In the secular world, the space of the art gallery constitutes hallowed ground. Its white walls beckon those willfully wayward members of the flock who by habit choose to while away their Sundays at the mall rather than before the pulpit. On Friday night you'll find them at the opening soirée, so many shepherd's lost sheep lingering before the chardonnay trough, musing over the good, bad and the lovely as they see and are seen. The staying power of the gallery lingers on, because its pristine space defers all action and thought to the art on display and the whiteness signals that you have entered a site of... More >>>