Question Everything (except this).

Found objects that became art merely by changing their context and being labelled as such..

--The Guardian.

"Here we see clearly enough: a theorist of transgressive reality, a fun gnostic constructing his own alternative version of reality, which is not an alternative but more or less what the elites of third culture themselves may be said to believe, if their beliefs were not unbeliefs. Rather, their unbeliefs are mythic, scientific and pseudoscientific systems that bring the tools of chance, of humour, of mendacity and irony, and of indifference into play."

--P. Rieff.

~
Intelligence must be corrosive if it is to be anything. Or detached, purely mechanical (as befits a mechanical age). Universities, in their own petty way, specialize in such trivialities: question everything and you will be shown the golden road (that leads nowhere). 

The world oscillates between being the result of a blind play of forces and complete determination. By chance an object is found, and some authority labels it. Of course, there is no authority, it's all provisional, a piss-take, a massive send-up and if you fail to laugh then you're really just a medievalist. 

What is freedom after all but the ability to refuse 'givenness'? Man is the measure of all things. And from that, is it so very hard to imagine that no name whatsoever inheres?

He is Null Achtzehn. He is not called anything except that, Zero Eighteen, the last three figures of his entry number; as if everyone was aware that only a man is worthy of a name, and the Null Achtzehn is no longer a man.'

---Primo Levi.  

There is no longer any question of truth or beauty, of art pointing us elsewhere; instead, the poet or the scientist with their dull grey minds, or the professional seer with his pay cheque still wet, aim to convince us that it's all a sham, a game played by fools. There is no more "up" and no more "down" but just the endless and empty space of the cosmos, which is where we find ourselves "thrown", like hammy actors in a third-rate play.

Question everything, my friend: this tree, this table, even you before me, my friend. Let us go deeper. Language, symbols, myself, my thinking and my thought processes. I..er..in fact, 'I'..     

Human excrement. Trash. A superfluous people. After death there is nothing so why not be death now, why not die before you die? The self that closes in on itself. There is no Hell so we will create one on earth.