Weíre on a historical cusp. No one knows what will come next. But in the art world, an esthetic sorting out is already beginning. Iím not talking about the purging or comeuppance some critics have gleefully cackled about or howled for. I love art galleries, and worry that a wave of them will close this June when, looking ahead to the traditionally dead months of summer, dealers will be forced to throw in the towel. As for art, I admire much of the work that came to prominence in the last 15 years. Recently, though, much of this art has been looking either dated or not so relevant. At this yearís Armory Show it was stunning to see almost no work by stars of last season like Murakami, Hirst, Koons, Prince, Reyle, Struth, and Gursky. Partly this is a natural process and doesnít necessarily mean these artists are bad or not passionate. But the hypermarket that justly extended the careers of many artists also delayed the winnowing process of many others. Now all this winnowing is occurring at once. Artistic qualities that once seemed undeniable donít seem so now. Sometimes these fluctuations are only fickleness of taste, momentary glitches in an artistís work, or an artist getting ahead of his audience (it took me ten years to catch up to Albert Oehlen). Other times, however, these problems mean thereís something wrong with the art. One sign that this is happening is when the same things that were said about an artist a decade ago are still being said today.