Painting of a gas station today. Edward Hopper again. Titled simply "Gas." Frequent readers of this blog will know already that I love the work of Edward Hopper. I was gonna write about another Hopper painting, but I kept being pulled back to this one. So I figured I'd better give it my attention. And what do we have here to draw my attention? A gas station out in the country. Two-lane road passes in front of it and disappears into the trees. Into darkness. Nothing down that road to draw us. Grass growing on the side of the road. At the pumps outside, a man is doing something. Maybe he's writing down the days numbers. Maybe he's recalibrating the price. Maybe he's hanging up the nozzle, having finished filling the tank of a car that just drove away. Nevertheless, the man is alone at his task. It's late afternoon, almost dusk. How do I know? The light is on on the Mobile Gas sign. And on the pumps. The lights are on inside the station too. They shine out onto 
shadows in front of the main building. The sun's rays also shine out between the buildings, leaving long shadows between the spears of light. That's about it really. Just a man working at a gas station at day's end. Another portrait of loneliness. Nothing really unusual in that. Except, for the man. Take another look at him. See how he's dressed. He's not wearing a mechanic's coveralls, as we might expect. No, he's dress in dark pants, a vest, a white shirt and a tie. I'm guessing his suit coat is thrown over a chair inside. This man isn't dressed like a grease monkey. He looks like he's getting ready to go someplace. Maybe he's going to dinner. Maybe to a movie. Maybe he has a date. Maybe not. But - and here's the important thing - the man isn't sitting inside brooding on his loneliness. He's taking care of business in the failing light of the dying day. There's work to be done before he can get on with the rest of his evening, and he's doing it. Perhaps happiness will meet up with him tonight. Or not. But it doesn't matter. Come tomorrow morning, this man will be back at his station, white coveralls in place of his suit, ready to face another day of work. And what memories of the night before will he have to reflect on? A thrilling night with a wonderful woman? Or will it have been a night as lonely as this painting suggests is coming on? Just one more empty evening following one more empty day. Still he'll go on. That's called duty. That's called dedication. That's what we call life.
shadows in front of the main building. The sun's rays also shine out between the buildings, leaving long shadows between the spears of light. That's about it really. Just a man working at a gas station at day's end. Another portrait of loneliness. Nothing really unusual in that. Except, for the man. Take another look at him. See how he's dressed. He's not wearing a mechanic's coveralls, as we might expect. No, he's dress in dark pants, a vest, a white shirt and a tie. I'm guessing his suit coat is thrown over a chair inside. This man isn't dressed like a grease monkey. He looks like he's getting ready to go someplace. Maybe he's going to dinner. Maybe to a movie. Maybe he has a date. Maybe not. But - and here's the important thing - the man isn't sitting inside brooding on his loneliness. He's taking care of business in the failing light of the dying day. There's work to be done before he can get on with the rest of his evening, and he's doing it. Perhaps happiness will meet up with him tonight. Or not. But it doesn't matter. Come tomorrow morning, this man will be back at his station, white coveralls in place of his suit, ready to face another day of work. And what memories of the night before will he have to reflect on? A thrilling night with a wonderful woman? Or will it have been a night as lonely as this painting suggests is coming on? Just one more empty evening following one more empty day. Still he'll go on. That's called duty. That's called dedication. That's what we call life.
No comments:
Post a Comment