Art (n.) in its pure form dies of its own success: gather a club of connoisseurs and the work becomes their membership badge.
Art (n.) is not nature's opposite: the man who watched a forest fire melt metal invented metallurgy, and the mill's grindstone chews like teeth.
Art (n.) of the merely aesthetic kind creates ruins: it consigns what it makes to the past, and that is the art Plato chased from the city.
Art (n.) is a second birth: it reveals the desire of beings to exist, and to exist a second time in a meaningful world where every local thing speaks to the universal and each instant is the origin of an echo.
Art (n.) for a long time was synthetic, adding objects to objects, like a painting hung on a wall; analytic art lets the material itself be the configuration.
Art (n.) of the analytical kind is the most hospitable because its unity is an image and not a surface: it can take a propane tank beside a chapel without losing its style.
Art (n.) is an exorcism: instead of letting the swarm of symbols float between us and the world, it stills the swarm by representing it, ritualizing it and setting it among objects and social rules.
Art (n.) is what stays non-modal in a mode, as a preindividual reality stays around an individual so that it can join a collective.
Art (n.) is magic in reverse: magic carves a universe into charged points, while art rebuilds a universe out of them.
Art (n.) is the quest to reach other modes of thought without leaving your own, only by stretching it; that stretching is its magic.
Art (n.) is no consolation arriving after the fact; it is a preface that announces and consecrates without making anything real.
Art (n.) does not make things eternal; it gives a single moment the power to happen again, and again, without ceasing to be itself.
Art (n.) is magic's surviving trick: a thing can begin again without cancelling the fact that it began.