When I was very young and moved far away from a life of acceptance and twinkies on demand I learned about The Thinker. My maternal grandmother had a small replica of it. I remember thinking, “Gosh he’s naked.” I was about five at the time. Then I remember wondering why she would want it at all. I’m not sure what happened to him as the years went by he simply disappeared. I’ve been working on a Dante series of pictures but have had a pause in that. I’ve been busy with other things. In one of my containers of things I have no room for I found a Frankenstein doll and immediately wanted to pose him as the Thinker. So I did:
My apologies to Rodin. It sparked quite a set for later flickr viewing. I let Frankie be what we all are part man and monster, part myth and part reality. We as fiend or friend depending on the day. The search for self-knowledge and the avoidance of it. Our making of monstrous idols that become uneven and unreal. Terrific dreams of small and huge magnitude that shape us as a society. That’s all in the set-boy howdy! And hot diggity.
And something I forgot about The Thinker. . it was originally titled The Poet. It is Dante pondering before the gates of hell. So my Dante series continues despite of my poor memory that Frankenstein is playing both the thinker and the poet. Suddenly it all makes sense why I wanted Frankenstein as The Thinker. It was because Dante has been on my mind. Well it makes sense to me. I really want that replica now.
And because it’s a keen song and I’m nobody’s wife: