I was in Vegas for the first time about a decade ago, to attend (by kind invitation) the opening of a sexhibition -- sorry, exhibition -- of Impressionist paintings from the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg at the Venetian Resort/Hotel/Casino.
Entering the mighty Guggenheim Museum on Fifth Avenue can be a spiritual experience for many of us, particularly when one is eagerly anticipating a riveting survey exhibition by Christopher Wool, an artist whose time has come.
"I do really get into that small space in the painting. I like the rounded shape of that armpit, that's kind of pleasing to me. Separating the parts of the model from the rest of the body is a way I can claim them and make them my own, and turn them into compositions."
Receiving a Grumbacher medal does not assure a visual artist that a line of patrons will appear at his or her door the next day, or making the cover of People magazine, or being ranked among the top artists of one's time.