We had agreed to meet at the Frick Collection. My train from New Haven was late, but there they were – Chris Wallace-Crabbe and Father Peter Steele SJ – waiting at the trim and modest entrance of one of New York’s noblest institutions. I had looked forward to a day of gallery-hopping with two poets and old friends, both with an appetite and an aptitude for the visual arts. What would their take be like on a pleasantly random group of shows?