This is the second in a series of personal observations about how people experience and explore museums.
This is the first in a series of personal observations about how people experience and explore museums.
Frank O’Hara was a poet near and dear to my heart. Born in Baltimore in 1926, he died tragically forty years later in an accident on Fire Island. The death of a poet is never a pretty thing, and this one was especially ugly: he was run over by a jeep one evening on the dunes.
Interesting what happens when an artist speaks about his/her lif