Hello, World. Greetings from southern Louisiana, where natives know the pace and visitors are constantly diverted and seduced. I was diverted by Prospect.1, New Orleans' new biennial, and seduced by the rest of New Orleans. As a result, I brim with observations but not with sufficient time or rest to have already organized my thoughts (and documents) and put those observations into lucid prose. Suffice it to say at this point that, although it may cheat by riding on its picturesque surroundings (hell, so does the Venice Biennale), Prospect is highly worthy -- not simply an excuse to visit America's unlikeliest city, but a reason to plan an impromptu yet serious art expedition.
Do it fast, though. Most parts of Prospect are slated to come down after January 18. Indeed, slated for that last weekend of the show are discussions, events, performances, celebrations, and whatever else the town can conjure. (Mardi Gras season, after all, begins tomorrow.) The discussions should be notably pointed. They will tackle the formidable question, "Okay, now what?" It's a question that looms before all of us, but in New Orleans -- once the capital of the past and the locus for a giddy present -- the future is crucial. Dark, brittle, and perilous, the fate of the city yet shimmers with possibility. In this respect, New Orleans shimmers for all of us -- for the nation, for the art world, for the globe.
Does the streetcar named Desire stop at Hope?
More presently. Mais a ce moment je fais do do...
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