acid-stars.com

During the months of February through May of 2007, I interned with the MTA New York City Transit. I worked in the Simulation Lab, writing software that would quiz employees on their knowledge of the agency’s policies on train operation. Two days a week – every Tuesday and Friday – I would have to leave my home on the southern tip of Staten Island at 6:30 AM in order to arrive in downtown Brooklyn by 8 AM. My commute comprised of a ride on the Staten Island Railway, followed by a scenic trip on the Staten Island Ferry to Manhattan, succeeded by a quick ride to Court Street (in Brooklyn) via the R train. I hated going to work. However, every morning, as I emerged above ground from the Borough Hall station of the 2/3/4/5/M/N/R/W subway lines, I was greeted by a very peculiar-looking piece of art.

Standing all alone in Cadman Plaza, this jumble of metal was simultaneously easy to spot yet difficult to notice. The aluminum sculpture, consisting of basic geometric shapes, was unlike its surroundings. For one, it was metal while everything around it was either cement or stone. (There are trees there, too, but they only awaken in warm weather.) Secondly, it was blood red. However, I had no idea how long it’s been standing there. (I only noticed it once I’d become comfortable with my morning routine, finally being able to look anywhere but simply straight ahead, no longer afraid that I was going to get lost.) What the hell is that? I’d wondered to myself as I walked past it, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Besides providing the passersby with some kind of interesting visual focus, this sculpture seemed to serve no purpose.

One day, on my way home from work, I decided to walk up to this red beast (and a beast it was, hovering a good four feet above me) and figure out just what is it exactly that I’ve been eyeing for the past several months. Much to my surprise, I found no plaque or other explanation next to it. Inscribed in the base, however, was what looked to be the artist’s signature: C. F. Smith. That can’t be it, I thought to myself. You put a nine-foot tall sculpture near Borough Hall and that’s all you have to say for yourself? I circled the figure several more times, trying to find some explanation for its existence. I finally gave up and went home.

Curious to find out more about C. F. Smith’s gigantic metallic mess, I Googled the artist’s name (which, in its entirety, is Cheryl Farber Smith) and discovered that the title of the sculpture is Leaning Firm. Ms. Smith, I found out, was attempting to “create a composition that simultaneously suggest[ed] motion and repose.” At first, I could not understand what that meant. How can you be moving at the same time that you’re standing still? I asked myself. (If you haven’t noticed yet, I talk to myself quite often.) But then it hit me. Thousands of people pass through Cadman Plaza on their way to work or school (the Brooklyn Law School is idyllically located behind the Brooklyn Courthouse) everyday, constantly in a hurry. And yet I’ve caught dozens of people – myself included – stopping to look at this strangely beautiful piece. Thanks to artists like Ms. Smith, busy New Yorkers are constantly reminded to slow down and take it easy. Leaning Firm, and other pieces like it located all over the city, encourages us to bask in the beauty that surrounds us every day.

This magnificent sculpture (9’4” H × 7’5” W × 5’7” D) will be taken down in July 2007.