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The entropy of material and meaning in art occurred before my generation. What does that leave me as an art maker to create with but the cooling bodies of my entire historical lineage? As an artist working in North America, this tradition represents Life Art, Collaborative Happenings, Pop, and Abstract Expressionism, etc. Luckily, this is a vast but almost schizophrenic array to pool reactions. These ideas once so formidable and radical, now lay barely alive on the life support of a museum wall. Wake art from its coma or as Oldenburg says "Get it off its ass." Not just one particular idea but all art, all movements simultaneously let them walk free. Release art from its cultural cage, let it breathe, a beast to be.


Hence, art in this realm is hard to categorize: Is it a happening, an installation a painting, conceptual, documentary, public, academic sculpture or photography? Is it historical reactionism like Modernism or freestyling hip-hop happening Postmodernism? Is it a mother, sister virgin or whore? Does it matter? 

Art should roar once again, and not just to my fellow artists who have the secret knowledge of the language of three 15 foot stripes and squares of black, but to the butcher baker and candlestick maker, children, bikers, and foe. Mission established. Bring forth your sails to pillage and go forth young Stella’s, go!

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