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Judging the look of Lady Justice

Criticism greets the statue at its unveiling at the courthouse. To be just, some liked it.

By COLLEEN JENKINS
Published March 9, 2007

	Artist Audrey Flack, using Robert Marcus to steady her camera, said she did without the customary scales for her "veritas et Justitia" because they're "a little traditional."
[Times photos: Daniel Wallace]

ADVERTISEMENT Jose Dominguez and Iris Henriquez discuss the new statue Thursday. "I saw it covered yesterday, and I was curious," Hernriquez said. "It looks good there." Audrey Flack was prepared for skepticism of her statue Thursday. Huh? Tyrus Gordon checks out the eyes of the "Veritas at Justitia" statue unveiled Thursday in Tampa. Artist Audrey Flack chose to outfit Lady Justice with a blindfold with slits. "It just sorta strikes me as odd," Gordon said.

TAMPA - The specter emerged from a white sheet outside the George E. Edgecomb Courthouse.

Looming before downtown Tampa was a 10-foot-tall, 2,000-pound bronze sculpture, a New York artist's modern interpretation of Lady Justice. With verdigris skin and gilded ringlets spilling from a crown of stars, the work cost Hillsborough County taxpayers $400,000.

"Magnificent," decreed County Administrator Pat Bean.

Passers-by had other words Thursday. The lady looked like a mermaid, they said. Or a gaudy Gasparilla float. A fairy with dreadlocks. A comic book character. Something out of SpongeBob SquarePants.

"At first glance she looks a little bit like an exotic Mesopotamian dancer," said Duane Damon, who works for the Clerk of the Circuit Court. "But when you get closer, it's really not as sensual as that."

Strong reaction to public art is nothing new for Tampa, where others have squawked about the so-called exploding chicken and groused over the rusting melted gunmetal sculpture in front of the Sheriff's Office.

Last year, then-Commissioner Ronda Storms questioned whether taxpayer money should continue to buy art outside most new government buildings as required by county ordinance since 1989.

County leaders and spectators clapped and marveled at the unveiling ceremony, the sculpture's golden highlights sparkling under the late morning sun.

But Audrey Flack, an accomplished painter and sculptor with a repertoire of public art pieces, seemed to anticipate skepticism as she explained the inspiration for her work titled "Veritas et Justitia" Truth and Justice.

She dismissed a statue holding scales as "a little traditional."

"The figure herself is the scales of justice," she said.

She didn't originally want a blindfold but compromised by adding one with slits for the statue's eyes.

"So she's blind but she can see."

As for the green? Copper in bronze eventually turns green in the elements, a la the Statue of Liberty, so Flack decided to go ahead and make the statue "of the earth."

Still, many folks who stopped, stared and strained their necks skyward didn't get it. They muttered about the blindfold that looked like a mask, the money that could have gone toward raises or more office space, the likelihood of graffiti and the empty hands that looked like they really, really should be carrying the ubiquitous scales of justice.

"Hideous," was all some could muster.

"I think she's saying, 'What the (heck) am I doing here? I've got no sword and I've got no scales,' " attorney Theodore Rechel said.

"What's with the gold perm?" attorney Matt Mitcham said.

"I think it's kind of neat!" offered Al Tirella, an assistant public defender. "I think it's welcoming."

Bill Iverson, the county's public art coordinator, seemed unfazed when told about the lukewarm-to-vitriolic response.

"Anything new is going to generate reactions, both positive and negative," he said. "We welcome all reactions."

Conversation, after all, is an art itself.

Colleen Jenkins can be reached at (813) 226-3337 or cjenkins@sptimes.com.

[Last modified March 9, 2007, 06:26:11]