Object Annotation by Morte
September 24th, 2008 9:05 PM / Location: 41.883616,-87.62996There is a sculpture in Daley Plaza that was built and installed by Pablo Picasso. It has no name, and Picasso refused any payment for it, saying that he wanted it to be a gift. He never explained what it was supposed to represent.
To me, it represents the first time I truly felt at home in Chicago. The text of the letter that I taped to it is:
Dear weird Picasso sculpture,
I had just moved to Chicago in 2006. I was feeling very lost and uprooted. I didn't have a job, as the one I moved here for didn't work out. I left my friends, I had a few here in Chicago, but they were busy with their own lives. I was getting very depressed and thinking that moving here had been a mistake.
One night I took a friend to see Wicked at the Oriental as a birthday present. Afterward he suggested that we go slide on the statue. I had no idea what he was talking about, but agreed to go along with it. We walked to Daley Plaza and there you were. He ran up to you and began sliding down your base. I soon joined him and we spent about half an hour sliding down and running back up.
We waltzed around you to no music, slid some more, and left. It was in the middle of all of this that I realized that I was happy. Really truly happy. And for the first time in years I felt like I was home, that I was finally in the place that I belonged.
Ever since that night I have come back to you when I was feeling alone, depressed, or even happy but needing some grounding. I bring out of town friends to you so they can slide and have a truly unique Chicago experience. I have slid down your base, sometimes the only adult in a group of children. One thing is certain, I never leave you without a smile and a sense of peace and belonging. Thank you for being here, and it gladdens me to know that in spite of your detractors and the serious art people that study and try to quantify you, you will always be here to provide a moment of whimsy and fun to the people in Chicago.
Sincerely,
J.D.
I rode over to Daley Plaza after I got out of work at the Art Institute, took some pictures after much fussing about with the camera and then taped my letter to the back piece.
I thought about putting it on the front piece but then I decided that if someone was going to read the letter, I damn well wanted them to have to physically set foot on the statue. That way after they had climbed to the top, maybe they would read the letter and then decide to try sliding down it themselves.
Who knows, I have no idea how long the letter will stay up there, but I can only hope that it helps at least one person lose a little dignity and grown-upedness and just take joy in being alive and having silly fun. Because after I taped the letter of course I spent some time sliding down the statue, which earned me very odd looks from the people walking around and the bums that hang out there. It was very funny watching businessmen notice me, smile and then hurriedly look very serious, check to make sure no one noticed and walk sedately away like nothing had happened.
Untitled Picasso
The thingy that Picasso built.
Picasso Sculpture
And slide to the left.... now slide to the right...
At night
It always looked like a friendly aardvark to me.
Letter
I ran out of tape and had to make do with the little piece I had.
Letter in situ
It's so subtle...
Straight
the view as you slide down facing front
clockwise.JPG
The view while spinning clockwise and sliding
Counterclockwise
I can usually only get in about 4 revolutions before I hit the bottom.
backwards
Almost hit my head on the big metal piece on the left.
from the ground
Yup, it's obvious.
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(none yet)17 comment(s)
Hee, I always thought it very funny that anytime I've gone sliding during the day I always horribly offend serious art type people (sometimes with berets, no less) who are standing there, hands on chins, discussing the illusiary importance of the web going from the neck to the arms and what it signifies. I like to think that Picasso took a slide on it himself when it was done...
Plus, as I was writing the caption to Counterclockwise I thought to myself 'How many revolutions does it usually take before you hit the bottom? Che got in at least two, I think, and France 5 or 6, so I'm doing pretty good.'
Really, berets? That's fantastic!
You have no idea. I have actually seen the stereotype of a skinny guy in black trousers, black sweater, black beret, little black mustache, standing in front of a piece of modern art at the art museum stroking his little black beard and making little comments to himself about the 'qualities of essence that the piece is exuding.' The only thing that was missing was a cup of coffee and a Sobrani in a bitch stick.
Omigod I would have fun with that one. I've been compiling a list of 'things I cannot bring into the Art Museum' since I started working at the school. The so far include:
A large backpack
A small backpack
A pencil
A pen
A paintbrush
A pair of ice skates
A pair of rollerblades
A candle
A plastic Walgreens bag
A cup of tea
A skateboard
A framed painting
A robot plushie
A cracker
A small wooden box
I haven't been kicked out yet, but some of the security guards frown at me whenever they see me...
It's only a matter of time.
I have a lobster suit I may need to lend you.
There are tasks whose completions I always look forward to reading. Object Annotation is one of those, and this is a fine example.
I dig the opportunity to be taken into a stranger's private life, and what it is in their universe that they hold dear. Thanks.
It's great that you had this flash of joy in a place that you can keep going back to visit. I was in Chicago briefly, and one thing I noticed was that there seemed to be a lot of public art.
And most of it, including this one, makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Did you get to see the silver Bean?
I remember walking down some random side street near Wrigley Field when I saw a giant giraffe made of old motorcycle gas tanks. Then I looked across the street and there was a twin. Two giant robot giraffes guarding apartment buildings. On some random residential street.
Did they offer you a bread?
In addition to the giraffes, there is also a reclining lady, a bear, a cow, an elephant, and something that I think is supposed to the the spirit of the age but looks like a rabbit with constipation. They are scattered all over the city, but they make me laugh when I see them. I think the elephant house is off of Chicago and Ashland, and the reclining lady can be seen on a patio on top of an apartment building as you drive down 90/94 towards downtown. I don't remember where the others are....
This is beautiful. :) Personal stories of joy and happiness create more joy when shared. Thank you.
I love that you went sliding on it. Sliding and swinging on things are guilty pleasures of mine. I say "guilty" because you always get funny looks, and telling people you've been out playing on swings all day doesn't necessarily sound "dignified".
To be a bit crass, when there's no need, FUCK DIGNIFIED!!! I still stomp in rain puddles and continually look up. I may be an adult, but I refuse to let my childish pleasure in the world die for the sake of appearances. I've never been big on appearances anyway. Too much scheduling involved. :P
if someone was going to read the letter, I damn well wanted them to have to physically set foot on the statue.
"When lonely, spin clockwise while sliding on monumental art", yes.