The January 28th issue of the New Yorker had an interesting profile of John Currin in it: "Lifting the Veil: Old Masters, Pornography, and the Work of John Currin." On the first spread of its pages, there's the above portrait of the artist as a porn ruminator--nothing worth noting in the context of the internet, but the artwork behind him stands out on the pages of that magazine. I missed it when the issue was out because I only read the magazine online, but a friend told me about it and another friend sent me a copy of it. I enjoyed the piece. John is dear. At one point, Currin opines: "I was thinking how pornography could be a superstitious offering to the gods of a dying race." Indeed.
