In Front of Octopussy

It’s fine. It’s perfectly acceptable to have a carnival ride called Octopussy. There’s absolutely no problem with a clicking, clacking dervish of a machine clad in Pepto-Bismol pink.

I take no issue with the beach dolphin pink and palm theme going on. I think the real artists in this world are the people who do carnival rides. Their art works harder than most.  Appealing, threatening, inviting and fun. It always takes second fiddle to the ride itself. No one comes for the artwork, and yet if it wasn’t there… if it was just a hulking machine with no color, no charm, it just wouldn’t work.

And yet on Octopussy, you get the feeling that the artist thought, “Well, what the hell, I’ll just slip one by the owner here and see if he notices.”

I can only assume that’s how the naked woman in throes of passion being molested by an octopus ended up at the base of the main turret…


One comment on “In Front of Octopussy”

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