Fear the overpass.
While it might seem odd, pedstrian overpasses have much to do with my earlier blog regarding my wonderful Wednesday. I can't explain why, because it's just a gut feeling - abstract and bizarre. But, trust me as I tell you another story.
Monday morning I was driving into work, and just as I got downtown I looked up. The sky was a comforting periwinkle/grey, the sun almost looked like the moon through the haze and I saw an image that has burned itself deep into my subconcious. A pedestrian overpass. Through the chicken wire I saw a sillouette of a man hunched over a wheelchair, pushing his friend slowly through the crisp morning. It was a beautifully haunting image.
Tuesday Bjorn and I were having a really nice conversation over lunch and he told me that he had painted a series for a show with an overpass, truckstop related theme. We talked about what sort of meaning those images have. His meaning seemed so succinct. I was inspired.
I began thinking about my own ideas of pedestrian overpasses and was disappointed in myself because my reaction was fear. I've been fearful at times that someone would drop something off of it as I drove under, or that I would witness someone hurling themselves to the ground, and sometimes, if I'm stuck under one in traffic, I have a fear that it might collapse on top of me. Anxiety and fear.
So, yesterday as I drove to Ann Arbor, cars on 94 came to a screaming halt - I had to slam on the brakes! My heart raced for at least a minute or two afterward, but Claire didn't seem to notice. Her deep, sleep was undisturbed. We sat motionless in traffic with just the low beauty of Pinback to calm me down. Suddenly I heard from the backseat "Walk, walk, walk." I glanced in the rearview mirror, saw those big, chocolate eyes wide open and the tiniest little finger pointing to my right. I smiled at her, happy to play the game, and followed her finger. A man dressed in black walking across a pedestrian overpass. Hmm.
Erin and I talked about them last night. Her feelings were purer - much less affected. She saw them as a metaphor for enlightenment. The chaos of the masses traveling here and there at insane speeds, trying to go to meaningless places for meaningless reasons. And the man and his friend on the overpass - well, they had risen above that and had a destination so important that they would travel there by foot - slowly with focus. And the wheelchair bound friend - an even more intense representation because his handicap made him slower - but surer. I think that's a beautiful way to look at it. But, then, Erin is a beautiful and intuitive woman.
Pedstrian overpasses. Don't be surprised if you see them as my next series. I think they might be the most beautiful inspiration, next to Claire, that I've had in some time.
Monday morning I was driving into work, and just as I got downtown I looked up. The sky was a comforting periwinkle/grey, the sun almost looked like the moon through the haze and I saw an image that has burned itself deep into my subconcious. A pedestrian overpass. Through the chicken wire I saw a sillouette of a man hunched over a wheelchair, pushing his friend slowly through the crisp morning. It was a beautifully haunting image.
Tuesday Bjorn and I were having a really nice conversation over lunch and he told me that he had painted a series for a show with an overpass, truckstop related theme. We talked about what sort of meaning those images have. His meaning seemed so succinct. I was inspired.
I began thinking about my own ideas of pedestrian overpasses and was disappointed in myself because my reaction was fear. I've been fearful at times that someone would drop something off of it as I drove under, or that I would witness someone hurling themselves to the ground, and sometimes, if I'm stuck under one in traffic, I have a fear that it might collapse on top of me. Anxiety and fear.
So, yesterday as I drove to Ann Arbor, cars on 94 came to a screaming halt - I had to slam on the brakes! My heart raced for at least a minute or two afterward, but Claire didn't seem to notice. Her deep, sleep was undisturbed. We sat motionless in traffic with just the low beauty of Pinback to calm me down. Suddenly I heard from the backseat "Walk, walk, walk." I glanced in the rearview mirror, saw those big, chocolate eyes wide open and the tiniest little finger pointing to my right. I smiled at her, happy to play the game, and followed her finger. A man dressed in black walking across a pedestrian overpass. Hmm.
Erin and I talked about them last night. Her feelings were purer - much less affected. She saw them as a metaphor for enlightenment. The chaos of the masses traveling here and there at insane speeds, trying to go to meaningless places for meaningless reasons. And the man and his friend on the overpass - well, they had risen above that and had a destination so important that they would travel there by foot - slowly with focus. And the wheelchair bound friend - an even more intense representation because his handicap made him slower - but surer. I think that's a beautiful way to look at it. But, then, Erin is a beautiful and intuitive woman.
Pedstrian overpasses. Don't be surprised if you see them as my next series. I think they might be the most beautiful inspiration, next to Claire, that I've had in some time.
posted by Floge at 1:45 PM
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