Three and a half years ago, I came to New York after graduating from the University of Michigan with concentrations in History of Art, Ethical Analysis, and Philosophy of Morality. My first NY editor had suggested that I stopped writing like an academic (totally necessary). Still, I never published a piece without receiving a comment about “esoteric language” or “too harsh” of an argument. Editors never did me wrong, and I honored their requests. Until recently, I had ignored that my writing style was different from other art critics: finally, an aesthetics professor from a philosophy department in the city explained that I straddled a seat between philosophy and criticism, analyzing much more than object in gallery, postulating ontology of contemporary art. Years of hardcore journalism couldn’t remove philosophical deliberation from my process nor from my sent email box.
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