I started this edition with the concept of art and activism. A recent zip through NYC for reasons all too urgent had me feeling a bit on edge, had me thinking, “what the hell does it all mean?” My trip consisted of waking at 3am, hopping on a 6am flight to LaGuardia, and grabbing a taxi to Harlem 125^th Metro North station for a train to White Plains. Then picking up some paperwork in the Village of Greenburgh, backtracking to the Westchester County Clerk, then hopping back on a train to Grand Central station for a not-so-lovely subway ride down to lower Manhattan’s Williams Street to sit for 45 minutes with other fellow humans patiently awaiting apostilles and the like. Somehow, all this was accomplished by 11:59am. All this for security? For a back-up? For the “If shit falls apart plan?” Yes. Yes. And, yes.

But dear reader, in true Nicholas fashion, I told myself, “You need to make all this work, make some content, put it in a newsletter, make some videos.” So, in my mind, I was “working.” 48 hours to be witty and amusing all while low key depressed, full of anxiety, and generally… On. The. Edge. Well, I did capture a decent amount of video content to tell a coherent story. I took enough photos to capture the manufactured nonchalance of catching a Broadway show, lunch at Bergdorf’s, and casually strolling down 5^th Ave for a visit to the Frick Collection. (Full transparency, I really just wanted to see the Frick mansion and came away more intrigued about the exact color blue of the paint in a 2^nd floor bedroom than the 3 Vermeer’s I’m supposed to revere beyond life itself. Yes, they are divine, but come on people, hasn’t Johannes been given enough attention!)

Trip over. I get back home; I sit with my footage ready to edit away and make you all something worthy. But when I pull it all together, I look at it and think, “This is crap.” I literally got up from my dining room table and sat on the floor in a flood of depression. I’m not sure how long I was there - maybe 30 minutes - but Norman came in and asked what was wrong. The sad part was I didn’t have an answer. What am I supposed to say? In short, yesterday was a bust.

So here we are another day…and now I have clarity. I had intended to make this newsletter and my 48 hours in NYC about art and activism. But instead, I am reflecting on something different. What inspired me through this trip was not the “work,” it was human connection and art. And specifically, the power of art to connect and to heal.

First, the art. A trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art was on the agenda. There were a few things I had been waiting to see: the newly renovated Arts of Africa galleries in the Michael C. Rockefeller Wing and the Lorna Simpson exhibit, Lorna Simpson: Source Notes. My preferred way to visit a museum is alone. Why? Because for me a museum is a subliminal space. I am in my head, making my own connections with the art, letting it speak to me and me to it as I see fit - not with an audience. Now I do love to show people my favorite works in a museum, but that again is walking into my world. So, follow me…

The Arts of Africa galleries were, of all things, refreshing. The work is presented in clarity that makes it feel alive. This is not an anthropological study but a celebration of art, craftsmanship, and culture. I felt like I was walking into a pan-African village of art that was both historic and contemporary. And from a collecting standpoint, I took lots of photos to help me identify what styles and techniques come from certain areas. The curatorial notes give me context on works in my own collection. For example, we just purchased a mask we believe to be from (or at least inspired by) the Congo, so I was basically trying to find any matching connections as I immersed myself in the gallery.

What is great about African masks and sculpture is that from a collecting perspective they are not a monolith. One’s collection could - and should - be as varied as the continent. And though there have been auctions with African masks fetching $4-$7million dollars, authentic quality works can be found for under $1,000. And as I always recommend, use your museums as your initial advisor, their online images and research can help clarify and amplify your collecting journey.

Walking just past the Arts of Africa galleries, I made my way through the contemporary galleries to Lorna Simpson’s exhibition. I had seen this exhibition on YouTube. Often, that is enough as it allows me to have exposure to an artist’s work. But her work was calling me through the screen and I knew I had to see these paintings in person.

Much of the work in this exhibition could be described as meditative - large scale paintings with melancholy blues, silvers, gradations of black and white. To be honest, I don’t have an editorial on this exhibit. My reactions felt very much stream of conscious. These were paintings beckoning you to be still. Sit with me, slow down, take me in. I feel like the works in this exhibition could warrant a symposium at Yale dissecting all the connections and historical significance, but likely work best because they speak to something inside of the viewer. Could also just be pretty! And you know what, there is nothing wrong with that. I have followed Lorna Simpson’s work virtually for a while and I believe this is the first time I’ve actually seen it in person and it did not disappoint. It was sublime and better yet, got my creative juices flowing and helped stave off some of the depression I’ve been dealing with. Thank you, Lorna! Thank you, art!

Second, authentic human connection. I had dinner with a friend. We are both of a certain age and both “dealing with life.” If you know, you know. So vegan sushi and a night at the theatre were exactly what my anxiety ridden, post-democracy America-living *** needed. And what more on theme than the most recent revival of Cabaret on Broadway starring Billy Porter and Marisha Wallace. A review? No, I will not do that… A Faulknerian stream of conscious reflections? Yes, indeed.

It. Was. A…. Truly magnificent evening with stunning show stopping performances. I must say, Billy’s ability to hold an audience is remarkable. If you are a middle-aged gay man like myself, you have seen Cabaret approximately 437 times - in every variation conceivable, from Broadway to the movie, to local theatre, to drag shows, to London, and back again. Mrs. Cabaret has been done. We love her dearly, but she has indeed been did. And then come’s Billy Porter giving me something I so desperately needed: a new take. An invocation of ancestral soul that cannot, nor should, be hidden, because it is life. As Billy has said in interviews, his version of the Emcee is of a Black man who fled the Jim Crow south. And what I so loved about his performance all around was a refusal to not blend in, because, contrary to the pundits on the interwebs who think they have something to say, this Emcee could never blend in, never assimilate - so Billy’s Emcee SANG! With a capital “A.” I could see the reality of his Emcee as more than an evening of theatre. His Emcee was both a revelation and a warning to anyone who truly wanted to listen. For me, it was healing. To be wrapped in the glow of such talent, to experience the waves of authentic emotions served as a balm for my mind.

And then there was Marisha Wallace as Sally Bowles. I mean…and then…but why y’all didn’t tell me? I have no words… well actually, I do. Marisha Wallace’s portrayal of Sally Bowles was a master class in not acting or singing, but rather magic - because she transported me to 1930’s Berlin and had me under her spell. Her rendition of Cabaret is most definitely one for the history books and I was graced by seeing it in person.

So, no, this was not a review. This is how their art made me feel. Alive. Hopeful. Encouraged. Inspired. Connected.

The moral of this weeks’ newsletter? When dealing with depression, contemplating your brief but hopefully stupendous time on this planet, and navigating the complexities of a world in crisis, go see a Broadway show, laugh with friends, sit with great art, and have lunch at Bergdorf’s before the party’s over.

Have you considered?

Collecting African Masks:
A Primer for the Curious and Conscientious

Authentic African masks are not just art objects — they’re deeply spiritual, functional artifacts connected to ceremonial, communal, and ancestral traditions. Collecting them isn’t about aesthetics alone; it’s about responsibility, respect, and understanding.

If you're considering acquiring one for your collection, here’s a quick primer:

• Form Follows Function
  Authentic masks were created to be used — in ritual, ceremony, or initiation. Look for signs of wear or patina from use. A pristine mask may be decorative or a contemporary reproduction.

• Know the Ethnic Group & Use
  The meaning of a mask is tied to the community and context that made it. Is it Fang, Yoruba, Dan, or Senufo? Was it used in funerals, harvest rites, or initiation? Ask these questions — the answers matter.

• Check Provenance & Ethics
  If you are paying significant money with the expectation that the mask is not simply decorative but authentic, ensure clear documentation of where and how the mask was acquired. Avoid pieces with vague or questionable provenance. Post-colonial looting and unethical sourcing still plague this market.

• Is it a Tourist Copy?
  Many masks were made to meet tourist demand. This is not a bad thing as they can be beautiful. A collector simply needs to know what is an actual ceremonial item as opposed to a copy. And one should not be paying significant money for tourist copies.

• Work with Specialists
  If you are serious about authentic masks and sculptures, galleries, scholars, and reputable dealers in African art can guide you. Museums like The Fowler (UCLA), The Met, and Musée du quai Branly offer excellent research archives online.

• Respect
  Learn the stories of the art, don’t erase them.

Do Consider

• The Met’s African Art Galleries
  Newly renovated and spiritually alive, the Michael C. Rockefeller Wing is not a dusty anthropological exercise—it’s a radiant reintroduction to African mastery. If you are hungry for perspective, this is a required pilgrimage.

• Lorna Simpson: Source Notes at The Met
  Feels like a vibe. Her meditative canvases of melancholy blue and black quietly demand your presence.

• Cabaret on Broadway, starring Billy Porter and Marisha Wallace
  You think you’ve seen Cabaret before. You haven’t. Not like this. Billy’s Emcee rewrites the role with ancestral weight, and Marisha’s Sally Bowles will undo you. Go while you still can. The party doesn’t last forever.

• Beyond Sushi – 37th Street, NYC
  Vegan sushi? Yes. Delicious? Absolutely. Add a good friend, midlife angst, and existential dread, and it becomes a Michelin-starred therapy session.

• Lunch at Bergdorf Goodman
  If times are tough, you might as well enjoy champagne and truffle fries overlooking Central Park. As one does.

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