I imagine this didn’t sit well with the city, because one day, I noticed that my flat bendy friend was gone. He was perpetually in the act of trying his hardest to pry the door open, leaving a small crack into which tourists often tossed their trash (despite there being a trash can ten feet away). The previous inhabitant of the phone booth was a grey steel tumor in the shape of a faceless man, who had been hanging off the side of the phone booth’s door. Not content with leaving an out-of-place phonebooth in peace, the city council here has bastardized this poor thing for various public art projects for as long as I can remember. The landmark we use to help people find our store is a K6 red telephone box, the kind that you’d see in London about 80 years ago. So the place where I work is a jewelry store. The latest schlock shoveled out by this city’s council of old fogeys, though, surpasses mere kitsch. Anyone with an inkling of artistic taste would just groan and move on. They cheapen the town’s atmosphere, but aren’t exactly eyesores worth complaining about. Oftentimes, they take the form of things like stone statues of people sitting down looking at a small obelisk on the ground. They’re usually nothing particularly terrible. My hometown is a tacky tourist town, and as such, has always prided itself on its tacky public art installations. Featured image source: Junji Ito’s horror manga “Army of One.”
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