Talking art, drugs, porn, and crème brûlée for a party of 10. The author talking to the artist in her studio, December 22, 2022. Courtesy Robert Rosen
She was a Kansas housewife who fled a bad marriage in Wichita, moving in 1977 to New York City, where she carved a Xanadu-like loft, including a spacious art studio, out of raw factory space on West 37th Street. For the next 46 years, she lived in rent-regulated splendor and produced a body of work that runs the gamut from the religious to the profane. One day in 2015, the artist Robert Attanasio came
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