I got this idea from a posting on Facebook by Toronto artist, David Clarkson. He uploaded his own version of the famous photo, notably missing all signs of life, including the Fab Four. His doctored photo instantly resonated with me, and I couldn’t get the image out of my head. This has to be the most iconic intersection in popular culture; at least for the past 50 years. Upon further discussion, I was send to a website displaying the outtakes for the original photo shoot. At this point, I was hooked.
While browsing through the other photos, I realized how familiar the badly parked white Volkswagen was. It seemed almost a part of my subconscious. I also noticed that Paul was actually wearing sandals, but took them off for the final barefoot shot. I just had to do something with this piece of information, so I added an abandoned sample of this footwear into my composition.
I don’t want to give away too much just yet, (hence the close-up in the graphic above), but all those darkly-shadowed trees cried out for some barely discernible shapes, suggestions…like maybe the Blue Meanies…but I won’t decide until I get to that part of the painting.
So, what am I trying to say here? I think my original fascination with a famous, but abandoned site, was the idea of time itself. Nothing stays the same. Although people still pose on this crossing every single day, the area is radically different. The world has moved on, and the Beatles are no more. I, myself, am some 45 years older.
And yet, there’s that car, in the exact same spot. It feels like it should always be there. But it’s not, and neither are George, Paul (shoes or no shoes), Ringo and John. For me, the passing of time can feel empty; memories fading. At what point in time, I wonder, will nobody know, much less care, about that bright, sunny summer afternoon, when the Abbey Road crossing was used to capture the imagination of so many people?