I had the great honor of walking in this show last Saturday night, along with some friends of mine like the cornflower-eyed photographer John Arsenault, while we were applauded and lewdly cat-called by a crowd of luminaries including Cunningham and the hilarious writer-performer Mike Albo. Propelled forth by Louque's cunty tracks, we were told by the crowd that we were walking too fast, but I was at least mollified by the fact that many watchers later assured me that, yes, even for a first-time catwalker, I brought the most cunty fierceness. (Okay, fine, I was fishing.) And let me just say, that is not necessarily an easy thing to bring when you have an (artfully, cleverly, piquantly assembled) pile of marine debris on your head.
-- TIM MURPHY
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