I don't like graffiti. I've seen some in my life that might qualify as art, but most of it is little more than childish self-glorification or facile political platitudes. The campus of the university I work at is covered in graffiti. While it provokes in me a certain nostalgia for my old neighrborhood, I never expected a university, much less my place of work, to look like the gang-infested East Lakeview area of 1980s Chicago.
At any rate, I did appreciate the irony and wit of this little scribble, which appeared some days ago just outside the door of my museum. It translates to something like, "I am a Marxist of the Groucho school".
No comments:
Post a Comment