Dear William Powhida:
We are writing to thank you from the deep and overflowing well of our hearts for your recent mention of The New York Observer in one of your artworks! As you and we well know, Mr. Powhida, all publicity is good publicity. Or is that, No publicity is bad publicity? Anyhow, imagine our surprise when we visited your show at Postmasters and heard how you singled out our columnist Adam Lindemann for praise?!!?!!?! It brought a tear to the eye, a lump to the throat. We very nearly wept into our cafe latte.
After the whole Marlborough thing we thought we–well, we thought we’d lost you. But then we went to your show at Postmasters just moments ago and saw that video in the back, the one where you fake that The New York Times is interviewing you (we mean your doppelganger, that actor–yes we know he is an actor now!) about your decision to quit being an artist and become a collector. And the “Times” asks “Powhida” if any collectors in particular influenced his decision to make this career change and he–that is, “you”–swills his snifter of scotch and says, “Adam Lindemann”–his name’s a little garbled but the next line made us recognize it! “The idea that you can write for The New York Observer and increase the value of your own collection … is just phenomenal.”
Mr. Powhida, we are blushing. We thank you for promoting our brand, and we thank you above all for your endearingly quaint belief that writing is, these days, capable of increasing the value of anything. And we thought that after Clement Greenberg it was all just so much whistling into the void! Mr. Powhida, we would like to humbly ask you out on a date, during which we will both drink copious amounts of scotch, then whip out a ouija board and conjure the ghost of Giorgio Vasari. We are not available next week or the week after, however. We are covering the auctions.