1. When as a teenager I first arrived at Cranbrook Kingswood — the boarding school I went to beginning in tenth grade — I was, like most fifteen year olds, oblivious to the idea that I was about to spend three years in one of the most beautiful places in the world.
2. I could lie and say I was awestruck by the architectural vision, the cohesive and original blend of classical and modern design that leaves tour groups wandering through the campus with their mouths agape, but I had other things on my mind, more typically adolescent concerns: would I make friends in the dorms, would I do well in my classes, was I good enough to play on the (varsity) hockey team, and so on.
3. What’s perhaps more surprising to me in retrospect is that — if my memory can be trusted (and who knows) — the school, by which I mean the teachers, the coaches, and the administrators, did not force the issue. They didn’t lecture us about the priceless art we jogged past on our way to soccer practice or the beauty of the filtered sunlight that streamed into the dining hall where we gulped down chocolate milk and mastered the important life skill of hanging a spoon off the tip of your nose.
4. We were (except for living in an artistic Eden) in many ways no different than most U.S. high school kids: some of us played sports, others got drunk or high or took drugs (or dealt them, in a time-honored tradition of prep schools), some were having sex (everyone was thinking about it), and studying to various degrees.
5. Personally, I was playing sports (I wasn’t a “star” the way I had been in the small hockey pond of Pittsburgh, but I at least made the varsity), not drinking or taking (or dealing) drugs — and more judgmental about the idea than I like to remember — and studying very hard. Academic success for me had always been a social crutch, a way to sublimate my fixation on a kind of sex I didn’t want to take hold of my life in the same way it did my imagination.
6. I’m pretty sure the statues knew, however.
7. And they, like all great art, were forgiving and welcoming, even when I ignored them.
8. “We have powers you can’t begin to imagine. For one thing, we are immortal. We can wait.”
9. There is a famous sculpture designed by Carl Milles called “The Orpheus Fountain” that — interestingly enough — does not include Orpheus.
10. According to the internet: “The original fountain was sculpted for the Concert Hall in Stockholm, Sweden. In the original, Orpheus, the Greek god of music [sic], is surrounded by eight figures, all reacting differently to his music. George Booth [who financed the construction of Cranbrook] wanted the sculpture for the Cranbrook campus, but did not want it to include Orpheus. He felt the character of Orpheus was too much of a ‘supreme character’ and his presence would alter the mood of the sculpture. In myth, Orpheus is an evil character and Booth wanted to promote the fountain and the campus as ‘democratic, equal, and American’. Therefore, he bought the pieces of the original sculpture he wanted and brought them back to Michigan.”
11. Orpheus is invisible here, in other words.
12. I never thought of Orpheus as an “evil character,” probably because I’m fascinated by the idea that he was literally torn to pieces by a horde of people who may or may not have been angered by his homosexual activities after he failed to bring Eurydice back from the dead.
13. I ignore the fact that Eurydice, in most of these myths, is the “wife” of Orpheus and that the horde comprised angry women who couldn’t understand why he wasn’t “interested in what they had to offer” (or something like that). There are better ways to tell the story.
14. I prefer to think of Eurydice as an artist in her own right — a fellow musician who sang while Orpheus accompanied her on his lyre — and the horde a group of angry “alt-right” extremists (of all genders) whose only desire is to tear apart everything beautiful about our society.
15. In addition to the poor and the sick, our country seems to have turned away from art, or perhaps “beauty” is a better way to think about it if we want to exclude the corporate propaganda that increasingly dominates the marketplace with works that I guess can be classified as “art” in some respect but lack any beauty or meaning. Or to put it more brazenly: our country would be a better place if this (hot gay) statue were featured prominently on the White House lawn.
16. One thing about Cranbrook I’ll always appreciate is that the art is, in fact, very democratic (and sadly, for this reason, less “American” as time passes). It doesn’t invite worship or quiet reverence in the manner of so many museums (not that I’m against museums!) but instead quietly integrates itself into daily life.
17. Beauty can be stealthier than we sometimes give it credit for.
18. It shaped me even when — as a teenager, petrified of sex (another form of beauty) — I liked to think that I was immune to its power.
19. And as we watch the hordes rampage, I have a similar hope that they, too, will somehow be exposed to this potential. (Never forget that Orpheus, after being torn apart, became an oracle on the island of Lesbos.)
20. Maybe we can reclaim “faith” from those who wield it as a weapon and instead believe in the many beautiful gods whose invisible powers will save us all.
#GODS WILL BE RELEASED BY FICTION ADVOCATE ON JULY 18, 2017. BUY IT HERE. (AND NOT ON AMAZON.) IF YOU ARE A FELLOW BLOGGER/BOOK-CLUB PERSON/DISTANCE RUNNER WHO WOULD LIKE A REVIEW COPY PLEASE GET IN TOUCH (MY FULL NAME NO PERIODS AT GMAIL) AND WE WILL WORK SOMETHING OUT. THANK YOU FOR READING 🙂
