husband and I were instructed to check in at the ''white, two-story building on the north side of the town's main street.'' (City slickers: Don't panic. It's the only white, two-story building in ''downtown'' Quemado.)

In the sparse, whitewashed office of the Dia Art Foundation, the high-profile New York nonprofit that preserves and manages ''The Lightning Field'' and other important land works, we were greeted with a placard informing us to wait for our escort.

Soon after, Robert Weathers, a disarming local rancher who helped De Maria install ''The Lightning Field'' back in the '70s, arrived in a pearl-white SUV to get us and our cabinmates. Only six people are allowed a visit each night; accordingly, only six chairs occupy the otherwise empty foyer. A quick glance at the guestbook was revealing: Japan, Australia, Canada, Germany.

The SUV nearly pulsed with anticipation - our anticipation - on the 45-minute drive through dirt roads, occasionally interrupted by a comical standoff with stubborn cattle or harried mule deer. We had planned this trip for more than a year.

Finally, we were deposited at our home for the night: a restored pioneer cabin some 100 feet from ''The Lightning Field.'' As plain as the land, the three-bedroom log structure immediately transported us to a simpler era. Although the cabin is comfortably equipped with plumbing and electricity (thank you, Dia), the wooden rocking chair on the back porch became our favorite appliance. Time quickly lost relevancy as we sat there meditating the view, like good children listening to a story.

We were humbled by the contrast: scorched, desolate expanse enveloped by distant mesas pierced with immaculate stainless-steel rods - perfectly and purposefully arranged by man.

As the light of day changed, the rods reflected it - but in varying degrees of brightness. Dusk proved the most dramatic moment to contemplate the ''Field.'' From top to bottom, the tall rods stood almost blindingly bright against a sky imbued with the profound pinks, oranges, purples and blues unique to the Southwestern sunset.

At dawn, visitors were greeted with a pale salute. By noon, sunshine directly overhead, the rods were silenced, fading to near invisibility into the sweeping landscape.

Naturalists might argue that the land is better off without this artificial imprint of man. Yet ''The Lightning Field'' fit surprisingly well with its environment, an undisturbed ecosystem where you might encounter cottontails, prairie dogs, sunning lizards - maybe even a rattlesnake, as we did.

Of course, most people trekking out to ''The Lightning Field'' want to see it spark to life. Our June visit fell before the peak season, and no bolts flashed out. But as the Dia Foundation is quick to remind visitors, the ''Field'' stands on its own. And though the sci-fi lover in me mourned, the convergence of harsh land with stark steel struck me as marvelous and awe-inspiring.

For DeMaria, the land was not a site for the work, but a part of it. Indeed, there was nothing alien about it. The dance between the shimmering rods and the rugged terrain struck me as a natural phenomenon - the kind you can count on, like the Northern Lights or Old Faithful.

But being the product of man, it's almost a miracle land artworks like this one remain intact. For that task, the Dia Art Foundation gets credit. It supported the creation and, now, ensures the maintenance of ''The Lightning Field,'' ''Spiral Jetty'' and other works sprinkled around the United States' least inhabitable regions. And, perhaps more important, it has preserved the inaccessibility and integrity of the art as designed by its makers, protecting it from throngs of the merely curious, for those of us who are still believers in the power of art.

Great American land-art sites

In addition to ''The Lightning Field,'' America's most important land artworks include the following:

* ''SPIRAL JETTY'' by Robert Smithson: One of the most sensational earthworks ever made. It's even more remote than ''The Lightning Field,'' and access to Utah's "Spiral Jetty" requires detailed driving instructions. Made of earth and basalt rock, the jetty reacts to and interacts with the salt lake around it. The changing colors of the lake make the jetty pop out - when it's visible. Not long after its construction in 1970, the piece disappeared beneath the surface of the lake. To the surprise and delight of many, it re-emerged in 2002, as a result of environmental changes in the lake. http://www.robertsmithson.com; Dia Foundation, http://www.spiraljetty.org or 212-989-5566.

* ''SUN TUNNELS'' by Nancy Holt: In far-flung Lucin, Utah, about two hours from ''Spiral Jetty,'' Robert Smithson's wife holds her own with a setting of four large concrete tubes laid out in an X configuration, completed in 1976. Holes in the tubes represent constellations. Center for Land Use Interpretation, ludb.clui.org/ex/i/UT3126 or http://www.earthworks.org.

* ''DOUBLE NEGATIVE'' by Michael Heizer: It took explosives and bulldozers to create this work, which gouged 30 by 50 feet of rock from two opposing mesas. Near Overton, Nev., this seminal artifact of the land-art movement is now owned by the Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art (http://www.moca.org); doublenegative.tarasen.net.

* DONALD JUDD'S CHINATI FOUNDATION: This nonprofit, in the outskirts of Marfa, Texas, is home to ''15 untitled works in concrete,'' an outdoor arrangement of cast-concrete slab pieces by Judd. http://www.chinati.org or 432-729-4362.

* ''RODEN CRATER'' by James Turrell: Since 1972, a work in progress. Famous for his ''skyspaces,'' Turrell mined a 380,000-year-old crater near Flagstaff, Ariz., to build an observatory of sorts at its center. Not yet open to the public, this is something to look forward to. http://www.orbit.zkm.de/?qnode/311.

Seeing "The Lightning Field''

* GETTING THERE: The closest airport is Albuquerque International. Pick up a rental car (the airport's consolidated facility is convenient) for the three-hour drive to Quemado. Take I-40 west to exit 89, then NM 117 and NM 36 to Quemado. The drive through El Malpais National Monument is stunning, so allow extra time for a stop or two.

* ACCOMMODATIONS: The cabin is the only place visitors are allowed to stay near ''The Lightning Field''; camping is not permitted. Dia provides a prepared vegetarian dinner and breakfast fixings, and the pantry is stocked with light snacks. If you have special dietary needs, plan ahead.

* PLANNING YOUR VISIT: Secure reservations in March or April for May through October, the only months visits are allowed. One-night stays only. Rates: July and August (peak lightning season), $250 per person; May, June, September and October, $150 per person; students/children (all months), $100 each. Temperatures can climb into the 90s during the day and dip into the 50s at night; pack accordingly.

* INFORMATION: Dia Foundation, http://www.lightningfield.org, 505-898-3335.