Every morning, more clearly on clear days like today, our building casts a shadow onto the building across Broadway. And because there is a flag mounted on the corner of our building since last year, the shadow of the flag wanders slowly across the façade and into the windows of the building across the street. The flag walks a different walk every day, as the position of our planet relatively to the sun changing the relationship of sun, flag, building. A black, blurry shadow, animated by the wind into various shapes. As I am writing this the shadow of the flag is entering the last window of the top floor in the building across the street. And soon it will move beyond, be cast onto trees, the river. It will become just one of many, fainter even than the shadows of the leafs or the ripples on the water.
And then it will return tomorrow.
Witold,
I see that you survived your marathon of framed light and shadow on Sunday and were even up early the following morning to collect some more shadows.
It was nice running into you at the Whitney. I hope you'll return to see the Joan Mitchell show. By 1979, she had achieved direct communication with the god pigment and the goddess hue.
Sometimes I ask myself why I read this blog. Maybe it's because I only see Witold in passing now. Maybe I have too much downtime. Maybe I don't have a third reason.
But then I read this post and it reminds that Witold is calmer and nicer than I will ever be.
Posted by: Jonathan on August 19, 2002 05:02 PM