Contemporary art configures itself in the interstices of the
fatigue of postmodernist surreality in a way that confounds its own tragicomic
proclivity, resulting in a stance that is both preclusive and frankly
post-apochalyptic. This, of course,
implies that the artist-viewer dialogue contorts into a false dilemma pitting
the white cube against the transient and ever-expanding practice space of the
activist political and social agenda. So contemporary art exerts itself as the
savior of the present chaotic world, even as it struggles aimlessly to free
itself from its elitist and capitalistic bondage.
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