time passes

The weekend flew by. On Saturday Y and I met friends in Chelsea and went to Marianne Boesky Gallery to see the Nara show. I was not impressed. I don't understand Nara's appeal. I mean, it seems "cute" and is certainly not unpleasant, but I don't get the hype surrounding his work. I saw that in the same building, in the Julie Saul Gallery, a photographer I used to know from MacDowell was having a retrospective. She photographed me extensively one summer, swimming and floating in a lake, and used some of the photos in a book. She promised to give me a print, but she never did. Her photographs are beautiful. I wish I had pressed her to give me one. In the photos my skin is white as milk; and I float, faceless, like a ghost.