One of Australia's best (or worst) sculptors has a great (or terrible) idea for a spectacular creation in Canberra.
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Greg Taylor's work has been adored and abhorred. He is a man of magnificent mischief.
His latest big idea for the Australian capital is to construct a high and powerful fountain with a political message. The torrent would bash against a glass ceiling.
"I would love to do a fountain based on how women are seen in the community and in business and the great force that we are holding back," he told The Canberra Times.
"It would have this massive, thundering projection of water under a glass top. It would be glorious, massive, beating against this ceiling."
The radical idea is not going to happen. The public money is unlikely to flow. "No one would cough up a million bucks for a dipstick like me," he said.
And it has to be said that Greg Taylor has form in Canberra.
His statue of the Queen and Prince Phillip sitting on a bench naked, gazing at Lake Burley Griffin, provoked some citizens to take up sledgehammers.
Monarchists were outraged by Down by the Lake with Liz and Phil. One draped his coat around Her unmajestic Majesty. Another loyalist hammered her becrowned head off. An apoplectic royalist chased a city arts worthy with a spray can of glue.
It is perhaps fortunate that Tasmania, rather than the ACT, acquired Mr Taylor's 77 porcelain sculptures of vaginas. Canberra might not have enough defibrillators - or sledgehammers - to cope.
His suggestion of a glass ceiling fountain comes amidst a debate about whether there is enough public art in the capital city.
In recent years, new commissions have dwindled to a dribble compared with nearly a decade ago, when new works were appearing every few months.
The ACT chief minister at the time, Jon Stanhope, has called for more ambition from his successors now in government. When he was there he saw high-quality public art as a means to transform Canberra into a great world city.
"Canberra is a fantastic city. Those of us who live here love it," he said.
"But if we want to be a truly great, recognised world city, we can't achieve that without public art and an expression of our commitment to the arts. We have to embrace the arts and public art."
It is, perhaps, fortunate that Tasmania rather than the ACT acquired Mr Taylor's 77 porcelain sculptures of vaginas. The city might not have enough defibrillators - or sledgehammers.
When Mr Stanhope was chief minister, he commissioned countless works. His Percentage for Art Scheme committed 1 per cent of the capital works program for public art.
The result was that, in 2008 and 2009, seven new works were installed by the government each year. In 2010, it was five; in 2011, ten; in 2012, it was seven. Since then there have been barely any, two giant steel kangaroos being an exception.
The current arts minister, Gordon Ramsay, rejects the idea that the government has turned philistine. "There's a lot more pieces of public art across Canberra than people realise," he said.
Art isn't just stone and metal, he said. There's public art at every station on the new light-rail line. And the seats on trams were designed by an artist.
It's all a matter of taste. "I've stood in front of the Mona Lisa in Paris and the people next to me were saying how it wasn't much of a painting," he said.
His opposite number in the Assembly, Liberal arts spokeswoman Vicki Dunne, is also reserved about big spending on public art. She likes some pieces in Canberra - particularly those that are privately funded.
But Jon Stanhope wants ambition back. His big idea is for the ACT government to commission the British sculptor Antony Gormley to construct an "Angel of the South".
Gormley's Angel of the North in Britain is 20 metres high, with a 54-metre wingspan. Mr Stanhope feels such a monument would look great on the hills above the arboretum, in full view of Canberra.
Some sculptors are more provocative than others. Peter Corlett and Greg Taylor (who made the Phil and Liz sculpture) are friends - "Peter is my mentor" - but their attitudes are different.
Mr Taylor's sculptures confront - he did one of John Howard standing to attention holding a rifle, but lost in a full Anzac uniform which was far too big for him. The insulting title was If the boots don't fit.
Mr Corlett, in contrast, has created affectionate sculptures (John Curtin and Ben Chifley walking and talking in Barton, and Robert Menzies smiling gently on Lake Burley Griffin).
I've stood in front of the Mona Lisa in Paris and the people next to me were saying how it wasn't much of a painting.
- Arts Minister Gordon Ramsay
The sculptor said his creations were "democratic" but "not in the sense that everybody gets a say beforehand".
Sometimes, though, outrage is unavoidable.
When Bruce Armstrong was installing his owl sculpture in Belconnen, he said people shouted from cars that the money would be better spent on schools. He felt they blamed him personally.
"That was depressing," he said.
A row over whether the owl looked like a penis didn't help. He says now: "I am not ashamed of the work. I'm not unhappy about any of it."