Last night was a disaster. I probably should not have drank the entire 1/5th of Jack Daniels at the Pulse party at the Essex House. There will some photographs eventually of me being 'The Fuck You Guy" giving the double bird. I reacted somewhat badly to the second (third?) tier collector/artist/dealer crowd, although I simply wound down like a spring-driven toy into mumbling incoherence and was safely led home by my dealer Sara Jo. She is starting to think I don't love her as much as Lisa, because I try and spare her reputation, but she wants to be included in the work, so I will glady start skewering her as well.
So, Miami is warm, I'm heading for the beach in a moment to take a rest from the sheer volume of art. If you happen to be here and are enjoying a quiet moment surfing the Internet, or perhaps looking me up to see if I really am a genius or just a desperate hack, then check out my work at PULSE (Schroeder Romero) and the Aqua Hotel fair (Platform Gallery). Here's a preview.