The Greek city of Rhodes is getting it’s Colossus back and I couldn’t be happier. Sadly, it won’t be a giant dude standing bestride the entrance to the port, but the piece will be big and visible, and its intent (gaudy symbol of peace) will hearken back to the original.
What does this mean to you? Glad you asked:
1. Scale
I’ve been meaning to talk more about scale on these pages, and this story provides a good reason to start. As yesterday’s post on blogs-to-book showed, an incremental approach to your art can bring rewards. But there is a lot to be said for the big, grandiose, attention-getting project. The film triology. The opera cycle. The definitive volume. (Ideally, you’re working both ends of the spectrum.)
2. The Universal
It’s easy to trick yourself into thinking that New Times makes us New People, but the Universal is alive and well. This weekend Twilight will open and you will read articles about how the supernatural has gone completely mainstream. But underneath all the vampires is a story about young love. And it doesn’t get more ancient than that. The weirder things get, the more relevant the basic human experience becomes.
Finally, a thought experiment:
If you had the time and the talent to make something ginormous, what would it be? And what aspect of the its ginormosity would connect to the Universal?
Tags: culture
That’s an interesting question to me, because as a sculptor, I do sometimes make ginormous things. I like working abstractly, but the find the bigger I go– the more I revert to representational stuff– big horses, big people, big birds, big people made of birds, etc.
I guess for me, visually,– recognizable = universal.
I think you bring up a good point about scale. I think as you make something bigger it’s harder to get away from basics. (Although something like Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow is both both ginormous and experimental.)
I’d love to see Gravity’s Rainbow interpreted by Richard Serra — the guy whose (recent?) public artwork consisted of those big (yes, ginormous) curling sheets of steel. (E.g.)
When you said this was a thought experiment rather than an actual assignment I heaved a sigh of relief. I have no idea what my ginormous project would be — haven’t been able to get even a glimpse of it although my subconscious has been toying with the question since you asked it on Wednesday. I think a lot of ginormous books turn out to have been so only in retrospect (assuming ginormosity isn’t just a matter of weight — pounds and ounces).
I’ve been working on a quad of books for years, submitting the first one to no avail (yet). I may write and sell many other books, but that will always be my Colossal Piece. And I guess its universality — down to cliche, even — is that it’s a coming of age story.
But as an interior designer I always wanted to do a great big house — one of those old, historical coastal places in the East where the owners only live 2 weeks a year.