The Brooklyn Rail

“Painter-painter,” and the Lingering Specter of Greenberg

At an art auction a few years ago, I overheard a conversation that unsettled my sense of painting in a way that I’m still trying to fully understand. The auction was a fundraiser for a local art nonprofit and the mood was sour. The artists clung to the walls and their drinks, grumbling about the measly number of comped drink tickets, the price-slashing they foresaw for their work, and the various iniquities of fundraisers, which ask artists to give work for pennies on the dollar.