Bricks

Readers as old as me may remember a great fuss, many years ago now, about a pile of bricks installed, as art, in an art gallery. This is a new pile, in the Tate Modern. Note the discrete fence to stop you getting too close, to stop the acid in your eager breaths rotting the bricks.

Perhaps we should send copies of the story about the emperor's new clothes to all the trusties of the Tate. What would the original Tate, the sugar one, have thought of it all? Probably, I would have thought, much more into the sort of thing noticed at reference 1. Or perhaps he would have insisted on a pile of bricks of sugar, the sort of thing that grocers once used to chop up to make the stuff they sold on to the likes of you and me.

Reference 1: http://psmv3.blogspot.co.uk/2018/02/complaint.html.

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