merlinjones
10-17-2003, 09:30 AM
Well, it's true. I've seen it with my own eyes. Space Mountain is being repainted white.
Big deal, you say? It is.
I never thought I would see those gleaming spires again. For over five years, multiple coats of complex paint treatment, layers of browns, greens, coppers, blues, reds - - and whatever other Sherwin Williams tones the committee could second guess amongst themselves, stubbornly clung to that sculpted facade daring me to hate them.
In time, fading and a thick crust of smoggy dirt would glaze our "Montana Future" into a corrosive concoction of creepy colors. A Fantasia of katsup and mustard and chocolate sprinkles.
It was just plain ugly.
That once proud landmark of modernist design, a beacon to the optimistic future for weary travelers of Interstate 5, would resemble a mound of molting wooden catpoo, it's dark vision barely noticible on the Anaheim horizon.
"Welcome to Tomorrowland '98", it barked to an indifferent crowd, all too preoccupied by the every day world and its similarly sullen tones and brownish smog-frosted buildings.
Would they fix it? Did they know it was broken? I'm sure there were the obligatory complaints and debates and meetings and budgets and online diatribes and defenses and articles and analysis and charge-numbers and surveys and theories and color psychology reports and hirings, firings and consultants. But nothing ever changed, nor did it seem that it would in the immediate future.
The pile of poo towered over the Magic Kingdom refusing to be flushed away.
But today it all changed. I looked up into a clear blue sky.
Three painters with long rollers stood atop Space Mountain and put down a layer of thick white coating. Merely primer some say, but it hardly matters...
The difference was breathtaking. The upper tier of Space Mountain gleamed with a brillaint moonbright white against the azure blue. It shined with a crispness, freshness, allure and bold artistic statement as it hadn't in at least half a decade.
The white, flat tones refected the sun as the overhanging elipses cast changing patterns against this modernist moonscape of light and shadow.
...As it was designed.
The weary catpoo tones gave up to the whitewashing easily. It seemed as if they never truly belonged there, but perchance were the product of some natural disaster or neglect, now being corrected.
Space Mountain was reborn. The future was bright and clear again.
It didn't take various shades of white, not contrasting tones, complex treatments, metallic sheens, crackle colors or glazes, not undertones, overcoats, multiple passes or airbrushing. Not Bruce Block analysis, trend tracking or graphs of warm and cool formulas.
Just white paint.
With a few strokes, this pure, simple coat of white easily erased five years of dismay, decay, bad taste, stubborness, ego, greed, indifference, dismissal and diminuition.
The scultpture beneath was so beautifully designed and crafted that all it needed was the clarity of white light to reveal its true nature.
And then it struck me - -
Just like Space Mountain's thin layer of catpoo coating, so easily washed away, so goes the Disney Company itself.
When Eisner and his elitist lieutenants, bankers, vice-presidents, cronies and clones finally choose to step down, their shallow, short-term choices can just as easily be washed away.
Like this structure, the simplicity and honesty of what Walt built is solid and lasting - - always present no matter how many layers of overcomplicated catpoo are piled on top.
All it will take is the simple clarity of white light to reveal that wonderful design beneath. All they have chosen to obscure will be seen again.
Even if they tear it down, the idea survives. It can be rebuilt. As long as there is white paint left in the world.
There is a great big beautful tommorrow waiting at the end of every day.
And if they paint another coat of catpoo ontop of Space Mountain, I won't forget what's hiding underneath. Because I caught a good look at the real thing again... and it was beautiful.
:)
Big deal, you say? It is.
I never thought I would see those gleaming spires again. For over five years, multiple coats of complex paint treatment, layers of browns, greens, coppers, blues, reds - - and whatever other Sherwin Williams tones the committee could second guess amongst themselves, stubbornly clung to that sculpted facade daring me to hate them.
In time, fading and a thick crust of smoggy dirt would glaze our "Montana Future" into a corrosive concoction of creepy colors. A Fantasia of katsup and mustard and chocolate sprinkles.
It was just plain ugly.
That once proud landmark of modernist design, a beacon to the optimistic future for weary travelers of Interstate 5, would resemble a mound of molting wooden catpoo, it's dark vision barely noticible on the Anaheim horizon.
"Welcome to Tomorrowland '98", it barked to an indifferent crowd, all too preoccupied by the every day world and its similarly sullen tones and brownish smog-frosted buildings.
Would they fix it? Did they know it was broken? I'm sure there were the obligatory complaints and debates and meetings and budgets and online diatribes and defenses and articles and analysis and charge-numbers and surveys and theories and color psychology reports and hirings, firings and consultants. But nothing ever changed, nor did it seem that it would in the immediate future.
The pile of poo towered over the Magic Kingdom refusing to be flushed away.
But today it all changed. I looked up into a clear blue sky.
Three painters with long rollers stood atop Space Mountain and put down a layer of thick white coating. Merely primer some say, but it hardly matters...
The difference was breathtaking. The upper tier of Space Mountain gleamed with a brillaint moonbright white against the azure blue. It shined with a crispness, freshness, allure and bold artistic statement as it hadn't in at least half a decade.
The white, flat tones refected the sun as the overhanging elipses cast changing patterns against this modernist moonscape of light and shadow.
...As it was designed.
The weary catpoo tones gave up to the whitewashing easily. It seemed as if they never truly belonged there, but perchance were the product of some natural disaster or neglect, now being corrected.
Space Mountain was reborn. The future was bright and clear again.
It didn't take various shades of white, not contrasting tones, complex treatments, metallic sheens, crackle colors or glazes, not undertones, overcoats, multiple passes or airbrushing. Not Bruce Block analysis, trend tracking or graphs of warm and cool formulas.
Just white paint.
With a few strokes, this pure, simple coat of white easily erased five years of dismay, decay, bad taste, stubborness, ego, greed, indifference, dismissal and diminuition.
The scultpture beneath was so beautifully designed and crafted that all it needed was the clarity of white light to reveal its true nature.
And then it struck me - -
Just like Space Mountain's thin layer of catpoo coating, so easily washed away, so goes the Disney Company itself.
When Eisner and his elitist lieutenants, bankers, vice-presidents, cronies and clones finally choose to step down, their shallow, short-term choices can just as easily be washed away.
Like this structure, the simplicity and honesty of what Walt built is solid and lasting - - always present no matter how many layers of overcomplicated catpoo are piled on top.
All it will take is the simple clarity of white light to reveal that wonderful design beneath. All they have chosen to obscure will be seen again.
Even if they tear it down, the idea survives. It can be rebuilt. As long as there is white paint left in the world.
There is a great big beautful tommorrow waiting at the end of every day.
And if they paint another coat of catpoo ontop of Space Mountain, I won't forget what's hiding underneath. Because I caught a good look at the real thing again... and it was beautiful.
:)