On a muggy Thursday night in the District, clusters of ragtag art urchins bummed cigarettes from swank passersby under the awnings of tony design and furniture shops. The youthful angels of nihilism shrugged their shoulders in sang-froid detachment as their flyers for art shows were casually tossed to the ground. Teen despair was the curdled-milk veneer glossing this cultural moment, and the trash in the gutter was their... More >>>