The solitude of the soul

The Solitude of the Soul - Loredo Taft

The Solitude of the Soul – Loredo Taft

I found myself observing the city of Chicago a couple of weekends ago. I still couldn’t tell you why I went. The only reason I can think of is that I bought a ticket and decided to use it.

I did whatever I felt like doing from carrying out the uninspiring act of watching a Rom-Com while eating popcorn in bed to visiting the Intuit center where I could take in the reconstruction of Henry Darger‘s room and descriptions of his six decade long manifesto like a long drink of something unfamiliar. Neither of these things turned out to be especially stimulating. There’s a chance I won’t even remember doing them ten years from now.

What did light a spark was a sculpture by Lorado Taft at The Art Institute of Chicago called The Solitude of the Soul. I must’ve circled that thing for a solid 20 minutes, churning stories in my mind about what it felt like. I decided that I like it. I like it very much. So much so that I hesitated before looking at the description of the piece in case the sculptor’s intent might ruin what I interpreted. But I wanted to be able to find it again, and so I looked and I read.

Quoted: The figures in this work are only partly freed from the marble, a technique that emphasizes the mass and outline of the stone. Explaining¬†The Solitude of the Soul, Taft wrote, “The thought is the eternally present fact that however closely we may be thrown together by circumstance . . . we are unknown to each other.”

This wasn’t my first interpretation, but I agreed with it. Now, thinking back on it and the stories that it brings up, I agree with it even more.

Sidenote: I find it offensive when someone claims that they know¬†someone because I don’t think you can ever really know a person any more than you can know the meaning of life.