Am I allowed to say that the last episode of Work of Art made me feel glad all over? Not because the show’s over -- although the last ten weeks have been more stressful than I ever imagined. Even though fingers have wagged at me for "interacting with the laypeople" and the L.A. Times opined that the show is "vacant television piddle," I'm glad to have been associated with this strange chapter in the canoodling of art and popular culture. I wish I’d been more articulate and clear about why I liked and disliked certain works of art, but I’m glad that my faith in art and artists was not broken. All three of the finalists -- Abdi, Miles and Peregrine -- came though and made shows that could have been seen in any respectable New York gallery. I’m even glad that the Brooklyn Museum, though much disparaged for it -- even by me -- risked giving one of these artists a chance. Haters will say that all this was just a train wreck. Whatever it was, somehow life occasionally managed to break into this "reality."
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