I just learned that artist Robert Indiana has died. He was 89, and although he had a lengthy career, he is most associated with his mid-60s work Love:
The work has been reproduced in both two- and three-dimensional forms (including on a popular U.S. postage stamp), in multiple languages. It also has been pirated innumerable times (Indiana was known to collect various ripoffs), and Indiana complained at points that it led people to think of him as a one-hit wonder.
But that’s not what I’m here to talk about.
My dad’s best friend is married to a woman much of whose career was in theater, concert, and exhibit tech. She was also something of an accident magnet — prone to falls from ladders, having scenery land on her, stuff like that, to the point at which she eventually migrated to academia to wrap things up. In any case, early in their relationship, he was visiting her at work when a copy of Indiana’s famous work toppled onto her, giving her a concussion, if I recall correctly. When they told me about it years later, they said they knew they were destined to be together. After all, she had been struck by Love.
I did not make this up.