Sol LeWitt croquet course

Combine croquet with modern art

Most Sol LeWitt drawings are executed on museum walls. However, this Sol LeWitt is painted on grass! “Bands in Four Directions” was installed in the courtyard of Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary Art. The work, photographed in 2007, shows LeWitt’s characteristic geometric precision: white rectangular bands intersecting at clean right angles across a field of green.

Upon closer inspection, I realized the museum had committed fully to LeWitt’s vision: they’d actually excavated sections of grass and replaced them with white gravel rectangles. This wasn’t painted lines on a lawn—this was landscape as sculpture. And looking at all that negative space between the white bands, I couldn’t help but wonder: Can you walk on a Sol LeWitt?

Better yet, could someone play croquet on this LeWitt?

Why LeWitt + Croquet actually makes sense

Sol LeWitt was famous for his instruction-based art—works that existed as concepts first, with specific rules for how they should be executed. His wall drawings, for instance, could be recreated anywhere by following his precise written instructions. Croquet, despite its reputation for leisurely garden parties, is actually a game of rigid rules and strategic navigation through obstacles.

Both involve following predetermined paths. Both require working within constraints. Both can be maddening in their precision.

Designing the course

I thought it would be fun to play croquet on a Sol LeWitt, so I present to you Sol LeWitt croquet.

The traditional American backyard croquet course follows a “double-diamond” pattern—a neat, predictable route that gets you from start to finish with minimal fuss.

But LeWitt’s intersecting bands demand something more adventurous. The Sol LeWitt course uses a “triple-diamond” pattern that forces players to explore every quadrant of the artwork, weaving around the white barriers like a ball navigating a minimalist maze.

However, you are not allowed to touch or cross the white areas.

The rules (because sometimes art has rules)

Here’s where it gets interesting. The white bands aren’t just visual elements—they’re functional barriers that reshape how the game is played:

The White Zone Rule: You cannot touch or cross the white areas. Think of them as walls. If your ball lands in a white area, move it back to the nearest grass spot. If your ball passes completely through a white section and lands on grass beyond, it returns to where it first entered the white zone.

The Exception: You may enter white areas only to strike the stakes at either end of the course.

Modified Wickets: Unlike traditional croquet’s double wickets at each end, space constraints mean single wickets at the terminal points.

Navigation Freedom: Take any path you wish, but wickets must be entered in the correct order.

Building your own LeWitt course

Most of us can’t excavate our lawns and install gravel (and probably shouldn’t). The practical solution? Stakes and string. The string will form the borders of the rectangles. The stakes (aka landscape staples) hold the string in place.

What you’ll need:

• 10 wickets (a standard set has nine)
• Roll of string
• Scissors (to cut the string)
• 104 landscape staples (also known as stakes)

104 staples? Really? Yeah, that’s how many you’ll need. One staple for every corner of each rectangle. Note: Landscape staples are not the wickets. These landscape staples hold the string in place to make the borders.

• Top left square: 20 stakes
• Top right square: 20 stakes
• Bottom left square: 28 stakes
• Bottom right square: 28 stakes
• Perimeter: 8 stakes

A 250-pack of landscape staples costs about $26 (affiliate link), leaving you with extras for future geometric adventures. You can even split the pack in half, and give one to a friend for their own course.

A sample route

Here’s one possible path through the course:

Notice how the route forces you to circle back, reconsider your approach, and find creative ways around obstacles. It’s less about efficiency and more about the journey—which feels appropriately art-world.

The point of pointless complexity

Will this take longer than regular croquet? Absolutely. Will players get confused and possibly frustrated? Almost certainly. But that’s precisely what makes it interesting.

LeWitt understood that the process of following instructions—even simple ones—could become its own form of art. Similarly, playing croquet within the constraints of his geometric vision transforms both the game and our experience of the artwork. You’re not just looking at “Bands in Four Directions,” you’re navigating it, learning its rhythms, discovering how its logic shapes your movement through space.

Plus, it gives you an excuse to say things like, “Sorry, can’t make it to dinner—I’m busy playing conceptual art croquet in the backyard.”

And really, isn’t that reason enough?

Have you created your own art-inspired game variations? I’d love to hear about them—and see photos if you build the Sol LeWitt course.