Art, dear reader, is all about context these days. Case in point: my Crown Heights neighbor's clever creation. A wrought iron sculpture-cum-fence to protects and embellish a young tree growing out front of his charming property. Equal parts Abstract Expressionism and junk heap, the sculpture is a meta masterpiece in miniature that delivers threefold. Its an assemblage, its a fence, and its also a vitrine en plein air for further urban detritus. Various objet trouvés discarded at the foot of the tree are showcased: dried-up doo doo, fast food wrappers, a forty in a skirt (that's street vernacular, for une bouteille de bière, dressed down in a prêt-à-porter paper bag) etc. Trash never looked so good.
