Rome, October 2010, Piazza Nuovo : Liberty breaks...

Liberty breaks

Camera : Leica M4     Film : Ilford HP5     Lens : Summaron 35mm f3.5      Developer : Ilford Perceptol

The Statue of Liberty was not something we had planned to see during our holiday in Rome. In the event, we were not disappointed – nor were we surprised to have missed the opportunity to see said Statue.

I arrived during a break. 

The gentlemen on the left of the picture is a “living statue”. Like all living statues, he stands, for periods, costumed and, for the most part, immobile. Occasionally, particularly when potential donors pass by, he moves; beckoning them closer for a photographic oppor-chance-ity.  Where such invitations are accepted, the guest is encouraged to a place close by the Statue. A brief comical moment ensues, where the Statue of Liberty takes on an unexpected and humorous pose for the benefit of the camera and the guest. Completion of the photo-shoot is followed by a gesture towards “the tin” with the unspoken expectation of a small – or perhaps a little more – remuneration for the time, effort and overall pleasure passed on by the experience. Lastly, but not leastly (?), there is a gesture of thanks for any donations received. All this is done with no spoken word, for as we know, statues rarely, if ever, speak (I leave the subject of statues moving within this context to your own thoughts). For reasons best known to himself, and certainly not shared with me, the gentlemen chose the Statue of Liberty as his ideal representation for the City of Rome.

However, the question of applicability of statue to city is irrelevant. Everyone needs a break – including Liberty. Obviously not a full “remove costume, make-up, props, pedestal etc” break, but a short period away from the hustle and bustle of stationary Statuary Life. That’s when I arrived; the Statue of Liberty was sitting, robes raised (though not in a way that would bring scandal to bear upon the original), props cast aside for the moment on the fountain rails and on the floor. Silver-painted tiara removed, leaving only the white-painted face as scant clue to his chosen occupation.

Then the gentleman in the suit turned up. He leaned for a moment or two on the concrete pillar before noticing the strangely-garbed figure on the left. Unaware of the remarkable resemblance to any famous statue that this person may take on with just a few deftly-placed additions and a strangely reminiscent pose, he looked, then looked away, thought, looked again.

I caught his gaze on the first look. There’s no hint of emotion in his face, no obvious immediate clue as to his thoughts – other than perhaps mild curiosity at the sight of a male in a white over-garment and with a white-painted face.

Like the old “candid camera” trick where one man looking skywards causes, eventually, a small crowd of passers-by to gather round, all following his eyes skyward, so the viewer is bound to follow the gaze of the man in the suit.

  

We live in the same societies that have existed for thousands of years.  Human groups gather together and set norms – anything outside of the norm is worthy of attention. Different groups set different criteria – these become the “culture” for that group and may be very different from other groups.

Is there something more unusual about wearing white robes and props than donning a dark suit? After all, only the shape and colours differ…

Eddie