By Joanne Furio
I once had a roommate who was an artist. She claimed that de Kooning himself had once seen her work and proclaimed her a genius. Despite such praise, she wanted more. “You should write about us!” she told me one night, in front of a group of friends who were all artists. I happened to be stoned at the time, so it was not cool that she was pressuring me during my weekend chill-out time. I fumbled a few responses, but she pressed on, in front of that speechless group of frie...
Published on August 03, 2021 04:00