Thornton has created a work that lifts the lid on the big-buck end of the art world, and while that isn’t the reality for most artists working today, it’s the sort of area of vicarious interest that’ll gain readers. It’s true, it does – but it presents the world that most people would think of when they think of the art world, unless they were explicitly involved in it. I’ve seen criticism of this book that suggests that it only presents a particular version of the art world. (Though I could just be salty that it’s not me staying at a fancy-pants palazzo and doing laps and drinking Bellinis with artists. We’re being shown what Thornton sees, even though she does occasionally take a little too much glee from her situation. The author isn’t shy about insertion of personal experience into the text – she is playing the role of an observer (a step up the title’s implied tourist) – but it’s generally not a distraction.
“I was an impatient, undisciplined, drug-using narcissist,” he said. None of the reportage seems to be overly massaging of the subject – something I imagine is necessary for some of the people interviewed! – and I found it very easy to keep pushing on. Through her art world connections, the author manages to get a number of delectable thoughts out of artists, curators and figures less-known to the public.
Thornton’s text goes down easily, even if there’s sometimes a sense that all the chapters don’t link up the way they should. If you’ve gotta pick a schtick, make it a GREAT one.īut it’s about the art world.
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