Art Schlep

I stayed at the Leo House on 23rd St., where every room has it's very own crucifix.

I went to NYC, Philadelphia and DC last week to pick up Judith Schaecter's work for an exhibit (along w/ VCU prof Jack Wax) that opens at the Visual Arts Center Friday. I made it to MOMA in time to see an excellent pairing of circa 1960's Winogrand and 1990's DeCorcia, the Munch show (I'm sorry but I hear the Smashing Pumpkins when I look at his work- it's so over the top dramatique!), and the exhibit of New Spanish Architecture. The architecture exhibit topped my list for this visit, and while I walked to the subway station below the Citigroup building I wondered how a person ever reigns in their ego after having had a hand in building something so huge- altering such a large part of the world.

MOMA's collection of photography is, needless to say, excellent... and thanks in large part to the much loathed John Szarkowski. Adjacent to the selection of photographs from the museum's permanent collection was a show of Szarkowski's work- straight, black and white, large format, exquisitely printed, modestly sized, prints of barns, farm implements, apple trees, and orchards from upstate New York. Hurrying through his work (and wondering whether I'll one day get to a point where I understand his and Frielander's fascination with photographing brambles in black and white) I thought about how little respect I afforded his images even though just moments before I was staring into the eyes of an Arbus print which, without Szarkowski, I most likely would have never seen.