This is the first of what I’m sure will be many posts that
begin with me exclaiming, “Libraries are awesome!” mostly because, well, they are. I love their
thinking-out-of-the-box approach to community engagement and I’m lucky enough
to have more than one in my area taking this approach. The impetus for this
particular exclamation occurred on what would otherwise have been a fairly
mundane Monday. As I drove to the Peabody
Institute Library in Danvers, I saw that its entire front lawn had been turned
into a sculpture garden. There must have been a dozen or so sculptures dotting
the landscape in front of the building giving the entire area the feeling of a
casual, modern art museum.
It turns out this library is pairing with the Barn Workshop Gallery
for a limited-time presentation of sculptures. It’s a fantastic way to meld
community and culture and the location is perfect. Where else do community and
culture come together on a regular basis? At the library, of course!
I must have been too deep in my reverential musings about
the natural pairing of libraries and culture because what I saw next nearly
made me drive off the road. As I turned the corner to enter the parking lot I
was greeted with this:
Surprise!
This detailed sculpture is an unexpected contrast to the
mostly abstract collection leading up to the entrance. The giraffe is so lively
it looks like it’s simply passing through on its way to downtown, pausing
briefly to look both ways before crossing the street (safety first, naturally). If the appearance of a life-sized giraffe in
suburban Massachusetts wasn’t enough make the average onlooker gawk, the perfect
positioning of the sculpture will. As you’re driving by, the giraffe’s head is
tilted so it looks directly into the car,
as though it’s curiously examining you
while you’re taking in the sculpture (or, in my case, regaining control of the
car). I don’t know precisely who worked
on placement, but whoever did is a diabolical genius. Not only was I startled
out of my post-work haze, but once I regained my senses, I felt like, just for
a moment, I was transported to a wild animal park, suddenly on safari instead
of my errands.
Since I’m an animal lover at heart, it may be that this
sculpture spoke to me more than it will to other people, despite its brilliant
placement. The sculpture that looks like a double-sided slide might be the one
that makes other passers-by slam on their brakes in astonishment. But I won’t
forget that feeling, a mixture of awe, delight and “holy crap!” anytime soon.
The feeling may have been triggered by seeing the art piece,
but it was brought to me by the library. Without the library’s collaboration with
the gallery, I would never have known any of the pieces I saw existed and I
would have been deprived of the experience of a giraffe greeting me at the end
of my day. It’s easy to forget how much of an impact libraries can make on our
lives, offering intangible, but nevertheless important encounters beyond the
physical housing and distribution of materials. I sometimes forget that when I
simply search the catalog online for a specific title to borrow. But because of
this library, I have a picture and a memory that will make me smile for a long
time. This curious, copper giraffe is my reminder of how libraries can offer
great experiences to their patrons.
More information about “Celebrating the Art of Sculpture” can be found
at:
*Doesn’t that sound like a children’s book title?
