Two gentlemen in front of me (check out the guy in the orange shirt) explain the intent of the sculpture and disparage its integrity in French. I catch enough of it to get the gist. They don’t like it because it speaks too boldly of, well, not much at all.
They prattle on about ordinary details of the shapes and final touches of the medium and move on to the next piece. The sidewalk critics offer their weighty decision on value and meaning and have made two-cent predictions of the intention of the artist.
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