Lily’s friend is the curator of the Lee Bontecue’s show at the MOMA, so we got invited for a tête-à-tête conversation with her as she walked us through every piece on the exhibition. The museum was closed today, so we got it all for ourselves. “This sculpture took Lee approximately 18 years for completion,” she told us as I wondered how each piece of the suspended sculpture came to life, and how Lee decided that the piece was finally finished, if ever. “Black holes are a constant in Bontecue’s art, so I got obsessed about them. So as many curators I’m now obsessed with the artists obsession.” Black in her work is actually deep, without any light or reflection, which makes it as soothing as unreal. It is hard to create; she used black velvet and burn materials with her welding pistol. Black reminds me of a line from RED, John Logan’s play on Mark Rothko: There is only one thing I fear in life, my friend. One day the black will swallow the red. Lee Bontacue, one of the few female artists of her generation, stopped showing her work for 35 years, until she accepted a retrospective at the MOMA a few years ago. “It’s unclear why she stopped showing her work, especially when she was recognized by some of the most important galleries.” As I try to make my own interpretation, again my reference goes back to RED, and Rothko’s reading on Jackson Pollock’s death: Suddenly he was a commodity. That Oldsmobile convertible really did kill him. Not because it crashed, because it existed. Bontecue’s works are untitled, so as her life, it is all open for the audience interpretation.