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gementFOUND IT! Finally.
There's a quote that was pivotal to my college freshman brain, for reasons I will describe. I've been looking for this quote for a couple of years now. Just now I chanced across the only copy I know of, a piece of notebook paper where I had scribbled it down. These were the circumstances.
When I was a freshman in college, I was dealing with the full crushing weight of my college depression for the first time. I left a moderately ineffective counseling appointment and decided to do something nice and escapist for myself. I walked into the Henry Art Gallery, which is on the UW campus. I walked around, numb, secure in the knowledge that all people are expected to do in art galleries is walk around and look vaguely interested.
In the SE corner of the Henry's South Gallery, there's an extra little circular room cut out of a corner. Only about a quarter of the circle is open to the main gallery room, so it's very enclosed. It's pure gallery white with a skylight and sconce lighting. The effect is a circle of blinding white, two or three stories high.
This was the first time I'd seen the corner, and it was being used as a display at the time. A small placard was just outside the little room, identifying the displayed item as a donation.
It was a grey marble backless park bench, sitting in the circle of light. It had obviously been in public use outside, and since been scrubbed and polished for official display. It had this quote inscribed deeply in the seat like the letters on a tombstone, worn slightly by a lot of anonymous behinds.
At the time, the quote was so arresting that I dropped to my knees and scribbled it down, complete with line breaks. I had walked in numb, and God had reached out through this random item in an art gallery to shake me by the lapels and yell, "HEY! SNAP OUT OF IT!"
It did the "where were you when" thing to my brain. I can't remember what the exhibit was (though I remember I wasn't impressed), but I remember the time management sheet tucked into my notebook that I had to flip past to find a clean page. The sheet was bright painful orange, and I knew I would never fill it out. And the bench was staring right at me, looking right through me. Killing me softly, if you will.
The bench remained there for several years, though the placard outside disappeared after a few months. I would make pilgrimages to it any time I was having a lousy day. One day I went back to visit my bench and it was gone. Just a circle of white. It's stayed empty since, to the best of my knowledge. It's nice empty too. But I miss my bench.
Anyway, the quote:
There's a quote that was pivotal to my college freshman brain, for reasons I will describe. I've been looking for this quote for a couple of years now. Just now I chanced across the only copy I know of, a piece of notebook paper where I had scribbled it down. These were the circumstances.
When I was a freshman in college, I was dealing with the full crushing weight of my college depression for the first time. I left a moderately ineffective counseling appointment and decided to do something nice and escapist for myself. I walked into the Henry Art Gallery, which is on the UW campus. I walked around, numb, secure in the knowledge that all people are expected to do in art galleries is walk around and look vaguely interested.
In the SE corner of the Henry's South Gallery, there's an extra little circular room cut out of a corner. Only about a quarter of the circle is open to the main gallery room, so it's very enclosed. It's pure gallery white with a skylight and sconce lighting. The effect is a circle of blinding white, two or three stories high.
This was the first time I'd seen the corner, and it was being used as a display at the time. A small placard was just outside the little room, identifying the displayed item as a donation.
It was a grey marble backless park bench, sitting in the circle of light. It had obviously been in public use outside, and since been scrubbed and polished for official display. It had this quote inscribed deeply in the seat like the letters on a tombstone, worn slightly by a lot of anonymous behinds.
At the time, the quote was so arresting that I dropped to my knees and scribbled it down, complete with line breaks. I had walked in numb, and God had reached out through this random item in an art gallery to shake me by the lapels and yell, "HEY! SNAP OUT OF IT!"
It did the "where were you when" thing to my brain. I can't remember what the exhibit was (though I remember I wasn't impressed), but I remember the time management sheet tucked into my notebook that I had to flip past to find a clean page. The sheet was bright painful orange, and I knew I would never fill it out. And the bench was staring right at me, looking right through me. Killing me softly, if you will.
The bench remained there for several years, though the placard outside disappeared after a few months. I would make pilgrimages to it any time I was having a lousy day. One day I went back to visit my bench and it was gone. Just a circle of white. It's stayed empty since, to the best of my knowledge. It's nice empty too. But I miss my bench.
Anyway, the quote:
| YOU CAN MAKE YOURSELF ENTER SOMEWHERE FRIGHTENING IF YOU BELIEVE YOU'LL PROFIT FROM IT. THE NATURAL INSTINCT IS TO FLEE BUT PEOPLE DON'T ACT THAT WAY ANYMORE. |
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Date: 2004-03-23 06:27 pm (UTC)Very moving
Date: 2004-03-25 12:56 pm (UTC)Allen Kincheloe
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Date: 2004-03-28 10:01 pm (UTC)Looking forward to crossing pathes again someday. ;)
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Date: 2004-04-02 01:11 pm (UTC)There was this man, and there was this road...
And if I could only remember these dreams, I'm sure they're trying to tell me... something. -- Laurie Anderson