My Favorite Ride at Lagoon

Alright, last Thursday I went to Lagoon with some friends.  For those unfamiliar, Lagoon is Utah's largest amusement park.  It's about a half an hour away from Salt Lake City.  While it's no Six Flags, Lagoon is the home to many attractions at varying levels of intensity.  Most hard-core coaster lovers would find satisfaction in rides like Wicked and Colossus the Fire Dragon.  Others who aren't so keen on going upside down might like the classic Roller Coaster or the Wild Mouse. And, of course there are plenty of rides designed for young children.  Lagoon's a good park.  It's got something for everyone.

I like intense coasters. I like going upside down, I like steep drops, and I like high speeds.  I'll go on anything. Wicked, Samurai, the Rocket (although for full disclosure, I will admit that I do still get a little tense when I go on the Re-Entry part, but I will still ride it and have a good time!)... anything!  I'm pretty fearless, and I don't get sick. I'm used to crazy rides.

I say all this about myself because I don't want anyone to think that what I am about to say next is due to an aversion to more high-intensity attractions.  I am NOT afraid of Wicked, I am NOT afraid of the Cliff Hanger.  Heck, if I had the funds, I'd even try some of those bungee-jumping free-fall things they have on the north side of the park.

BUT, that being said, there is a ride at Lagoon that deserves a heck of a lot more credit than it gets.  It's not a coaster, you don't go upside down, and it doesn't even go up that high.  Some might even say it's meant for little kids... But don't let any of this deceive you!  The truth is THIS RIDE IS AWESOME:

It's called:

The Odysea.

Here's why it's awesome.

First, let's talk about location.  Squeezed nicely between the Bat and the Jumping Dragon, two fairly safe and unmemorable rides, the Odysea is located in part of Lagoon that you probably won't come across until midway through your day, after you've gotten through all of the "staples" like Wicked and the Rocket.  At this point of the day, you're probably feeling a little tired and listless.  "Just give me a ride," you're thinking.  "I don't care how intense it is; I'm just hot and tired of walking and waiting in a long line! I'm too lazy for that."

Then, before your eyes, you see it!  A giant purple sea monster with one eye, its arms outstretched, rising and falling in unpredictable patterns, clutching what looks like various fish and submarines with riders sitting within them.  If you weren't in such a lethargic mood, you might have missed it!  But now, seeing as it's a hundred degrees and your feet are tired of walking, you figure that it's worth a shot.  Even if the majority of those waiting in line are young children accompanied by parents, you don't care.  You get in the short line, lined by a pleasant blue fence adorned with bubble motifs.

Already, even as you are waiting in line, you'll notice the pleasant mist rising from the water surrounding the mechanism.  This leaves you already feeling good about your choice.  On a hot Utah day, you want a ride that keeps you cool.  And while you COULD pick a more popular water ride like the Cliff Hanger or the Rattlesnake Rapids, with long lines and the potential to get absolutely DRENCHED, this ride seems like a safer, more pleasant alternative with a MUCH shorter line.  Even as you stand and wait, you catch the mist on a breeze and it feels FANTASTIC.  What other ride provides a pleasant misty experience for those simply waiting in line?  I say unto you: NONE.

It's your turn to pick a seat.  You notice that each pair of seats is nestled within either a fish (perhaps a shark?) or a submarine.  You and your best friend take a seat in a submarine, and you notice that it is labeled with its own unique name.  Mine was a ship called the Octopus.  How pleasant!  My ship has a name!  I suddenly became the captain of the Octopus.  And my friend Kelly sitting next to me was my first mate.  And my two friends sitting in front of me, riding a giant shark (named "Sharkie," of course), were my fellow comrades on an epic deep-sea voyage!  How exhilarating!

It's at about this point when you discover that the Odysea is an interactive ride.  You and your ride partner wield a joystick that allows you to move your vessel up and down.  You have the power.  You have the choice.  Isn't that nice?  A ride that provides you to use your own agency for how high you go?  If you feel like it, you can take your ship up to its highest height and look at the world below you from a cozy distance.  Or you can jerk your joystick back and forth and zigzag up and down, up and down...  It's up to you!  And that is awesome!  What other rides have given you this kind of mobile autonomy???  I say unto you NONE!

But, of course, with great power comes a great responsibility.  Since you have the ability to choose your trajectory, you also must face the consequences for making a poor choice in your flight pattern.

You may not notice them at first, but surrounding this great sea monster are several friendly aquatic beasts, their lips pursed, with a stream of water coming out of their mouths.  If you managed to notice the happy whale and his spout of water, you may have thought, "Oh how nice!  A little spray!"

A LITTLE spray?  I think not.  Guys, trust me on this, but what may look like a tiny stream of water is actually a massive JET of water that PELTS YOU IN THE FREAKING FACE!  And it's not just this whale you've got to worry about.  They're EVERYWHERE.  There's the whale, the shark, and the dolphins, all shooting water at you!  And it's your job to move the joystick and avoid their spray.

This is no easy task.  The animals have the power to change their spray trajectory, so one pass might leave you able to rise above the stream, but the next time, perhaps not!  Perhaps the next time, you'll make the bold attempt to repeat the motion, but this time, you get HIT IN THE FREAKING FACE by a boatload of water!  That whale, he was the worst.  His spray path would change on the dime.

Kelly had control of the joystick.  I, being Captain, was of course responsible for issuing the commands.  But it seemed like with every assumption I made, I was met with the exact opposite result!

"Kelly!  WHALE!  Go under it!"

"Roger that!"

"Wait... NO!  Nevermind!  He's spraying low! Kelly!  WHALE! Go up!  Go up!  HIGHER!"

"I'm TRYING!"

"WE'RE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT!"

*SPLOOSH*

And then those dolphins.  THOSE DOLPHINS.  You see a dolphin, and you take note of the path of its spray.  It's pretty low, so you obviously raise your vessel to go over it.... Safe, right?

WRONG.  What you DON'T see is the other dolphin, sitting directly above the first one, hiding in the tree.  It's a trap.  There's NO ESCAPE.  You hear a cacophony of screams from both Captain and First Mate... then...

*SPLOOSH*

And just as you're trying to recover from the dolphin attack, then...

"SHARKIE!!  MOOOOOOOOVE!"

*SPLOOSH*

The first go-around, and one or both of you is already drenched.  It's only after you have been soaked by multiple attacks from these creatures that you realize that there are light-up arrows just below the name plaque of your ship...  These give you hints about where you could go to avoid the spray.  The key to success was in front of you THE WHOLE TIME!

Kelly and I did our best to work together.  But there is another tactic.  If you have control of the joystick, you could always stage a mutiny against your partner and do your best to get HIM/HER wet.  My friend Jeremy, sitting on the inside seat of "Sharkie," tried exactly this.  Whenever they approached a spray, he would ignore the arrow's directions and position his vessel so that it would hit his buddy Caylor, who sat nearer to the spray.  How diabolical!

But what Jeremy quickly realized was that this game is SO well designed, it doesn't matter whether you're on the inside or the outside:  YOU ARE NEVER SAFE.  More often than not, the arc of the spray would go just over Caylor's head and hit Jeremy square in the face.

What you hear, in this process, is something like, "HAVE A DRINK, CAYLO--BLLBBPH!"

*SPLOOSH*

Take THAT, you traitor!

What other ride at Lagoon is this deceptively complicated?  I say unto you: NONE!

By the end of the ride, you are soaked, disoriented, and dying of laughter.  The four of us, grown adults, ended up spending a good ten minutes just standing there outside the exit, laughing.  Laughing at each other, about how ridiculous we looked, and how we couldn't outsmart four inanimate fish!

On top of that, I felt like we became better friends in this experience!  After the Odysea, I felt a lot more comfortable with these people than I was before.  It was as if we had conquered something together.  Like we had all overcome an important and life-changing challenge.  And we had all grown from it.  During the short three minutes of this ride, we seemed to learn several important life lessons: We learned about teamwork, we learned about cooperation, we learned about empathy, we learned how to follow directions, how to appreciate the simple things in life, how to laugh at ourselves. What seems like a simple kiddie ride is actually an intense BATTLE BETWEEN MAN AND WATER-SPRAYING BEAST, and, in a way, it also metaphorically manifests the BATTLE BETWEEN A MAN AND HIS OWN CONSCIENCE!

What other ride at Lagoon brings friends and family together and uplifts you in this way?

I SAY UNTO YOU:  NONE!!!!

It was the highlight of our day.  And with the right people, this may very well be the highlight of yours, as well.

The end.

DC Trip Part !#

A bit of Artsyness of my own...

My sweet mother, admiring art.

A hurried picture of the Washington Monument.

The American Indian Museum.  We never went inside, but isn't it a cool building?

Ellen and Nathan, lookin' hot.

Pocahontas?

Nathan

Ellen

Modern architecture.

Neo-Classical Architecture

The outdoor rose garden, featuring roses and a host of other pretty green things. 

Nathan, posing.

Ellen, my darling sister, posing.

Me... in a very flattering outfit... NOT. 

Look... a bee.

This is one of my favorite pictures of all time.  Taken completely by accident. 

Rose garden.  

FACE IN LEAF.

Most of the roses were dead or dying.  Not this one...

FamFam

My dear sweet parents.  This is why I love them. 

Awww, Han, quit with the mushy stuff!

Another favorite picture, again taken by accident. 

Gaaa, I just can't get OVER how cute my sister is!

Dad.  :D  I love him.

Look!  A cool exotic flower!

I took this picture more for mom's sake.  She liked the design and wished she could duplicate it somehow in our backyard.  Let me know how that goes, Mom.

Right outside the Smithsonian "Herbarium," which I greatly would have liked to see.  But it was closed, so take a looka t the building.  The plant life surrounding it is meant to represent different classes of plants from around the world.  It's kind of a fun little adventure.

What a great family experience, this DC trip o' mine.

Listening to:  "Helena Beat" by Foster the People.  My new obsession.

Blessings:  Thanksgiving dinners.  Family.  Friends.  A computer.  A piano.  Three-day weekends.  No work.  No snow.  And my best friend is coming back to BYU this winter.  SO THANKFUL.

Things Going On Today:  Try things NOT going on today.  No school.  No work.  No parties.  I'm free to do homework ALL DAY.  

Learned:  What the phrase "Loss of Down" means in football.  

DC Trip Part !@

Sculptures Outside the Hirshhorn:

Lucio Fontana, Spatial Concept: Nature (59-60 N29), 1959-1960

I wonder what these sculptures by Lucio Fontana mean.  Perhaps something about rebirth and natural spiritual growth?  It would be nice to have some time to do some research on this...

Roy Lichtenstein, Brushstroke, 1996

This guy's pretty epic:  Roy Lichtenstein.  You may know him as the guy who paints those blown-up comic strip panels, complete with the benday dot effect.  He also did a lot with imitating brushstrokes.  It's like he's painting a line of paint.  This aluminum sculpture is right in front of the building on your way into the Hirshhorn from the mall.  It's a pretty cool first glance as to what's inside.

Claes Oldenburg, Geometric Mouse: Variation I, Scale A, 1971

This is a famous piece.  Claes Oldenburg's Geometric Mouse.  I find it to be a minimalist take on an iconic Mickey Mouse motif.  I've seen this sculpture in my textbooks.  It's very simple, but unique and original.  

Tony Smith, Throwback, 1976-79

Tony Smith is a very famous minimalist.  He's best known for his work, Die, which was a giant iron block with no other apparent features or artistic qualities aside from it's... well, it's blocky-ness.  Some people have a lot of trouble accepting that as art.  Unfortunately.  

Some of Smith's works, however, are more aesthetically pleasing, like this one.  There's a little bit of a mobius strip in this, in the fact that the figure seems to wind around itself in seemingly unlimited patterns.  I find it fascinating how people can see so many different images and actually make them real.

Kenneth Snelson, Needle Tower, 1968

I was reminded of the Eiffel Tower when I saw this tall sculpture by Kenneth Snelson.  Here's a really cool image I found online of  the perspective you get when liking directly up from inside the tower.  Pretty playful geometry.  Makes me almost appreciate math.

Go Here for the source.

My favorite thing in the sculpture garden was this installation by Yoko Ono.  It was a tree with hundreds of little paper tags all over it.  I think I can just include the plaque to explain what the goal was for her project.

Yoko Ono's an interesting woman.  She was part of this Neo-Dada movement called Fluxus, which prided itself in this free, do-it-yourself, performance-based artistic experience.  She's a huge advocate for peace and unity within the world.  This tree -- one of many planted across the globe -- is, to me, a symbol of how we all as human beings have something in common -- we all wish for something.  We all want to be happy.  I, like many, have the following wish:

\

...and I, like many, sometimes have trouble visualizing the reality of this wish.  But the reality and tangibility of this dream -- symbolized by its being written down and placed on the tree -- is there!  

Some other wishes I found on the tree that spoke to me:

This one I thought was just funny:

I really love this wish tree idea.  I'm glad I got to experience it in a quiet, serene environment.  The clouds were out, the tourisits were few, and my family was far behind me.  I was pretty much alone with this tree.  It was very nice.

Yoko Ono, Wish Tree, 2007

Alberto Giacometti, Monumental Head, 1960

Giacometti.  I think he's my favorite existentialist artist.  Mainly because he uses some pretty cool motifs and because his human figures actually look like how he wants them to feel.  Some even call him a surrealist.  Anyway, I immediately knew who was responsible for creating this morose-looking bust next to the Wish Tree.  They're quite a contrast from each other.

Henry Moore, King and Queen, 1952-53

The Sculpture Garden has tons of iconic works by famous artists that I immediately recognize from the textbooks I've had to read for my art history classes.  This one, I knew, was done by Moore.  His King and Queen motifs are seen all over the world. You can tell it's Moore by the simplification of the human form.  His works would grow to be even more simple and stylized as time goes on.

Auguste Rodin, Monument to Balzac, 1891-1898

I was really excited about this one.  Auguste Rodin's Monument to Balzac is very, very famous. 

Rodin was one of the first "impressionistic" sculptors; he allowed his technique to show through on his work, leaving a "painterly" quality of thumbprints and indentations from working the material.  Balzac was a pretty high and mighty guy; after being commissioned for this work, Rodin took a lot of... creative liberties with this work.  It looks nothing like the original Balzac and was rejected.  Only now, in modern times, can we appreciate the value of Rodin's deviance from the norm. This is a replication of the original, which is located in the Rodin Museum sculpture garden in Paris, France. 

I thought this was a pretty epic and inspired work, so I took a lot of pictures of it....

Funny... Rodin lived in the 1800s.  There aren't many artists from that age on display at the Hirshorn...

I guess that means Rodin was pretty modern for his time....

Auguste Rodin, The Burghers of Calais, 1884-1889

This is also a replication of a very famous work by Rodin, The Burghers of Calais.  Story: 

So back in the day, England laid siege to a city called Calais, and the city held out for so long, people started starving.  England said that they would spare the city, but only if it would offer the city's six strongest leaders as a sacrifice.  Those six burghers, walking to their doom, are the subject of this work. 

I think Rodin captures human personality very well.  Each of these burghers is showing a different emotion and demeanor.  Pretty cool...

Auguste Rodin, Walking Man, 1900

Another work by Rodin.  This one's a motion experiment called Walking Man.

Willem de Kooning, Clamdigger, 1972

Willem de Kooning was a whackjob if he saw images like this as "beautiful."  I think it looks like a child did it.  But of course, at such a grand scale as this, it would have to have been a pretty tall child with some pretty big hands.  And the title!  Clamdigger.  Fits eerily well, doesn't it? 

Henry Moore, 3-Way Piece No. 3: Vertebrae (Working Model), 1968 

More Moore.  I like this work because it really depicts the bone-like quality that the name suggests.  It's like a piece to a greater organic puzzle.

David Smith, Agricola I, 1951-1952

What a master, that David Smith.  All of his works are so unique and individual, but you know who created them right off the bat.  This one is called Agricola I, named after a Roman General.  Do you see the human-like quality of this piece?  I do.

David Smith, Voltri XV, 1962

Another David Smith work.  This one's probably named after another artist and created out of scrap metal.  Part of me really admires the "one man's trash" quality of David Smith's work.  He made this whole piece out of scrap metal.  It took very little time and the result is so simple and familiar.  

Ellsworth Kelly, Untitled, 1986

Kelly:  A Minimalist with some abstract expressionist flair.  He had a fascination for shapes and dimensions.  I feel like you can't really enjoy this untitled work unless you walk up to it and look at it from under the "fold."  Too bad they tell you not to touch the artwork at the Smithsonian.

Alexander Calder, Sky Hooks, 1962

What can I say, I just FREAKING LOVE CALDER, so I take a lot of pictures of his work.  I like this one because you can approach it from any angle and get something a little bit different.  It's like a journey that continues forever.

Dan Graham, For Gordon Bunshaft, 2006

My siblings and I had fun playing with this more recent work by Dan Graham.  It's titled For Gordon Bunshaft, who was the architect and designer for the Hirshhorn Museum's circular building.  Fitting that the work would be placed under its shadow.

The piece contains two-way mirrors, which lead to countless hours... er, minutes... of camera fun with the family.  

From the Hirshhorn website: "Graham has described these structures of mirror and wood as hybrids: one side derived from traditional Japanese architecture, while the other two sides allude to modern corporate architecture and Bunshaft’s design of the iconic Hirshhorn building."

The only problem:  I can't get a good picture of my sister with Graham's piece without taking a picture of my annoying, camera-toting self as well.  

It was still a great piece.  I think it's purpose is to include the living generation in the artistic movements of both the past and future.  Thus the two-way mirror.

As seen from above. 

David Smith, Cubi XII, 1963

Okay, this piece is one of many iconic pieces that you HAVE to see when you visit DC.  His Cubi are works of mastery.  Why?  Well, first of all, even though the work is made out of steel -- man-made -- it resembles and echoes natural, organic processes of crystallization and mineral growth.  Second of all, it combines a minimalist block-style with the abstract expressionist freedom by its artistic scratches on the metal.  The work changes throughout the day, depending on the light and reflection of the work.  And you, yourself, can be seen in its reflection.  SUCH a cool piece.  

David Smith, Pittsburgh Landscape, 1954

Here's another modernist twist that David Smith has created.  While modernist critics lauded David Smith for creating "ideal" sculptures that emphasize sculptural qualities, this work seems to echo a painting.  It's even called a LANDSCAPE.  There's little dimension to it; it looks almost drawn on a 2D surface made of air.  I find it pretty cool how Smith was able to thwart his critic contemporaries and make something that blends two artistic worlds together. 

A detail of Pittsburgh Landscape

Anthony Caro, Monsoon Drift, 1975

I think the title for this work by Caro is so fitting, but I really can't find the words to describe exactly why.  Perhaps it represents the cloud cover as the monsoon season rises and falls.  Or perhaps it's the waves of an overflowing river.  Or perhaps it's just representative of plate tectonics... I don't know, but it's a piece I love to look at again and again.

Mark de Suvero, Are Years What?(for Marianne Moore), 1967

My final piece I will show you in this long and arduous post is this one, by Mark de Suervo.  He liked to use I-beams in his modernist sculptures.  Unlike some of the works by Smith, this piece is GREATLY sculptural.  It's mobile, for one thing, so the piece moves through multiple stages in the third dimension.  And furthermore, it's made out of hard-and-fast modern material: steel.  The red color adds to an industrial feel.  

This is a Calder-like work.  You can look at it from any angle and see something completely different each time.  

It's also a very big work.  Like a jungle-gym of I-beams.

The title, which means so much, yet never enough to satisfy you.  The title is based off a poem by Marianne Moore, called "What Are Years"

What is our innocence,
what is our guilt? All are
   naked, none is safe. And whence
is courage: the unanswered question,
the resolute doubt,—
dumbly calling, deafly listening—that
in misfortune, even death,
      encourages others
      and in its defeat, stirs

   the soul to be strong? He
sees deep and is glad, who
   accedes to mortality
and in his imprisonment rises
upon himself as
the sea in a chasm, struggling to be
free and unable to be,
      in its surrendering
      finds its continuing.

   So he who strongly feels,
behaves. The very bird,
   grown taller as he sings, steels
his form straight up. Though he is captive,
his mighty singing
says, satisfaction is a lowly
thing, how pure a thing is joy.
      This is mortality,
      this is eternity.

Listening to:  Nothing at the moment.

Things going on Today:  Teach two-year-olds about the clarinet, Women's Chorus concert, Stake Conference, Halloween Party

Blessings:  Weekends, schedules that work.

Learned:  See above.  Plus more.