This last rule is a great move on the muse’s part—it says, Accept no substitutes. “City” wouldn’t photograph particularly well anyway. It’s vast and sometimes overwhelming, and there’s no convenient place to face and drink all of it in; the one approach to see every part is to maintain moving or to search out a helicopter. The majority of the sculpture consists of deep, gently sloping trenches and tall, wide mounds of gravel, marked off with concrete curbs. From the trenches, the purple mountains appear like they’re yards away as a substitute of miles. “City” pulls quite just a few of those perceptual tricks, scrambling near and much and old and recent. That is, concurrently, the quietest place I’ve ever...
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