Meeting Mr. Murakami
I just read an interesting, albeit anxiety-ridden article over at the New York Times. Guy Trebay discusses what it’s like to meet superstar artist Takashi Murakami at the Boom Boom Room in New York, after one of his art openings, during fashion week:
Sample question: Do you find that conducting the whirlwind jet-setting life of an ultra-genius pop star artist and handbag designer leaves you time for quiet consultation with your muse?
Or: What role does fate play in fame and global recognition? Do some ultra-genius pop star artist handbag designers just get lucky, while others wind up making Hendrick’s martinis behind a bar?
Or: Who styles your topknot? It’s kind of cute.
The one thing you should probably never inquire of a person of Mr. Murakami’s stature, on the eve of his exhibition at the Larry Gagosian Gallery, on the final night of Fashion Week, in the Boom Boom Room of the Standard Hotel, locus of all things flossy and urgent and cosmopolitan for the last seven days (and, looking forward, one might predict for the following 90), is what he thinks makes a party fun.
If you present such a banal query, well, be prepared for a look of smoldering incomprehension, a coldly evidenced distaste for breaches in the protocols of global celebrity. You must be ready to experience a displeasure that could atomize you, reduce you to an integer of laboring-class nothingness, a mote of dust.
2 years ago | Tags: art article, new york times, takashi murakami boom boom room gagosian
