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WHITNEY BIENNIAL 1993

Glenn O'Brien

WHEN I SHOWED UP at the Whitney Biennial they handed me an admission button that said “I CAN’T IMAGINE EVER WANTING TO BE WHITE,” a badge that would presumably prevent me from being ejected by guards, as long as I didn’t destroy any of the works on display. No fucking way was I going to put that on, so I took my chances with the guards and was careful not to destroy any work.

Actually I didn’t feel like destroying any of the work that I saw. I did feel like sitting down in Pepón Osorio’s fabulous Puerto Rican apartment crime-scene but I wouldn't cross the police crime-scene tape. I did feel like touching Sue Williams’ large splotch of simulated vomit but I observed a guard warning a woman not to touch it so I too refrained. One piece, Donald Moffett's bed sheet with hole, had been removed, presumably for repair, and I wondered if some Orthodox Jew had maybe trashed it.

I found the show

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