We find ourselves in an ever-growing parade of predicates with which to describe our art. Not just new art, not just avant-garde, or post-this, or neo-that. But with each new struggle, by each new artist, there is a new non-that with which to look backwards and compare all the art that has been done.
Ingres is not himself in a vacuum, nor is he accompanied solely by his contemporary peers. We can see him in the same light that we view Lichtenstein. As non-Lichtenstein. And vice-versa. Lichtenstein is not only himself. He is also non-Ingres. And he's also non-everyone else.
And it's an ever-expanding collection of nons. It is not some gerrymandered coterie of elitely chosen members that determines our art, but an always growing, almost ashamedly inclusive group, that is recursive in its self-reference; with every new piece is ten thousand new conversations and the relationship between it and everything that's ever been.
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