![]() ![]() Almost immediately, she was lost in the labyrinth of works for sale: Takashi Murakami’s lurid blond plastic milkmaids with long legs and erect nipples the words “any messages?” spelled out in neon tubing. “I hate this fair already,” she said when she walked in, handing her ticket to a very tall, very pale man dressed entirely in black lace. There was an unearthly quality to the atmosphere inside the Frieze New York art fair, like the air in a plane-still but pressurized, with an unsettling hum-when the fiction writer Ottessa Moshfegh visited to speak about her work one afternoon in May. ![]()
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