Oh, Blucifer

The day after I take on this assignment, I am in the car with a friend from out of town leaving DIA.

She is nonchalantly discussing the complexities of her flight, the baby crying, how big the airport is, and how confusing it is to navigate. Mid-sentence she stops talking and appears distressed.

“Is that Satan’s horse?” she asks.

I nod. Yes, it is.

“No really though, what is that? It’s horrifying!”

“His name is Blucifer,” I say without taking my eyes off the road. And when the end of the world finally rears its ugly head, I have no doubt that in surge of lightning; Blucifer will magically come to life, and kill anyone in his path.

Back in 1992, when the DIA art committee first commissioned New Mexican artist Luis Jimenez to create the 32-foot sculpture, everything seemed fine and dandy. It would be a public instillation of art for travelers to enjoy. It would signify the old American west, and piece of history that resonates with Colorado specifically. Little did the people know that this specific piece of art was cursed long before it would even make its debut.

Two years later (when Blucifer was supposed to be unveiled), a cornea transplant Jimenez received twenty years before had begun to deteriorate causing him to miss his deadline. After several extensions — and even more missed extensions — people began to speculate that the sculpture would never be finished.

It was 2006, and in an attempt to rush the completion, Jimenez was alone in his studio using a lift to hoist a section of the 9,000-pound sculpture that needed to be welded onto another section. A rope broke, the piece fell, and an artery in the 66-year-old artist’s leg was sliced.

Jimenez died alone and pinned to his studio floor by the sculpture he’d spent the last 14 years working to complete.

Jimenez’s family joined together to complete the sculpture and in February 2008, “Mustang” (appraised at $2 million) made its official debut. Members of City Council attended the formal dedication ceremony and immediately the people began to speculate. Was the horse cursed due to its role in Jimenez’s death? Should the city have even moved forward with the project? People even went as far as starting groups to remove the piece of art. In 2009, with more than a thousand members, local realtor Rachel Hultin created a Facebook group called, “DIA’s Heinous Blue Mustang Has Got to Go,” and soon the sculpture was more than just a local eyesore and drew the attention of national news outlets. People from around the world came to find out if the infamous sculpture was indeed a “killer” or haunted in some way.

The year is now, 2014 and The Blue Mustang, with its Horsemen of the Apocalypse feel, is only one addition to the cluster of conspiracies that surround Denver International Airport. Despite the bad vibes and petitions for its removal, the hellacious horse will not be vacating its position anytime soon. It will continue to maintain its unnerving watch over our beloved airport, but on that ill-fated day when planes fall from the sky, blood-rain races along our neighborhood streets, and the world as we know ceases to exist, I can promise you this — I will be nowhere near that damn horse, and if you’re smart you won’t
be either.

Check out our other Halloween stories from this issue:

• Colorado’s Ghost Towns
• Ouija, Is Anyone Here?
• Five Haunted Hospitals
• Messages from Beyond the Grave
• Netflix Instant Screaming
• The Stanley Hotel: Colorado’s Premiere Spooky Destination
• Oh, Blucifer
• First stop for UFOs: the Watchtower in Hooper
• The Ghosts of Cheesman Park
• Scientology is Scary [Opinion]
• Halloween Hitmakers
• En Garde