Apr. 23rd, 2004 10:56 pm
A thousand deceptive words
I haven't been paying any attention to quarters lately. The commemorative ones have lost their novelty value and--as
febrile laments--have been getting fuglier lately. If not for his pointer, I wouldn't have even realised that Missouri's is out.

My heart sank when I saw it. No, it is isn't as unattractive as some (though, granted, Wisconsin sets a pretty gosh darn low bar), but you know what I almost invariably hear from friends seeing the Arch for the first time?
"But it doesn't go across the river."
It does no good to point out that it's the Gateway to the West and the Mississippi runs southwards. They've formed in their mind's eye an image of a glittering span connecting the banks of a mile-wide expanse of flowing water (the Big Muddy is nowhere near a mile wide at St. Louis, spawning the most common second reaction of disappointment: "It's not that big.") and the reality of a less-than-200-metre-wide metal arch on a grassy knoll can only be a letdown. And this happens in a world where there are no prominent images of a river-spanning arch. Seriously, anyone who forms this false conception does so in spite of a huge body of images which make it absolutely plain how the arch fits into the skyline of the city, with both feet firmly planted on the Missouri side.
Not any longer. With this misleading image of explorers heading bravely into an geographically-impossible anachronism (or perhaps an accurate depiction of weekend frontier recreationists tooling around on a slough in the Metro East?) burning holes in the pockets of children across the country, the Great Unwashed can be forgiven for visualising the Gateway Arch as a taller, shinier Eads Bridge. For that reason alone, I will never forgive its designers.

My heart sank when I saw it. No, it is isn't as unattractive as some (though, granted, Wisconsin sets a pretty gosh darn low bar), but you know what I almost invariably hear from friends seeing the Arch for the first time?
"But it doesn't go across the river."
It does no good to point out that it's the Gateway to the West and the Mississippi runs southwards. They've formed in their mind's eye an image of a glittering span connecting the banks of a mile-wide expanse of flowing water (the Big Muddy is nowhere near a mile wide at St. Louis, spawning the most common second reaction of disappointment: "It's not that big.") and the reality of a less-than-200-metre-wide metal arch on a grassy knoll can only be a letdown. And this happens in a world where there are no prominent images of a river-spanning arch. Seriously, anyone who forms this false conception does so in spite of a huge body of images which make it absolutely plain how the arch fits into the skyline of the city, with both feet firmly planted on the Missouri side.
Not any longer. With this misleading image of explorers heading bravely into an geographically-impossible anachronism (or perhaps an accurate depiction of weekend frontier recreationists tooling around on a slough in the Metro East?) burning holes in the pockets of children across the country, the Great Unwashed can be forgiven for visualising the Gateway Arch as a taller, shinier Eads Bridge. For that reason alone, I will never forgive its designers.
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Simple enough.
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Still, you're right, making it look like the Arch spans the Missouri does not represent an improvement. I was thinking I might be able to accept both the geographical and chronological impossibilities if they had added something to the catenary curve to make it look imaginary, like squiggly rays. That is, as if it were not the Gateway Arch that the Blobby-Heads are passing under, rather the platonic idea of The Gateway stretching over them in their minds' eyes as they make their historic trek west. Of course, given the overall poor execution, it might end up looking more like the interplanetary vessel from which the fearsome trifids are emerging.