I used to go around telling chicks that I was THE FUTURE OF ART CRITICISM, hoping I could get in their pants. It's months later, and not only am I not in anyone's pants, but I'm beginning to wonder whether I really am THE FUTURE ART CRITICISM after all. But maybe Emily Hall is? She writes a colum for The Stranger. Hey Emily, don't be a stranger! No, really.Coagula questions whether Most Art Sucks, but the only question they've definitively answered is that their book sucks. Or am I just saying that because they wouldn't let me re-edit it? Oh, before I forget, one last point. Film as an art piece?—is stupid. If I open a DVD and it's covered in vaseline, I will personally find Matthew Barney and beat his white ass.

Off Medication

I used to go around telling chicks that THE FUTURE OF ART CRITICISM was in their pants, and they had to give it to me. This worked well. Not only have I been in just about everyone's pants I wanted, but I'm beginning to wonder whether I really even need ART CRITICISM at all. Emily Hall has often suggested this in her weekly column about me at The Stranger. When Coagula begged me to help edit their book, Most Art Sucks, I told them to make me pregnant. Oh, before I forget—I've been in Matthew Barney's pants, twice, and you wouldn't believe what I saw at all.
Roland Barthes * Roberta Smith * Peter Plagens