Private Views: Champagne Socialism at the Whitney Art Party

As I thought about what I would wear to the Whitney Art Party, I couldn’t help but wonder: was there a way to write a party report in 2026 without sounding absolutely tone-deaf? There was a dystopian feeling in the air, punctuated by the blizzard that had just blanketed the city, and I hadn’t left my apartment in three days. I put on all black and took the L train to try and do my best.

The annual fundraiser took the theme of ‘bold’ this year, encouraging guests to dress maximalist. The co-chairs included the Saturday Night Live actress Ego Nwodin, her stylist, a lifestyle magazine editor, and the artists Martine Gutierrez and Emma Safir. There was little mention of the beneficiary: the museum’s Independent Study Program, which was suspended this academic year a few months after the Whitney censored a pro-Palestine performance by current ISP cohorts, and then fired director Sara Nadal-Melsió.

I checked my coat then found a longtime artist friend who was chatting with Jill Magid, an artist who was leaving for Paris soon to complete a project at the Pompidou. They were with the publicist of a blue-chip gallery and Chrissie Iles, the co-curator of the last edition of the Whitney Biennial who has worked at the museum since the late 1990s. We went upstairs on the art handling elevator, which moves slower than the others, Chrissie noted, as bartenders poured mixed Dobel tequila shots from the elevator bar. 

We stopped at High Wire: Calder’s Circus at 100 before Chrissie walked us through the collection exhibition “Untitled” (America) on Floor 7. She pointed out Yayoi Kusama’s Air Mail Stickers (1962) as being a catalyst in her career as a young curator, and mentioned that the installation of Jay DeFeo’s monumental painting, The Rose (1958–1966), required the construction of a reinforced wall. Chrissie has a serene and genuine way of speaking that few can claim to possess. You feel particularly lucky to hear her talk about art. Meanwhile, partygoers used Clyfford Still’s large-scale painting Untitled (1956) as a backdrop for photos. Chrissie says that he is overdue for a posthumous retrospective, and I agree. 

Downstairs, a notable guest had arrived. Rama Duwaji, the first lady of New York City, was making her way through the dancefloor in a leopard-print coat. One guest asked: “Can you believe she’s here?” Another quipped: “Why wouldn’t she be here?” That question seemed rhetorical. There are obvious reasons why she wouldn’t be there.

Rama is a ceramicist and illustrator whose work centres on social justice, and has created works directly condemning imperialism and Israeli war crimes. This party was a fundraiser for a museum that has been famously criticised for receiving funds from donors that don’t align with her politics, like Nancy Carrington Crown, a shareholder in an arms and defence company that supplies the Israeli military. Most importantly, it was a fundraiser for a study programme that some believe was axed in retaliation to art addressing the Israel-Palestine conflict. 

Most people in the room were not aware of Rama’s art and activism before she became known as the wife of ‘socialist mayor’ Zohran Mamdani. Since she’s come into the spotlight, there have been a slew of undue attacks on her character and her artwork that are inherently myopic. Some criticised Rama for wearing $600 Miista boots at the mayoral inauguration without considering that owning $600 boots is fairly commonplace in New York City. But her being at the Whitney party is definitely much harder to square. 

What did being there mean to Rama? We may never know. When I asked her for a comment, she politely responded: “No, thank you. I can’t do that.” The New York Times couldn’t even get a quote from her and their story that was entirely based on her being there.

In a better world, we would be able to separate art and politics, but that’s not the reality today. David Velasco was fired from Artforum for publishing an open letter calling for a ceasefire, even though the letter had signatures from people including Nan Goldin and Brian Eno. Galleries such as Lévy Gorvy Dayan and David Zwirner were vandalised by pro-Palestine protestors. Galleries in Tribeca closed in solidarity with the ICE protests while simultaneously trying to figure out how to get migrant vendors off the streets around them. Some of your peers judge you for not posting enough about equity and mutual aid, while others seem suspiciously blasé about all of it. Having to think about these things can feel stifling when you just want to wear something and hang out with your art friends. Most of us still have the liberty to drop out of the discourse. 

I wondered, what does it even mean for me to be at this party? This didn’t align with my politics either, and I had previously had a public falling out with a member of the host committee, who I heard has since allegedly blacklisted writers who denounced the Gaza genocide. Besides all that, was this even a good party? The truth is that, before Rama arrived, nothing noteworthy had happened. I had no idea what I would even write for this column.

Maybe I needed to lighten up. Someone handed me a vape. The night began to wind down and we talked about some of the other notable guests at the event, like Martha Stewart, who quickly entered and exited, and some of the children of reality television stars who were there. I woke up the next day to pictures of the party on @nytstyle, with a slideshow that begins with Rama holding a drink and smiling at Whitney director Scott Rothkopf as he’s mid-sentence. The New York Times reiterates how fabulous it is that the First Lady is an artist. I’m not surprised to see comments like ‘champagne socialism’ and ‘lol delete this’.

I like to get the perspective of people who live outside the artworld. And when I spoke to them, I found myself recounting the years-long Whitney controversies, but was mostly met with a relenting, “Oh.” Then we changed the subject. Life is short. The Whitney Art Party, the First Lady’s attendance, and the Whitney’s sources of funding seem trivial compared with the general turmoil in the world. But they are still a symptom of it. As one friend said: “Rich people are going to party no matter what.” Another was equally level-headed: “They know they need the institutions for his tenure to be successful. This isn’t a problem.” Another says nothing but manages to expertly encapsulate the situation, sending the meme of a teenager philosophising at a rave: “There is much pain in the world, but not in this room.”