Word: helix

 

helix

[hee-liks]

1. a spiral.

2. Geometry. the curve formed by a straight line drawn on a plane when that plane is wrapped around a cylindrical surface of any kind, especially a right circular cylinder, as the curve of a screw. Equation: x = a sinθ, y = a cosθ, z = b θ.

3. Architecture.

1. a spiral ornament.
2. (in a Corinthian capital) either of two scrolls issuing from a cauliculus.
   Compare Corinthian (def 2).

4. Anatomy. the curved fold forming most of the rim of the external ear.

5. Biochemistry, alpha helix.

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Jeff looked at the object that had been placed in front of him and blinked.  He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.  It was a cylinder that had been covered with pages from social media websites that had been printed with a printer so old everything that came out of it looked faded.  Several lines ran up the length of the cylinder in spirals, occasionally intersecting with each other.  Each line was a different color, and they all varied in thickness almost randomly.  As a finishing touch, the entire thing had been coated with a high gloss finisher.

                “So, what do you think?”  Carl asked.

                “It looks like you did the entire thing last night.”  Jeff said bluntly.

                “Hey now, I put a lot of work into this thing.”  Carl said defensively.

                “You did do it last night, didn’t you?”

                “Well, yeah, I did, but that’s beside the point.”  Jeff sighed. 

                “Man, you really have to stop doing your projects the night before.  It’ll end up hurting you in the long run.”

                “Meh, it’s fine.  It’s a modern art class, so I can get away with pretty much anything.”

                “You still have to put some effort into it.”

                “When was the last time you went to a modern art museum?”  Carl said.  “I’ve seen pictures that were just dots on paper.  For classical art, yeah, you have to put effort into it.  But for modern art, it’s all how you spin it.  You can have a pile of dirt with a straw stuck into the top and call it art.  As long as you can come up with some kind of meaning behind it, it’s perfectly fine.”

                Jeff thought back to his last visit to that particular kind of museum.  He hated to admit it, but Carl was right.  While some of the pieces did have quite a bit of time and effort invested into them, others were little more than pieces of furniture or colorful squares of paper. 

                “Okay, so what’s the big, important meaning behind this thing?”  Jeff asked, pointing to Carl’s work.    

                Carl didn’t answer.  He looked intensely at his creation. 

                “You don’t have a meaning, do you?”  Jeff asked.

                “I will soon.”  Carl said, still looking at the cylinder.  It took him several minutes, but he finally stopped looking at it and spoke.  “Okay, I think I got something.  So, the pillar represents everything.  You know, time, the world, society, everything.  And the images and other stuff on the background represent –“

                “Please don’t say it’s social media or anything like that.”

                “No, shut up.  It’s us.  Our generation that relies on all that stuff.  It’s you, me, everyone on campus.  Basically everyone below age thirty.  At the lines are individuals.  See how they start at the bottom and spiral up to the top?  That’s life.  That’s how we live our lives.  Never going in a straight line, always moving in weird ways from one thing to the next, right?  And the points were they cross are the times when people interact with each other.  It’s so short a time that the lines only cross at one brief moment.  And the different thicknesses are our highs and lows.  The thicker parts are the good times.  The times when we’re happy and stuff.  The thinner parts are the lows.  When we’re sad or angry or something like that.  Oh, and the glossy finish is the lens we see our lives through.  To each person, our lives can look really good or really bad, depending on the moment.  It becomes exaggerated and focused, to the point where we might as well be looking at everything through a lens from the outside.”

                “And that’s it?” Jeff asked when it became clear that Carl was done.

                “Yup.”

                “It’ll never work, you know.”

                “Why not?  It’s perfect.”

                “Nothing’s juxtaposed against anything else.  From what I know, something has to have juxtaposition somewhere it there for it to be real modern art.”

                Carl looked like he was about to say something, but stopped before he did.  He thought about that for a moment before saying anything.

                “Well, damn.  You’re right.  I have to through in a few big, fancy words in there.  Maybe not juxtaposition, but something that makes it sound a lot more important than it is.”

                Carl went right for his computer and began searching the internet.  Jeff moved in behind his roommate to see what was going on.

                “What’re you doing now?”

                “Looking up big, fancy words for what I just said.  I should be able to stick in two or three by the time class starts.”

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Oh modern art museums.  It's so much fun to go to those and see what passes for art these days.  Oh, don't get me wrong, there's plenty fine, high quality artwork out there being done by amazing artists.  But then you also get the piles of glass, bunches of string, and chairs.  You know, art that's only counted as art because the person who put it together either made up some fancy description or had someone else do it for him/her.  It's interesting, to say the least.