Kool-Aid

To the Editors of The Crimson:

Call me old-fashioned, but I don't consider one thousand packets of Kool-Aid sprinkled all over the Quad as ART. What I consider it, and I'm certainly not alone, is an eyesore that smells like a five-year-old sweet-tooth's fantasy. The only difference between spreading artificial flavoring over the snow and spray painting it is that neighborhood dogs don't love to lick up spray paint.

At a university that only lets you poster bulletin boards and kiosks and doesn't supply paint for students surrounded by peeling walls, how such an unattractive display of pseudo-intellectual neo-garbage be allowed to destroy one of the few highlights of life in the Quad, the Quadrangle itself?

The ironic part of it all is that the Office for the Arts, which granted the sugar-coated artistes money for their magnum opus, is headed by Myra Mayman, the master of Cabot House. One would think that as master of a Quad House, she would have been perhaps a little more sensitive to Quad residents who understandably are peeved by the now regrettable condition of the Quad. Such "art" has made the Quad into one giant sno-cone practically useless to those who do not desire to be sticky and cherry flavored.

If the Office for the Arts considered Kool-Aid on ice to be art, why didn't they cover the Radcliffe Yard, where the Office for the Arts is located, with the stuff. Instead, Quad resident are subjected to a gross example of modern "art." Of course, those of us up here should be used to such things. You know what I would have considered art? Donating the Kool-Aid grant to the Quad renovation fund--most students would prefer rooms comparable to those on the river over a ludicrous display of biodegradable graffitti. Christopher D. Roy '86