In the Dec/Jan issue of The Brooklyn Rail, read my essay on visiting the Richard Prince Show at the Guggenheim.
“I spent Black Friday in the city with my nuclear family. I wanted to see the Richard Prince show at the Guggenheim, but my eight-year-old daughter Lena was not keen on the idea. She�s a clever girl, with a fine instinct for negotiation. My husband and I eventually agreed to take her to FAO Schwartz if she�d go to the Guggenheim. In retrospect, it was like a specially curated double feature for the biggest shopping day of the year, exploring Americans� mysterious and intimate relationship with desire.
“Having navigated swarms of well-heeled people through displays of plush-toy pit bulls, Barbie paraphernalia, larger-than-life stuffed animals with $5,000 price tags, and survived the inevitable Festival of No that accompanies any shopping trip with Lena, we arrived at the museum around 3 PM. We adults were eager to proceed unimpeded to Mr. Prince�s snide riffs on pop culture. But the ticket seller, noticing our small companion, raised an eyebrow and pointed to the sign on the counter warning parents that some of the content may not be appropriate for children. If Lena had been reluctant to see the ‘Richie Prince’ show originally, now she was curious.
“We started at the top and wound our way down. When we got out of the elevator, Lena looked over the rail. This was her first visit to the Guggenheim, but she appeared to have divined Mr. Prince�s prankster spirit when she asked what would happen if she spit on the people below….” Read more.