We hung up a sign on a sculpture outside of the auditorium at our school, George School. Every Monday and Friday, all students go to assembly there; the sign was hung up on the morning of Monday Sept. 8. The text on the sign is in two parts: one written by Everett, and one written by Keith.
Unfortunately, once I failed to notice all of this sculpture's intricacies. I passed it twice a week and failed to give it more than a glace each time.
By a touch of fate, one bright morning while walking alone I stopped to inspect it.
A much complex sculpture than I had thought all this time, I noticed all of its peculiar details. It's stucco texture, it's pattern of concave crescent, and its vibrant colors were all present in my mind. When I turned around, aware that I would be late for class, I was surprised to find red and yellow tinted shadows. I realized that its stain glass side portals effect the light that passes through them. Not only is this statue an aesthetic wonder in itself, but generous in its beauty, it casts a crowd of technicolor dreamshadows on the ground and shrubbery surrounding it.
Ignoring my tardiness, I stepped back to the sculpture to touch this beauty, experiencing it as much as I could before I inevitably had to leave it.
Also to my surprise, the concrete statue jumped and revolved, responding to my touch. I was so grateful that it had chosen to reveal another one of its many facets to me.
I walked away that day a much more fulfilled man, for I knew I couldn't solely possess this beauty. It is much more fit to exchange coy glances as we cross paths, now only 3 times every two weeks. When I think back to the hundreds of assemblies I've attended in my George School career, I know I will remember the vivacious and multifaceted statue that occupied my mind during most of them.
For me, the stained glass and concrete palette of light has been a part of my life at George School every Monday and Friday. It represents more than just the assembly itself. It marks the begining and end of the week. Its shape, bent, but not curved, plays the role of alpha and omega of the working week. Its colors represent unknown beauties to come, or that have passed. The rough concrete is the difficulty of classwork, nights up late to study. Its smooth surfaces are the fun squeezed in between the work, frisbee, four square, lying on South Lawn.
And yet, it seems as though no matter what angle it is viewed at, it is impossible to see every part of the sculpture. Likewise, there will always be an unexplored aspect of the school, emotions untamed, peers misunderstood, knowlege unpossesed. It is like a physical representation of everything we have become, and will be. May this statue always represent George School, and call out to the tired, the burnt out, and the bored GSers: discover George School, and you will discover yourself.