It Depends

It Depends, One Imagines, On The Weight,

or perhaps more accurately, on the gravity of things. The term is elegantly imprecise, though the sensation it describes is quite particular, the way a floor submits its quiet observation beneath a burden, the way a structure grows remarkably forthright about its constraints when requested to sustain more than its initial specifications allowed. Yet to address heaviness without considering the nature of the surface below would be to overlook the essential detail. Where one chooses to stand, where one elects to place a piece of art, or oneself, since bodies remain within the category of art, decides with notable finality whether the ground extends its welcome or registers its dissent. The ground does not partake in theatrics, it yields only when something presents a case for belonging that cannot be reasonably dismissed, when a presence reaches a degree of consequence that renders indifference impractical, and here lies the central paradox, which careful observation reveals, certain achievements are of such dimension that they cannot remain at elevation, their continued visibility would place undue strain on their surroundings. One might recall those celebrated architectural episodes in which entire edifices took an unplanned departure from the vertical, not through deficiency, but through an abundance of intention. They succeeded so completely in their purpose that the earth beneath, after measured deliberation, deferred to gravity’s conclusion, the structure did not err, the ground merely recognized that excellence, when concentrated beyond a certain threshold, becomes a matter of engineering rather than aesthetics. Which leads to a practical understanding, brilliance of a certain magnitude requires discretion, a radiance too complete becomes a logistical consideration, not because it lacks merit, but because it surpasses every provision made for its reception. It is the kind of accomplishment that demands reinforcement, and occasionally, a revised foundation. Thus we adopt the custom of withdrawal, we lower, we sequester, we allow certain things to settle beneath the immediate view, not from any deficit in value, but because their value is of an order that makes the immediate environment uneasy. We sheath the exceptional in reserve, lest the floor, with its customary clarity, remind us that even the sublime answers to load limits, far more becoming to descend with composure, and permit others to interpret quietude as vacancy.