Public “Art”.

Public art in Britain is a classic oxymoron. For internal contradiction it ranks up there with such joyful examples military intelligence and government worker. It is usually chosen by our moronic local counsellors, and is a by-word for the delusional affectation of contemporary urban life. The most appalling example I know is to be found in the otherwise magnificent St Pancras in London. There a gross and crude clinching couple is to be found – a sentimental horror so total it brings vulgarity into disrepute.


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