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Björk staring at my bald head.

I was the guest of a good friend to the opening night reception of the Björk exhibition at New York’s Museum of Modern Art on Tuesday night. We got there early, which was good as Björk left early – from her own party thank you very much. Before she did though, just minutes after the official start of the reception which packed in about 1,000 people on three floors of the museum, we found the Icelandic pop star heading into – along with her very attentive entourage – the make-shift theater created to screen a continuous loop of her music videos. What was supposed to be a moment for just her (and her posse and a select number of big money contributors, museum staff, and hipsters of all ages) was crashed discreetly by yours truly and the photographer of this photo as we snuck in via the back entrance. Once in, we looked up front and there she was, with an entire empty couch across from her. We sat down, and watched her videos, with her. Kinda weird, kinda awesome, very surreal. My friend snapped this picture as we were pretending to play it cool, and though it was rad to have this picture to remember the moment, it became Pulitzer-worthy this evening when we realized that the white blob at the bottom of the screen was not a couch, or some bizarre yet funky table on which to set drinks, but instead … my big, fat, white, balding head with a neatly trimmed receding hairline. And James Merry, her assistant, is staring at Björk, as she stares at my monstrous melon. This photo went from pretty cool, to the strangely perfect, accidental Björk selfie, of sorts, or something. THAT is modern art.



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