Happy 2024. I always have high hopes for new years, though each of the past four, in its own special way, was a lulu of ignorance, rancor, delusion, and piffle. We understand the full range of our woes but lack the elasticity, much less the fortitude, to slay them. Will 2024 be the year of no más or siempre más, of doing what’s good and right or tossing one elephantine hairball after another, again?
Always an optimist but clearly a contrarian, I decided to start the art year in Boston. Boston? The city of puritan cant, left-wing pomp, and the meanest drivers in the world? Next to Harvard, now in a lampoonable mess over race, hate, hubris, and mediocrity? Lampoonable if it weren’t so revolting. The Hamas-infused bacchanal there after October 7 was the newest of new lows.
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