Giant Heads

 

My journey into the land of giant heads began this spring in Panama when I came across this art work.  I found the heads interesting and odd. Were they the children of the amazing Easter Island sculptures? There's something mystical and intriguing about heads minus bodies. Floating heads, unencumbered by  torsos, seem to have great knowledge and wisdom.  I kept waiting for them to speak to me, but they were fussy and uncommunicative.

I have so many questions I need answered about life.  Number one.. why  have people become so odd about food these days? Tell me that head.  I actually had a lady at the restaurant the other day announce she must eat soy free, gluten,  dairy and sugar free. The chef just shook his head when I told him. Poor chef. The woman ate a dry salad and drank water. Why bother. Is that really living? Why oh why has this happened in 2014? The heads must know. Another one..why do mean people live forever and ever and good people die young? Tell me that, would you, big head.

Anyway, I didn't think much more about heads until this summer when I was in Chicago's  Millennium Park and met his man, or perhaps woman. Not sure. Hard to tell without a body.

I thought of the smaller heads I'd seen in Panama and wondered maybe if this was from where all the little heads sprang. I wanted to ask this head a question,  but it wouldn't open its eyes up and appeared to be in an endless sleep. Dreaming big thoughts I bet. I left it alone because in the distance I saw an even larger, white, head. You can glimpse it between the two buildings. I wanted to make a pilgrimage to the head, sure it had answers to my profound questions, but we were running late for the train and my friends weren't all that interested in giant heads. They have no imaginations or maybe they just wanted to get back in time for happy hour. I will have to wait to find out why I haven't finished my novel yet. Oh wait. I know why. I keep procrastinating.  I don't need a head to tell me THAT.

I didn't think much more about massive heads until I was in Tucson this weekend and stumbled across another big guy or girl.

Inside this head is a cocktail lounge. Finally a place I could find answers to questions such as why does the skin under my arms flap when I wave. Okay I know that's fat and age, but maybe it knows the winning lottery numbers.

Unfortunately it was morning, and the head wasn't accepting any visitors. So I went thrift store shopping instead with friends.  I might make another journey to Tucson, if nothing else but to ask the head to tell me a joke or two. If the head won't chat, then the tipsy patrons surely will. Skeptical that a head that is a bar would know the answer to the cure for cancer. Maybe.

Speaking of a joke, I saw this sculpture in front of a hip new hotel and let's just say I'm glad it wasn't talking to me, either. I don't even want to know it's backward view of life.