Calling All Artists: Register Now for State Duck Stamp Art Contest - Oklahoma Department of Wildlife Conservation

In September 1991, I had just been thrown into the meat-grinder of a Midlands boarding school. In this bear pit, there were predators and there was prey. You were either the swaggering rugby alpha, whipping a wet towel at pale bodies in the eight-boy dormitory; or the homesick ghost, keeping your guard up, endlessly braced for your toilet cubicle to be kicked open or your washbag chucked off the fire escape. My mind had always been loud, racing with opinions, stories, jokes. But by the time I adequately considered a thought, the conversation had raced on without me. Suddenly, under 24/7 social scrutiny in a world where bullhorn confidence is king, I felt dismissed. Up to that point, music hadn’t helped. Every rock star I had ever seen – Elton John, Freddie Mercury, Mick Jagger – was a showboating peacock, all hips, handclaps and absurd glasses, seeming to whisper in my ear: “This isn’t for you, bookworm.” But that September, I stumbled across the Stone Roses’ self-titled 1989 debut album. I must have seen John Squire’s genius before I heard it, on his paint-splashed, lemon-drizzled sleeve art.

The latest on the student protests in France, the art world’s AI problem, one-on-one with Rosana Paulino, and Beer With a Painter featuring Melissa Brown. The subway car rattles, shakes, and screeches as it tunnels us from Brooklyn to Manhattan underneath the East River. I hold on tight to a pole, while my eyes are fixed on an ad for the Broadway musical Les Misérables. My social media feed shows me only looting and vandalism in France, painting a violent picture of the largely peaceful student protests. Panicking, the art world’s blue-chip class shuts down Art Basel Paris early and flees the city. The Louvre also closes to protect its treasures. Loot a little and they throw you in jail; loot a lot and they let you open a museum. I get to a benefit dinner for an art residency held in a former bank. A peppy auctioneer asks the who’s who to open their hearts and wallets. Paddles go up and down, and a donation ticker on a big screen climbs to astronomical numbers while I admire the building’s huge stained-glass skylight.