Benjamin Genocchio emerges from a dark underpass beside the Hudson River to greet me. It's freezing yet he's beanie-less, glove-less and wearing only thin blue jeans and a black puffer jacket. He's had 15 years to throw off the expectation of endless sunshine that a Sydney upbringing affords. Judging by his attire and a thinness that suggests a diet of black coffee by day and gallery canapés by night, the transformation towards a more New York state of mind is complete.

"You call this cold?" Genocchio may as well be asking on this early December day. "Wait until the real cold hits."