Now I feel bad.
Forgive me, fellas. By trade, I'm a book designer. My business requires an in-depth education in art history and popular design. And as lovable as the Golden Driller may be, by the technical definitions of fine art and sculpture, he's an absolute train wreck. An inexcusable blight on a city that is home to not one, but TWO of the nations premier art museums and one of the world's most recognized ballets.
But, in my fine art snobbery, I have forgotten one of the most important principles of modern design: the intrinsic value of a work is inexorably connected to its acceptance by the popular culture. And judging by everyone's reaction, the Golden Driller clearly has that acceptance. So despite how technically wrong he may be, he has evolved into a fun piece a kitsch that is now an endeared part of Tulsa history.
I should try appreciate him in the same way as I appreciate the Greek goddess oil lamp I have hanging over my desk at work. Her history is not so different than the Drillers. I hung her there as a joke but I have since grown to lover her. Deeply.
I'm sorry, Mr. Driller.