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It had been exciting then, its barely-thereness, so slight, that "unfinished too soon" look we all at that point had craved, the provisional existence we felt stood in for life, a triviality allowing Sibony to package the feeling of noticing. Notice their niceties that felt almost moral in trash. You couldn't even have imagined a hued sculpture, that would have been baroque. There was something so charming about its lack of artistry, almost not art that it now just sorta looks like.
See too: Gedi Sibony at The Arsenale, Oscar Tuazon at Le Consortium & Paradise Garage