I only made two little changes to her recipe: I used a mix of finely ground oatmeal and
white spelt flour for the batter and baked them in little muffin tins for easier serving
rather than in one large baking tin.
AS THE LAWRENCE WEINER RETROSPECTIVE at the Whitney Museum fades to
white under multiple coats of Kilz and latex paint, and his various exuberant ephemera take up residence at LA MoCA before wending their way back to their rightful property owners; as Tate Modern and the ICA London emerge from momentary
spells of whispered headlines, random sketching, streams of consciousness, and face slapping; as New York's New Museum concludes its vestigial assault on the Work of Art, not to mention the etiquette of proper spacing, and as visitors to the new building experience the worst case of buyer's remorse since the reopening of the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago; as the Metropolitan Museum's Dutch paintings readjust to the staid organizing principles of artist's name, date, and genre
rather than hanging according to who bought what from whom (on whose advice) and resold it to so - and - so, who then donated it to the Met; and as the scent of modesty - prosaic, charcoal filtered, crystalline - emanates from the 2008 Whitney Biennial, now is as good a time as any to talk about money.
Under pressure from outraged shareholders, the SEC now requires public companies to produce a scorecard that
spells out in black and
white just how much top executives earn — and how they earn it —
rather than burying the details in footnotes that even analysts find confusing.