Sometimes Good Art Jumps Out At Me;

In The Seventies, A Group Of American Artists Seized The Means Not Of Production But Of Reproduction. They Tore Apart Visual Culture At A Time Of No Money, No Market, And No One Paying Attention Except Other Artists. Vietnam And Watergate Had Happened; Everything In America Was Being Questioned.

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.

Imagine It's 1981. You're An Artist, In Love With Art, Smitten With Art History. You're Also A Woman, With Almost No Mentors To Look To; Art History Just Isn't That Into You. Any Woman Approaching Art History In The Early Eighties Was Attempting To Enter An Almost Foreign Country, A Restricted And Exclusionary Domain That Spoke A Private Language.

Many Museums Are Drawing Audiences With Art That Is Ostensibly More Entertaining Than Stuff That Just Sits And Invites Contemplation. Interactivity, Gizmos, Eating, Hanging Out, Things That Make Noise - All Are Now The Norm, Often Edging Out Much Else.

'the Panorama' Is Also The Last Place Anywhere In New York Where The World Trade Center Still Stands, Whole, As It Stood In The Early Morning Of September 11. I Can Also See The Corner Where I Saw The First Tower Fall And Howled Out Loud. Seeing The Buildings Again Here Is Uplifting, Healing.