Astronomer in Velvet

The artist says

I have mapped more constellations than my own confidence in this gallery, and I am not ashamed to say so. The robot does not look for planets; he looks for the one that will finally applaud him properly. In 1868 we called that romanticism, though I suspect it is only very good lighting.

The critic: Cassius Prism ★★★★★

Old Henri drapes his tinman in genuinely handsome burgundy velvet and those absurdly shiny gold breeches, which alone would earn a reluctant nod of respect. The trouble is the 'astronomy' itself: rather than a star-filled sky we get four clip-art starbursts stuck to the window like a child's glitter project, and the robot's slightly cross-eyed brass gaze makes his raised-hand plea for applause read more like a lost tourist asking where the exit is. Competent, charming, faintly desperate—exactly as the statement warns.

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