Date: 30 January 2005
One night. Go out liverpool street station broadgate exit, turn right at the rusty wonderful Serra, past the icereink, go for a slide if feeling bold, and there in one of the office overlooked squaress, one of the places to squeeze a bit of money out of commerce for art there is something beautiful.
A light grid. Changing colours create seemingly random Mondrian patterns in the paved, ugly scrappy little treed, piazza. A child was there when I saw it, chasing the electron beams happily, even the dumb bronze sculpture of a huddle of a people fools the eye pleasantly near this magic. Here by art or design, the brooding draining city is broken and pleasure is released.[_shared_elements/comment_on_this_review.htm]