Thursday, April 1, 2010

Gold. Silver. Bronze? Aluminum would've been more appropriate. Tinfoil.

I will not bore you with historical details but I will give you the crap summary from my poor, vapid memory.


Crete has been plundered by at least a half dozen countries in their existence. My petty opinion thinks it’s because Cretans are always outnumbered. Also, these good people are lovers not fighters, despite their tenacity.


This bronze represents one fight (which one I don’t recall). In the midst of battle the flag pole fell. Legend says one man took on the pole role to keep the flag high. A kickass patriot. A man after the heart of Uncle Sam.
Now. Enough uplifting and time for me to be an ass about this patriotic tribute.


I have a few issues.


Bad art is bad art.
The good intentions are there but the artist had a rather clunky design mind. The concept is good. Located on a cliff overlooking the Chania harbor- stunning locale. Stoicism is thick (appropriate since Zeno coined the word around 300BC in Greece). The project was thought through. It’s the cartoonish, bad twist of Picasso meets Tim Burton and headbutts Renaissance chubby cherubs that I snobbily snicker at.


Here goes my uppity self.
1. Please note the MC Hammer pants gone bad. The true hang of the traditional garb should not resemble a a Depends diaper prototype gone wildly bad with an overload.


2. Knowing the bravery/stupidity/macho/bravado of the Cretan motorcycle and scooter driversof today- I’d say the statue's appearance of testicular elephantitis is accurate. Maybe no one bred with Mr. Big Balls but the testosterone of colossal cojones has stayed the same. Maybe it now comes in concentrate form.


3. The face is good. Determined. I like it. Nowadays he’d be wearing Jackie O glasses, a messy prison camp buzz cut, designer jeans with a touch of glitter and a two day old five o’clock shadow (on Greek men that shadow appears only three hours after they shave) and carrying a man purse without a hint of being anything but sexually smoldering heterosexuals. They are truly amazing men. Gorgeous. Drool inducing delicious looking.


4. The hands and feet are out of proportion like Oprah after a salt and vinegar chip binge. It has a Diego Rivera feel to it. Looking closer, they seem to have been tacked on as an afterthought. Do I see welds there?


5. Here's an even more childish observation. When I approached from far across the courtyard, (please remember I’m crude and immature), the bronze was a mere silhouette and the knife in his belt looked like male appendage coming up for air. Scroll back up and look- you'll see it.


Think I’m a pervert? Ha. I am. But go into the standard tourist shop here and every sexual position from Roman/Greek art is stamped in clay, glass, plastic, metal, etc. displayed quaintly next to postcards or Greek dolls. The refrigerator magnets are my favorite. Nothing like seeing oversized manliness being stabbed sword like at other people’s flesh as it holds up your grocery list. Let’s see...orange juice, yogurt, bread, lubricant...


6. To be honest, I just can’t stop looking at the bronze pants and feeling that it was very uncomfortable to walk wearing an immense crotch hammock just to carry spare canon ammo.


Man I love art.