I've Always Said That An Art Critic

Our Culture Now Wonderfully, Alchemically Transforms Images And History Into Artistic Material. The Possibilities Seem Endless And Wide Open.

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.

My Culture-deprived, Aspirational Mother Dragged Me Once A Month From Our Northern Suburb - Where The Word Art Never Came Up - To The Art Institute Of Chicago. I Hated It.

All Of Koons's Best Art - The Encased Vacuum Cleaners, The Stainless-steel Rabbit (the Late-twentieth Century's Signature Work Of Simulationist Sculpture), The Amazing Gleaming Balloon Dog, And The Cast-iron Re-creation Of A Civil War Mortar Exhibited Last Month At The Armory - Has Simultaneously Flaunted Extreme Realism, Idealism, And Fantasy.

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.