I was waiting for Leah to come pick me up at work the other day, and as I stood just inside the door to our building, I found myself contemplating the unlikely perfection of the buttocks on the Herky statue that adorns the promenade outside our plaza entrance.
I tried to put myself in the sculptor’s shoes. I mean, this isn’t Michelangelo we’re talking about, and the subject sure ain’t no David. I get it that Herky needs to reflect a certain athleticism, being an athletics mascot, and what depicts athleticism better than a well-formed rump? Still, there’s a certain sillyness involved in the public portrayal of a butt. How nice to make it? When does “good enough” turn to “just right” turn to “absurd?” Had I been doing the sculpting, I might’ve toned it down a bit (pardon the pun). Most people are viewing the statues from the front, anyway, so the butt will always play third fiddle to the golden bird’s barrel chest and bulging biceps. Also, I need to try to keep my mind from wandering….
