Carved on the Prospect Park West wall of Prospect Park. With 3 years of the brand chiselled in stone, George appears to be one of the more die-hard mark makers, and most likely a lover or ritual.
I'm not sure what drives people into the park to carve their names on things. I bet the feel of steel in the hand is part of it, or the sensation of the blade cutting through bark. Maybe in the case of the wall, the appeal is a desire to merge with something that seems so strong and unequivocal, a balm for endless human insecurity. Or, as in the case of a tree, to join in its strength, innocence and generosity, a balm for the arrogance and selfishness fear breeds endlessly.
4 comments:
Wonder if good ol' George is still around? Might be a case for the detectives at "Container Diaries!"
Maybe Pete Hamill knows him.
I like "the feel of steel in the hand"...the words, I mean. Not the feel...etc.
You know what i never like much, the feel of thimble on finger. the tiniest armor! I'd rather get pricked.
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