There’s a new sculpture field in Chattanooga, even though it advertises itself as plural. Maybe that means there might be more. I hear an amphitheater is coming, adjacent to the field o’ sculptures. Right on top of a landfill. Isn’t that great? We could be singing along to “Cheeseburger in Paradise” while Jimmy Buffett performs (wearing a parrot hat, obvi) all the while an actual cheeseburger is decomposing underneath our very feet? Living in the eco-kingdom is phenomenal.
I don’t know if sculpture fields are the new cupcake shop, the new pop-up shop, the new record players for old vinyl albums. Are they the latest hipster movement or are they old news? Despite the fact that Chattanooga enjoys the fastest internet in the nation (so fast that it should be making me younger and lighter simply by the velocity at which I am downloading gigawhatevers), I’m really behind the times. I’ll have to watch some Portlandia tonight and see if they spoof the Sculpture Field Craze that is now so played out.
I think my favorite sculpture is this one. From one vantagepoint, it reminds me of a guy desperately trying to hail a cab (Uber wasn’t around when he was sculpted). From another angle, it looks like he’s waving to Lookout Mountain.
When I made Little Man pose for this one, I thought, this would make a great bridal backdrop. Just hand me my megaphone because I became a minor prophet that day. I’m seeing it on the ‘gram like you would not believe.
Parents in usual places: “Stay off that rusty rail. You’ll get diptheria or tetanus or something!”
Parents at Sculpture Fields: “Oh, you guys look cute. Let’s take a picture for the ‘gram.”
If you go on a swelteringly hot day, you can pretend to be Bowe Bergdahl running from the Taliban in an arid wasteland. This is not, as it turns out, what our kids were playing here. They can’t get into Season 2 of Serial, I guess.