TABLE OF CONTENTS

PRINT March 1994

WIRETAP: A WALK THROUGH THE WHITNEY, OR WHAT WE REALLY SAY WHEN WE TALK ABOUT ART

—This looks different than when I was here before for some reason.

—That wasn’t lit up. What is that.

—Don’t scream, Mother, I can’t stand it. It’s lurking here, lying in wait, ready to spring at any moment. Quiet, Mother. Now you understand the state I’m in.

—These guards are so obnoxious. There must be six or seven guards in this place.

—To become a child again a helpless child, to have to be fed, to have to—

—This is the most famous work, the pants shitter. It’s not caught up in this nonsense about taste that the rest of the show is; it’s about shitting your pants. I think it’s funny for someone whose work is about a blue-collar heritage of taste and value and esthetics to make these works and have people respond to them like they’re his critique of Color Field painting or something.

—old and gray haired like that, and you might die and I should be left alone, or the doctor said I might live

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