St. LouIS ... weaves?

Please enjoy one of the Best Things Ever from Alert Readers Brad and Doug, who share a recent find from the Interstate 70 overpass downtown:

In and of itself, nothing particularly special — mundane, dark brown. Typical urban detritus and foliage caught in its tendrils, yaddah yaddah. 
However, I realized that in context (well, to an art historian), I was looking at Romanticism incarnate: the pathos of the abandoned hair all but at the foot of the Gateway Arch. The contrast of the meek and the grandiose; the ephemeral in the face of the permanent. I was standing before the "Raft of the Medusa" of the lost weave genre, and knew that I could only capture the full significance of Doug's find in a Monet-esque series. 
Photo 1 takes us close in, an intimate study of the apparently insignificant weave a la Byron's "Ode to a Blade of Grass." 
Then, however, I started to pull back. Photo 2 begins to contextualize my new fake, forlorn follicular friend — the grays of the concrete, the little circles on the pedestrian pad contrasted with the angles of those retarded new bricks in the walkways ... stains, treads, tar, gum all joining the weave in a feeble chorus of abandonment. 
Photo 3 introduces depth, the rush of perspective, contrasting colors, our first hint of nature (I'm assuming this isn't real hair), and most importantly, a hint of radiance implying nature's promise of renewal. Excuse me, but is this Eugene DELACROIX's lost weave?!?!? 
Finally, in photo 4, the sad, brunette orphan full on in the face of the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial — its one leg towering past the upper edge of the picture, a magnolia tree exploding in its April splendor, the shadow of the Hyatt Regency vying for control of the scene with the sunshine, the concrete bollards standing vigil against our anti-hero's intrusion, and the slightest blur taking the background to an ethereal realm that dwarfs the weave utterly. 
An "over-read"? Perhaps. Still, I felt compelled to share.

No comments:

Related Posts with Thumbnails