I've been to the Murakami show at the Brooklyn Museum twice already, and I'm more confused than ever. The colors SHOULD make me happy, but the images make me disoriented. The craftmanship should awe me, but instead, I keep imagining the assistants who had to sand down all those shiny surfaces.
This image is part of a much, much, larger group of statues in the lobby of the Brooklyn Museum. As I waited for my husband near this creature, I felt giggly and filled with unfathomable dread.
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