At six o'clock in winter (1912), John Sloan
"And yet, come on each other hastily, as if they have nothing in common, nothing to do between them, the only convention that unites them, unspoken, is that each hold the right to march down the street, so that the two streams, marching in opposite directions collide if not " (Engels, quoted by Benjamin, London and significant on site - perhaps trial riddled with errors - in The situation of the working class in England ).
Sloan says that's six in winter, and I must confess that at first I thought he was referring to six in the morning. Then I realized that at six o'clock in winter, it is night. I hump not fall into these simple things tontuna sometimes justify my saying that I am a farm boy but I was raised in a factory for spinning and artificial silk. I see the world going to work at six in the evening unmoved.
I think the train heads to the left. A group matted and gray world soul congested during rush hour while climbing into the wagons. Passers that we face, pushed from the left of the picture, smiling. The kind of pure and bowler hat, accompanied by the smiling lady, do not seem to find transportation and displayed perfectly placed in the traffic urban pm. She loves to feel the closeness of thousands of individuals and feel unique. It is, perhaps, a creature of the night, a night owl of music hall. It annoys me that the man in the bowler hat and his companion are more significant - historical and vitally significant, significant chromatically for that matter - that For example, the hundreds that go on the train to their homes in the suburbs, after a day of work and waiting for the tedium that precedes sleep. Places to shoot in spite of a revolt uncontrolled types illuminated by color for the variety show or the theater, the long night of sex and drugs - sex might mercenary and adulterated drugs, sex and drugs but the end of the day - worth downloading the rifle because if X is bored or bored or perish all the world. YX is neither more or less than me. An ego that tries to board the train to go home.
all an exaggeration, of course. Ethically I will not let my possible or likely - old or young - to become self-centered tedious heartbreaking shot of oil of Sloan. I do not think that the artist has projected bad milk or mockery that darken in the platform and heading home without the possibility of seeing the latest show and enjoy the newest cocktail . Sloan has meant just the color and stroke laughing so interesting the time of the underdog, those who come down the street with expensive proposals, as opposed to those waiting to board the train up his face blurred in the greyness of urban sunset. Has marked the importance of one over another without hatred or contempt aristocratic.
From the left comes the night, turning gently remainder of the day (with that inadvertently dark in the big city, shrouded in the distance the sky and the adventure of artificial light). Of that horizon smiley faces also come to replace workers on the streets. It marks the bidirectionality and breaking sky / ground. The color of the night, soaking the saliva of smoke and desire, cleared the working hours in factories and offices.
The sky occupies much of the box, however, does not define its atmosphere. Is the light of local streets and that sets the pace as the sky entertains, outside all, dying of various shades of blue stranger what was day.
The layout of the table, that almost diagonal that divides the stage between heaven and apathetic urban bustle, prompts me to suggest a change in the arrow of time bidirectionality impaired right-left (those who leave and those who come). It is perfectly imaginable, thanks to the diagonal, deriving the train back to the right and pedestrians walking backwards, to the point where you turn the cigar and hat kind of fantasizes about a night of gambling and light or , men and women returning to the street sidewalk day showing their faces. And that
strange blue sky sinks to the signature lines of John Sloan, back in the top left corner.
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