I hate sea-side resorts; tiny little towns, they are, usually made so that one can drive by them without noticing they're there - unless you're a pasty, white, tourist looking for a hole to hide in for a week-end or two, of course.
Menton, however, is an exception precisely in that it is not the architectural equivalent of a gummy bear - a singular, beige, tasteless, gummy bear. Its pastel-coloured houses, huddled against each other like so many anxious tourists, impatiently waiting for the beach to open on a busy Sunday morning do make an impression on you. They all feel deeply uncomfortable, squeezed against each other with their shoulders contracted as much as humanly (housily?) possible. It's definitely striking. Then again, I apparently did visit Menton and have no recollection of it, only stumbling upon it again while looking at Russian physicians. So there's that. What I'm saying is: take what I said with a grain of salt; I'm sure it's just as grating and uniquely abrasive as any other coastal town.
A strong C+.
By a pasty, white, tourist looking for a hole to hide in for a week-end or two, 3,000 B.C.E., Ancient Mesopotamia
Pefro Garcia Ferrer's 'Adoration of the Shepherds' would be an absolutely average nativity painting, were it not for the monumental amount of ire and contempt exuding from Jesus. He seems angry to be alive.
Balthazar, the year of our LORD, 2020