LOVE + HOPE, NYC

LOVE + HOPE,
NYC

Written by Rahil Najafabadi

Four letters are heavy enough to make the word “love.” The word so many people use passively,
the word many despise ironically. The word falls off each person’s tongue differently. The emotion
is unknown. It’s a concept. Just like hope. But hope is lighter.

This report has been collected in Manhattan, New York.

I was walking in Midtown Manhattan while composing a love letter in my mind. A tiny spark of
what Robert Indiana had in his heart when he came up with the LOVE sculpture. Ironically, I was
looking for that sculpture at the same time. I always construct what I’m going to say to the people I
love, days ahead, in the small playroom of my mind. There aren’t any fancy words there when I’m
writing a letter in my head. I go for the concepts I run from when I write poetry. It’s okay. A love
letter doesn’t need to be poetic. It needs to be from the heart. But then, doesn’t every letter need to
be from the heart? I think it does.

I was still walking. I passed West Fifty Fourth Street twice. I walked across Sixth Avenue, reached
Seventh, and then walked back to the Museum of Modern Art that’s on Fifty Third St. I passed by
the Design Store that is across MoMA’s main building and saw the coolest polaroid camera I had
ever seen: A Keith Haring Edition in red. I was on the second paragraph of my mental love note
when I thought I don’t need this camera. I didn’t need the excessive walk to find the LOVE sculpture
either, but I wanted to see those giant letters. The crooked O.

Interestingly enough, Robert Indiana’s LOVE sculpture was used for the Museum of Modern Art’s
Christmas Card in 1965. The print appeared on Postal Service stamps, and more visibly as
sculptures across big cities. There is a LOVE sculpture standing outside Newfields, the
Indianapolis Museum of Art. As I was walking, I thought how amazing it would be to have that
stamp for the letter I was going to write, but they discontinued it.

It was getting ridiculous. I walked for about an hour, zigzagging three blocks and still didn’t find
the sculpture. I pulled out my phone and searched Robert Indiana Love Sculpture NYC on Google.
The address said: located on the corner of Fifty Fifth St. and Sixth Avenue. I thought I passed it, so I
walked to the same spot again. I was shushed by a gigantic sculpture of a man. It said, Listen. It
was a new sculpture by artist Jim Rennert, and it was very compelling. I pulled out my phone
again to check if there was a mistake and then I saw a report saying the LOVE sculpture was moved
during the pandemic. That felt strange.

I almost finished writing the love note. It was almost a letter by then. I decided I wanted the
polaroid anyway. I went a block west to grab some coffee and a cheesecake slice from Premiere
Deli Cafe. I gobbled down the cake as I walked out of the deli and went down the Avenue. When I
got to West Fifty Third Street, I found a replica of the LOVE sculpture: HOPE. I was stunned. The
aftertaste of cheesecake became stale. I drank my coffee and stared. I was quite confused . . . At
least there was still hope.

I walked around the sculpture, getting real close to the letters. The red was very bright; there was a
deep blue shaded in the shadow of the three dimensional letters. I got close enough and saw that
Robert Indiana’s name was carved into the letter “P.” There were also scratches on the sculpture. I
wondered how those ever appeared. Did people try to climb them for selfies?

I found it endearing that the Hope Sculpture was installed during a time it was needed. I felt that
Love was urgent during the pandemic too. It always will be. Occasionally, in the absence of love,
hope is hard to find. It seems that love sets a prototype. It sets an example for what hope should
feel like. But I believe hope sits at a distance, maybe in a corner unseen; in an avenue that takes a
lot of long steps to reach, but it is there. It isn’t as popular. Not as loud and symbolized as love, but
it is as light. It is as powerful. Love is not the letter that is sealed and sent to a lover. It is the
gesture. It is a concept. Yet hope is the aspiration of many beautiful things; the smile of the
recipient, the potential response. “Hope” is the letter itself.

Hold on. Hope.

This letter has been signed in the title.