Now, I believe I’ve already mentioned my involvement in numerous social circles in our fine city. However I have yet to touch on my keen interest and pivotal role in the art world. Indeed I have dear friends at Humble Arts Foundation, where I sit on the board and at mr. and mrs. amaniolu — the curator of the wonderful collection for sale at my little store Eponymy.
As a patron, trendsetter, dealer and muse, naturally I am constantly being invited to gallery openings and events. What with my other commitments it’s frankly impossible to even attend a fraction of them. Exhaustication! That said, much as I enjoy hobbnobbing with a glass of wine and eavesdropping on conversations regarding false pretensions of metaphysical idealism, I also like to take it to the street and assess the more accessible delicacies of the art world.
Therefore, when I was asked to take a mini tour of some recent public art in Manhattan, I decided to make time in my positively overloaded schedule to lend a skillful eye to the masses.
I was picked up on Saturday morning by my driver Vladimir, a rather pleasantly plump fellow (notwithstanding the Russian prison tattoos on his hands and the gun shot wound in the side of his head). Our dear friend Alan Rohwer was in tow with my iced cappuccino, which was a blessing as I was absolutely parched. The scale of Alan’s artistic genius and talent is virtually insurmountable (why he nearly holds a candle to my achievements!) so naturally it was favorable to have him along for the ride.
Our first stop, The Helmsley Palace (these days known as The New York Palace), featured an exhibition in my honor. How spectacular the sculpture, and how kind it was of the guards to escort me down the red carpet to the base of the sculpture where I was photographed for what seemed like an honest to god eternity by those pesky paparazzi. Good lord. But one must oblige sometimes I suppose, especially when homage is shown on such a grand scale.
The sculpture itself, crafted by Julien Marienetti, showed such attention to scale, such precise acknowledgement of my bone structure, my luxurious curves, the indent in the middle of my frontal lobe, the delicate folds in my face and neck – all diametrically opposed with the angular modern lines of the painted surfaces and vibrant colors. Gracious me! Pure Heavenly Goodness!
Take a look here, for a small style tip. I decided to don a low-maintenance sporty outfit that day a lá Katherine Hepburn. It is quite grotesque to look ostentatious at an event in one’s own honor:
Once my appearance was made, we were on our way. Vladimir suggested another location – a spot on Park Avenue boasting Swiss artist Urs Fischer’s 20 ton brass teddy bear. While I don’t expect the subject matter of every public art work to reflect my grace and delicate facial structure, I have to say the lines did not please me aesthetically at all. Shame!