Most days upstate, we’re tearing pages from the Iron and Wine songbook. Big box stores it is not. Yet here we are in midwinter at a first light trip, a county away from our Hudson Valley home, to a twenty-four-hour Walmart, the approximate armpit of the American dream. I’m loading remnant boxes as we start packing house. Where we're headed, there are chickens in front yards.

We're moving again, inland, a mile up the main street of Cold Spring, down a dirt road to a stone home in a thicket of woods. No bollards and no paving stones here. Straight to a forest dark's dark, lit only [...]

What could be better than making it in New York? Try leaving it. We did.

It's no secret: high atop the list of quintessential rites of New Yorkers, natives and newcomers alike, is sewing periodic escape. Country weekends, second-home summers, holiday sublets-people of privilege, you affluentials and your toothsome spawn, I salute you to enjoy your view while it lasts. For my wife and I, your countrytime staycation has become our new year-round rural roost.

In order to really remember anything about an exhibition as big as ‘Greater New York', you have to forget a lot of it. Though this third iteration of PS1's quinquennial survey is smaller than ever before, it still features 68 up-and-coming New Yorkers spread over four floors. To write a review of all that, you have to forget even more. Attention spans can't accommodate that many artists nor that much art, and neither can word counts or column inches or casual readers.