The article, at seven pages, was by far the most extensive piece to be published on Cornell so far. If he was pleased by it, he did not say so in his journals. He did not even keep a copy of it. But then Cornell had never kept reviews of his shows, never bothered to clip them from newspapers or magazines – a startling oversight for an artist who was always snipping and cutting, who was stirred by archival passions. Perhaps even stranger than the otherworldly visions he had confided to the readers of Art News was the disavowal of his career. He had dozens of articles on Lauren Bacall. He had a suitcase of clippings on Cerrito. About himself, however, he had nothing. He made no effort to record his worldly accomplishments, as if somehow pained by the very notion of them.
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