I've Always Said That An Art Critic

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.

Mission Accomplished. The Museum Of Modern Art's Wide-open, Tall-ceilinged, Super-reinforced Second Floor Was For All Intents And Purposes Built To Accommodate Monumental Installations And Gigantic Sculptures, Should The Need Arise. It Has Arisen.

To Me, The Building [of Museum Of Arts And Design]now Looks Like A Lovely Jewel Box, And The Tiled Façade Reminds Me Of A Heat Shield.

Don’t Go To A Museum With A Destination. Museums Are Wormholes To Other Worlds. There Are Ecstasy Machines. Follow Your Eyes To Wherever They Lead You, Stop, Get Very Quiet, And The World Should Begin To Change For You. And If You See Me, Say Something! We Can Talk About It Together.

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.