This blind contour makes me think of the tenuous nature of everything: how it all holds together at the head of a pin on the brink of a miracle!
Best viewed at a distance to get a sense of the deep perspective, the columnar shapes reminds us of the discretely dynamic balance that such a structure is.
That any structure is. That all structure is.
Presence.
I am Parthenon, and you shall see me and have heard of me in lands far away, a lifetime couldn't cover the distance.
Yet, the resonating line, if heard, whsipers of the fact that people will one day not hear of The Parthenon.
Challening, this thing, that as if to not hold together and on the verge of collapse, it still stands, magnificent Parthenon. Image of that which is great in man, his ability to construct solid symbols that can last thousands of years. But that man, there on the left, he only for a fraction of such time. And if one looks even close, there are people inside, fractions of Greatness, swallowed by the shattering voice of Roman structure: I am here, I am constant, and I too did fail.
This is true.
But if only for an instant is their solidity, fluid is more the key. The pathetic grandness of our human endevours is that they are like hitting water at a high speed. At an instant dot-like and hard, but overcome by currents of flowing reality.
Those thousands are really nothing but a minute portion of the fraction the people they themselves possess. This shattering relativising becomes clear when The Parthenon is compared to the millenium that preceded it, and the millentium that preceded that, and the millenium that preceded that, and the millenium that preceded that, and the millenium preceded that.
It all crumbles. Everything is tenuous in its grandiosity, from people to things to Parthenons.
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This blind contour makes me think of the tenuous nature of everything: how it all holds together at the head of a pin on the brink of a miracle!
Best viewed at a distance to get a sense of the deep perspective, the columnar shapes reminds us of the discretely dynamic balance that such a structure is.
That any structure is. That all structure is.
Presence.
I am Parthenon, and you shall see me and have heard of me in lands far away, a lifetime couldn't cover the distance.
Yet, the resonating line, if heard, whsipers of the fact that people will one day not hear of The Parthenon.
Challening, this thing, that as if to not hold together and on the verge of collapse, it still stands, magnificent Parthenon. Image of that which is great in man, his ability to construct solid symbols that can last thousands of years. But that man, there on the left, he only for a fraction of such time. And if one looks even close, there are people inside, fractions of Greatness, swallowed by the shattering voice of Roman structure: I am here, I am constant, and I too did fail.
This is true.
But if only for an instant is their solidity, fluid is more the key. The pathetic grandness of our human endevours is that they are like hitting water at a high speed. At an instant dot-like and hard, but overcome by currents of flowing reality.
Those thousands are really nothing but a minute portion of the fraction the people they themselves possess. This shattering relativising becomes clear when The Parthenon is compared to the millenium that preceded it, and the millentium that preceded that, and the millenium that preceded that, and the millenium that preceded that, and the millenium preceded that.
It all crumbles. Everything is tenuous in its grandiosity, from people to things to Parthenons.
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