My nominee for Best Picture of the year - maybe the best picture ever, because it's essentially made up of and is an ecstatic love letter to all other movies - is Christian Marclay's endlessly enticing must-see masterpiece 'The Clock.'

Poor Georgia O'Keeffe. Death didn't soften the opinions of the art world toward her paintings.

The art gods cooked up something special for James Ensor.

Giant group events are distorting organisms: You can like and hate them in rapid succession.

Artschwager's art always involves looking closely at surfaces, questions what an object is, wants to make you forget the name of the thing you're looking at so that it might mushroom in your mind into something that triggers unexpected infinities.

My culture-deprived, aspirational mother dragged me once a month from our northern suburb - where the word art never came up - to the Art Institute of Chicago. I hated it.

Many things happened in the sixties, but the period is no more significant, better, or more 'political' than today. It's time to turn the page.