She lives in the heart of downtown Providence. Her hair, which tumbles down powerful shoulders, is never mussed by winter’s icy winds or spring’s pummeling showers. Instead, her hair is permanently frozen in perfect chaos, just as she is. Just as she has been since 1899. Every day, throngs of people pass by her. Some are in suits, heads down and briefcases propelling them forward. Some are sprinting to the buses, late for school and shouting to their friends. Some sit on benches, no place else to go yet it seems like they too don’t even see her.
I was first drawn to the Carrie Brown Memorial Fountain in the fall of my freshman year at Brown, when venturing off the College Hill seemed like both a novelty and a risk. I decided to cut through the park adjacent to Kennedy Plaza because the crunch of burnt orange leaves under my shoes was still a new sound for me, coming from Florida. I wasn’t in a rush to be somewhere and didn’t really have too much work, so my eyes wandered through the park almost as erratically as the scampering squirrels. As soon as I reached the end of the small park, there she was.
Whenever I am walking downtown, I always make sure to pass by the mythical creature that is immortalized in the center of the fountain. I look into her eyes - even if it’s just for a second. As my journeys downtown became more frequent, I came to realize a sad fact. No one else seemed to notice her. This is disturbing on many levels. First and foremost, the fountain was created to memorialize a person, Carrie Mathilde Brown. Next, it was a piece of art created by someone - an artist who wanted their work recognized. Lastly, the woman at the center of the fountain – while yearning to be noticed – is forced to have a life permanently affixed to an ornate vase.
Soon I would learn the story behind the fountain was not about just one woman, but three…
