Ever Wonder? Well, Now You Know

I think about a lot of things.  

When I walk, I always walk by myself, but I’m never alone.  My mind is filled with thoughts and prospective blog posts.  I wonder how and why things are the waty they are.  

Like, how people in the South Pole walk upright.  I understand the massive expanse of the Earth, but if Columbus determined the curvature of this planet by the way ships emerged as if rising upon the ocean in the horizon, just like a  fly walking on the roundness of an orange, that proves my point.  Size being relative.  And furthermore, when flying supersonic , the  the altitude that the now retured Concord reached allowed passengers (providing their  seats actually offered them a view of this perspective) and certainly the pilots could see proof of the Earth’s very round, very globe-like nature as well.  

See what I mean??  

I know that walking  upright, regardless of where you on the Earth’s surface has something to do with gravity–I think.   Gravity confounds me.  Seriously, I don’t get it.

And something else;  I’ve never understood how ducks and geese know when to fly north in the summer; south in the winter and when they do, how do they decide which duck or goose gets to lead the way?   You know how they always fly in a pattern like an elongated flux capacitor??    Why do they do that???  And how do they know when to leave and which path to take that will take them to places where they summered or wintered the season before???      Is the animal instinct like this massive  GPS?  Or at the very least, A Google map?

Or would that be a  gaggle map?   

In ice skating, I can’t tell the difference between a Triple Toe Loop or a Double Axle, but beyond that, how do they do all those incredible feats with thin blades on their feets?

I really don’t get flight.  I know it has something to do with thrust and speed and as far as I’m concerned,  honest to Endora from Bewitched magic, but I don’t know how these fixed constants all come together and make heap big Iron Bird fly long trip like crow, from the shores of Gitche Gumee to the shining Big-Sea-Water.

But I also don’t get how sculptors sculpt. It is because, I have no artistic ability. I can’t even draw conclusions and that makes me respect this  art form even more.  I think sculptor, Gutzon Borglim, the man who skillfully created Mount Rushmore was a wizard.   The carving of the faces of the presidents on the side of that mountain in the Black Hills is absolutely phenomenal.  

Borglim left no stone unturned…literally.  His attention to detail was outstanding and that resulted in stark, multi-dimensional realism in what had to have been an immense undertaking.  He contended with what few artists ever have to contend with–height and width. 

Check this out:    The sculpted faces rise up to 5,500 feet above the level of the sea. Each of the sculptured head is as high as a six-story building.   And when measured from the top of the head to the chin, each sculpture is as high as the Great Sphinx in Egypt.   The eyes measure 11 feet across, the mouth of each is 18 feet in width, and each President’s nose measures 20 feet in length.  

Despite the oversized nature of the faces, the likenesses are uncanny.   Remarkably so.    I understand this strident need for verisimilitude in his craft was something the temperamental artist demanded.     He literally left no stone unturned when it came to getting the true  resemblance  of his works down pat.   He insisted upon all facets of realism, regardless of scope.

For example, here’s the front of  his most famous effort,  Mount Rushmore:


And here’s the back:

See what I mean by uncanny realism?    One side Mt. Rushmore…the other side, Crested Butt.


One comment

  1. I understand fully. I marvel at how we actually got to the moon the first time. Think about it… If I worked at NASA trying to sort out where and what direction to launch, and how to get our boys back they would have been in serious trouble. I probably would have forgotten to carry the one on some large mathematical equation that would have shot them out across the galaxy never to be heard from again. Or on the way back they would have landed in the middle of the Sahara desert instead of the ocean never to be found.

    “…What do you mean I’m fired??? They’re not lost, they’re just running late!” (cue Bowie song Space Oddity “This is Ground control to Maj. Tom”)

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