Liberty Enlightening the World

Good morning, Colourlovers.

Let’s play a little That Makes Me Think Of.

When I woke up this morning, not only did I, as I suppose too many people do, try to suggest it was too early to wake, but I found the spot where my shoulder and my head could fall again, and I blinked while staring at the clock. It was then an hour later. I stumbled out of my room to the kitchen, not really walking on the floor, but the walkway of routine, of memory. With no regard to real distance, I just remembered it was sixteen choppy steps on my toes to the cabinet, five more to the shelf with a bowl for cereal, and a half twist for the fridge. I was no longer paying attention to the spaces or objects around me because I had something particular in mind.

T.S. Eliot was once quoted for saying, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time,” and this I agree with, as in my out-of-body wandering for breakfast, I didn’t realise I was shuffling instead, and dragged my toe across a broken tile. It all reminded me of moving through Times Square, and the unimaginable mid-day crowds, and everyone is angry enough to want a picture without you in their shot. It reminded me of being along the Hudson River, and suddenly coming to the southern point where the boat launches to the Statue of Liberty, and noticing the sun is setting, as if for the first time.

The Statue of Liberty is actually called “Liberty Enlightening the World,” and was a gift from the French to the United States of America in 1886. With the exception of her torch, which is plated in gold leaf, she is green entirely, composed of puddle iron, and the seven points of her crown represent the seven seas and seven continents. Some sources and rumours suggest that Liberty’s stern face belongs to the mother of the designer, Frédéric Bartholdi, who was born in Alsace, France. Upon visiting Egypt, he shifted aspirations from making grand sculptors to colossal, a shift in scale being that from the eyes of a human to the eyes of an ant. Interesting that he, under a flag of red, white, and blue, would donate his greatest work to another country with the same colour scheme. He died just short of twenty years after giving the gift of tuberculosis, which was termed to be the poets’ disease, although T.S. Eliot died from Emphysema, brought on by his heavy smoking.

The first, smaller scale statue stands in The Jardin du Luxembourg, a grand green just the same as the collosal enlightenment some 3,800 miles away. Just the same if you don’t look closer.

Keeping all of this in mind, while maybe even rubbing the sleep from your eyes, make something grand, colossal, or colossal and grand. And green. Or, comment below and tell us what this made you think of.

Author: ruecian