More Light

Chris Stevens

4.18, "Northern Lights"

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor.

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home�
Lead Thou me on!
Arise, shine, for thy light has come.

Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

[Listen to Enya's Ebudae, which plays as Chris lights the sculpture.

Chris quotes Psalm 119:105; Dylan Thomas, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night," in Selected Poems 1934-1952; John Henry Newman, The Pillar of the Cloud; and Isaiah 60:1.]