David Alan Harvey Loft Workshop, entry # 17: Times Square, p6: chosen from above

A few of those on Times Square who hope to be chosen from above.

A large digital screen stands near the north approach into Times Square. Most of the time, this screen is filled with real-time, moving images of the people who walk and congregate below. Those who pass by beneath can look up and then search for themselves among the oncreen crowd.

Virtually every sighted person who passes by beneath does scan the screen in search of themselves - along with any friends and loved ones who they walk with. At intervals, the people on the screen will be replaced by an ad, but just for a short time. Then the people reappear to again search for themselves, more excited now than before. They know the moment of choosing draws near. Soon, a dancing girl jiggles across the screen and then either this young man or an attractive young blond woman follows, a yellow Polaroid camera in hand.

As soon as the young photographer appears on the big screen above, those down below begin to wave and shout to try and catch the attention of the photographer, who is not actually there, who cannot see them, because the photographer is only a video recording of someone who once held a Polaroid camera, but is now off somewhere else, doing something else. A computer now controls everything that happens onscreen.

Even so, those down below grow excited, each hoping that they and their loved ones will be the next to be chosen by this non-existant photographer.

And look! Up there on the screen! See the man standing on the pink plaza, pointing his camera upward toward the screen, toward the image of the photographer from above! 

IT'S ME!!!

And please take note of the boys dancing behind me. You will not see them again in this post, but please remember them. They desperately want the non-existant photographer to take their picture. They want their presence upon this earth to be noted; they want to be recognized as unique and special individuals. They want to be chosen from above.

I will point my camera at them. I will take pictures of them. They won't care. I will be oblivious to them. All they will care about will be their quest to gain a flash of recognition from the fictitious photographer above.

After the imaginary Polaroid photographer appears, s/he plays with the crowd for awhile. The hand of the photographer's digital likeness reaches down to the image of the street, plucks the image of an individual from the crowd, flicks it up into the tops of surrounding skyscrapers and then brings it safely back down to the onscreen street.

After just a little more teasing, the big moment draws close. From his or her station above, the likeness of the photographer appears to point the yellow camera at the anxious crowd, most of whom are eagerly waving, shouting out, pointing, trying to get the photographer's attention, pleading with the photographer to point the yellow camera at them, to choose them.

And then... the picture is taken! A tiny segment of the larger screen randomly selected by the computer appears as a screen shot within the borders of what looks to be an actual Polaroid print. Only a few of those faces that look up so eagerly appear within the frame. For them, the ones chosen by the computer, joy follows. Some grow ecstactic. Their presence on this earth has been recognized from above. They feel as though they will live forever.

In just seconds, the Polaroid picture dissolves into pixels. It exists no more. The faces of those down on the street continue to peer upward, each hopeful that he or she will be among the next to be chosen. Some give up. They have waited here long enough. They have not been chosen. They walk away.

Here we are! Choose us! Our follies are behind us now. Choose us!

Waiting faces aglow with an expression akin to rapture.

Some raise their hands, as if to catch the spirit.

The raised hand.

All peoples, all nationalities, are here.

It is not only interdenominational, but completely interfaith - the Christian alongside the Muslim, the Jew, the Hindu, the agnostic and even the atheist. When the moment nears, it does not matter who they are. They hope to be chosen... but maybe there are just a few who are not quite convinced.

Where you come from or what you believe is immaterial. If you are chosen, you will be chosen. If you are not, you won't be.

They await the moment.

My children are deserving, even if I am not. Do not be misled by the mischievous looks upon their faces. My children are deserving. For the sake of these beautiful and innocent children, choose us!

But the fictitious photographer above will choose whom s/he will.

One has come, accompanied by an angel.

They have been chosen. Their joy is beyond compare.

At some point, I notice this little girl behind me - so eager, so excited, so thrilled; so innocent. She reminds me of my own daughters when they were small. She causes my heart to melt. I badly want her to be chosen - just as I would have my own daughters, if we had all been here back then when they were small, if such a thing had existed back then.

The man who appears to be her father picks her up. They all wave, hoping to catch the attention of the fictitious picture taker from above. I frame them, then watch their faces. Suddenly, I see the light in their eyes ratchet up a notch, their smiles grow bigger. The little girl is pleased. The dad is thrilled. I snap the picture. They have been chosen.

See? There they are, in the Polaroid frame, looking up at themselves. They have been chosen. And look! In the frame just in front of them! ME! Taking their picture at the very moment they became numbered among the chosen.

This means... I have been chosen, too!

But I did not know the hair atop my head had grown so thin. When I look in the mirror, I never see the top of my head - but there it is and my hair is growing very thin. This truth cannot be denied.

I have been chosen and it is a bit of a shock to me.

Ok - I have one more Times Square piece to post. Maybe I will get it up tonight, but maybe I won't, because I have another significant task that I must complete before I go to bed. I could have got it done by now if I had not watched the football playoff games today, but I did. I wanted to be with my wife, and my second son, to eat pizza with them and they watched the games, so I did too. I was pleased with the first result and disappointed with the second. I wanted to see the Patriots and the 49'ers go at it in the Super Bowl. That won't happen now.

Please bear with me for just a little bit longer. I will make the final Times Square post. In my own opinion, it should be the best of the Times Square posts. Afterward, I will finish my coverage of the workshop.

I will. I promise. And soon.