I passed through Trafalgar Square the other day and on that pillar left vacant by the Victorians, having run out of heroes to venerate, there was a new effigy. Every so many years the Arts Council of Great Britain decide which aspiring artist to showcase on the available plinth opposite the National Gallery and at times, I must say, I wonder what criteria they use in their collective judgement on what is or not art.
The present one, in my opinion, has a certain artistic value and worthy of display although I wish a different material had been used in its construction and a different place found for it. It appears to have been made from wood or perhaps fibre-glass and painted beige.
In my interpretation it is a representation of a dream. Seated on a rocking chair leaning backwards, as if about to fly away, is a dull glided figure of a Cherub of life size proportion staring into the sky. The artist must be proud to have been selected from the entrants to such a prestigious competition, but not the day I passed by.
On the head of the angelic depiction was an indifferent Seagull, unconcerned of blighted dreams and aspirations of wing-less mortals or those of a spiritual nature. His attention seemed firmly fixed on more material gain than that of inspiration
In conclusion to this small missive of every day life in Metropolitan London I feel obliged to add that the Seagull looked more majestic than what was beneath its feet. Perhaps the Arts Council could employ an old seaman with a cross-bow to protect us dreamers.