These should be outside, not in here," says artist Barry McGee. He quickly and deliberately picks out some sketches that have been donated by friends to the Perrotin gallery project space in response to his solo show "Potato Sack Body." "What happens on the street stays on the street, right?" he says to me conspiratorially, although we've never met.

A stray lick of hair hangs lankly from McGee's forehead and there is a hint of a mustache on his upper lip. He looks both harried and slightly out of it. I get the impression that his next words will be something like, "You'll never take me alive, copper."

McGee moves a box of dog-eared magazines from a corner to the center of the room. "These should be here. It's some stuff on anarchism. Are you interested in anarchy?," he asks. "Very much" I say, and then introduce myself and ask if he has time to chat.