Speaking of clichés … arrows are a great favourite in street photography. I’m not sure why that is. A Freudian thing, maybe? Or maybe arrows imply a sense of direction which viewers find reassuring. At least it’s reassuring until the arrow points in a direction that isn’t terribly helpful.
What do we make of an arrow that points at an inclined angle? I’m inclined to think the people who installed this arrow had Elon Musk in mind. It points the way to Mars. Or maybe city planners put it there to remind us which way the skyline is headed.
Personally, this arrow makes me feel uncomfortable. It doesn’t fill me with existential dread or make me doubt my fundamental beliefs. It causes a feeling of discomfort more on the same order as when I’m at a church wedding and the officiant goes on too long and the hard pew presses against my tailbone and I have to shift in my seat every two minutes to relieve the twinge. It’s that kind of discomfort.
I can tolerate an arrow pointing off into space, but I don’t want to take that as a prescription for my life’s philosophy. If I had my druthers, I’d turn the arrow the other way around. Instead of staring off at the heights or beyond into space, I’d encourage people to stare down at themselves and their rootedness in the ground they walk.
Dreaming and star-gazing are fine. But balance these impulses with self-examination and a regard for our own place. We can ill-afford to neglect the ground we walk.
