By Guy Trebay
ARTISTS and their antics are central to the Hamptons mythos: car crashes, bonfires, wife swapping, boyfriend swapping, dune trysts and drunken carousing, all interrupted by spells of intense creativity under the area’s fabled luminous skies.
The artists are pretty well gone now, all but the wealthiest ones. Everybody knows that Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner couldn’t find a quarter-share in a renovated chicken coop in a market where even a teardown in Sag Harbor — long since elevated from its lowly status as the poor relation of hamlets like East Hampton — is priced at $1.8 million. (Admittedly it’s just a few doors down from Cindy Sherman’s Greek Revival place on Madison Street, but still.)
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