What Counts in the End?
I had this idea of making a fountain in my garden, and bought hardware and connecting hoses and a bag of cement. I would put the hardware in place with a scaffold and then make a mold around it and pour the concrete in the mold. After I bought these things I put them into the garage since these projects need some time to mature. I re-discovered the cement bag after a year, but the cement inside had hardened from the moisture that had gotten in. The cement was so hard that I though I had to abandon the idea of making a fountain. Instead I took a picture of the cement bag with the idea to document the concept of the project. It’s now been 2 years since I took the picture and I forgot on what day I took it. I threw the bag of cement away some time ago since it was beyond rescue. Now I have no way to find or retake the picture again, but what has been with me, all along, is the idea of the fountain. I can picture it in our backyard — it is a beautiful fountain, a piece of perfection. The idea of it is so much more perfect than the fountain I was going to make that I’m quite content with my failure to make the physical project. In fact, having moved to New York City 4 years ago, I think with alarm about the other outcome: that I might have succeeded in constructing the fountain, and then ran into the magnificent all-encompassing incomparable fountain on the Lincoln Center Plaza. I would have been crushed.
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