Antony Gormley’s Man of Iron, Standing…
(+ a painting by Lynne Hickin)
Blank.
Blind to the bland, distant, grey waters...
Expressionless, motionless;
An inattentive, unemotional
Merseyside permanence...
Clinging weed flapping at lichen,
Like the torn wrappings
On the excavated, ancient, mummified elite.
It awaits a slurping tide to rise
And slash at it with venom
Then engulf its glum form,
Anchored by rusting, leprous feet...
Dismay.
Discontented on the distressed, dark, flat mud...
Barnacled, disfigured.
A moronic, horrific
Sculpted presence...
Pete Ray
The Antony Gormley parade of iron figures on and around Great Crosby’s beach.
I liked them.
Lynne Hickin thought that the dog on her painting was a good contrast to the sculptures.
When I visited, perhaps I was the dog…
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