There must be a reason why the Dallas Museum of Fine Art with the help of Southern Methodist University has decided to meddle in the already muddled affairs of New York and San Francisco painting in the ’50s. Geographically, this seems like some kind of mistaken identity crisis with wish-fulfillment overtones; but more likely, it is simply a chance to present something impressive and important. You feel that the motivations will be good, wholesome and clean but the execution overbearing yet incomplete, expansive yet (or thus) banal, and, well, wrong-headed. That yearning for culture, the

It’s not a conscious aversion to the arts, or contemporary art, but a natural shying away from things that smack of elitism as opposed to populism (this is a strong labor town). San Franciscans love culture veering toward the camp, jaded pleasures of fashion and immediate pleasures of rock music. Other than that, the theatricality of opera keeps it popular, hanging on as the vestige of glittery anachronistic absurdity that it is. No coincidence that rock superentrepreneur Bill Graham is sponsoring a huge benefit concert for those basketball coaches. No coincidences or surprises then that people