Allen Frame

When I went to Budapest for the first time, in 1993, my friend Erika, a young curator, now a gallerist, took me to meet an artist.  His girlfriend made dinner.  He was very handsome, and quite the ladies man, and I photographed them throughout the evening. Finally, the girlfriend protested, although I continued, even later when we went out to a club. In 2001, I saw his work at the Venice Biennale in the Hungarian Pavilion. Erika was in New York recently and told me that he now has gray hair and a thick beard, and whenever he goes through airports, he gets stopped by security.  They think he’s Osama Bin Laden.