“‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English); ‘now I’m opening out like the largest telescope that ever was! Good-bye, feet!’ (for when she looked down at her feet, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off).”
A short walk off from 14th and 6th, I walked briskly on a spring morning to the odd shaped glass structure – a Mecca of Modern American Art – The Whitney Museum. Glancing up, I found a gold blimp shining in the sun on one of its terraces high above the throng of the city streets. A long line snaked up to the counter, an officious young volunteer in a green over coat prodded the distracted waiters of the line along the course, closer to the counter – nearly all of them pouring on their cell phones – a modern malice no one even notices anymore!
So what was all the fuss about the Biennial? Art from the 80’s displayed it’s loud colors in vapid imagery, until I walked in and out of a room tagged with dried up boloni from floor to ceiling, inside and outside, mocking the hungry eyes of the striving artist.
True, that art allows for emotional purging, but purging was all I found, loads of it! Then I read the names of the sponsors and continued to chew my gum, like a cow – strayed from its way to the slaughter house…