Devonne Brown

Georges Seurat: A Sunday on La Grande Jatte

“Meet me at the park at midnight, Ness,” said Tyrone. “Where the big boat meets the shore.”

“The park’s closed and creepy. All those statues made of bushes and trees wrapped around frames and trimmed to look like the people and animals from Seurat’s painting are scary in the moonlight,” Ness was genuinely frightened. She was worried about cops,monsters, and Tyrone. “What if those topiary things come to life under the full  moon? You’re not exactly Edward Scissorhands, you know.”

To get to the big boat by the shore, I’d have to get through the gate, which meant climbing it. I’d have to walk all the way through the park, past the giants. The shrubbery that had grown from small things to three or four times the size of people but were still shaped and trimmed into human form. It was delightful during the day, I imagined what it would be like at night. 

I didn’t want to disturb the sculptures at night. They needed their rest. They reminded me of the street mimes who performed all day long, they needed their rest. I suspected they were all lying down with their hands under their heads in slumber. I didn’t want to wake the giants. The topiary boat people were armed with oars. 

“Tyrone, I’m not going to be able to meet you at midnight in the park.”

“Why not?” He was angry. 

“I gave you my answer and it’s enough.” I turned to walk away. He was nuts and I had no room in my life for crazy men. I had choices and he wasn’t one of them.

“Wait. You didn’t give me a reason,” Tyrone grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go when I turned to walk away. 

“I don’t want to,” I said. 

“That’s not a reason,” he challenged me.

“I don’t want to” is all the reason anybody needs. Now, go find someone else for your midnight jaunt. Good luck and goodbye, Tyrone.” 

Topiary Park: Columbus Ohio