And because it's by Caro, and because he's now dead (R.I.P.), and because it's a
piece of art history
merchandising already, and because it's the prestigious Pace Gallery; because
of all this and more, and for no reason due to its inherent value, since it transparently has none, unless you view it through a thick haze
of sentimental regret for simpler and more
certain times in abstract art; this pathetic little
piece of twaddle has become a luxury commodity, imbued with all the myths
of modernism, reflecting back at us our own «good - housekeeping - modern - but - weren't - we - ever - so - radical - back - in - the - sixties» taste.