That Telltale Tingle

Al, Dre, and I were stuck in traffic on our way to the Javits Center to meet with the curator of FORAYS by Amex, the American Express–sponsored section of the Armory Show that showcases installations, interventions, and sculptures that for one reason or another (unwieldy, unstable, wet) don’t carry much exchange value. The three of us aren’t known as art-fair artists because we don’t have to make work for the wealth-management schemes of the One Percent, namely disguising financial assets as invaluable cultural expressions or interior decor. We don’t have to play that game because Dre’s great-great-grandfather, originally a meat-packer, decided to turn pig skin into pigskin and, well, we live off those schemes. (Here’s some advice: if you ever find yourself in an elite MFA program that offers no bankable skills to bootstrap yourself out of the debt you’ll incur, latch on to a member of the Wilson Sporting Goods dynasty so that when she decides to have children with your closeted best friend–future boyfriend, you’re poised to take on the role of live-in nanny.)