Really Atrocious Crap now Routinely Accepted as Public Art

It Wasn’t Always Like This

Recently, a public art project came to our attention so outrageously hideous that we made a special trip, down state highways 12, 2 and 140—all the way to charming Providence, Rhode Island—to see it firsthand. We were not disappointed.

The project, funded by the state Tourist Division (i.e.: tax dollars), a statewide consortium of Chambers of Commerce, and—surprise surprise—the Hasbro Toy Company™ has placed giant-sized representations of the popular Potato Head toys all over the city and attracted the outrage of the civic-minded all over the country.

Western religious sculpture traces its roots to the Venus of Willendorf, which was created a long, long time ago. The Industrial Revolution took just about 150 years to influence our civic art to the extent that public sculpture has now become three-dimensional signage for multinational corporations. The waving bishop to the right is an example of large scale religious art in the new millennium. He/she resembles Hello Kitty—but projected through the twisted glass the ad agents of giant Hasbro. This oversized, goggle-eyed figurine was produced for the Episcopal Archdiocese of Rhode Island. And we thought Episcopalians were supposed to have good taste! They do go to the right schools don’t they? Maybe it’s just the drinking water in Rhode Island. Look at their politicians.

Next, we visited the Rhode Island State House and were greeted by another fiberglass, trade-marked toy. There are over 40 of these hideous things all over the state. All of them represent public pandering to private commercial interests outrageous even by Providence standards—the Governor himself “swore in” the pieces of plastic as “ambassadors of fun.” Rhode Island is, apparently the “birthplace of fun.” (And we thought it was the birthplace of strip-clubs...)

The incongruity is made all the more ludicrous by the fact that the State House, designed by the Beaux Arts firm of McKim, Mead & White (see page 24 for a discussion of their Penn Station in New York.), is one of the most dignified buildings in the city. It houses, in its rotunda, the battle flags of the regiments of the state. A cannon from the battle of Gettysburg, with a Confederate charge planted squarely in its muzzle, stands next to the potato-goon-in-a-Colonial-uniform and we can’t be blamed if it seems to us this cartoon figurine is mocking both the history of the State and visitors to the State House.

All of this would be garishly funny, if it weren’t so sad. It’s not just the dangerous melding of public money and private commerce that’s so appalling. It saddens us that we, as a people, have forgotten what public art looks like, what it communicates to us, and that there is such a thing as a civic good. That means, a benefit for citizens, not just consumers. A Revolutionary sailor is the icon of this littlest state. Hasbro’s advertising image is wearing the same uniform, but we wonder where Mr. Potato-Head ever saw service, at Valley Forge perhaps, or at Yorktown? We wonder if his widow, Mrs. Potato-Head, ever collected a pension. There he stands, waving, in a marble hall, hallowed to the memory of those who died in service of their country. He is waving to a nation of grown-up children.