General

-from The New Yorker, April 24, 2017

You may have noticed that I have not been contributing to this “column” recently.  With clients now vying for Picassos such as those exemplars I’ve been touting, I find it appropriate at this time to go underground.  Rather than blog the upcoming masterpieces and bargains, we remain available for private consultation.

The Women’s March, Oakland, California

2015 and -16 were the years of unnatural disasters.  For us, anyway.  I’m referring to conservation disasters.  Not Trump’s anti-EPA EPA appointment, not that kind of conservation.  No, today I’d like to tell you about our paper conservation disasters, because, as unfortunate as these events were, they are also teaching moments.  I’ll share these case studies with you in order to arm you against the kind of conservation quandaries you may well eventually encounter, provided only that you don’t break yourself of the bad habit of collecting. Our slide into conservation hell started with the ruination of one of the two impressions we had at the time of Pique, Rouge et Jaune (Bloch 908, above).  The other impression was in fine condition, but this one had

In some ways, we in the Bay Area live in a cultural wasteland.  Well, this was Jerry’s home and still the hub of the Dead two decades after his death, but as for the visual arts, we’re not New York or Paris.  So any sighting of a Picasso about town deserves being called to your attention.  Here’s one that has shuttled between sister museums, having spent a number of years at the Legion of Honor before arriving and being put up in style at the De Young Museum.  It took a few years, but this amusing plaster has really grown on me over successive sightings.  Don’t miss it—L’Orateur (The Orator, 1933-34).  It upstairs on the second floor.  Take a break

The SFMOMA finally reopened earlier this year, featuring a large and world-class contemporary art collection courtesy of the Fisher Family, founders of the Gap chain.  After several visits, I can in good conscience even refer to it as the “new and improved” SFMOMA.  My initial impression, however, wasn’t so rosy. Our first visit was all too brief.  Gina and I arrived past the hour of gaining admittance to the galleries.  We managed a walk through the lobby of the old building, then up a new staircase into the new wing, and finally down a flight of stairs leading to the colossal Stella, in which we happily lost ourselves, wandering in, through and about: Unlike many art and architecture aficionados, I loved the Mario Botta design