The Whitney and I have a longstanding intellect-emotional history; it was within her domain that my mother and I stumbled across the Joseph Albers piece that now lives permanently replicated on my left arm. It was there that the ache of Kara Walker (the show was called My Compliment, My Enemy, My Oppressor, My Love) echoed the glorious pain of a previous relationship. As her and I cut tenderly from room to room, we held each other with a grip that knew the exhibit was speaking to us in more ways than one. And so it goes… it is in … read more