Nature is never finished.
Parks are idealizations of nature, but nature in fact is not a condition of the ideal.
From the top of the quarry cliffs, one could see the New Jersey suburbs bordered by the New York City skyline.
Mistakes and dead-ends often mean more to these artists than any proven problem.
Cultural confinement takes place when a curator imposes his own limits on an art exhibition, rather than asking an artist to set his limits.
Objects in a park suggest static repose rather than any ongoing dialectic. Parks are finished landscapes for finished art .
Artists themselves are not confined, but their output is.
The scenic ideals that surround even our national parks are carriers of a nostalgia for heavenly bliss and eternal calmness.
Painting, sculpture and architecture are finished, but the art habit continues.
A work of art when placed in a gallery loses its charge, and becomes a portable object or surface disengaged from the outside world.
The museum spreads its surfaces everywhere, and becomes an untitled collection of generalizations that mobilize the eye.
Nature does not proceed in a straight line, it is rather a sprawling development.
Language should find itself in the physical world, and not end up locked in an idea in somebody's head.
Visiting a museum is a matter of going from void to void.
When a finished work of 20th century sculpture is placed in an 18th century garden, it is absorbed by the ideal representation of the past, thus reinforcing political and social values that are no longer with us.
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