We don’t do that with sculpture

Did you see the outdoor art show that ended last month? You know the one in Madison Square Park, in New York City. Come on, you know the one where Antony Gormley had sculptures of himself on buildings overlooking the park, causing some to worry that they (the sculptures) were going to jump of the roofs? The “show” ran from March to August, and of course I had to see it. I love work that makes people stop, think and talk. This certainly did. People from everywhere simply looked up. It was the artistic version of “finding Waldo” as everyone squinted and tried finding and counting how many Antony Gormleys they could see. Except for one boy.

When going to see Gormley’s public sculpture of bronze nudes of himself in April, I tripped and fell on an elevated lip a few feet from one sculpture Gormley placed on the ground so that when you looked up at the roofs in NYC to find his multiple standing sculpture of nude him, you would have a sense of scale. Bad enough that I tripped and had to be helped up by strangers, I saw blood and started to get a bit woozey. So I sat down on a bench next to the sculpture of nude Gormley and put my head down on my lap, but continued to look at the sculpture. While I was doing that a young boy (about 3) came over, grabbed the penis of the sculpture and shoved his mouth around it. Yup, I’m bleeding, woozey and laughing and sans camera. To make it more bizarre, his mother (or nanny, it was the city afterall) came over and in a soothing voice said “oh, no, oh oh oh, we don’t do that with sculpture”.

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