Alexander Gronsky is slightly surprised at his own success. Standing outside the warehouse building that is hosting a joint reception for several artists, including Thomas Ruff, he chain smokes a couple of cigarettes while we chat about doing photography during a typhoon, and how nobody in the Tokyo art scene seems to have ever been to Ikebukuro.
While we are talking a large black MPV pulls up and a distinguished looking lady steps out, smiles at Gronsky, then glides gracefully into the vernissage.
"Do you know her?" I ask. "She looks stinking rich."