The Met is not only the finest encyclopedic museum of art in the United States; it is arguably the finest anywhere.

The very paradigm of revolution, of right versus wrong, good versus bad, is a relic with no bearing on the present. Yet artists, exhibitions, and curators valorize the sixties. People who wrote about these artists 30 years ago still write about them in the same ways, often for the same magazines.

Kinkade's paintings are worthless schmaltz, and the lamestream media that love him are wrong. However, I'd love to see a museum mount a small show of Kinkade's work. I would like the art world and the wider world to argue about him in public, out in the open.

A lot of people still think caring about clothes is a dubious, unserious, frivolous, girlie thing.

Every movement that slays its gods creates new ones, of course. I loathe talk of the sixties and seventies being a 'Greatest Generation' of artists, but if we're going to use such idiotic appellations, let this one also be applied to the artists, curators, and gallerists who emerged in the first half of the nineties.

My job as art critic is to watch artists dance naked in public, and then I will, in turn, dance naked critically in public.

Think of an abstract painting as very, very low relief - a thing, not a picture.