Montreal park snowmen review: a thread.

Perfect anatomical proportions. The kind face everyone needs in these trying times. That aunt you can't hug right now.

Grade: A-

Audacious juxtaposition of organic media (banana peel) and manufactured media (coffee lids). A contemporary nod to Munch. But the Tim Burton aesthetic is passé.

Grade: B+

We appreciate the return to traditional materials (the raw carrot) and classical symbolism (the Santa hat) in an era of global dérive. However, the conical structure is overdone and fails to impress.

Grade: C

This, on the other hand, is a thought-provoking reinterpretation of a classic. A cubist approach to the snowman, and yet it is solely made of spheres. Breathtaking.

Grade: A+

Modern-day gargoyle or cynical character on a late-night Télétoon show? Hard to tell. Either way, we would have appreciated more grandeur — the single-ball pedestal is a letdown.

Grade: B+

The faceted snow-work is reminiscent of a Rodin. Rough yet sophisticated carvings. The overt provocation unfortunately succumbs to kitsch.

Grade: C+

The northern winter suit edition of an Easter Island Moaï. The level of chill contrasts starkly with our collective anxiety. Stoic and challenging.

Grade: B

What is "inside"? What is "outside"? Does it matter? This non-Euclidean deconstruction of the classic tri-spherical compound challenges space itself.

Grade: A+

Impressive foundational work and clever use of negative space. However, unless the sculptor was Scottish, we call cultural appropriation.

Grade: A-, until cancelled

This monument is a reminder of our fragility as we stand on the brink of eco-sanitary extinction. We applaud the scientific accuracy of the T-Rex arm length.

For COVID-related reasons, we did not lick to confirm the flavour of the colouring. We presume strawberry.

Grade: B+

The sheer spite of the sculptor shines through the careful handpicking of dry twigs. Maybe Barthes was wrong and the author did not, in fact, die. Maybe he turned into his own snowman.

Grade: A-

This frog (octopus?) cannot fail to melt your frozen heart with its candid, poignant despair. It will also, eo ipso, melt, in a symbiotic dance where the artifact imitates its audience.

Grade: B-

This Goliath is close to 3 meters high — but how could you tell? Nothing in the composition anchors its imposing presence. A wasted effort from the two guys sweating profusely through their tuques when rolling it. It's not always about size, boys.

Grade: D

This Goddess, on the other hand, rules over a sacrificial cult of devout followers. Despite the immanent stillness of the medium, and entire tragic opera is told in stasis. A masterpiece.

Grade: A

This last... thing — for lack of a better word — is pathetic. Brutally so. It had started melting before it was even conceptualized. The dog who peed on it saw the blatant invitation to a spontaneous performance. It is a cry for help as much as it is a celebration.

Grade: S