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Last week CAD you may have noticed went the entirety and a day without having to hear the pronoun "his" - a week without men - before a cruel about-face returning today to the cold metal schlongs of Judd at Judd. (Perhaps only softened by yesterday's Parsons's own stiff worldly segmentation, a toughness sure.) But too within Judd's megalomaniac austerity and attraction to hard rectilinears there seems way deep down some faintest window dressing, latent decoration, just slightly less than complete hetero-masculinty, a certain desire to see his contraption in new colors. Compared to some of his minimalist brethren Judd there are moments of Judd downright garish, almost camp. Which doing some napkin math the series' dimensions - 15 x 105 x 15 centimeters - is, according the wikipedia page on the subject, within the statistically probable proportions of human penis length. Which now wondering how many sculptures would fit this description. Like Serras staggering concern for the erection set, something Judd's attraction to rigidness dressed in colors and sheens that feels just a little bit...