I Don't Plan Out My Visits Rigorously,

As I Made My Way Through 'on Line,' The Austere, Stridently Dogmatic, Sometimes Revelatory Exhibition 'about Line' At Moma, I Found Myself Thinking, 'someone Please Wake Me When The Seventies Are Over!' In The Empire Of Curators, The Sun Never Sets On The Seventies. It Is The Undead Decade.

Damien Hirst Is The Elvis Of The English Art World, Its Ayatollah, Deliverer, And Big-thinking Entrepreneurial Potty-mouthed Prophet And Front Man. Hirst Synthesizes Punk, Pop Art, Jeff Koons, Marcel Duchamp, Francis Bacon, And Catholicism.

The Metropolitan Museum Of Art Is Unsurpassed At Presenting More Than 50 Centuries Of Work. I Go There Constantly, Seeing Things Over And Over, Better Than I've Ever Seen Them Before.

I Think That Writing Is A Process That Tells You What You Think. You Sometimes Actually Don't Know What Your Opinion Is Until You Hear Yourself Trying To Piece It Out And Have It Make Sense To You. The Process Itself Is So Bizarre And Mysterious That You Never Know What It's Going To Tell You.

Mark Grotjahn's Large New Paintings Abound With Torrents Of Ropy Impasto, Laid Down In Thickets, Cascading Waves, And Bundles That Swell, Braid Around, Or Overlap One Another.