Statue Rubbing

There is something terribly endearing about statue rubbing to me, especially when it comes to statues of animals. For so many people to love something so wholly, or so many that hope to get good luck from the statue that they cannot help but touch it to the extent that it alters the art itself and keeps some parts from oxidizing is something I find adorable. 

A good number of dog statues made of copper have this same appearance or a similar one because of how frequently they are touched; another example that comes to mind are copper statues in zoos, which kids often climb on, touch, and take pictures with. Even in boiling summer heat when the statues are hot to the touch, attempts are still made to interact with these statues for good pictures later.

There is so much to be shared by so many, and lots of evidence to show for it. It's part of why I enjoy human geography so much, even with the glaringly obvious pitfalls or unfortunate events that have severely impacted the geography of the world. Humans and other hominins have all expressed ritualistic tendencies such as this; intentional burial, the use of ochre in religious practices and art were all developed within the archaic and modern human's timeline.

Of course, the actual practice of statue rubbing is not without its issues. Statue rubbing often can lead to erosion, which damages the statue especially if it is in a space where tourists often visit or it becomes a tourist attraction. 

Aside from this though, I really do appreciate the consistencies of humanity and the ritualistic behaviors that are universal between countless people. Every touch makes a difference, and every dog statue is just a little bit warmer for it.