The question is not “why are these children crying in pain on a block of wood,” but “why did someone feel the need to SCULPT them?” What artist was driven, on seeing five anguished moppets, to craft them out of plaster painted to look like sandstone?
Was it something that they did? “You there, climb up on that pedestal and wail piteously until you’re sorry. Or until we’re sorry. The important thing is that someone, somewhere is sorry. So, check that off the list.”
Or maybe it’s a memorial to the children of a whooping cough epidemic. Hard to say.
On the other extreme, this little androgyne looks happy!
Really not so horrifying, except that it’s kind of fun to see another version of this guy, but with both hands intact. I’m not sure my understanding is enhanced–we still have that mysterious neck goiter, enigmatic chalices filled with some mysterious, exotic substance that will change our lives, cure cancer, or spill forth plague upon the world. Or maybe it’s hot chocolate.
The big difference is that, unlike the Infant of Prague from a few months ago, instead of gazing out through sightless eyes, this little…thing…had his/her eyes tattooed into a permanent expression of mild, pleasant surprise. It’s as if, for years beyond knowing, and looking forward into the infinite future, she’ll be puzzling out a response to a clever, but off-color, joke.
More tea, sir?
Somewhere between the anguished wailing of the Littlest Chorus of the Damned and the cheerfully lobotomized “Return of One Girl, Two Cups,” we have…her. I’m prety sure she’s getting ready to pour water onto her dog, maybe into its ear. But she’s not too worried about it, it’s nothing to get worked up about. We’ve been pouring water on the dog so long the dog’s color washed away. Like the ancient statues of the Buddha, my nose has been worn off by wind and sand, or maybe it was shot off by French revolutionaries. I no longer know what is in this pitcher, which I do in fact intend to pour into or onto my dog. Is it water? Probably. Orange juice? Maybe. The Milk of Human Kindness? Possibly. Do I care? Not a fig.
Oh great. Here comes the pitcher again. Bad enough that I have to wear Cherries Jubilee lipstick, here’s the drencher. There’s got to be more to life.
Goodwill on North Loop 410, San Antonio, Texas