Robert Rauschenberg’s big
enough to admit when he has been out-Rauschenberged. Big enough to admire
overnight work of the Westgarth School’s railway murals. He speaks privately of
his amazement at the audacity of the Thomastown School, who systematically
transform concrete slab industrial parks into post-modern Vaticans;
astonishment at their indifference to work then being ‘bombed’ by latter-day
stencillers and ten-foot signatories of the naïve Jacana School. Where do we
draw the line? asks Bob, gazing at badge infernos behind Flinders Lane. Where
does art turn to mess? When’s the time for the wrecking ball? Get back to me
next July!
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