If anything can go wrong, whisper the good souls, it will. A self-fulfilling prophecy for the weak at heart, while the true believers would go for the optimistic version: after so many mishaps, things can only get better.
So, after I meticulously damaged every piece, and then managed to fix it somehow, the hanging on Sunday managed to damage a few frames as well. Whatever. It's not the wrapping that counts, right? I mean, I've been to museums and galleries and seen very mediocre art packaged in very impressive frames. It should be the other way round, shouldn't it?.
The exhibition opened on Wednesday. The space is nice, in a provincial way; two corridors, and a lobby, where two images can be viewed from the street. Everybody said it looked great, but I found it hard to get rid of that junior high feeling.
Berlitz, on 51st street, is only two blocks away from MoMA, telling me in a symbolic way that I am just a few steps from fame (and fortune). This is my interpretation anyway. I had a few guests for the opening. Everybody got drunk (except me, of course). I think they had fun; I was too busy counting the money (relax. This is wishful thinking). To sum it up - a small step for the New York art community, a major milestone for Rona Morning Star's career. My ship has left the harbor. I hope the captain knows where we're going because I haven't got a clue.
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