Monumental art about the dignity and debasement of ordinary existence and coming to terms with the smallness of one's own life in the face of - or more precisely as part of - the titular Crowd. About always already being A piece of the continent, A part of the main. About the transcendent relief/despair of witnessing oneself assume one's rightful place. No longer alone; no longer Me. The ultimate cinematic vision as we see, through the camera eye, our unbecoming as individuals and laugh along with the disembodied gaze at our own humiliation.
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Late Spring 1949
Where to begin? A wheel has no beginning, nor do the seasons, but spring is the budding time; the stirring days of breathing, breeding life. Here.
And yet, it is late. Past. We look a second time at a vase, simply standing, empty yet framed by flowers. And our face has already changed. Imperceptibly, between frames, outside of time. The tears of things, held back.
A gentle sadness indeed. You must change your life.
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