Op Ed

Welcome to Earth Two. (Isn't that where Superman ended up sometimes, a place where things seemed earthlike but somehow different.) In this case its located at the Cafe Rakkyo, an…

It is two days into the 6th Annual Dallas Asian Film Festival Three if you count the VIP Preview receptions at Nobu, where, as you might suspect, the food was…

The dog days of August are here. Galleries are either on vacation or operating with reduced hours. Gerald Peters has announced a delay to their move to the Design District,…

Merv Griffin’s death last week has set me thinking. I was never much of a Merv Griffin fan. His most distinguishing characteristic for me — and remember this was when…

The 20th Annual Dallas Video Festival has come to an end. As usual I did not make it to as much as I intended, and the thought that I would…

The new Melissa Miller monograph is out from the University of Texas Press, and it is quite the impressive tome – 11 x 12 inches, 177 pages, over 100 color…

I get a fair number of invitations to previews and openings, but this is the best in sometime. I got an invitation from Dallas Area Rapid Transit (DART) and the…

GORDON MATTA CLARK: YOU ARE THE MEASURE, edited by Eve Sussman. Yale University Press. Catalogs can never replace the experience of seeing the exhibition, but there are some catalogs that…

A couple of weeks ago Manhattan was thick with Texans, both touring and transplanted. On a single Thursday, I ran into Noah Simblist at Guild and Greyshkull Gallery in Soho.…

LONDON, England — Super-ultra-mega-collector-and-a-half Charles Ponzi has launched a porn site for art students to display not only their tentative and unresolved juvenile work, but also their tender, naked, more…

Context matters. Given the art world, the non-art world looks rather inviting.

We relax together, holding hands, telling stories and singing songs, dancing and passing around bottles of the special Basel Brew, made from the fermented blood of poor people.

She looked at my proffered slide-sheet as if it was an illustrated menu of birth defects and snorted scornfully. We don't do slides, she sneered.

The profusion of talent in the proposals we received, comparable to the massive cloud of pollen generated by a field of ragweed, made the task of our selection committee as difficult as actually defecating a gold brick.

Nowadays, everyone intuitively understands that it's unfair to show artwork that's not mediocre, because it might bother somebody or cause a ruckus.

It's common to cling to a desperate, irrational hope that somehow the art is not really bad at all. Often this pathology is expressed in improbable lies like "It's interesting," or "I like it."

Although I already considered myself the greatest painter of the age, I never really felt confident in my ability to assemble a Whopper.

My art is just sharing the beauty I see while I frolic through my life. I hope it makes you happy because my art is about feeling, not just seeing.

I'm sorry you were born without a sense of humor.

Last night, I had fun vandalizing the Museum of Certified Art's mission statement.