In Art There Is No

What Strip Mining Is To Nature The Art Market Has Become To Culture.

Art Grows Out Of Modes Of Perception That Make You Feel And Think...that Hooks On To Something Deep-running In Our Natures.

Perhaps The Rhinos And She-crocodiles Whose Gyrations Between Mortimer's And East Hampton Gives Us Our Vision Of Social Eminence Today Are Content To Entrust Their Faces To Andy Warhol's Mingily Cosmetic Polaroidising, But One Would Bet They Would Rather Go To Sargent.

A Gustave Courbet Portrait Of A Trout Has More Death In It Than Rubens Could Get In A Whole Crucifixion.

We Have Entered A Period Of Intolerance Which Combines, As It Sometimes Does In America, With A Sugary Taste For Euphemism. This Conjunction Fosters Events That Go Beyond The Wildest Dream Of Satire- If Satire Existed In America Anymore; Perhaps The Reason For Its Weakness Is That Reality Has Superseded It.