Recently, I’ve found myself shopping for a 6-foot-tall metal rooster sculpture to put in my yard. I’m not quite sure how my husband and I decided this was the statuary statement we wanted to make, but since we live in a rural area surrounded by farms and hear roosters crow every morning, it seems fitting and fun. 

This bold decision is possibly ironic, since I am a self-appointed arbiter of taste who grumps at some of my neighbors’ choices regarding what they display in their yards. Up the street, there’s a decrepit — er, let’s be charitable — vintage tractor which is strung with Christmas lights year-round. Barely a mile away, there’s a modest one-story home with Italianate statues and a grand fountain. I find the juxtaposition deeply disorienting (and I swear I hear the theme for The Godfather in my head every time I drive by). 

But who cares what I think? It’s their property, not mine. And in the end, there’s no accounting for taste. This statement seems especially true when it comes to lawn art, because of the sheer scale involved. It’s hard to overlook an 8-foot-tall statue of David (or, sure, a 6-foot-tall rooster). Statuary and other forms of yard art are meant to command attention — and therein lies the rub.

Going bold in lawn décor can get neighbors gossiping. Unless there’s an HOA involved, residents are left to duke it out on their own. Feelings can be hurt and social relationships fractured. And sometimes, these matters escalate into battle royales.

A sprawling, 40-ton, 80-foot-long wave-like sculpture, forged of steel, concrete and lead, was created by Anselm Kiefer, an internationally known artist. A wealthy patron of the arts plunked it down on their Fairfield, CT, property, where it wasn’t visible from the street.

The sprawling modern art piece caught the attention of the town’s Historic District Commission — and not in a good way. A local inspector, perhaps failing to appreciate fine art, said he thought it looked like a “destructed section of highway.” Threats of lawsuits ensued.

Consider it a draw. In the end, the art collector donated the artwork to a museum rather than apply for approval to keep the sculpture. The Historic District had insisted the sculpture was big enough to qualify as a structure and thus was under their purview. 

Call it the full theme-park treatment. Media mogul Florence Fang bought what’s known as the “Flintstone House” — so-named because of its bulbous, boulder-like shapes, reminiscent of the iconic TV cartoon’s architecture. She then went all-in, revamping the grounds of the Hillsborough, CA, property to be Stone-Age appropriate. In went towering dinosaur, woolly mammoth, and giraffe statues. The grounds were also peppered with bright mega mushroom sculptures and life-size figures of the Flintstones characters. 

Not happy! Her tony neighborhood did not welcome the playful additions — which are visible from the freeway — and a township lawsuit followed, declaring her house not only “a highly visible eyesore” but also “a public nuisance.”

Score a win for the homeowner. Fang filed a counter lawsuit and wound up winning $125,000 to cover her legal costs and the right to keep the kitschy decor, which still stands today.

Homeowner and oil heiress Jane Benedum completely covered her front yard with a tightly packed collection of statuary, topiary, and stone planters in Highland Park, Texas — aka the Beverly Hills of Dallas. “Some of (the yard decorations) have been in my family for generations,” she said. “This is not crap.”

The array apparently was giving “Grey Gardens”: the infamous Hamptons, NY, home was equal parts hoarding and dilapidation. So the town sent Benedum a letter informing her that she was decorating in a manner prohibited by a newly passed ordinance, banning “statues/sculptures, topiaries, pots, planters, [and] containers…that individually or collectively take up space in excess of 5% of the area of the front yard.” Benedum said she felt she was being targeted — which makes sense given that hers was the only local property with such dense décor.

Undecided as yet. Benedum has vowed to take her case all the way to the Supreme Court if she needs to. Don’t mess with Texas, indeed.

In Santa Fe, William Woods has erected handmade “mannequins” staring into the yard of neighbors Aaron Thornburg and Brianna Griffith, as well as a somewhat noisy gong sculpture, among other pieces of art. Is there a backstory? You betcha: There was a lot-line issue that led to some bad blood.

The couple have filed a lawsuit in the hopes of forcing Woods to remove the voyeuristic and harassing artwork they say he’s created. Wood says he’s merely expressing his First Amendment rights and “arting in [his neighbors’] face.”

None yet, as of the start of 2026. But lawyers are most certainly involved.

Of course, these are extremes and to be avoided. My yard, my taste” may rule, but sometimes we all need to figure out how to get along. Allow me to return to my ginormous rooster: I hope those who glimpse it will be charmed. If it enters my neighbor’s sightlines in any way, I’ll give them a heads-up about what is being installed and why I love it. This simple, and, yes, neighborly gesture can open lines of communication and is a kindness that may earn their good graces. 

If they don’t care for my lawn art, they can consider installing privacy panels. They now come in an arresting array of styles and designs, and surely there’s a design to please their taste — even if not mine.