In July of 2013, something monumental happened, sort of like the legal ceremony that officially consummated a long courtship between the art world and the realm of glitzy, celebrity-fixated tabloid culture. We’ll all remember this as the Year of Jay Z at Pace gallery; of Jerry Saltz “rap battling” Jay Z at Pace; of Lawrence Weiner and Andres Serrano joining the likes of Jemima Kirke in the nimbus of Jay Z’s fame. It was all for his “Picasso Baby” single, a song about art that, as many noted, was really about money. He wanted “Condos in [his] condos,” remember?

I’m still torn about what this all means for the future of the art world: Does it matter? Does it change anything? Was it all just good, clean fun? A chance to maybe score a cameo in the HBO special that resulted from the afternoon’s performance? (Hey, I’ll admit, I was there when Hova let the crowd clamber over the barricades and circle around him, cellphones held aloft. Celebrity is a hard thing to resist, no matter the pontificating after the fact.)

Will 2014 bring even more of these sort of high-profile spectacles – Lady Gaga and Jeff Koons? James Franco and everybody else? Or after this intense love affair with famous, well-known faces, will the art world go back to its corner and remain as it has always been: Weird, a bit nerdy, but still intensely cool in its own insular, unfamous way?