More on: Matthew Milliner

I’d just had a brush with the opioid epidemic—the Bible belt removed and fastened around the arm to isolate a vein.

TIRED OF THE THEORIES ABOUT ART, which I had either absorbed or spun myself, I did the decent thing at last. I took the inductive path—wandering the galleries themselves. Mockery had proven too facile, even if the offerings of New York galleries and museums had facilitated that posture. It left me hollow, especially after realizing…