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.