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THE sculpture (by Sui Jianguo) squats, a weird piece of a whole that was never made, on a median bisecting one of the more affluent slices of Manhattan's Park Avenue. It's of a distinctive, very distinctive, jacket, nothing more, but it's oddly bulky, as if the colossus who once wore it were, impossibly, somewhere within. And because the shape and the cut of that jacket are so distinctive, the onlooker is encouraged to fill it with his own image of the only individual (out of hundreds of millions once clothed in such garments) it could possibly represent. He's a man ("monster" is too easy an alibi for you and for me) whose deeds heaped further disgrace on an already ...