The New Yorker Dealer’s Hand The New Yorker - Nick PaumgartenVery important people line up differently from you and me. They don’t want to stand behind anyone else, or to acknowledge wanting something that can’t immediately be had. If there’s a door they’re eager
The New Yorker Spot On The New Yorker - Peter SchjeldahlThe art of Damien Hirst puts me in mind of a New Yorker cartoon by Peter Steiner, from 1997. One of two vultures on a bare branch argues, “Sure, dead is important. But it has to taste good.” That finicky
The New Yorker Eerily Composed The New Yorker - Rebecca MeadNico Muhly, a composer, was bounding through Chinatown, his hands thrust into the pockets of a black jacket, and a too small Icelandic knitted cap pulled halfway down over his ears, heading for the market
The New Yorker Banksy Was Here The New Yorker - Lauren CollinsThe British graffiti artist Banksy likes pizza, though his preference in toppings cannot be definitively ascertained. He has a gold tooth. He has a silver tooth. He has a silver earring. He’s an anarchist
The New Yorker The Misfit The New Yorker - Judith ThurmanDoes it really matter what one wears? I sometimes think my life might have been different if I had chosen the other wedding dress. I was getting married for the second time, and until the overcast morning
