In spite of John Metcalfe’s attempts to check facts prior to publishing “The Hunger Artists” (9/17), it nevertheless contained factual errors. For starters, Metcalfe got our ages mixed up. Keren Coxe is 65 and I am 60. The remark about the mattress in our attic was made by Keren’s daughter, not Keren. He failed to mention that while “pacing around the room” at the Korean Cultural Service, we were admiring the art.
B. Stanley of the District of Columbia Arts Center has selective memory. That place has only once served any food worth mentioning in the few times that we have been there. (We rarely go there, because it is hard to park in Adams Morgan.) That was the occasion in 1995 he mentioned, where the food, contrary to his characterization of it, was very good, donated by a restaurant. Anyone who sees my pockets knows there is no room for food in there, and Keren usually doesn’t have any pockets. The person who used to stuff his pockets with food at openings was a now-deceased lawyer friend of ours. Keren’s daughter rarely goes to art openings.
Clark of D.C.’s Museum of Contemporary Art doesn’t need to use “reverse psychology” to keep us from eating much. The only times his place serves decent food is when it is provided by someone else. He knows that we will buy art if it is to our liking and reasonably priced, regardless of the cuisine. Gallery owners who are more concerned about how much we eat than about selling their art have their priorities mixed up. If they can’t afford to provide food, they shouldn’t do so. (Most galleries just provide drinks and maybe a little junk food.) We have often seen gallery owners’ attitudes toward us change 180 degrees when we buy art from them.
My taste in art is not the result of a “medical condition.” My difficulty in distinguishing reddish brown from greenish brown may explain my distaste for brownish art, but it has little to do with my taste in art otherwise. Metcalfe’s uninformed snide remarks about our art collection show that he has little appreciation for colorful abstract art. This is exemplified by his characterization of paperweights as “glass blobs” and our house as a “monster.” Maybe he should have paid more attention to the retired Georgetown professor at the Korean Cultural Service than he did watching us.
In his letter (The Mail, 9/24) F. Lennox Campello of Fraser Gallery is wrong about our never feigning interest in the artwork at his galleries. While most of his shows are not to our taste, we particularly enjoyed the Dali-inspired show a while back at his Georgetown gallery. Most of the time when we do go there, it is simply because it is part of the art walks in Canal Square and Bethesda, and we don’t stay very long. The gallery he mentioned in Leesburg has not gone out business; it has simply changed its name and later moved. The birthday party he referred to was for Keren’s son (not daughter), who lives in Leesburg, who does not normally attend art openings. The only thing in the backroom refrigerator was beer (not food), which he helped himself to after he observed other people (not associated with us) drinking it.