“Been there, done that” may or may not be the adage that best summarizes the climate of cultural life in the waning days of the 1990s. It does, however, capture the ennui felt by many who concern themselves with the world of contemporary art. As hackneyed as it has become to link events to the turn of the millennium, such a moment does lend itself to historical overview. Given the status quo in the art world, how could one not be glum? As artists endeavor to trample aesthetic boundaries which have long ceased to matter, the illusion of a viable avant-garde is nevertheless maintained. Such a pursuit is a self-perpetuated scam and old news. Yet the need to grasp on to an avant-garde is a vestige, however diminished, of the original modernist impulse. “Shock” and “innovation” have come down to us—and not without reason—as attributes of the twentieth-century artist. But does anyone believe that what is deemed shocking and innovative today constitutes a revitalization of art?

Those wanting to experience the electricity that results when a genuine shift in artistic practice occurs are referred to the exhibition “Visions of Paris: Robert Delaunay’s Series” at the Guggenheim.¹ In Delaunay’s paintings, it is possible to feel the unruly, trailblazing spirit of the avant-garde. One may justifiably wonder whether it is possible fully to appreciate the freshness these paintings had for someone seeing them in 1910. After all, Delaunay’s work has been, as Auden put it, “tidied into history.” Yet