Public art – a traveler’s view

From Walter Kirn’s Up In The Air:

Through the moving windows of the tram I view this month’s art installation: foil-propellers stuck to  the walls of the tunnel. Hundreds of them. They shiver and whirl as the trains gain speed past them. How much was the artist paid for this? Who paid him? Is this where the airport’s per-ticket surcharge goes? Last month’s masterpiece was a row of masks with progressively wider mouths and eyes that seemed to open as the viewer rode by, climaxing in a howl, a staring scream.

Art. It always makes me feel diminished. There’s something smug about it. Cocky, cold. Public works commissioners just love this stuff. It eases their bad consciousnesses, I suspect, for hiring their nephews and steaming open sealed bids. Behind every sculpture garden, a great crime.

In time for the holidays, Kirn’s sky-high hero of therapeutic capitalism has hit the screen in the body of George Clooney.