Fiesta Jarabe Sculpture

I attended the University of New Mexico for six years, undergraduate and grad school. I was a theater major, I loved acting and I tried my pen as a playwright. Popejoy Hall was then and still remains the thespian den of the University, thus I passed this statue day in and day out, and its eye-​catching rhythm distracted my gaze each and every time.
Prior to writing this, I did do a teensy bit of research, ‘cuz I had no idea what this sculpture was about. I was familiar with the artist, Luis Jimenez Jr., who has a few other works around the city and the Hispanic Cultural Center features a couple of his paintings, which I very much enjoy. I came across the following article from the LA Times which discusses the work when it was displayed at a border crossing, and it includes a beaming review of the work itself, indeed written by a critic of strong pedigree and expertise:
I wish to quote just one of the many accolades the author writes in the piece:
«Jimenez’s couple is timeless – both ageless and neither modern nor clearly historical. And the figures’ archetypal stances – his machismo, her taunting sexuality – are a face-​off across a divisive gender gap.»
This, I believe, is why Unilocal exists. Because I’m about to rip all that crap to shreds and ain’t nobody gonna stop me.
From an everyman perspective-​and this is just me, here-there’s nothing taunting about her sexuality; haunting, maybe. And the old guy getting his jig on, while quite masculine, is totally undressing her with his eyes, which makes the whole thing all the more icky for me. Add to that the pastels and the shiny luster of the material itself, and I’m officially not a fan. This sculpture, which is so enticing from a distance, is downright ugly.
I’ve always wondered why the University decided to display this piece in the courtyard of the most public building on campus, and how much they paid to do so. Regardless, that’s my uneducated, completely bare take. From what I understand, Jimenez Jr. was a terrific and valuable artist who met a tragic end, and I don’t mean to tarnish his contributions to the American understanding of the Mexican experience. I only wish I didn’t have to experience this monstrosity, everyday, for six years.