Death of Republicanism, Bullshit
It may be that I am too reticent to speak to the possibilities of the political in art. All art is political, in so far as the artist commandeers the person of the viewer and flagellates its conduct to only those associative experiences that form a phenomenological patina over the art object.
I take you to do something you are not naturally inclined to do and in so doing I leave behind in you a residue of sorts. But beyond this, I might say that all art is, at least subject to, bullshit: art seeks to assert itself through a certain representation that can be made to skirt every objection to the representation, itself, being true or false.
And so, I’m left with doubt. All art is political, sure. But the art I make may not stand up to the political propositions I wish to represent because representation is, plausibly, run through with bullshit.
