Clothespin by Claes Oldenburg
I walked past you this morning on my way to work, barely noticing your elegant pose against the glass-and-steel clad skin of the surrounding skyscrapers. I casually glanced up at your soaring height, I glanced down at the crowds of morning Starbucks goers beneath you. Before I knew it, I was captivated by your immense significance.
You are a part of people’s daily lives without them even realizing it. You are as much of a curbside attraction as you are a backdrop for everyday activities of a busy metropolis. The miniature versions of you are becoming the products of yesteryear, yet you have had the honor to be elevated to the statute of immortality. Right up against the Philadelphia City Hall, you claim your importance by demanding your share of the sky.
You are the Clothespin, with a capital C, carefully mocking the very essence of the human urge to preserve and celebrate events and objects of the past. Your negate the nature of your potential insignificance by placing yourself on a podium, asking me to look at your with reverence, asking me to pay attention.
Well you got me. You won me over. I will be telling tourists from other cities to come see you, to come pay you homage, to pose for cameras in front of you with frozen smiles on their faces, to tag you on Facebook as “The Clothespin.” The one above all the others.
Who am I to question your authority? After all, you are standing on a pedestal and I am not.
"Design Delirious"
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