Energy And Art Go Where They Will.

I Often Find Myself Privately Stewing About Much British Art, Thinking That Except For Their Tremendous Gardens, That The English Are Not Primarily Visual Artists, And Are, In Nearly Unsurpassable Ways, Literary.

Only An Artist As Preternaturally Acute And Copacetic, As Oddly Visionary And Just Odd As Richard Artschwager Would Be Able To Lay Out The Whole Course Of Human Evolution And Have It Make Some Kind Of Sense While Also Seeming Like A Dazzling Insight.

I'm Noticing A New Approach To Art Making In Recent Museum And Gallery Shows. It Flickered Into Focus At The New Museum's 'younger Than Jesus' Last Year And Ran Through The Whitney Biennial, And I'm Seeing It Blossom And Bear Fruit At 'greater New York,' Moma P.s. 1's Twice-a-decade Extravaganza Of Emerging Local Talent.

While It May Be A Really Trying, Weird Time For The Art World, I See Good Work All The Time. If You Just Go Around To That Many Galleries, And If You Stay Open, You're Going To See Work With Enough Energy And Surprise. I Don't Think I've Ever Gone To The Galleries Without Coming Home Thinking, Gee, I Now Know Something I Didn't Know This Morning.

The Very Paradigm Of Revolution, Of Right Versus Wrong, Good Versus Bad, Is A Relic With No Bearing On The Present. Yet Artists, Exhibitions, And Curators Valorize The Sixties. People Who Wrote About These Artists 30 Years Ago Still Write About Them In The Same Ways, Often For The Same Magazines.