As a writer, it can be really hard to be friends with other writers, because when they write something great, it makes me jealous. Especially when, like today, I can’t even figure out a clever way to end this fucking sentence.
I often feel that way about work via my main gay and all around bff David Everitt Howe, who is more of an art critic than I’ll ever be, and also much, much better dressed.
The way he writes about art—full of witty quips, critical theory, and references to how he wants to fuck so-and-so—is something that I definitely envy.
For instance, in his catalog essay for “Every Inch A Man,” a performance exhibition by Bryan Zanisnik that he curated at the Abrons Art Center, where he is the resident curator theorist or some high-brow shit like that, he opens with:
“Bryan Zanisnik’s performance Every Inch A Man is so hyperbolically titled it begs the questions: is any inch of Bryan Zanisnik a man?”
It’s just a great way to open an essay. And it gets better from there. I would transcribe more, but I’m late to blow dry my hair.
Anyway, the reason why I’m writing this is because he gave me the catalog for the show last night, and I ended up reading the entire thing, on the fucking F train no less, and trust me, that alone is significant enough to mention. Who reads fucking catalog essays? No one. Not unless they are a lazy senior in college who needs some easy quotes for an art history term paper.
But I’ll always read DEH’s, because they’ll always be good.
Check out the exhibition at Abrons, and read more of DEH’s work here.
