Are the Zombies Next?

Yesterday, I was leaving the Reading Terminal Market, as I do probably at least once a week.  The Reading Terminal is a block from the courthouse, as well as the train station, and while it may be a great spot for tourists, it’s also the best place to buy fresh produce (and of course, the occasional Amish donut – oh my! The sugar just melts on your tongue!).  What I’m saying is, this is a habit, a routine, a weekly occurrence  – so you would think that this giant art installation right across from the entrance/exit to the Market would have caught my attention before yesterday:

This giant sculpture is in an alley behind a row of restaurants, with a parking garage on top.  The walkway connects the parking garage to a hotel.  What the heck is this giant representation of humanity doing in a shitty alley, filled with garbage dumpsters and stinky trucks making deliveries?

Of course, I googled this thing that hit me like a ton of bricks as I just stared at it, paralyzed in the doorway of the market, half in, half out, thinking wtf is that?  It turns out it was installed at the end of the summer last year – so I can’t blame the pandemic for not knowing it was there; I was back to work that fall, about two weeks after it was installed.  This sculpture, Contrafeurte by Miguel Horn, is comprised of 8 15 ft tall figures, hovering 20 feet above the ground, appearing to struggle to hold up the bridge.  Interestingly, because this piece is made from “½ inch thick aluminum plates cut into incremental cross-sections of the figures, then assembled into 3D human shapes” it can’t actually touch the building because of the expansion and contraction of the materials caused by weather conditions.  The piece was funded through a city program designed to encourage public art, and while this alley certainly is public, it’s still kind of shocking to just “bump” into it in this very unexpected place.  Although, now that I think about it – where would be a good place to put it?  It certainly wouldn’t be reassuring to drive your car under it if it were attached to an overpass on the Expressway.

The artist was asked about the meaning of the piece, and this is what he had to say:

“Everybody comes up here and asks me, ‘What is it?’ I find it more interesting hearing everybody’s individual take on what it is,” he said. “It’s a group struggle, but there’s also the individuals within that. I think the way people relate to that connects with their own internal struggles and experiences.”

Apparently, some have described the struggle as a workplace struggle, others as an internal struggle to find balance. I decided to throw some cards, a reprint of the classic Sheridan Douglas Tarot from the 70’s, and asked the cards, what’s this sculpture all about?

That statue is a reminder of the fleeting nature of stability.  Once you were sitting under a tree, lamenting how boring things are, how nothing changes, and the next thing you know, you are picking up your sword, and moving on to do battle.  Don’t take your boredom for granted because a change, and a struggle could be right around the corner.

This thing is huge, and although it’s in an alley, I am right across from that alley at least weekly.  How did I not notice this giant, powerful thing before?

Too focused on my own battles and internal chess pieces.  Too busy plotting my next move, I can’t see the world in front of me.

But now, upon noticing it, I have to say, the sculpture stayed with me throughout the day. I found the images of the struggle daunting, and the nature of the figures in someway disturbing.  The figures reminded me of the depiction of zombies in movies like World War Z, swarming, struggling to climb up and over walls, looking for prey.

I wondered how this installation effects others.  Did they see a group effort?  A group struggle, and the individual experience within that struggle? How do other sees this big, raw thing situated in a weird, dirty alley –

 

They try to look at it fairly, and imagine what the artist was thinking when he made the piece. In the end, there are no winners in the giant, sculpted struggle, it’s just constant, there every day.  They leave the alley somewhat fearful and troubled, clutching their swords, feeling the need for protection.

Indeed, I felt troubled enough that later that night when the black smoke from Canada moved in, and the air became thick with dirt, and a feeling set in that an apocalyptic event had taken place, I couldn’t help thinking that my noticing the sculpture and the black smoke were related. If you’ve been watching the news or live on the East Coast, you know that there are over 400  wildfires burning in Canada, sending plumes of black smoke and noxious fumes to blanket the East Coast.  Last night, we went into Home Depot at 7:30, and when we left the store at 8, the sun looked like this:

It was eery and dirty and surreal.

The sculpture, the smoke, altogether in one day.  Was it an omen?

The event doubles in importance if I work myself into a frenzy, and naively choose to go to battle.  It’s only an omen if I make it so. Ok, I choose no, it’s not an omen.

But, it sure felt like the beginning of a horror movie.