I’ve lived in the East Village for nearly ten years. Recently I found out that the creative type living in the strange building on my street was Walter De Maria. Once or twice I saw a man going into the building but that was it. No hullabaloo or nonsense over there.
Mr. De Maria died last summer and his home plus the vacant lot to the left is for sale. Do you have $25 million and need a housekeeper/cook? Adopt me! Do not judge this book by its cover because it’s amazing inside.