The lamp giving a subdued heil to the ultimate phallic symbol, the unsubduded chimney, supported by a viagra of cables.
The incogruence of the building’s dilapidation plus the NorCal IPA light quality makes it into an object of art, from which one can ever ironically leave only by an external fire escape.
This is art, but when does it become art?
Obviously, just like with any photograph, there is a story. Kids tagged a standpipe.
Some would argue the pipes themselves are work of art, there are many different types and shapes, topologies, topographies and typographies. My thesaurus just overheated. Aquamarine screen of death.
Stolen, perhaps artfully, caps replaced by vangoghish orange earplates.
Then I took a picture of it. Processed the eff out of it.
At what point does this become art?