I just now, I had a thought.

Back when I was seventeen, I suddenly discovered I had an uncle on my father’s side who lived in Sao Paolo. I went to visit, it was scary, and I was seventeen; most of my time was spent sitting on my uncle’s balcony, sipping tea and thinking deep seventeen-year-old thoughts.

Among the (execrable, thankfully lost to time) creative output I generated there was a poem about how it had all been said before.

Little did I know that people had been thinking this thought for at least 2200 years. (Terence, 2nd century BC) But I thought it, it felt profound, and I wrote a poem about it. It was later brought to my attention in an embarrassing conversation with my mom, and I ran and hid and ignored it.

That said, my fixation on novelty in artwork has remained mostly unchanged these past (jesus) thirteen years. If someone has done something before, pfft, big deal, been there, done that. Sweet fancy Moses, if more of humanity can’t get past this veni vidi vici stance on art then we’re fucked; we’re just plain fucked. Or perhaps we must all depend on the ignorance of youth, whereby nobody over 25 (who’s had anything to do with art history) will produce work.

1. If work has been produced before then why make it again?

2. There is a limited number of things people can create.

3. The internet brings these things together for everyone to experience.

4. I should hook a breathalyzer up to wordpress.

5. How will art continue to exist in this age of such rampant documentation/dissemination of knowledge?

6. Or should I have some faith that life will continue to change at a sufficient pace that art cannot possibly represent all the possible permutations thereof?

7. Or merely that art is an unanswerable question and will somehow, magically, socially, produce increasingly mutated documents based on a similarly fluid reality?

8. Enumeration of these points was a bad, bad idea.

* for example, do not visit booooooom.com/ unless you didn’t know that hipsters could use cameras

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