In a very secluded part of Lower Manhattan, there lies a little known Park, no more than 5x5 feet, called Plutocrat's Park (though not officially). I happened to come across this one day as I was loitering near Wall Street. To call it small would be an understatement. And perhaps to call it a park would be stretching the definition of that word as well, for there was no plant life near this barren park. Composed of a a curved clay ground I sat down and felt an unwelcome prick.


Upon further examination, I realized that out of the clay protruded micro people cast from metal. I had to lie down to realize that the entire clay base was filled with these people and that they were all naked and pulling upon slabs of rock. The slabs were all being pulled towards the edges of the park to make a wall (half made at this point). On the top of this wall were people with whips; though they wore flowing robes.

I found it an odd space, and odder still that there was no one around and no inscription in place. The metal looked worn enough to be old, but I wondered how old could such a piece of art be? I like art, if you didn't know and seeing something like this made me wish that all sculptures tried harder to say something [1]. But that could be just me.

[1] Sometimes it seems I see two kinds of sculptures: the hero worship kind, built for the same ideals as those in Rome and Europe (and the USSR) built them for, and the post-modern kind which don't really say much, though some can be interesting.


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