Something I can never get tired of is spending time with my friends. It's the cheapest, most natural and genuine form of therapy our soul needs from time to time. And one that helps the most, I find.
So this weekend, one of my friends and I decided to have brunch then go for a stroll downtown. As we were walking, I noticed a statue I've seen before. For some inexplicable reason, I always felt drawn to it. Even connected in a way.
About 10 years ago, yours truly was going through some very emotional times. I feel like a lot of us have found ourselves in one of these situations where you know something (or someone cough cough) is wrong for you, but you keep hoping for a change. You don't want to admit to yourself, or to anybody else, that the magic you saw was no longer there. That's exactly where I was in 2014 - hopeless and lost in many different ways.
My mom and myself in 2014, celebrating her becoming a Canadian citizen 🇨🇦
Around that time, I helped a friend move from one side of the city to the other. While we were driving up and down Sherbrooke street on a warm April day, I noticed what appeared to be a big statue of an angel. I couldn't see it properly as we were on the move so I asked my partner at the time to make a stop after we're done. He agreed. That's when I was first introduced to The Eye.
Now I don't feel like the name is very fitting but let me give you a bit of a backstory. From what I've heard and read, the statue itself is supposed to portray “a space of representation, of dream, of colours”, as described by David Altmejd, the artist himself, in this article
However, I've always felt some kind of sorrow, despair, even grief looking at this 4-meter masterpiece. Starting from the head, which is concealed by human hands - this can be perceived as inability to properly see, think or experience life itself because of others and their opinions; because of people meddling in your life. The whole body seems beaten and exhausted - like it's fought a battle and is barely surviving. Like a soldier after the combat of his life.
We can see the battle scars all over his body and wings. He is covered in some kind of liquid (I think of mud or even blood). His right arm appears to be stripped down to the bone. His wings look heavy, as if they're being weighed down by what I can only assume is the weight he's carrying on his shoulders. He's bare-naked, with his chest exposed to the whole world. Yet he is still standing, wounded but unafraid of being his real, true self.
What strikes me the most is the heart that appears to be missing, which can be interpreted as him dedicating his whole life to be of service to others, protect them, love them...Then not getting that same love and kindness back, not being appreciated, not being valued which can leave one feeling "empty". The whole in his chest and the absent heart can indicate the emptiness felt inside.
I have wondered for years on end what the meaning was behind this statue. Why was it built? What did it represent? And I think the conclusion hit me that day - the beauty of art is that no matter what thoughts and feelings you put into it, it will inevitably be perceived in a thousand, if not millions, of different ways. What I see as mysterious, ominous, dark another person will interpret as bright, inspiring, dreamy. And neither one negates the other.
Who knows, maybe one day I will wake up, look at this beautiful statue, and feel different about it; see the optimism behind it rather than the despair.
Thank you and wishing you all a lovely rest of the weekend!