Marie was crying by the time we sat down for our picnic at Golden Gate Park yesterday afternoon.
This was not just the generalized whining that happy or exciting events seem to inspire in children, but large, bitter tears of dismay mingled with mournful sobs: "Why do we have to eat lunch next to a Giant Head?! Please, please let's go back to the Rose Garden and picnic there!"
"Sorry, honey, but this is the only place we've seen with a picnic table," I reasoned. "Besides, it's shady." Doling out string cheese and mini muffins, I could see the protruding pink pate from the corner of my eye, interrupting the vista beside us like a visual siren--shrieking, screaming and inescapable.
Marie slumped heavily on the bench, turning a resentful back to the offending structure, her sisters beginning a barrage of predictable jokes:
"It looks like an ad for headache medicine!"
"Maybe it's meant as a warning that you should always wear sunscreen."
"He could use Eileen's floppy hat!"
"Boy, that guy sure has a swelled head."
Then there was Patrick's sage assessment:
"He looks like his hair all burned off in the sun."
Not to mention my personal favorite, a quip aimed at the grafitti liberally scrawled
here and there:
"Who's been bloggin' on my noggin?"
Not being overly appreciative of Modern Art myself, I tittered right along with them, calling the scupture a "Monstrosity," nicknaming it "The Great Pink Pate," and wondering aloud how such a thing--so out of keeping with the towering Redwoods and gentle roses--had made its way into an otherwise elegant city park. It seemed an appalling conversation piece, and nothing more.
A man and his young son came by tossing a ball. The boy's main object was to launch the ball directly into the unblinking eye of the behemoth, drawing appreciative giggles from my crew as they chased down string cheese wrappers stolen by the wind. Inspired by the boy's antics, Margaret, Marie and Patrick leapt up to run around the head, crying out now and then in mock terror.
Moments later, Margaret returned fresh from her frolic and reported, "Mommy, the giant head has a note written on the other side of it. It says, 'Please, please, please do not write grafitti on this statue. Signed, The Artist.'"
Now I don't want to say that I felt like St. Paul being struck from his horse, but, something about the simple pleading note ignited a moment of conversion for me. I realized for the first time that the piece was not some big joke or publicity stunt, but the work of a real human being--a person who cared about it and would not want to see it defamed or defaced. [Whether the note was a true one from the artist or just another joke, I do not know, but it is enough that it set my mind in motion.] Already, the two ears on either side had been yanked off by vandals, leaving gaping holes that seemed to yearn for a giant iPod. Dripping crimson spray paint upon the eyes and forehead showed that "ZC" had been there and had little use for imposing magenta features.
Thinking of how the artist might feel to find his work in such a state, I felt ashamed for having laughed at it--like the child in school whose unflattering drawing of the teacher makes its way to her desk. Who was I to laugh at someone else's work? It is one thing to make an honest assessment, but to laugh and deride? Was this the kind of thing I wanted to model for my children?
With the self-made blinders of mockery removed, I could see the piece in a whole new light. Remembering the human hand behind it, I discovered the humor, the playfulness, and perhaps even a hint of sorrow there, and do you know what? I kind of liked it--or, more accurately, I could no longer completely dislike it.
Still, perhaps I'd better not tell Marie!
[This exhibit is a temporary one, sheduled to be removed from the park in November 2007.]
I have to agree with Marie - it gives me shivers. But I love your point of going into the human aspect of it and therefore showing a respect for that humanity.
Posted by: Lynn | June 27, 2007 at 10:05 AM
What an insight Alice. Thank you for sharing it with us. It does give me the crepps, but thanks for the reminder to have empathy for the humanity behind it.
Posted by: Tracy | June 27, 2007 at 10:27 AM
Alice, you are such a good person! How very blest your children are to have you guide them through this world!
Posted by: betty | June 27, 2007 at 10:34 AM
Grace, it is a mighty thing. I think this piece of art is amazing (No I do not like it) because it taught you a lesson. I spent lots of childhood days at Golden Gate park. It is beautiful
xoxoxo Clarice
Posted by: clarice | June 27, 2007 at 10:43 AM
It sort of reminds me of this head, on the Esplanade in Boston: http://p.vtourist.com/1543591-Esplanade_Hatch_Shell-Boston.jpg
Hey, your reaction is normal--perhaps it's even the reaction the artist expects. As a lunching point for a story of the last remnant of the long forgotten and buried city of the pink giants, it it first-rate, no?
Posted by: MacBeth | June 27, 2007 at 10:53 AM
Goodness, did I write "lunching" point? LOL!
Posted by: MacBeth | June 27, 2007 at 11:40 AM
Well, it was our "lunching point"! LOL!
Posted by: Alice Gunther | June 27, 2007 at 12:01 PM
Objectively speaking, I think it is fair to say the sculpture is not a thing of beauty. But you are so right that there is beauty behind it, inasmuch as the artist himself was made by the hand of God. Wonderful reflection, Alice!
Posted by: Kristen Laurence | June 27, 2007 at 05:06 PM
My dd would cry too if asked to picnic near that head. Infact she'd probably do more than cry. And I would tend to feel sympathy for the artist, even though I personally think it is hideous! His note really touched my heart. So I can appreciate both your and Marie's perspectives.
Posted by: patience | June 28, 2007 at 12:27 AM
The only saving message from this blog post is that they'll be removing it soon. I'm with your daughter -- I don't think I could have eaten lunch in his shadow!
Hope your having a blast in my hometown!
Posted by: Mary G. | June 28, 2007 at 12:30 AM
Lovely reflection, Alice.
Posted by: Karen E. | June 28, 2007 at 10:47 AM
Methinks I would have been scared too! (and I'm 30!)
Posted by: Lindsey @ enjoythejourney | June 29, 2007 at 01:39 PM
As always dear your inisghts being me to another level.
But I still don't like the ugly thing.
Posted by: Mary Ellen Barrett | June 30, 2007 at 11:56 AM
That was supposed to be "bring me"
Posted by: Mary Ellen Barrett | June 30, 2007 at 11:57 AM