Tuesday, March 13, 2007
I have always been intrigued by "Nighthawks". But right now I can't get my mind off of "The Automat". In it, a girl in a 20's (it was painted in 1927) floppy hat sits in a dark green fur lined coat at a lonely table. She's always described as "downcast". Her only counterpart is the white coffee cup into which she is staring - or is it tea... Her face is contemplative and sad. I think though, if you walked up to her, she'd give you a shy smile. Then she'd look back down and drop a tear on the table. Why was she at the Automat, anyway? Was she going to meet someone who never came? Was she just too tired to make her own? Was dropping five cents into a machine that produced steaming coffee her daily after-work ritual? Was she aching for an unordinary night and this is as far as she got? Tonight I don't care about Hopper's magic. I just care if she is me.