THE WINDY APPLE
by Abraham Orden
Chicago is a kind-hearted town, but this season its art dealers have indulged their taste for edgier, less friendly fare. In a chance alignment of dark stars, an assortment of provocative out-of-towners recently showed up to meet the city’s unvoiced desire for avant-garde impertinence and dandified, aloof solipsism. What’s more, several of the artists are all about "branding" themselves as bona fide art celebrities. How much self-obsession can the audience bear?
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