I recommend perusing Bill Morris’ commentary at The Millions wherein he laments the direction that New York City has gone since the turn of the 21st century. Apparently the new Whitney Museum in the Meatpacking District, though “not-unattractive,” according to Morris, suggests that the New York of the 90’s – a “gnarly, unpredictable” city that welcomed starving artists – is gone for good. He seems to think that the Whitney Museum’s old accommodations were perfectly serviceable. Now the monster known as The Whitney is molting, shedding its skin like a serpent. The Met, another venerable art institution in the city, will allegedly lease the museum’s old building. Morris continues:
“So in addition to being expensive, the new Whitney is unnecessary, a luxury item in a city awash with rich people and their luxury items, a wickedly telling monument to contemporary New York’s get-rich-or-get-out ethos. In that sense, it’s the perfect expression of its moment.”
Although I don’t live in the city proper (too expensive… I have not as yet found a landlord willing to accept hair dolls as compensation) and I don’t at the moment possess adequate funds for entry to the new Whitney (my next $22 goes to my ghostwriter to pay for a carpet cleaning intended to mitigate all the hair, for which I take full responsibility), you can bet, dear reader, that I will feast my bloodshot eyes upon this gleaming edifice from a distance.
Because really, there is nothing that captures my attention more than a shiny bauble.
Oh, look over there! A traffic light! Pardon me. I must investigate, forthwith.
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