By Brian Watko
I’m going to be honest with you guys: I’m feeling a little wistful now that my time at Bard is drawing to a close. This is likely the last Bardvark article I will ever write, and with that in mind, I want to make it count. These past few weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on my college experience, and I realize that I’ve accomplished so many of the things I wanted to do—I put on a puppet show, swam across the Hudson, and got in a fistfight with three Theater & Performance faculty members. However, one box on my Bard bucket list remains unchecked, and I’m hoping to fix that in the coming weeks. Before I graduate, I’m going to spin Stargon until it flies aways.
I know what you’re thinking. “Brian,” you say, “are you talking about the giant bunny ears behind Manor, created by artist Robert Perless? Surely he didn’t intend for his stainless steel sculpture to fly!” Perhaps that wasn’t Mr. Perless’ intention—maybe he just wanted his creation to creak around lethargically and be used as a photo-op spot for freshmen. But I know for a fact Stargon can be freed from terra firma; I know it can soar through the azure skies of the Hudson Valley, its antenna gleaming like the twin masts of some futuristic ghost ship. All it needs is a little push from 50 to 175 people. If they can achieve the necessary velocity, Stargon will shoot into the heavens and gently descend back to Annandale-on-Hudson several hours later.
You may wonder how I know this. The truth is, it’s happened before—many times, in fact. Ever since Stargon’s construction in 1987, there have been reports of unidentified metal objects shaped like a demented paperclips hurtling out into the exosphere. The College has worked tirelessly to hush up these occurrences, but every so often a new report will leak. Back in 2003, Adam Conover tried to prove that an 80-foot-tall steel sculpture was incapable of flight, only to inadvertently send Stargon spinning into the clouds. (According to an anonymous source from the Bard Alumni/ae Association, the Adam Ruins Everything star has never forgiven the College for the embarrassment he endured.)
As far as I can tell, the most recent incident took place on February 13th, 2015. A small crowd of students gathered in the snowy field behind Manor to spin Stargon and see if the rumors were true. Sophomore Leif Stoddard climbed on top of the sculpture, perching between the bunny ears like a triumphant pirate. Fifteen seconds later, both Stoddard and Stargon vanished into the night. The sculpture returned in the small hours of the morning without its passenger. I was not there that fateful evening, but I’ve seen the shaky iPhone footage that eluded David Shein and the College’s other censors. I have seen Stargon fly, and before I walk the stage at commencement, I want to see it fly again.
This Friday at 9 pm, I’ll be behind Manor, primed and ready to spin. I urge you—no, I implore you to join me there. Let’s launch this shiny motherfucker into the cool night sky; let’s free this creaking eyesore from gravity’s shackles. Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourselves. Before you graduate, I want each and every one of you to see this stainless steel beast soar through the sky, a Stargon lost among the stars.
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