Scandal Is Only Human.

Batty As It Sounds, Subject And Style May Choose Artists, Through Some Unfathomable Cosmic Means. How Else To Explain That Even Artists Who Enjoy What They Do Can Be Perplexed Or Even Horrified That They're Doing It?

First Let Me Report That The Art In The Barnes Collection Has Never Looked Better. My Trips To The Old Barnes Were Always Amazing, But Except On The Sunniest Days, You Could Barely See The Art. The Building Always Felt Pushed Beyond Its Capacity.

In 1998, Artnet Was The Site That Convinced Me That If My Writing Didn't Exist Online, It Didn't Exist At All. It Showed Me Criticism's Future.

The Reason I Love Blogs So Much Right Now Is That I Am Seeing More Critical Voices Appear, And That's Kind Of Thrilling. I Think A Lot Of Critics In Their Forties Or Even Their Thirties Have Had Their Voice Scared Or Trained Out Of Them By The Academy. I Have Nothing Against The Academy. I Think It's Brilliant And Fantastic, But I Also Think That It's Become Almost Monolithic. The Same Way A Lot Of Art Looks The Same, A Lot Of Writing Can Sound The Same And Quotes The Same Theorists.

Art Is Good, Bad, Boring, Ugly, Useful To Us Or Not.