“Julian is an aesthetic omnivore,” said Dodie Kazanjian, who covers the art world for Vogue and is the director of Gallery Met at the Metropolitan Opera; she toured Chupi a few weeks ago. “Everything he touches becomes a Schnabel. So I looked at it” — Chupi, that is — “like another piece of art.”

But in the neighborhood, there are lingering resentments. “It’s woefully out of context and a monument to this guy’s ego,” said Andrew Berman, executive director of the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation, one of the neighborhood groups that fought to block Chupi’s construction. He has called the building “an exploded Malibu Barbie house.”

“The biggest thing we took away from all this,” he continued, “is that the system is somewhat broken. Developers have the opportunity to break the law and beat the clock on rezoning and the public has little recourse.” (In response, Brian Kelly, a musician and old friend of Mr. Schnabel’s who managed the project for the artist, said, “We played by the rules and didn’t seek any favors.”)

“Personally, I adore it,” said Paul Rudnick, the novelist and playwright, who lives across the street and watched the “landing” of Chupi with great interest. “It’s in the grand tradition of Manhattan white elephants, which make you wonder, Who lives there, and why? It’s already a landmark. And it’s much more in the tradition of the West Village, which is supposed to be outrageous and theatrical, than all those glass towers. When the transsexuals left it seems they were reincarnated as real estate,” said Mr. Rudnick mistily, referring to the professionals who used to line the streets here. “At least the Palazzo does them proud.”